The Colosseum witnessed great cruelty and supreme strength. Christians thrown to lions, gladiators thrown to the whim of a mean public.
When next you find your travels calling for strength and resolve, remember the Colosseum and those who faced its perils. Their spirit will embolden you.
"Teeth to the Wind."
The coast of Maine calls. The sea carves a rugged shore. The people share their stories and their bounty.
Salty moist air surrounds those who live here. Fresh seafood abounds, and the nights are filled with stars and, as shown here, brilliant moonlight.
We ride sweeping bends and twisty byways. We cruise scenic vistas and glide down mountainous ribbons of pavement.
Yet ......... every now and then we go into a tunnel.
Whether under a bay or through a mountain the tunnel becomes a place unto itself. The sound of exhaust bounces off nearby walls. Light magnifies and focuses all the senses.
We are suddenly moving at warp speed.
What a rush! Vroom Vroom Baby.
Yes its cold outside for sure. But what a time of year for a brisk walk or snowshoe. We bundle up and head out. Pure joy awaits.
Every sound, every breath, every word creates change. Whispered, each creates but a ripple. Shouted, each creates but crashing waves of dissonance.
Ripples are pleasant. They soothe: they create change with a subtle caress, a nudge.
Here gentle littoral ripples and a perfect sunset bathe a peaceful shorline. Ahh, such harmony.
Utah hosts this fabulous Scenic Byway. I've ridden similar serpentine marvels but not yet this one .
Perhaps the occasion to do so will come another day. For now we can marvel at the engineered magnificence of this canyon sweeper.
............are bountiful -- unlimited -- passionate.
When we ride we are free to sing of the beauty all around. The rider becomes part of that beauty, in sync not with just the winding road but with all he passes through on the journey.
These birds sing praise for the fresh rains that have refilled their bath. We should be more alike such creatures.
Full, it's so full.
I shall dream of this fullness and be at peace.
Come Spring I will ride my motorcycle toward such a moon.
An eighteen-year-old never knows what might happen tomorrow. This particular and very lucky fellow turned 18 and spent an entire Summer driving with his sister all around the US and Canada -- hell, all the way to Alaska and the Danali.
Thus began a certain Pirate's lust for adventure. I blame my sister Betsy for taking me "on the road." I've never wanted to leave it since.
And I thank her deeply for the gift of wonder she first shared and then imparted to me.
San Francisco has to be the best city in the world. Among its many offerings are the "Painted Ladies," perfectly restored Victorian homes with unique patterns of color and wood, all nestled together along tiny thouroughfares.
How lovely these homes are. Just perfect!
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