The light comes through this window at a specific angle at a certain time of day, twice a year. And I wandered into this building at the Maine Maritime Museum, filled with an assortment of ancient items related to shipbuilding on one of those days. In a corner, by a window, stood two barrels that had caught the light and shadows from that window.

The larger barrel was missing the metal bands that had originally held it together. The smaller barrel is more interesting and looks even older. Could it have been filled with tar once upon a time? I was surprised to learn that wooden barrels have been used for shipping various items for more than 2,000 years. Relics from long ago.

The workers nextdoor to us are completing the soffit on the new house and are the first Spanish speakers that have music that we know. All from the mid 1980s! It is funny to hear Donna Summer and Journey and "We Are the World" blaring from the other side of our pool. It seems everyone has their own playlist, their favorites stored on their phone that through bluetooth can be loudly playing from external speakers. Is it any different than the boomboxes from which those 80s tunes once played?

And then there are those music-lovers who have tunes in their heads and fingers like this fellow that I saw in Nova Scotia. An outdoors, well-used piano is not in tune. But he doesn't care! It's the song he loves and he's playing this concert for anyone who loves music.

Under a spreading chestnut tree

The village smithy stands;

The smith, a mighty man is he

With large and sinewy hands,

And the muscles of his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.

You, like me, during elementary school probably memorized Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem The Village Blacksmith. The poem was first published in 1840, so millions of schoolchildren have memorized it these many years. But possibly, like cursive handwriting, it's no longer relevant. The poem tells of the widower blacksmith grieving for his wife but finding joy in family and work.

Every historical village recreation seems to have a blacksmith. This one I photographed at the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

Vertical or horizontal? High or low viewpoint? Even if one is shooting with a phone, the photographer has a decision to make, several actually. How will I frame this shot? Where should I stand? What about a real low perspective that might require lying down? How close should I be? What things should I include and what should I leave out? At what moment should I take the photo?

I usually see dozens of photos within a photo. I recall a workshop with John Shaw where he asked photographers "what were you taking a picture of?" and "Why did you take that photo?" Of these two photos, I like the horizontal one the best. These photos were taken at the Cuyahoga Valley National Park in Ohio. It's just a day's drive from Nashville with 33,000 acres and a railroad and waterfalls.

Rutland, Vermont. Historic Merchants Row. We stayed overnight in Rutland on one of our autumn trips. I was weary from driving and had never been here, but I knew I wanted to take a photo of this building because I had seen it in travel information. So, we drove downtown in the rain just to find its location. And the scene energized me. Lots of activity near the dinner hour, and then I saw this fellow preparing to cross the street. I took 4 or 5, but this was the first one of the bunch. I chose this one because he's in the middle of the street and adds the most interest to the photo. His umbrella and the rainy streets add information. All of these buildings are listed in the National Register of Historic Buildings. This was a fun night to take pictures.

I've been to Niagara Falls twice. I'd go again. If I lived closer, I would go every week! The noise and the wind and the chaos of all that water is more than fascinating to me. And of course I have bunches of photos. When we were there the last time, tourists were everywhere, all kinds of different groups standing by the railing and taking photos. I waited because I didn't want all those people in my picture. But then, surprisingly, everyone was gone and there was just this one woman left in a bright dress and a vivid hat! She made my picture!

I'm not a fan of the book of Job. The whole scenario of a perfectly righteous man experiencing tragedy upon tragedy and being counseled by his friends that it must be his fault, having some sin in his life that is causing these problems doesn't appeal to me. Rabbi Kushner wrote a little book years ago, "Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?" ultimately answering why not. I think he came to the same conclusion as Job which is to hold onto one's faith even through the bad times. Obviously, a challenge for any believer. What I do value in Job is part of the reading for today, an extended answer by God: "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me if you have understanding. Tell me who determined its measurements--surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?" (38:4-7)

We all want someone to listen to us. Without interruptions. Face-to-face. Feeling like the listener has all the time in the world. Body language that indicates a posture of attention.

Soon, the speaker will discover limitations in the listener's stony response and steely-eyed stare and quiet demeanor and lack of dialogue. At least, I hope he eventually notices.