Old Hippie in the Rain....

I saw this man--long grey, frizzy hair and scruffy grey beard,

wearing a forest green toque and John Lennon glasses,

plodding along in the cold rain today as I drove down a street near my daughter's school(had just dropped her off at noon for her 7 hour rehearsal).

He wasn't really wearing any rain gear other than a blue windbreaker jacket and heavy work boots and the knit cap. He seemed resigned to being thoroughly drenched since he wasn't exactly hurrying along the sidewalk,

just walking with a grim determination as the raindrops pelted him.

As soon as I saw him, I wanted to write a poem about "The Old Hippie In The Rain".

Then, just after I passed him, The Cure's "Inbetween Days" came on the car radio and the lyrics,

Yesterday I Got So Old I Felt Like I Could Die

Yesterday I Got So Old It Made Me Want To Cry

And now, ten hours later , I still remember that and I've tried to draw from what I remembered, what he looked like (instead of a poem).

Stone and weathered wood

A few more images from my outing with Jewel yesterday morning.
I stopped along the road on the way back home to take these pictures of this sad, abandoned farm house and barns. It has sat empty and falling into disrepair for years, unfortunately.

Click!

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" You mind is your best camera. Go out and take some beautiful pictures "

quote by Darryl Something-or-other.

Sorry, Darryl, I don't remember your last name, but do remember this from the back of a blank photo greeting card we used to sell in the shop.

It's true--I store so many photographic moments in my head(some do get stuffed way back when the newest ones crowd them). I also am not the best of photographers, anyway, and seem never to have a camera on me when I want one.



Yesterday evening, for example. I should have had a camera, but didn't.
I was driving along the road to town to pick the daughter up after her singing practice. Not quite dusk--after an unseasonably hot(nearly 90*F)day, the bright yellow full moon(the Strawberry Moon, if you go by the Native American names for the full moons) just risen in the sky.
The sky the merest hint of daytime blue, still.
I could clearly see the face on the moon and I swear it had a deeply worried expression. I had never seen that before! It was as if the moon were looking down at us humans and looking at all the damage done--oceans poisoned by gushing petroleum, piles of plastic and Styrofoam in landfills, melting glaciers and on and on. I don't blame the moon for worrying. Heck, I worry--every morning I wake up and that damn oil "leak" in the Gulf of Mexico pops into my mind.



Anyway, at least the beauty of the evening was a nice thought for a little bit yesterday. I still have this beautiful natural world around me, on a small scale, to enjoy.
As I drove past the cove and marsh, I saw the familiar osprey silhouetted against the sky, perched on the outer edge of it's high nest on a pole--another bird head(I think) sticking out of the nest. It was either the female sitting on eggs or a chick.



The ocean was glittering and softly blue, which of course, made me think again, of that other body of water miles away(and afterall, connected to "my" ocean--we are affected by the "Gulf Stream" here), being suffocated by the oil leak.



I wish I had a camera to take some photos last night, but I still would not have been able to capture the cool breeze and misty sea air, so welcome after a hot day. I would not have been able to capture the sound of the waves hitting the rocks against the seawall. Or the crickets and last robin's song of the day.



But, I am going to tuck my camera into my bag and take it along with me today. I really have to try to remember to do that.

Waiting...

I had a deadly boring and somewhat creepy experience yesterday, sitting in the waiting room of the dermatologist I had decided to take my daughter to for treatment of mild acne. (a customer at work had recommended this particular doctor as a good one)

We get to the dermatologist's office about five minutes early--there was no one else there, and I was surprised to find a man behind the window instead of the more usual female nurse/assistant(in my 47 year experience, that is). And, he looked like.... Will Ferrell(same curly hair, and big and tall like him, too), which was kind of creepy to me. I don't know why I started to feel that way--like this was not really a real dermatologist's office and maybe we were suddenly in the middle of a plot to a movie?

So, okay, maybe he is a nurse?(yes, I know there are male nurses). Maybe this is the derm's husband( being that I think this is a new practice and she is saving money by making it a family thing?)

And it's fine--he is professional and pleasant and tells us to take a seat, and also adds that there may be a slight delay because the doctor is running behind(surprise...surprise)

So we sit. It's very sterile in there--a few pictures on the walls of the impersonal landscape variety . Uninviting waiting room types of chairs--just four--it's a small room.

There are two sleek coffee tables with neatly arranged stacks of magazines. So I think, "oh goody! magazines to read"(since I love them). I just couldn't find anything I wanted to read, though.

Golf mags. Ugh.

Men's Journal--I don't think I could interest myself in reading the Ladies Home Journal, so a men's version is even more unappealing.

I flicked through Metropolitan Home, thinking I can always indulge in some home decorating eye candy. But, all the interiors were of the cold, minimalist style type. Not my thing.

There were a few hunting magazines, too. I began to think that the office was visited mostly by men, rather than the assumed women seeking wrinkle treatments and teenage acne sufferers, judging by the reading material there.

Still not giving up hope that I had to find at least a People magazine, I pulled out a periodical from the middle of one pile called.... Varmint Hunter!!!

(here's the website with a PDF version of the current issue if you don't believe me),

This latest issue showed a cute groundhog on the cover. Now, I have had a destructive groundhog who did some damage to my own back garden one summer and I was nearly at the point where I did begin to think murderous thoughts, but are there really enough people out there who hunt small rodent-y creatures(think--squirrels, prairie dogs...rats?) and warrant their own magazine? This gave me and R a good laugh, but to tell you the truth, I didn't dare actually open that magazine. There are some "lifestyles" (like ...swinging) that I really don't want to know too much about.(can you imagine what the cooking and entertaining section of Varmint Hunter might be like?)

Unlike my smart daughter who at least had thought to bring something to the waiting room to fill her time(her homework), I continued to sit there thinking this was the most boring place on earth.

The music playing was an endless loop of soft-sounding, warm and fuzzy James Taylor Christmas tunes...and I am afraid from here on in I'll never be able to listen to him again.

Finally the doctor comes out and in an awkward and stiff way extends her arm to shake our hands(limp handshake, too, I noticed), but she seems quite nice and does apologise for the wait, saying she likes to "talk". Which I think must mean she has at least another patient behind the door in one of the examination rooms.

Only.... no one comes out--we don't ever actually see another soul besides the male assistant and the doctor herself the entire time. We never heard any voices. Then I thought perhaps they leave by another exit? But we left the same way we came in, I realised later when I was thinking over the visit.

Now I can't help but think of that Seinfeld episode with the dentist....

To be fair, the visit went well, actually and I pretty much liked the doctor and she tried to make my daughter feel comfortable(R is pretty shy, especially with someone like a new doctor and having to sit in one of those open-at-the-back robes).

I also tried to make some little jokey banter, but it seemed like they went right over the doctor's head(or else I just can't pull off being a jokey banterer?) and while she seemed kind and soft spoken(and wore a black ankle-length skirt under her white doctor's coat, which was a slightly different look for a medical professional, I thought) , I came to the realization that she never really ever smiled and I recalled how smooth and glowing her forehead was. Of course, you would expect a dermatologist to have nice skin, but I think...there was...Botox ..involved. There was something about her face--smooth yet I can't recall her smiling or any expression. Isn't that a trait of Botox??

I guess my imagination ran a little wild in that place--out of boredom(stuck with only hunting magazines to read and having to wait over a half hour in a waiting room), and just getting this strange vibe from the place. Even Rachel thought it was a little "off" in there.

There is a follow-up visit scheduled for mid-February (R was put on a regimen of mild topical treatments which I think will clear things up nicely for her) so it'll be interesting to see if this was just one peculiar afternoon there, or if it's always like that.

Watch this space for my own "follow-up".