With each passing year, the hair grows slower and less thick. Normally, at this time of year, I would buzz it all off like a sheep being shorn in the spring. But now I’m just going to let it go. For how long? Who knows.

I wanted to create a place to display images, sort of a portfolio approach. I rushed through picking things. Over time I’ll refine things a bit, especially in the landscape section where none of my work using film appears.

That day with the bees was for an article I wrote for Penn State Agriculture magazine. When I arrived at the gate at the site I called the researcher. He told me the bees were “angry” and that I should stay where I was. He would come out and suit me up. It was pretty intense and at times the bees completely covered my facemask. It was hard to hear because of the buzzing.

We used to keep all the past issues on the web as PDF files but they were removed since they did not meet the accessibility requirements. I searched for the article but it’s no longer on the site. I was the editor for several years but my issues are starting to come down. I found a link to one of my Editor’s Notes that reminds me of how much my blog influenced the magazine. I worked hard to bring a more conversational tone for our readers.

Once the hair gets long enough it’s no longer a problem. But I haven’t had it that long since 1973!

No bitcoin. I only take gold bars and coins.

Three images that particularly caught my eye this morning: 1) the swarm of bees around the beekeepers (wow!) 2) Ruby lying on the dirt road in the fetal position 3) No dogs allowed!

I completely agree with Don’s sentiment on your long hair. I tried something similar and one day just couldn’t take it anymore.

Sign me up for your scooter novel and any coffee table book you may publish. Do you take Bitcoin?

I’ll shoot a new banner the next time I’m out on the scooter, but for now I replaced it with something from a previous spring ride.

The pandemic and its effect on daily living and thinking continue to amaze me. I try to be like you and just be polite in the world.

Thinking about the air I breathe is exactly as you describe. I never thought about it unless I was near a fire or some chemical thing. Now it’s anytime I see another person. I will welcome a change on that score.

Lily is a good dog but she is exuberant and plows ahead through whatever obstacle is in her way. Junior and I try and stay out of her way. I’m completely healed from that event but other aches and pains seem to arise from nowhere. I’m grateful that neither the Vespa or the motorcycle have caused any pain.

Presidents and politics. I’ve had enough of both. There is little I need to know about either and I avoid any news or stories that are short. Everything is far more complicated than it seems. I saw Biden’s stumbling on the steps to the plane and just wondered why it was news. Doesn’t everyone stumble from time to time over something? Politics. What a waste. The same went for Trump slowly descending a ramp. So what. Who cares?

Politics. It’s all bad. And seems mostly dishonest. I’ve said more than I should about something I have no control over.

The sun is shining right now. That’s a good thing!

I guess it’s true that everything changes. Perhaps one day we’ll all be wearing helmets all the time!

Once we have them, and they have had had their effect, we will joyfully hop on a flight to Vancouver to see our kids we dearly miss.

What I miss most these days is being indifferent to the air we breathe. The thing that I long to do without is the constant calculus involved in doing anything beyond our front door.

With the Covid variants increasingly present we have taken to double-masking: surgical mask topped with a KN95. We feel like ancient divers in struggling to breathe in those porthole-equipped dive helmets.

I am so sorry that Lily tossed you down the stairs. She seemed so nice when I met her, if a tad exuberant. It’s just more evidence that God has a wicked sense of humour. Here you are foolhardy enough to ride not one, but two deadly motorbikes, one more powerful and lethal than the other, and it’s one of your two best friends throwing you mercilessly under the bus.

The part about your misfortune that had me silently and inwardly smirk and chuckle, is that you have one more thing in common with your President. There’s your remarkable empathy, and now your canine-induced injury. Can a nationally-televised address be that far off?

That is one of the funniest aspects of the pandemic – putting on a mask before entering a bank.