Whit's Blog / 1000 Recordings

Late Summer is Spider Season

Butter Day

Summer is what you call it when you get a funky-looking tomato from the farm and you cut it up thickish and then you put it on a slab of wheat bread and add a thickish slice of cheddar cheese (I like Lancashire better but that's just cheese shop precious and what's in the fridge is good) and some basil from the deck out back and chives too and what the heck there's too much parsley in that pot, needs thinning. And then you drop it in bubbling butter in the frying pan and put a tired plate from Macy's that was an engagement gift on top and a soup can to weigh it down. And when it's done grilling it's summer, and if only it could always be, then we could all live forever and ever and the light would fill the air like it does.

Real Red At Moore State Park

If they were plastic we'd say they were too garish.

Little red mushrooms near birch bark.

Cardinal flowers near the old mill.

Part of an ongoing photo album I keep of my favorite state park here so far.

See, it's the ramming and the leaping

Dad: "No, no, no, you cannot pretend to be a mountain sheep right now. No, no, no."

Creating (in the) Moment

It's just that we KNOW sandcastles don't last.

Stay Down

If I stand quite still, maybe Doom 3 won't know I'm here and it won't come to my house.