There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society, where none intrudes.
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more...

-Lord Byron

Definition of Walkabout :

a short period of wandering as an occasional interruption of regular work
Showing posts with label Finger Lakes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Finger Lakes. Show all posts

12 October 2014

Autumn leaves fall to the hunt

The bright autumnal leaves float with reckless abandon as the car drives along the dusty road. Nothing but pumpkin patches and row after glorious row of grape vines, both ready for the seasonal harvest.

The car pulls off to the side of road, and the man excitedly jumps into the overgrown grassy field. The blue skies and cool temperatures from the nearby lake are what great novellas aspire to create in the mind.

He rests upon the wood vineyard fence.
The silence is rudely broken with the first shotgun blast, followed by repeated shots. Birds caw and emerge from the nearby woods.

The man is confused, then frightened. He ducks for cover, then runs back to the car to avoid further tragedy.

He forgets that Fall for some is also the Hunting season.

23 May 2014

searching for Mennonites and other treasures

If I had paid any attention to such things as weather reports and News forecasts, I most likely would have been forewarned of the recent flooding in New York State.

But where is the adventure in that?

It only forced me to change my plans from hiking (since the canyon was closed) to exploring more of the Finger Lakes area. I was on the search for Mennonites and U.S. history.
Winding along the rural back roads, I slow down to gaze at the horse drawn buggy, and it's passengers. A simple family to me, deep in their Christian beliefs and content with their mode of transportation. They stare back at me, if only for a moment to see a new face in their land, then avert their eyes back to the horse and their final destination.

I wonder if the structures I see were built by these people, without power tools, as rumor and legend have it. No matter, I think to myself, the beauty is in the details anyway.
The quiet of the green rolling hills mesmerizes my mind. In the stillness I almost miss the roadside waterfall. I find my way down off the beaten path to revel in the serenity of the falling water.
In addition to the Mennonites going about their daily activities, the beauty of the Finger Lakes wine region holds my attention. Row after row of grapevines are ready to start their season of growth and production. The fields are lush from the Spring rains.
Akin to the road not traveled, sometimes a change in scheduled plans is just what one needs to keep it all in perspective, and life fresh.

27 February 2014

the small sounds of the past in the Finger Lakes....

I get off the Interstate as quickly as possible to avoid the New York toll roads. Within minutes the landscape transforms into rolling hills intertwined with snowdrifts of varying heights. Here towns aren't called towns, they are villages.

Villages lost in time, in an area known as the Finger Lakes.
Villages established in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. Buildings that hold stories of hard working men and women, raising families, farms and fearing God.
Today many of the structures still remain, although uninhabited. The peeling paint and splintered wood tell stories of their own however. I stand in the bitter winter wind to listen.
I hear the musical calling of those early settlers of this land, feel their strength and triumphant spirit. A connection of the human condition to explore, wonder and question.....