Wednesday, May 14, 2008


I flipped the camera's memory card upside down, and shook out it's remaining contents...

Bikes and Trikes zooming down Rte. 10 Westfield.

One of my favorite lunch spots during the work week, if I'm in the area, is Pajer Superette in Agawam. Hands down, the biggest, freshest grinders you can get for your money. Anywhere. Order the small grinder, trust me. Oh, and don't forget to bring a quarter, so the family matriarch at the cash register doesn't need to make change...

While in Agawam, a machine to make a tree hugger's skin crawl...

When will style and imagination sell again?

A few more shapes and colors, of a more natural variety:

These little flowers where less than an eighth of an inch wide, barely wider than the blades of grass surrounding them:

Last week we rode our bikes on the Norwottuck Rail Trail, late in the afternoon. A little too late actually, as it was completely dark for the ride back. Kind of gives the trail a whole different perspective.

Riding along in the pitch black reminded me of a little tale my dad told me once about his childhood. Growing up dirt poor in Portugal, his whole village lived without any of the amenities we take for granted, like electricity and running water. (I know this is true, as it was still this way during my visit there in 1984). Street lights were non-existent, so the nights were pitch black when there was no moon. His uncle would often take my dad with him on his evening rounds, to friends houses and the local cafe/taverns. They would return home very late at night, after his uncle had his fill of drink and festivity. Full of energy from the night's fun, his uncle would trot home through dirt path shortcuts in the woods, experience guiding his way through the utter darkness. My half terrified father would try to keep up with his adult uncle's long strides, but all he could see in the pitch black to guide him, was the small glowing end of a cigarette, appearing and disappearing with his uncle's arm swing, as he ran ahead...

One of the lit up tunnels in the distance on the rail trail helped keep us on course, as we carefully pedalled along the trail.

Finally, we crossed the bridge. We stopped just long enough for this pic; It's an entirely different rail bridge at night. (I think the locals know what I mean...)

The night sun.

Another season of 'Survivor' has come and gone. Truly addictive, and though structured, still a great social experiment to watch unfold every year.


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