A few days ago my friend Byron Jorjorian who blogs at http://byronjorjorian.wordpress.com/ posted a photo with the following quote: “In every landscape should reside jewels of abstract art waiting to be discovered.” – Melissa Brown

Byron and I have had conversation about abstract art and I found his photo and the quote to be stimulating of my own reflection. Last month as I escaped the cold by being in Florida, Judy and I went one day to Venice, Florida. Many wildlife photographers know about the rookery that is there. Often there is a collection of photographers and tripods and long lenses. That day was no exception and I met several others who were there to photograph the birds. I don't consider myself to specialize in birds although I find them a fascinating subject and a challenge to capture visually. As we stood there, a young Great Blue Heron flew over and landed right next to me. He was too close to even get a picture of him with my 400mm lens. So Judy handed me the other camera with the 70-200 lens and I got several shots.

But what caught my eye about the photo later was the detail of the young bird's feathers as I processed the image when I got back home. I thought that my moment of "seeing" was when I focused the lens and pushed the shutter button. I admit I was thrilled at the moment, but as I looked later and saw the detail in the abstract, I was filled with even more wonder. Thanks Byron for the reminder.

The liturgical calendar notes that today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, a time of spiritual reflection prior to Easter, a time of sacrifice and fasting as one considers the suffering of Christ. Today also would have been my father's 87th birthday. And it is the anniversary of Judy and my first date: we walked to Big John's Pancake house for Sunday supper. Pancakes are not too Lent-like, rather belonging to the practice of some for Fat Tuesday and Mardi Gras. I was never too good at Lent, since I didn't grow up in the church, and found self-denial challenging. Not unlike a lot of folks, probably. So as I contemplate Lent from the position of no longer preaching, nor leading a church, I am planning a different kind of spiritual reflection. I wrote to a friend this morning about the significance of "seeing" and pausing to wonder. The folks who predict the weather "see" a week of warmth ahead for Nashville. Possibly, today marks the end of winter, and the beginning of "seeing". I certainly pray so.

I know it's a picture of waffles, and not pancakes. But you get the "picture"!

This winter has been such a contrast with last year. The coldest low temperatures in 2013 occurred in January and there were just two mornings that were below 20 degrees. I kept the pool open all winter, and there were even several days during the winter that I heated the spa to enjoy on warmer days. Ah, but this winter... I installed a freeze protection thermostat to the pool filter so that when the outside air temperature was below 39 degrees the pump would circulate the water and prevent the water from freezing. It has worked well, except it has been so cold this month with numerous single-digit temperatures that the surface of the pool has frozen for a few days at a time. And yesterday morning as I went out, I noticed that on a few persistent half-submerged leaves frost had formed above the surface of the ice. And I couldn't resist taking a few photos. The sun was shining, the wind wasn't blowing. And I enjoyed the quick process of capturing an image. It almost takes my mind off the cold!

I'm eleven months into retirement and this new journey, and I continually laugh at my self for being concerned that my experience of wildlife in my new home would be limited. I'm enjoying feeding the birds, but I must also be feeding a dozen squirrels, and who knows how many rabbits. Canada geese fly over the deck honking each morning and then reverse the pattern in the evening, often flying so low that I can hear the "squeak" of their wings. And then we had the joy of more than 10 nests of Great Blue Herons just 600 yards south of our house on the far side of the pond. Yep, this must be the city!

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Reflection at Breakfast
 

Before the rain started this morning I noticed this reflection which suggests a different location than middle Tennessee. Pause and reflect, giving thanks for another morning.

 

Ten Cents Per Week
I made 10 cents per week per customer delivering daily newspapers for the Kokomo Tribune. The customers paid 40 cents per week for newspapers Monday through Friday and I could keep a dime plus any tips. I was glad to have this work for newspaper routes were hard to get because kids held on to these jobs and they often got passed down to younger siblings. And you had to be at least 11 years old to work for the newspaper. My dad had somehow got acquainted with a man named Glen who was the circulation manager for the newspaper and dad must have put the word in for me because in 1960 when I was 12 years old I got a route which included my home address. It was basically two streets and had, I think, 60 customers, which meant I could make $6 per week. Every afternoon after school I would pick up my bundle of newspapers that had been dropped off on a street corner about a block from my house. I would take them to the front porch of my house and roll them into tubes and wrap a rubber band around them and stuff them into a canvas bag furnished by the newspaper. Two things that stick in my mind were how black my hands would get from handling the freshly inked newspapers and the smell of the rubber bands. Initially, I would fold the newspapers into squares, but it seems like the preferred method became the rolled version with the rubber bands. I would buy a big white box of green rubber bands from the newspaper. I hooked the strap of the bag around each handlebar grip of my bike and the bag would rest on the front fender. Some days it was tricky balancing the weight of the newspapers and the bike and me. I remember the sense of pride I had as I rode down the street with "The Kokomo Tribune" emblazoned on the front of the bag. I felt like I was doing something important in delivering the news.

Every Saturday morning I would take what I had collected from my customers down to the newspaper office to pay for the newspapers. I remember passing the Colonial Bakery with the aroma of baking bread. There were several buildings grouped together near the center of town that I knew well and visited often. The Kokomo Tribune was just north of the Carnegie Library where I would spend hours in during the summer and voraciously read books during the summer reading program. Just south of the Library was the YMCA where I learned to swim (although it was little more than floating and kicking at the time) when I was eight years old. And south down Union Street from the "Y" was the Victory Cycle Shop. So after I paid my bill at the Tribune I would often drop in Victory Cycle because the store was a hobby extravaganza. It was a bicycle shop that carried more than bikes for large wooden airplanes hung from the ceiling and there were shelves along the wall that were filled with plastic model kits and paint and glue, so it smelled of rubber tires and balsa wood.

I had bought my first model car in 1959 at the drug store across the street from Columbia Grade School where I attended fourth through sixth grade. It was a 1959 Ford convertible. But the greatest variety and the newest kits were at the Victory Cycle Shop. I suspect that the newspaper boys were the shop’s best customers. We had just paid our bill at the Tribune up the street and we had money in our pockets. If it wasn’t the lure of the newest model car or plane, it was replacement parts for our bikes that took part of the week’s profits. I remember the man that ran the store as being especially patient with us kids as we pondered what model car we were going to purchase.

I didn’t spend all that I made because I saved $1.00 per week or more at the savings and loan. I think it was through the encouragement of the newspaper that I had a savings account. The newspaper may have taken it out automatically as part of my bill but it was kept at the nearby savings and loan. I guess it was the beginning of a college fund or something else important. I know it had grown to over $400 when my family was having difficulties and I "loaned" it to my father with his promise of paying me back. He didn’t. It would have taken a long time and much effort to save $400.

That first Christmas, I had money of my own to buy gifts for my family. I bought a bottle of perfume for mom, a play rifle for my brother (I recall it was a replica of the Rifleman with the circle shaped cocking lever. "The Rifleman" was a popular TV Western at the time). I admit I don’t remember the specific gifts for my sister and dad, but I know I bought something for everyone because I was so proud I had money to purchase Christmas gifts.

I hated collecting money each week however. People weren’t home and I would have to come back or they would say they didn’t owe me for the week. I had a book with a page for each customer that had perforated receipt tabs for each week. When they paid me forty cents I would tear out the tab in exchange. Some folks got so far behind that I would simply tear out the tab rather than deal with the fact that they owed me as much as $2.00 Occasionally folks were convinced that they owed more than I would ask for and the considerate ones would pay what they owed. Once in a while I had customers who would protest that they didn’t owe me for previous weeks. I learned that some people would cheat a kid out of 40 cents. Fortunately there were very few. I think it interesting that so few people colored my perception when I doubt that I had trouble with most people. Some of my customers were fun though. I recall a delightful couple who loved to joke with me. The fellow taught me how to bend a nail around my finger and wrap it with gauze so that my finger looked like I had a nail piercing through my bandaged finger. A great April Fools joke!

The newspaper encouraged the carriers to get new customers. Two spring campaigns I got enough new customers that I could take a trip on a charter bus to the Indianapolis 500 Time Trials. I was there at the 2 ½ mile oval "brickyard" when one driver was the first to make it around the track in one minute flat which was the average speed of 150 miles per hour, a record at the time. Another time I got enough points to get an Xacto hobby knife kit with three knives in an hinged wooden box, which I have to this day. I cut my finger many times with those razor sharp blades. Another time I received a packet from the newspaper which included a wallet, tie clasp, cufflinks, mechanical pencil, ball point pen and letter opener with an image of a newspaper carrier on them. I still have the tie clasp and the letter opener.

Part of my money went for Boy Scout equipment because at the time I belonged to Boy Scout Troop 61. Our scoutmaster was George Lee, a local architect. But it was "Mr. Lee" until you earned your tenderfoot badge and then you had his permission to call him "George". Just a block east of the Tribune was a store that sold Boy Scout uniforms and equipment. Included among my purchases that I remember were a pocket knife, salt/pepper shaker, flashlight, canteen, backpack, and neckerchief slides to be carved from balsa wood.

After about a year I got a larger route of more than 100 customers. There was a produce store halfway around the loop where I would buy chunk chocolate. The chunks, as big as my palm, were wrapped in cellophane and piled in a small barrel. They probably had a million calories in them, but I rode my bike so much that there was little danger of gaining weight. It was on this route that I got so very cold one winter night that I was unable to finish my delivery. The road was covered with ice and I slipped trying to get traction on the brick road and fell frequently on my bike. The newspapers would scatter each time and I would have to pick them up and put them back in the bag. I remember that my toes and fingers were numb when I finally got home. I don’t recall ever being as cold again as that night. Some customers called the newspaper office wondering where their papers were. I delivered them the next day however. But it was still cold!
I only recall getting bit by a dog once in the three years that I carried newspapers. It was a German Shepherd that only barked once and then he bit me on the calf as I tried to ride past him. After that I carried rocks in the canvas bag in addition to newspapers.

But of course, what really slowed me down on my daily delivery trip were the girls who lived in the neighborhood and who needed the benefit of my adolescent flirting. What an adventure for ten cents!

This morning we headed south to check out Ahihi Preserve. Denise kept encouraging us to find this spot for my snorkeling adventure (more about that later) and yesterday, our neighbor, Don, encouraged us to check out the massive lava flow down the same road. First we explored several tide pools just before entering the reserve. I have always wanted to see a tide pool. The ones we found were full of sea urchins and brightly colored fish, sea cucumbers and I even spotted an eel which really surprised me. There were lots of crabs and snails and beautiful living coral formations. WOW!

Then we headed on down to the preserve which turned out to be in easy walking distance from the tide pools. With admonitions of the beach naturalist in my ears about staying 15 to 20 feet away from the reef, I was overwhelmed to realize the cove was all reef and the only way to get in and out of it was ON THE REEF. The fish were everywhere - big fish, not the little ones in the tide pools. We don't have fish like this in Illinois. The biggest adventure turned out to be getting out of the water since I was poorly equipped and a wave caught me and tossed me against some coral. I have three or four minor cuts but I would do it again.

The lava flow further down the road was immense and unearthly. You can look up on to the slope of Haleakala and see how the lava flowed down the side into the sea. I think that the last eruption of Haleakala was in the late 1700's.

We stopped at Big Beach and I think it is the most beautiful beach I have ever seen in my life with sand as soft and fine as sugar. It is a rich tan color with water the color of turquoise and Molokini lying off shore as an accent shape in the water. It looked just like you think a beach in paradise should look. Incredible.

One would think that this would be enough, but with our time here drawing to a close, we only have food on hand in the condo for one more meal at "Hartleroad's Hide-Away" so we walked down to the Kihei Cafe for their Cheeseburger special. It certainly was - special that is. This is the same place that we bought home made sticky buns topped with Macadamia nuts for breakfast earlier in the week. Oh, My!

I want to also include a word about Easter worship yesterday with the Ala Lani United Methodists. The church actually houses three congregations: English speaking, Korean, and Tongan. They all met together yesterday and the Tongan choir, which filled the front quarter of the church, sang the traditional "Hallelujah Chorus" in Tongan, by memory and without accompaniment. The entire service was very moving but this choir filled the sanctuary with their voices.

It is time to begin thinking about getting packed up to come home. See you all soon. Oh, would someone please turn the temp up in Illinois? We are used to around 80 with a light breeze everyday.

Finally, thank you so much, Steve and Denise. Your island home has been a wonderful gift to us. Your Hawaii friends and neighbors have been wonderful to us as well. And thanks to Mom for encouraging us to come over here and enjoy it.