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Rain, Rain, Go away.  Come again some other day….. any day but Thursday!

I stuffed two plastic garbage bags in my backpack along with a picnic lunch, writing supplies for Dad and sketching supplies for me.  The morning rain guaranteed that the park benches along the trail at Natirar would be wet.  Not a problem, Dad and I have sat on garbage bags before.

The sky drizzled all the way to Dad’s, then stopped as we headed down the mountain.

An incredible stone wall

My attention was stolen by an incredible stone wall about four feet high and four feet thick!  Dad missed it, so I turned the car around and headed back.

Rounding the corner

“Those people sure have a lot of stones to get rid of to make a wall so thick,” was Dad’s comment.  I pulled off the road and grabbed my camera.  I’ve never seen such a wall.  It runs along the perimeter of a private residence.  The creator of the wall was preparing to move more rocks with his front loader.  I motioned to him that I would like to take a photo and he looked at me, puzzled.

Another view of the amazing stone wall

I tried my best to explain Thursdays with Dad, our quest for adventures as well as unusual and creative construction of buildings (and walls).  The stone artist’s name is Stefan G. Stefanov.  He is from Bulgaria and he won my heart with the beauty of his wall.

Great abstract patterns

The rhythm of the shapes delight me.  Small stones stacked tightly together contrast beautifully with larger stones. Had I been alone, I would have stayed and sketched the wall until nightfall.

Back in the car, Dad was still puzzling over the dilemma the homeowner had of dealing with so many rocks.  He couldn’t quite imagine why anyone would want to buy that many rocks, so he assumed the rocks had come out of the property grounds.

“Maybe they just want a beautiful wall, Dad!”

The day would continue to be a bit of a push and pull day…..

Next stop was Best Buy.  I had a coupon that expires tomorrow and thought it would be entertaining for Dad to think about how electronic devices have changed since he was a boy making his own radio.

Turned out that it wasn’t all that fascinating for Dad.  When we returned to the car and I asked him to write a bit of a poem about his view of the changes in the field of electronics, he scowled.  A little reminder of how words flow from the pencil when it touches the paper and Dad agreed to give it a go.

The uninspired poet

Walking into a modern electronics store

Number of possibilities is limitless.

Parking lot full of cars

Radios in cars

Capable of receiving

Signals being sent.

Communication by signal

No problem at all.

With modern technology

Mission is accomplished

Electronically, that is.

But content is what counts

It’s what those words say,  —

The feeling expressed, —

The message conveyed.

If the meaning conceived

Is the one meant,

Then the sender is pleased

And the receiver well informed

But with careless senders

And poor listeners

Possibilities are infinite

For total confusion.

If you hand a pencil to a person

And a small scrap of paper

Be wary because

This is what you might get.

Written by the receiver of the pencil and paper

The sun shone brightly as we left the parking lot and headed to Natirar.

Casualties of Hurricane Irene?

Four gigantic trees had been cut in the area by the parking lot where we picnic before our walk.  I found it unsettling.  Dad felt that it would give the neighboring trees more sunshine.

A simple lunch

Once before I made peanut butter and rhubarb jam sandwiches for our picnic lunch.  The rhubarb jam was in a tiny jar in my refrigerator.  I don’t know who bought it.  I used up the entire tiny jar on our sandwiches and thought it would be the only peanut butter and rhubarb sandwich I would ever eat.  Wrong.  While cleaning out Dad’s cupboards I found another jar of rhubarb jam, a large one, enough for at least a dozen more picnic sandwiches.

A peaceful spot

We admired the view and commented on the changing shadows.  The crisp edges softened as clouds passed in front of the sun.  We watched the sunlight glide along the tops of trees, chased by the billows of gray.

Wicked Winds

Suddenly the sun vanished entirely and we heard the wind howl.

A Change of Weather

Leaves swirled madly in the air.  Sticks whipped past us at shoulder height.  Dad and I continued to eat our lunch, smiles on our faces, invigorated by the energy around us.

Boiling Billows of Clouds

“What do you think, Chris?”  Neither one of us moved.  I began to feel I was being irresponsible.  Maybe we should stop enjoying the turbulence and seek shelter.  “I don’t know, Dad.  I like being out in a storm.”  “Hmmmm.  Me, too.”  We both took another bite of sandwich.

Darkness

When the world around us turned black we nodded to one another and gathered our picnic from the table.  Reluctantly we returned to the car.   I looked around at the giant trees that could fall onto the car and crush us.  I thought we might be safer walking out into the open field.  Looking again at the trees, I decided they would not fall on us today.  The sky opened up and raindrops beat against us as we slipped into the car.

Through the window of the car

We continued our picnic in the front seat of the K-car.

Rain in the Woods

The rain has interrupted

A snack in the woods

A rush to the car

Just in time to keep dry

Pattering on the car top

Announces the showers

Thunder is persisting

As the clouds swing and sway.

What a show Nature gives us

It’s never the same

But always uplifting —

At least I see it that way.

Still LIfe of an Apple

We decided to wait it out, hoping for the storm to pass by.  We still wanted to go for our walk.

Dad's view of the apple

Dad enjoyed seeing the reflection of the apple in the windshield.

After the storm

The wind died down and a bit of brightness could be seen through the clouds.

Blue sky appears on the horizon

The rain stopped and the clouds began to clear.  We were grateful, thinking we would still be able to walk the short loop before the weather changed again.  We were wrong.  We headed back to Chelsea.

There is always next week……

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