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When I was little, February 12th was Abe Lincoln’s birthday, a school holiday, my parents wedding anniversary and the anniversary of my father’s discharge from the army. Happy anniversary you guys (both of whom are long gone), happy birthday Mr Lincoln (also long gone). Glad you made it out alive back then, Dad. Thinking about all of you today.

 Photo Credit

Photo by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.

Why take this image and publish it? I was walking along the road that is immediately in front of and parallel to this post and I was moved to take this shot. It was hot and sunny where I was. Maybe I personalized the fog layered over the lake in the valley, or the mist rising up the side of the hill. Maybe the fractals of the waving grass caught my eye as they variously framed the countryside below. Maybe it is the sense of the post, a no nonsense image of stability, as if sentinel and transect, an anchor point on a blowy summer day on the ridge-line. Or maybe I just like images with stuff in the foreground playing with shapes in background, a cluttered line of sight with a lot of information and the sense that it will never be this way again.

So, why take this image and publish it? In the end, the post spoke to me of an intentional human presence whose purpose is implied but not known. A mystery if you will… It took me quite awhile to figure out the attraction and that made the choice to publish it more compelling than I had initially imagined.

Photo Credit

Photo by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.

The beachhead was established early in the spring of 68 on the shores of a small lake in Northern Ontario – OOOPS… that is a whole other story.

I know that nothing lasts forever; certainly I won’t.

So every day I dream of running once more into a rising sun, reminding myself of the old stories, and letting the faces, and the remembered graces of the people whom I have met on this journey come back to guide on the run. Running happens in my dreams these days more often than it does on the streets. Maybe that can change. We will see. I’ll let you know.

I head out into the day with the the sure and certain knowledge that as ever, I have got shit to do and that my time is slippin’ away.

I’ve got shit to do and the time is slippin’ away, hmmm… I told my editor that most of what wanted to be written by me these days did not readily fall between the covers of a “Tarmac Meditation”. In fact, I said lately I have been to places where there are no roads at all and damned little direction of any kind. He told me that even so, I was missing the point; the tarmac was right where it was supposed to be, pointing to my heart. I said damn, I guess that means I still have to write something and submit it.

Photo Credits

Photos by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.