The Funny Brother

Yesterday I spent the day with my two brothers and an old buddy. We pub crawled in a small Vermont town, got rained on- loved it, drank good beer and smoked cigars. I took a few photos. And soon I’ll write the best man’s speech for my youngest brother’s wedding. I’m going to put my heart into this speech and if I don’t make people reach for napkins I’ll dump an entire bucket of whisky onto my head to at least make a scene worth remembering. Ha! I wouldn’t do that to my brother. It’s their time and I’ll be sure to help make it their time. I can’t wait!

Tim B
Brattleboro, VT. I think someone should tell Tim Burton that I found his house.
Bratt VT
Brattleboro, VT
Funny Brother
Three Brothers on the right. Old buddy with the beard on the left. Our youngest, all the way on the right with the blue shirt, has always had an amazing ability to make funny faces for the camera. He delivered so well with this one that we laughed uncontrollably. I’m wearing the white and blue checkered shirt and our oldest brother is wearing the white t. We live in three different states and seldom are able to be together at the same time. Figured I’d share this with my digital family. Cheers everyone!

Life in New England

New England teases us with history, landscape, and weather then grips our imagination -M. Taggart

Mapio.net Turners Bridge.jpg
Gill/Turners Falls, MA. Travel North on the Connecticut River just a few miles and you’ll find you’re in New Hampshire on one side, and Vermont on the other. In the middle of the river, it’s up to you. (photo credit mapio.net)

 

UMASS campus
UMASS campus. Amherst, Massachusetts. I know a number of my friends have witnessed the wind that whips by the library in the winter. (photo credit google images/hercampus.com)
Portland ME Harbor (visitmaine)
Portland Harbor, Maine. Portland is quickly becoming a destination. It’s rustic New England docks are being mixed with Brew Pubs and diversity. Go there and possibly take a harbor cruise all the way to Nova Scotia. (photo credit google images/visitmaine) 

 

 

Green River Bridge Greenfield
Green River Bridge. Greenfield, MA. This covered bridge was all but destroyed by flooding during Hurricane Irene. This road is one of many leading to the hills of Western, MA. (photo credit google images/charlie kellogg)

 

Clydes's Cider Mill
Clyde’s Cider Mill located in Stonington, CT. Sept 1st brings the opening of the Cider Mill. Little known gem- just to the left and down toward the back entrance of the basement is a whiskey/cider distillery. They allow you to sample and purchase half and full gallons. A great hot toddy for September evenings on the porch in New England.  (photo credit/westerly sun)

 

Sandy
Misquamicut Beach Westerly, RI. Among the most southern portions of New England. It’s difficult to explain to people how Hurricane Sandy created the ocean to rise and swallow the beach front property. The ocean redeposited the sand dunes onto Atlantic Avenue. The hurricane literally changed the face of the beach.(photo credit Bill Van Siclen/ProvidenceJournal)

 

Appalachian Trail
100 mile wilderness, Appalachian Trail, Maine. So..you’d like to hike the 100 mile wilderness? This is truly Up-Maine and is strikingly beautiful- The Gateway to the North. A warning though is this: some who hike the 100 mile wilderness are never seen again. (photo credit youtube/will wood)

 

Thank you for reading and Cheers!

I invite you to learn about my self published book.

https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Or read the reviews via the amazon link below.

https://www.amazon.com/Dont-Be-Sally-Based-Events-ebook/dp/B00DYAJ2ZW?ie=UTF8&keywords=don%27t%20be%20a%20sally&qid=1433349895&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1

About the author: When asked where he is from, Matt has replied, ‘I’m from mud.’ Matt grew up in the farmlands of Western, MA. He’s lived in numerous locations within New England. -Read on. It’s good for the brain.

Into the Dark – Odd Walking Thoughts

Into the dark most will come. There wasn’t a dam and there wasn’t a nuke plant. Steam didn’t rise from the background and loom over the dam. I never stood on the dam with a flashlight looking for the body. I wasn’t asked why the valve wouldn’t shut. I didn’t learn to walk within the switch yard and the accident never happened. Into the dark most will come. Not me and not then and not now. My memories are my own.

A Winter Crust – Short Story

Written by -M. Taggart
Short Story. Non Fiction.

A Winter Crust

It was cold. The snow was deep and had a crust covered top. If I wanted, I could stand on the top layer because I was small and light. I was eight years old. We stood on the side of the road, waiting for our school bus. I waited with my older brother. Sometimes, we’d stomp through the crust and make foot paths. Creating paths a few feet wide and ten feet in any direction was an activity we enjoyed. If we had time we’d make a path to the ravine.

The ravine was deep and very steep. In many places it was well over one hundred feet to the bottom where the brook was. We constantly played in the ravine during the spring, summer, and fall. The winter weather made it treacherous to reach the bottom.

I wore a winter coat, hat, gloves, and boots. My brother, Chris, wore nearly the same outfit. Our jeans were caked with snow. We’d be wet once we were on the bus and the snow melted. We didn’t mind. During spring melt, we’d crack through ice, and wade waist deep in an ice water gully which was located in a piece of farmland next to our house. We’d slosh around and wave at the people driving in cars when they slowed down to get a better look at us. We’d go home soaked and try to hide our clothes from our mother.

The bus wasn’t within ear shot yet. We’d stomped a foot path to the very edge of the ravine. “Do you think the bus will be here soon?” I asked.

“It will be here. It always is.” My brother replied. We were under strict orders to always get on the bus and to always go to school. Skipping school wasn’t an option.

I, standing in our self made foot path, wanted to get an even closer glimpse to look over edge. I stepped up and onto the crusty snow. I slid my boots carefully over the surface and peered down into our heaven.  “I can’t wait until all of this melts and we can watch the spring run off come rushing through. The brook is huge then.”

“I know it! Remember when there was so much water that it was dangerous to be near because it was running too fast?”

“I remember,” I said while trying to look back at my older brother. I lost my footing and fell onto my side. I started to slide down the ravine. Feeling a flash of fear I reached out with both hands, desperately trying to grasp anything that I could. I picked up speed and found myself sliding on my stomach. I felt a small tree that had somehow peeked through the crusted snow and held on as tightly as I could with my right hand. Looking up the ravine’s banking at my brother, I croaked “I need some help.”

The small tree snapped in two. Once again sliding, and picking up speed, my body crashed into an oak tree which spun me around and I disappeared out of view. “Matt!” I heard Chris yelling after me. It was too late.  I was on top of the crusted snow and sliding down the ever steepening banking. I continued to reach for trees, low hanging branches, vines, anything at all.

I felt my body life into the air, I had come to a large lip in the banking, just above the brook and slammed through the ice and into the water. For a moment I was completely submerged and could taste the cold brook water. Luckily, the water wasn’t over my head. I found my footing and stood. Chris was yelling something to me from up above. I was trying to shout back that I was OK and to wait for me. I wasn’t shivering but I was wet and cold. I now needed to get out of the brook and find a way back up the steep ravine wall. I needed to go to school.

I heard Chris yelling something from above and I could hear the school bus engine and the sound of the door opening. “Wait for me! Wait for me!” I was trying to stomp a foot hold in the snow.

The bus pulled away. Chris had done as he was told and gone to school. I was frustrated and angry and wet and alone. I kicked and punched into the snow to gain footholds and grip and after some time found myself again at the top of the ravine. I didn’t feel the cold. I didn’t care that I was wet. I knew I had to go into my house, pick up the phone, and dial the number that would lead to my undoing. I had to tell on myself to my mother.

 

To this day my brother and I have a running joke concerning his abandonment of his little brother. I’ll say something like, “Yea, just like the time you left me at the bottom of that ravine in the winter!” And he’ll counter while smirking, “I did what I was told. I got on that bus and I went to school.” Which is funny because Chris is very successful and works in education. This takes place in the mid 80’s and near the VT and NH line.