Just in case
Henry's
Brad's not *that* much taller than David
Was he wearing socks?
X and M
Ten of them looking all ways
Staring NE at Andromeda
Looking NE around 10:00 last night
The Maiden Vein
Windshield grab shot
Another thirty-second sky
Swifts. I think.
The meadow in 2015
Gerry Squires
Underside of an LBM
Bedroom, rented house, overlooking an ancestor's i…
Hilla Becher is dead
Alice admiring the new picture
A toast to the Contessa
Bottom of the lake
Neil and Martha
Atop Jack Baker's Hill
A family of shrooms
My XA died but it left me a gift
Thirty Seconds in Tilting Harbour early one mornin…
After the doctoral defence
Heart's Ease
Thirty seconds in the full moon
New bolete to me
Explaining his work
Birthday cake(let)
Cocktail hour at Ragged Harbour
Birthday wishes and blows
Home in the woods
Pre-Regatta regattans
Finally, a summer day
Upside-down
I dunno
Illiterate
Broken hook
A half minute later
Turtle Island
Blond amanita?
Film end. Or near enough to say so.
Leopard Marsh Orchid
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48 visits
Mr Noftall and the Garlands
I like homemade headstones; they give me a feeling of someone's
control over an aspect of death that really has gotten out of control
for most people. It's a vernacular art form that calls attention to
the blandness of commercial headstones.
I like to think that Mr Noftall, born in 1929, made his own stone,
leaving a space for his death date (1993?) to be added later. And
that makes me think I could do the same, leaving a little hole where
someone could pour new cement in to finish off my stone, after I'm
finished off myself.
And the Garlands' family or friends, continuing after a decade or so
to tidy up the grave, level the stone, repaint the letters, and leave
flowers: they strike me as far more attentive to their dead than those
who pay for "perpetual care" of a gigantic expensive headstone.
Expired Kodak 200 film ("200-8" is the negative edge marking),
probably from about 2007.
Shot on my Olympus XA just before it died. Let this be a memorial to it.
control over an aspect of death that really has gotten out of control
for most people. It's a vernacular art form that calls attention to
the blandness of commercial headstones.
I like to think that Mr Noftall, born in 1929, made his own stone,
leaving a space for his death date (1993?) to be added later. And
that makes me think I could do the same, leaving a little hole where
someone could pour new cement in to finish off my stone, after I'm
finished off myself.
And the Garlands' family or friends, continuing after a decade or so
to tidy up the grave, level the stone, repaint the letters, and leave
flowers: they strike me as far more attentive to their dead than those
who pay for "perpetual care" of a gigantic expensive headstone.
Expired Kodak 200 film ("200-8" is the negative edge marking),
probably from about 2007.
Shot on my Olympus XA just before it died. Let this be a memorial to it.
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