Millfield, Ohio

When we lived in our younger shells, we had a place in Millfield, Ohio, not far from Athens. We were kind of in college but kind of not. It was a slow life. On Saturday nights, we watched the Porter Wagonner show (with Dolly Parton before she was Dolly Parton and when Porter started sporting those Nudie jackets), played a lot of John Prine records, and drove a Corvair without a gas pedal (we just used a cord tied to the gas line under the car and tugged on it to go). We went back last weekend for a graduation and took and picture or two like this classic run-down building, which has been there a long time. We also drove down to the site of the 1930 Millfield Mine disaster when 80 men died one cold day at the Sunday mine. Millfield hasn't changed much but then neither have we. We could have move right back in and been very happy.

Cherry Blossoms

We went to see the cherry blossoms yesterday at a secret place (though getting far less secret than we like). Most people take a lot of photos of the blossoms on the trees, or photos of their loved ones near the trees. We do that too, but mostly we like snaps of the blossoms after they have left their branches and are starting to pile up on the sidewalks and gutters. For a day or two, they keep their pale pink color and flutter about in any appreciable breeze, but soon after they curl up, turn brown, and cherry blossom season is over, but spring has at long last, arrived.

We don't get too starry-eyed about working in Washington, D.C. We've been once or twice around that block, as the saying goes, and we pretty much know what's on the next corner. Still, we are capable of seeing the nation's capital as we once did and as we like to recall it in our mind's eye when we are away: as something optimistic, full of good intentions, smart, hardworking, and more honest than not. These two photos, taken as we walked across the Mall on the way to meet a pal for a drink, allowed us to flirt with that feeling, as least until the sun settled and the night dropped in.

The Birds and the Beers

The Coolsisters were in North Dakota a while back (we drove from DC - you should try this). We met a guy who loved to spend the day birding near a big lake (you know, observing the avian way of life). But he didn't like to be without a beer, nor did he want to lug around full 12 oz. cans. So, the day before his bird outing, he'd walk around the lake, hiding beers in the cold shallow water every mile or so. Next day he'd walk the lake again, this time fully focusing on the birds, knowing a frosty brew was not far away. Nothing like preparing for the future. That's cool.