bar harbor: not just a clever name.

bar harbor, maine, for a long weekend with my nearest and dearest, and the salty mountain air goes to work exfoliating skin cracked by that red georgia clay.  the weather was mild and blissful, but it gave me a taste of one of those seventy eight degree cold fronts my seasonal ny/florida grandparents always complain about.  after a few months in georgia, sweating it out at a hundred degrees, maine quickly turned me into an old man in long pants on the hottest day of the year. 

a raucous week long wedding celebration for everyone’s favorite love birds has me recovering still today.  after a round of morning chore’s—feeding the pigs, moving the cows—i’ve crawled into a small hole to recharge before tomorrow’s harvest.  below are two shots from this morning that really crack me up.  my faithful hound dog moses, helping out with the cow’s, sit’s frozen  underneath one of the temporary fences i crossed—smart fella-and the herd becomes interested.