And Honest Rapport –

I write what I know. I’ve learned that I enjoy people who don’t tell about what they don’t know. So, it turn, I write what I know while avoiding what little I know not about. Somewhere in there lives a story. Not long ago I watched a man run over a blank spot in the snow which happened to be the artesian well. The electrical cord was cut cleanly enough. The man told me, “I don’t know a thing about how to fix this. But, I know a man who does.” He and I then shared a whiskey on his bar. The bar happened to reside in the house I grew up in and the man happens to be my mother’s husband. How little we know is not the measure of us. Not any of us. It’s the little we know that we are honest about that will be remembered.

The Road To Town

The road to town was covered with snow-
The kind of snow that stuck to your boots
There was no wind- the trees looked worn
They were bent downward laboring with the weight
of snow on each branch, each strip of bark,
and if you happened to see a pine tree, each
tiny needle
The bushes under the trees weren’t bushes
really – only the very tops pushed through
You could see the town through the opening
at the bottom of the hill, cold, tired, with warm
windows glowing for company if company found
its way

-M. Taggart

It Hides Itself with Seasons – New England

It’s crisp with crunching leaves then humid with summer nights.  Its snow is deep and winters long with flowers growing wild in the spring.  It hides itself with seasons.  New England.  -M. Taggart

Shelburne Falls, MA, across from the famous bridge of flowers. This hidden town is worth a visit. Photograph courtesy of Robert Ford. http://fineartamerica.com/featured/fall-colors-shelburne-falls-massachusetts-robert-ford.html
Shelburne Falls, MA.  Home of the famous bridge of flowers. This hidden town is worth a visit. Photograph courtesy of Robert Ford. http://fineartamerica.com/featured/fall-colors-shelburne-falls-massachusetts-robert-ford.html

Westerly, RI. A well known path by locals.
Westerly, RI.  A well known path by locals.

Hills of CT- Roughly 30 minutes from Mystic, CT.
Roughly 30 minutes from Mystic, CT.

Montague, MA. Long before this old mill was transformed into a rustic pub it was among my father's favorite fishing holes.
Montague, MA.  Long before this old mill was transformed into a rustic pub it was among my father’s favorite fishing holes.

Rangeley, ME. You can't get there from here.
Rangeley, ME.  You can’t get there from here.

Somewhere near Greenville, ME. A bit of a hidden spot where George has taught me to fly fish.
Somewhere near Greenville, ME.  A bit of a hidden location where I was taught to fly fish.

Ninigret Park. Charlestown, RI. Photo taken from one of the paths overlooking the salt water pond.
Ninigret Park.   Charlestown, RI. Photo taken from one of the paths overlooking the salt water pond.

Gill, MA. My home town. Tom Brady once sent his Realtor to view the estate on settled on top of this hill.
Gill, MA.  My home town. Tom Brady once sent a contact to view the estate settled on top of this hill.

Block Island, RI. Where I accidentally fell in love.
Block Island, RI. Where I fell in love with a silhouette.

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New England Winter

New England Winter. February, 2015.

This past winter was memorable. While visiting family in Maine, Megan and I decided to take a drive during a snow storm. I’d much rather adventure in a blizzard then sit comfortably while watching it from a window.

One of the back roads had a high snowbank. We stopped the vehicle and I got out and started to climb. Megan took the picture. I didn’t think much of the picture at the time.  Now though, I enjoy it very much.

Maine Road

On the other side of the banking is a large field. It was cold and very dark.

Odd Walking Thoughts – Fading Footprints

We were walking and it was very cold.  You told me ‘It’s too much and we need not walk further.’  I said ‘If we stop we’ll freeze and die’. You were always the one to know. What did you know this time?  Then, I asked, ‘If my footprints were fading, along the path where we were to be saved, would you let us in?’ To which you replied ‘ I’d ask you to remember, please, what lead you to the place you now stood.’ -M. Taggart