Snail's Pace Bridgewater, Connecticut

Apology From Eve

Finally, An Apology From Eve to Adam

I have eaten

every last one of the

Lemon cookies that I made, especially for you.

I left them out on the table in the garden

to take them to you at your office so that

we could enjoy them after lunch and got distracted

while watching a king snake move through the rock

garden, so purposefully,  so slowly.

Forgive me.

They were delicious

So sweet and tart

To make up for it I shall wear

only a fig leaf all day

while I am gardening.

Egypt Rang

Who rang the gong, silently. 
So that The Sandman of Dreams could not sleep?

Photos of people of North Africa 1943 
surfaced from my dusty boxes.

Foreign faces grateful for freedom posted, 
echoed around the net. 
Ghost stones of liberty skip across the sands, 
ping the Pyramids.

Later, three million people 
fill the streets of Cairo.

The Goddess sounds the gong, silently, 
wakes the restless heart of Egypt.

History made, not repeated. Premonition or cause?

The Sandman smiling, silently, sleeps, dreams 
even deeper.

The Bancrofts

Willis Bancroft Sr. His first car, near Bayonne, NJ. Front seat is Natalie as a baby, Willis at the wheel Katharine Bancroft Schuler next to him. In the back seat is Henrietta Bancroft author and teacher with Grandma Bancroft.

Katharine Bancroft Schuler

Willis Bancroft Jr. built this house from things stored in his construction junkyard after he lost his house during the depression. the address is 3211 Hazel St. Erie, Pa. One of the doors is an old car door. The second story is an old dance floor from a steamboat and there is a porthole for a window. Also, there is a whetstone built into the wall to sharpen knives. It is a custom home in every way and every brick and stone was paid for.

The porthole window

One window was made out of an old car door. you could roll down the window from the window seat inside.

Walls made of found objects have charm.

Willis Bancroft, Jr. built this elegant house with a slate roof in Erie. He lost it to the bank during the depression. It faces Lake Erie. Nat and Burt spent their honeymoon here in 1938.

Willis Bancroft, Jr. was a building contractor who worked in Florida. The land was owned by him before it was developed, so the story goes.

The Bancroft Family's Sanibel Island Camp after a twister. Natalie was sitting on the bed when it occurred. c. 1920. The family went to Florida to stay with Willis Bancroft, Jr. Natalie talked about this paradise all of her life. They swam all day and ate fruit right off of the trees.

Chelsea apartment now rents for $3500

Empire State Building

CaissasClock.blogspot.com

Top photo is the corner store where I went to buy a New York Times in the mornings when I stayed with Aunt Jane. By the second day the store owner knew me. The building across the street is the Episcopal Seminary.
Living room window at Aunt Jane's modest apartment at 433 West 21st Street. She paid $250 per month. It costs $3500 now. She taught nature study at the liberal progressive Waldon school and wrote two children's books that are still published.
Money can't buy a New York City experience like that.

Great Horned Owl

Canon EOS D20 Digital SLR

Great Horned Owl in Tucson November 2012

Panther Photographs

Panther keeps one eye on the photographer at Reid Park Zoo in Tucson.

Pushing the Pencil Beyond Limits

This pencil drawing was 20 x 30 and was made using my free hand drawings as source material.

Using 4h pencils to begin and working with increasingly softer lead until the final drawing was finished with 6B pencils, I worked laying down graphite and picking up with a kneaded eraser and spray fixative on each layer.

It is labor intensive to say the least. Nothing like this can be done without dedication and vision for the final product. My best work began after I graduated from college and worked independently.

America, the Hell Grail

America, the Crucible for the Common Man.

America, the Hell Grail.

Creative, destructive, aggressive,

dynamic enfant terrible America

Child among older nations

Progress the juggernaut

Emptying churches

Ravaging communities

Progress the wrecking-ball of the past.

Commercials rat-a-tat-tating.

Killing honor with lies

For profit

For power

For progress

by Natalie Hayes, 1988

Photo: Vietnam Memorial

Without Angels

Without Angels

seeking dauntless destiny

is a horse, trotting at a pace a bit faster than me,

not slowly, slightly uphill,

i am able to keep up

the only landmark is the vastness of the diffused light in the

sky

wide path, wide sky: destination known only to God,

i know the horse, my angels told me about their noble nature,

they can be trusted,

 it is going where i want to go,

along comes vengeance and he is walking faster than us, he walks fast enough

to catch up quickly,

striding,

he thinks he is going where we are going but he doesn’t know

about the nobility, no angel guides him,

he wants something.

he kicks

out at the horse,

hard,

hard enough to make it’s saddle fall off and stumble,

tiny almost imperceptible stumble

but does not miss a step,

the forward motion is a force greater than the kick,

noble nature has outweighed vengeance,

I said “It’s just a horse!” knowing it is not,

they are the only words spoken

the saddle falls on the trail and is left

it is of no consequence,

it was left over from another time

a fabrication of the man’s imagination,

this was not a saddle-horse

how could he have known

without angels?