Tide Log

• Good Morning: A Man wakes up this morning on the right side of the bed. The east side, facing the sun rising over the soy field- still bare after the season's first melt.
• A Man grinds; brews his coffee, walks through the grass, and down the path to pick up the paper- sipping his brew along the way. A Man only subscribes to the local paper, the Internet is for the rest.
• Today A Man found some unfortunate news - a dear friend of A Man has died.
• A Dear Friend died a thoroughbred Irish Woman almost through her 88th annum. A Man carries on with his morning chores.
• Good Afternoon: Later on A Man heads for pheasant with The Boys. A Man wouldn't normally shoot bird from the truck, but today The Boys deserve the exception- They all have lost A Dear Friend. The Boys aim ahead of the truck, trying to have the jump on the birds grazing in the ditches alongside the path. A Man turns around to realize another perspective. As the truck travels passed the survived pheasants racing along the path, A Man watches where The Boys had just cast a few rounds toward the hopeless fowl. A Man's perspective watches down the barrel through his sights carefully following the pheasant as it runs the other way. A Man's aim is true; he confirmed this morning just as his grandfather taught his father to teach him. The Boys blast round after round ahead of the pickup only stopping to claim their prize. The Boys look back at The Man to wonder where he's been. A Man realizes his prize was left behind. A Man gestures the driver to roll back over a few hundred yards; he claims five birds- more than all The Boys. A man understands his success: The Boys saw every bird first, but A Man watches it pass by carefully eyeing up his target as the truck rolls on by. Each shot A Man takes is carefully accounted for- 1 bullet, 1 bird. 
• A Man has found dinner tonight.
• The Boys leave A Man back at his cabin in the early afternoon. "Will you be by the house tonight?" A man recognizes the circumstances, and realizes this as more of a subpoena than a query. A Man will be by the house tonight, guitar in hand. A Dear Friend has carried on, and an Irish wake best see her off.
• Good Evening: Later on A Man travels North along the Highway 62. He crosses Highway 7 as he did 40 years ago to the day. Of course A Man recalls it wasn't so much a highway as it was a two lane road pitted on the sides from the runoff in the rain. A Man blesses the marvels of modern engineering as he travels along one of the four asphalt lanes headed North to the house with his guitar. The Hamlet's and Villages along the route hold history in place, only changing for the time, and even then for nothing not needed.
• A Man arrives before dark, only moments before the sky leaves its last red cloud over the horizon for the stars. A Man never neglects the sky as far North as he is now. Back home closer to the city the stars just aren't the same.
• A Man knows The Boys stay in the Kitchen around the wood-stove stoking it warm as the spring evening cools off. A Man can see the glow of stove through the relic wooden window frames. A Man doesn't announce his arrival with more than a silent nod to The Ladies in the Living Room. A Man cautiously avoids the distracting happenstance potentially caused by a grand entrance. For this night is not about him, it is about them all and A Dear Friend.
• A Man's guitar sits out of it's case beside The Boys Bass, Banjo, and The Ladies Accordion. With every glass poured The Living Room and The Kitchen grow closer; The song rings louder into the darkness now heard by the pheasant pecking away by the forest's edge. A Man knows the night will be long with the memory's told by old Irish song. The Communion of A Man, The Boys, and The Ladies will carry the Irish Soul of A Dear Friend long into tomorrow- out of the darkness, into the light.
• Good Night:

JR after a good days work.

Joey’s Hot Dogs

Joey, BBQ uniform. Queniform.

The flies are increasingly thicker. They don’t bother us - how generous.

Quinte Rowing Club Inc. NCC Crew

Brennan, sleeves off.

No-see-ums. The generous fly.

The hat fitting station.

Launch Pad

It looks like earth is cracking. How apocalyptic.

Quick Dip

I’ve got a little mud on my tires.

River crossing apparatus.

Barefoot Beauty

In the Trees.

Ruser, The Sabbaticalista