As I mentioned in an earlier post, one aspect of riding motorcycles is the amount of time one spends "in their head." I clearly recall traversing over 200 kilometres of winding, challenging roads south of Oaxaca and being consumed with thoughts of what colours to paint my house! Perhaps this program of preplanning is natural to all, and being focussed on riding allows me to pay attention to what is going on in my head. In the least, I find that future plans and goals, and the rooms in my head which they occupy, seem to come forth when I am on the road.
If memory serves me correctly, this photo is from a period when Ian still lived with me. Clearly the old house needed some love and upgrading, and we built scaffolding and had begun to tackle the porch as well. I am guessing this was 1998 or so. I had forgotten that I had actually managed to grow some roses, and that the old shake roof was more or less intact.
I have been interested in what actually constitutes "memory" for most of my life. I explained, to a friend, a number of years ago how I have always seemed to have a camera in my hand, and that I have boxes and boxes of black and white prints. My computer is now full of thousands of images that I have grabbed, hoping to stop the flow for a second and to freeze the reality that I am seeing.
In this case, the photo of the old house helps me to remember and recall what Barnacle Beach looked like, back in the day, around 1995. I certainly had more energy and probably more money as well. Perhaps these are part of the days that my son Ian complains about, where I was such a hard taskmaster, "always working" him. Perhaps my way of parenting was more of a reflection of how I viewed my relationship with my father, rather than how I intended to treat my Sons.
As I rode in Mexico and Guatemala, I planned on "fixing up" the house. I wanted to revitalize and renew the old place, and to perhaps capture some new life in the process. As soon as the weather broke, in late March and early April, I set about acting on those riding dreams. I purchased some scaffolding and began to investigate the seriousness of the repairs needed to Barnacle Beach.
I spent a lot of time and money aligning the brown stain with the workshop...I am hoping to keep the trend with the new paint scheme, whatever it is...
The days were quickly improving as the Sun travelled northward. The snow was beginning to melt from the hills, and aside from my anxiousness about properly preparing the house for a painting, my daughter-in-law was getting very pregnant.
I had rolled the boat back in the water. Thanks to my good friend and neighbour, I had moorage a short walk from my house. The old girl had made it through another winter, none the worse for wear.
A view from the docks, looking towards the scaffolding and some work that needed to get done...
My friend Frisco and his dad, Dave, volunteered to supervised and advise me on my scraping and sanding operations.
If memory serves me correctly, this photo is from a period when Ian still lived with me. Clearly the old house needed some love and upgrading, and we built scaffolding and had begun to tackle the porch as well. I am guessing this was 1998 or so. I had forgotten that I had actually managed to grow some roses, and that the old shake roof was more or less intact.
I have been interested in what actually constitutes "memory" for most of my life. I explained, to a friend, a number of years ago how I have always seemed to have a camera in my hand, and that I have boxes and boxes of black and white prints. My computer is now full of thousands of images that I have grabbed, hoping to stop the flow for a second and to freeze the reality that I am seeing.
In this case, the photo of the old house helps me to remember and recall what Barnacle Beach looked like, back in the day, around 1995. I certainly had more energy and probably more money as well. Perhaps these are part of the days that my son Ian complains about, where I was such a hard taskmaster, "always working" him. Perhaps my way of parenting was more of a reflection of how I viewed my relationship with my father, rather than how I intended to treat my Sons.
As I rode in Mexico and Guatemala, I planned on "fixing up" the house. I wanted to revitalize and renew the old place, and to perhaps capture some new life in the process. As soon as the weather broke, in late March and early April, I set about acting on those riding dreams. I purchased some scaffolding and began to investigate the seriousness of the repairs needed to Barnacle Beach.
I managed to erect the scaffolding around "Mom's Tree", the dogwood on the south side of the house. I started to scrape and sandpaper the failing paint, and wondered if the siding was at all salvageable.
The days were quickly improving as the Sun travelled northward. The snow was beginning to melt from the hills, and aside from my anxiousness about properly preparing the house for a painting, my daughter-in-law was getting very pregnant.
