… the reverberations from yesterday’s pit bull encounter continue to play out in my head, i relive the attack over and over, each time imagining what i might do if it happened again, how i might defend myself and my dog if a similar attack happens in the future…

… this trauma brings up a years ago memory of the time a dog of ours got locked in the jaws of a pit bull on the ferry… he lived to tell about it, but still, a trauma that i vividly remember to this day, even though the dog is no longer with us… yesterday’s incident did not harm Fiona, but it so easily could have been much worse… later, at the farmer’s market, Fiona was more shy with the bigger dogs than before, she has her own trauma to deal with… i wonder if she, in a more rudimentary way, tries to imagine what she might do differently if such a situation happened again… they say dogs live much more in the moment, but i’m not convinced…

… nature programs us to lock memories of trauma in… i suppose it helps us recognize and avoid future similar situations, though there was no avoiding this one, a sudden confluence of circumstances that one had no reason or possibility to see coming… it will alter my behavior though… sadly, i won’t take my dog with me to hike this trail again…

… news of a family member in hospital… stumbled and fell while hiking Clayhead trail with my dog Fiona… a close call with two unleashed pitbulls, owner was “so sorry,” i wasn’t having any of it, “leash your dogs!” i told her angrily as i hurried away with Fiona…

… i learn about… Risshaku-ji, a mountain temple, an unusually well kept quiet place¹… i morning-dream of going there… i know i am unlikely to, would be a cool adventure though… the more i read the Haas translations, the more i think they might not be so good… the first Haiku i read this morning …

Stillness—

the cidada’s cry,

_drills into the rocks.

… i have no knowledge of the Japanese, but i would never think of the noise cicadas make as a cry, is that really the best translation of the Japanese?… it is loud and i can imagine it drilling rocks… it’s a high pitched washboard sound, that’s how i’d describe it… or, simply, cicada noise, most of us know it… still, i do get the image…

… the next one, fifth month rains swell a local river… as they do Fishkill Creek at home, something i have photographed many times… Haiku strike me as minimalist notes on attention paid… can i replicate this in a photograph?…

… L and M were over to dinner last night… i cooked… we had a good time… i drank more than i should have but don’t seem to be hung over in any substantial way…

… dogs and bird chorus got me up… we didn’t walk them just before bed so they had business to do…

… kitchen a mess, stuffed the dishwasher and turned it on…

… supposed to be sunny today, will we go to the beach?…

… i have been thinking about the need to have adventures, i will get busy planning some when we return… Block Island is nice but it is not an adventure, it is more a routine part of the year…

… news that is J in the hospital, i will need to call J and C…

… Biden meets with Putin today… the world waits (with baited breath?)… my readings have caused me to consider the possibility that Biden/Harris are a brief pause to a trend, that the slide to authoritarianism has been briefly halted and could easily return… the rest of the world will be uncertain about what’s next too…

Scenes from a walk…

Basho

… birds weeping, fish crying; dusk in spring, no bells in the village, how is life possible; art origins, planting song, back country; chestnut trees, in written chineese, west + tree = amida’s paradise, the wood useful for walking sticks and pillars of a house; summer grass, warriors dreams; fleas, lice, horses peeing near one’s pillow…

… this morning’s set seems more cryptic than some… how does summers grass evoke warriors dreams?… one needs to be in the spring of youth to fight?… i like that chestnut trees are associated with the western paradise, the place of pure bliss, that because of that one fashions walking sticks and house pillars from the wood, to embody the place one hopes to attain… a village without bells, no time keeping, no regulation of the rhythms of the day… how does one perceive weeping in a bird, or tears in the eye of a fish?, the later especially something to do with cosmic integration, and sadness of animals at the end of spring… human projection?, and in any case, most of us are happy with the arrival of summer…

… it is the chorus of birds that wakes me up again…

…stayed up a bit later last night to talk with L and H… feeling a bit groggy this morning…

… the dogs are sleeping in it seems, second morning in a row… new habits?… i will have to go get them in a bit…

… my first reply to one of my posts on micro.blog yesterday… i have at least one follower… i like the way m.b works but it seems slow going to integrate into the community… it’s interesting though, one doesn’t know how many followers they have and you can’t simply like posts, you have to engage, make comments, etc… but one still feels the need to have attention paid to them and looks for signs of that… is anybody out there?… does anybody care?…

… my vacation reading material…

… have been reading most things i can get my hands on about women and photography… all aspects… women as subjects(objects), photographers, critics, historians… this book is an anthology of writings on photography by women… the last few essays have been interesting looks at the role of photography in conflict, politics and empire building… one in particular written by Gen Doy on the Paris Communeat the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian war seems to channel some aspects of current political and economic forces at play…

… scenes from a walk…

… been seeing this thistle plant on Block Island for a number of years now… it’s not common but seeing them in more places around the island… open fields amidst grasses seems the preferred habitat… they are stocky with large flowers, pale yellow, purple…

Many French artisans were forced to join thenranks of the proletariat which, in the early days of industrialization, meant a life of misery and complete political insignificance. The petite bourgeoisie, or lower middle classes, also became more numerous, but with the expansion of industry and commerce they prospered along with the rest of the bourgeoisie, whose members were fast becoming the pillars of the social order.¹_  … i am reading about the industrial revolution in France, the social shifts resulting from it, and wonder, are we experiencing something similar, now, the advance of information technology, robotics, the demise of many forms of work, the new ways of organizing the flow of goods and services… could it be that unfettered exchange on social media and the damage it easily leads to is a weakness of democracies?… is the new social order the rise of a techno elite and a large quantity of irrelevant (except to themselves) humans?…

_ The G7 leaders offered a visible show of solidarity, with leaders talking and laughing together. Its statement repeated U.S. President Joe Biden’s slogan that we will “build back better,” and it painted a world that addresses climate change, prevents the exploitation of labor, demands gender equality, and protects human rights._¹

… a world (in which humans) address climate change, prevent human exploitation, demand gender equality and protect human rights… these are good things, things every human should want, but power dynamics being what they are, autocracies are still a viable alternative… one could argue, an emerging dominant alternative… it is hard to imaging these things prevailing under autocratic leadership…

… sleepless nights, oil freezes; after winter crysanthemums, radishes; she cats, love and barley; a monkey’s face is a monkey face; fish guts smell; a woman fingers back her hair while wrapping rice cakes; life is a makeshift hut like Sogi’s; summer robes and lice; when there are clouds, moon watchers take a break; is there a god?; even children gaze at the moon while husking rice; heat shimmers above dead grass…

… i have this thought, what if we only spoke to one another in haiku?… would we make progress?…

… birds wake me up… the dogs do not follow me downstairs… an anomaly… a crow calls in the distance… signs?…

… L arrives today, what will they bring to the equations…

… first sip of coffee, should i be trying to think before i’ve had more?…

… a new week beginning, what does the rhythm of weeks and weekends mean when you do not have a regular job?… it’s interesting the way the habit of weekends continues even so…

… weight down this morning, i wasn’t expecting that…

… the cat meows from the living room, what is he up to?…

… the small things right now…

… discovered a new photo editing app… i continue to work to streamline my photo work flow and center it on the iPhone camera… Darkroom is promising…

… at the Beachead…

… H…

… it’s all good…

… scenes from the walk into town from Southeast Lighthouse…

Southeast Lighthouse

… been under renovation for a few years now… supposed to reopen in July…

… the stairs at Mohegan Bluffs…

… for another day… an overlook…

… Southeast lighthouse… we’ll get there in a minute…

… i have been trying to leave photographs in color, but i am not satisfied for long… black and white seems to appeal way more than color… i am trying to figure out what it is that makes it so appealing to me… there is an instant nostalgia, there was a time when B&W was almost all you could do for a photograph, but there is color nostalgia too, the way a certain film, now filter, impacts the perception of a photograph… perhaps to me, B&W is an acknowledgement that this isn’t the real thing, not even a facsimile of the present thing… the second an image is made its own moment and the moment of the subject begins receding into the past… i was once accused of being a romantic, maybe B&W fits with my so called romantic point of view… then i think, color could do that too…

… there are photographers i am aware of and admire that only make B&W photographs, Robert Adams, Gerry Johansson… they are an older generation of photographers… they don’t make pictures of people very much… landscapes, streetscapes, mostly… me too… largely i am too shy to photograph people, it makes me uncomfortable, i stick to the evidence of people…

… as a spiritual practice, i read haiku, twelve at a time… i learn broadly about moments right here, right now…

… i read about midnight frost and borrowing the shirt of a scarecrow; dusk dimming the eyes of hawks and quail chirping; spiders singing in the autumn wind; calm moons and gay boys fearing the howling of foxes (do foxes howl?); human sadness, the cry of a single cukoo; sadness, morning glories and bad paint jobs; that banana trees are superior to bush clover; the painting of field stubble black by winter rain; first snows on bridges only half finished (this in particular strikes me as a metaphor for the plans we make for our lives, ever the unfinished work, we leave this world still without ever finishing); cocks crowing, hard winter rain, cow sheds; bamboo groves hiding winter storms; that winter worlds have one color brushed by the wind…

birds praising the dawn

the dog paces

its a new day

… my attempt at a haiku sort of poem… one thing the Robert Hass translations have given me is freedom from the syllable structure…

… slept through the night as i have been most nights lately…

… Fiona got me up a little before the birds started giving praise to the dawn… she wanted water and to go out…

… kitchen ready to go, always a blessing, not always a fact…

… news that in addition to H’s sister, we will be seeing O and S while we are out here… we are glad about that…

… i seem to be devoid of any significant thoughts to start the day with…

… maybe this is significant, i am contemplating centering my social media efforts largely around micro.blog, assuming i can eventually get into community here… i have been working at it, but if success can be measured by replies to posts, then i have a long way to go as there have been no replies to my posts… there has been evidence of members looking at my post stream, just no replies… there is one individual i am following who is complaining it is hard to break in, and i may agree with them… still, i like the way my thoughts post to the new venue, maybe in time it will become apparent that there is some value to them for others…

… H’s chosen pandemic skill was sourdough bread… she spent all winter perfecting her loaf and buying equipment that allowed precision, new kitchen scale, proofing box, baking cloches, and more… we had to leave all that behind while we are on Block Island… this is her first effort without the supportive equipment…

… she’s definitely developed baking chops…