SERENDIPITY PHOTO PROMPT 2015 – 22: SUMMER’S HARVEST

SERENDIPITY PHOTO PROMPT 2015 – 22
23 September 2015: SUMMER’S HARVEST

It’s Frisbee Wednesday again. Late September. And today is the Autumnal Equinox, when the length of the day and night is the same. At least it is almost the same. Actually, it is never exactly the same, but today it is as close as it will get this season. From this day on and for three lovely months, it’s Fall.

So what did we do on our summer vacation?

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First, we went to Cooperstown, home of the Baseball Hall of Fame and the birthplace of America’s first best-selling author, James Fenimore Cooper.

The museum wasn’t quite the heartwarming experience we expected. This was my third visit and Garry’s second, so we thought we knew what to expect. We wuz wrong.

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Someone decided the museum needed to be redesigned. A fine example of fixing something that wasn’t broke. Garry will have more to say on the subject, so I will merely say that I liked it a lot better before.

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Of course, Cooperstown isn’t just about baseball. It’s about souvenir shops and tee shirts. Old baseball cards and signed bats. It has become (it was not always) a classic tourist town. It could be Edgartown, Carmel, or Gettysburg (minus the graveyards and zombies). It’s a certain “look” one gets to recognize.

72-Garry-Baseball-HOF-new_074If you have seen one tourist mecca, you will always recognize one. Not a bad thing. Such towns are always quaint, neat, clean, and customer service oriented. No surprises — good or bad — lurk in a tourist town.

Outside of town, it’s all about farms. Fields of hay, barley, and oats. Cows. Harvest time in the rolling foothills of the Adirondacks. We took pictures. You knew that, right?

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We found a beaver dam, complete with ducks. And the occasional beaver.

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Logic said we should go from Cooperstown to Peacham, Vermont … the next stop on our journey. Except it’s the punchline to a joke. You know, the one where you ask the old farmer how to get somewhere in New England. He stops, thinks a long time, then says: “You can’t get theah from heah.”

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The roads in the north land … New England, upstate New York … all points north of Massachusetts? The major roads — anything that isn’t just two lanes, one in each direction — travel north-south. Local roads go every which way. Which means if you want to travel more or less northeast, it’s not such a long drive in miles, but it’s at least seven to eight hours driving on local roads.

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We did that last October when we drove 10 hours from Jackman to Peacham. It was gorgeous. The mountains, the glowing trees. Endless twisting roads. Very slow drivers. Old pickup trucks. Weaving cars. Maddening.

The idea of repeating this was enough to make poor Garry froth at the mouth. It was as quick to go home for the night, then drive to Vermont the following morning.

So, that’s what we did. Went home. Then drove to Vermont, which was every bit as beautiful this year as last.

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The first day, they came and harvested the corn.

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From first light to late shadows, it was surpassingly lovely. There may be other places on earth as beautiful, but none more so.

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Long shadows as the evening draws on.

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And then, suddenly, too soon … it was time to go home. Reality. Ouch. Don’t you hate when that happens?

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We got back from Vermont and Cooperstown the day before yesterday. The leaves look just like they did when we left, as if everything just stopped and waited for us.


Should you decide to accept “the challenge,” you may use any picture — and this week, you have some great choices — or use one of your own pictures. Write something about the picture or make something up using a picture as your jumping off point.

I maintain this is the easiest prompt in the world.

Happy Autumn to you all!

I cried this morning. A yankee great, Yogi Berra Dead at 90. NEW YORK YANKEES FOREVER

Garry Armstrong on September 23, 2015 at 4:34 pm said:
A sad, sad day. Lawrence Peter Berra was a baseball legend and an icon. Although he was a stalwart of the Yankees, dreaded enemy of my beloved Brooklyn Dodgers and Boston Red Sox, he was a kind and gentle man. I spent a few, memorable hours with Yogi during his tenure with the old, bumbling New York Mets. He was very kind and generous with me, then a young reporter.

Yogi is again batting cleanup behind Mickey Mantle on that field of dreams.

I Know I Made You Smile

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THE FIRST TIME EVER I SAW YOUR FACE …

I don’t know about the second time, but sometimes, once is just perfect.

“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” is a 1957 folk song written by political singer/songwriter Ewan MacColl for Peggy Seeger, who was later to become his wife. At the time the couple were lovers, although MacColl was married to someone else.

There’s no song about the second time … but this first time works for me. It is the most loving of love songs.