Thursday, October 19, 2017

The Stand

The Stand, Gray, Maine / 10x10

Where we live in Virginia, there is autumn. It's mostly a golden autumn, though, filled with colors like the field in the photograph in the background.

What I've missed about New England autumns is the reds. The brilliant, inner-lighted reds of the maples, tinting to orange, tipped with yellow, brilliant and fiery enough to make me catch my breath, again and again.

I've had some great colorful surprises up here, including these tall bushes, which I believe are sumac. The other vivid red surprise is the blueberry fields, which turn an incredibly brilliant red in the fall.

Below, two crimson landscapes.

She Doesn't Like Guthries

Honestly, Peter and I don't go out much at night, and I really don't like jazz very much. And I've been sober for 30 years.

So when Jim and Linda (left) suggested that we go out to hear Jim's brother's jazz band play at a retaurant/bar in Lewiston, Maine, it didn't sound like a great idea.

But I was their guest, and so I put on a smile and a clean shirt and off we went.

To my surprise, the place was great, the show was early and I enjoyed the music.

It took place at She Doesn't Like Guthries, on Middle Street in Lewiston. It bills itself as offering healthy food, live music local art, and being eco-friendly. All seemed to be true. The place had a lovely atmosphere, a good menu with some nice gluten-free items, and delicious coffee and tea. And I enjoyed the jazz, too!

Top, Jim and Linda. Below, two jazz aficionados cleverly disguised as Batmen. The other pix are just inside the restaurant.

Now, about that name... My friend Jim (in the photo at top) said that when Randy and Heather - the couple who owns the place were trying out names, one of the names Randy suggested was "Guthries." But Heather really didn't like that name. Hence...  

Dog of the Day

Met this old guy (above) at the Arundel Flea Market. I suggested that maybe he was a Carolina Dog, like Koko (one of our dogs, below). The dog's owner said no - but I'm not so sure. No matter what kind of dog he was, he was a nice old guy.

A Final Thought

"Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall."

  • - F. Scott Fitzgerald

No comments:

Post a Comment