Dinesh's photos

Traveling at thirty thousand feet, we see How much of earth still lies in wilderness Till terminals occur like miracles To civilize the paralyzing dark Buckled for landing to a tilting chair I think: if miracle or accident Should send us on across the upper air, How many miles, or nights, or years to go Before the mind, with its huge ego paling, Before the heart , all expectation spent, Should read the meaning of the scene below? But now already the loves ones gather Under the dome of welcome, as we glide Over the final jutting mountainside, Across the suburbs tangled in their lights, And settled softly on the earth once more Rise in the fierce assumption of our lives - Discarding smoothly, as we disembark, All thoughts that held us wiser for moment Up there alone, in the impartial dark. ~ Mary Oliver

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees, A quiet house, some green and modest acres A little way from every troubling town, A little way from factories, schools, laments, I would have time, I thought, and time to spare. With only streams and birds for company, To build out of my life a few wild stanzas. And then it came to me, that so was death A little way away from everywhere. There is a thing in me still dreams of trees, But let it go. Homesick for moderation, Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away. If any find solution, let him tell it. Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation Where, as the times implore our true involvement, The blades of every crisis point the way. I would it were not so, but so it is, Who ever made, music of a mild day? “A dream of trees” ~ Mary Oliver

I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, A luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night. "Acquainted with the night" ~ Robert Frost

Exactly where and when herding began remains unclear. On the basis of size and abundance, sheep and goats may have been first domesticated in central (i.e., Syria, southeast Turkey) or eastern ( i.e., Iraq, Iran) part of the Fertile Crescent by 8000 B.C., possibly much earlier. We know that the occupants of Abu Hureyra by the Eupherates were herding sheep and goats in 7500 B.C. . . . . Qu how the idea of goat/sheep domestication came about and was put into practice is also a matter of debate. Frank Hole of Yale uNiversity thinks that hunters became aware of an increasing scarcity of wild animals and took deliberate steps towards their management. This may have involved the provision of winter forage, the construction of fences to control herd movements, and caring for orphan animals. ~ Page 77/78 (From: "After the Ice" ~ Steven Mithen HFF and have a great week end

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_Stack HFF Have a happy week end

Creativity is not the finding of a thing, but the making something out of it after it is found. ~ James Russell Lowell

www.allertonoak.com/merseyWalks/FrodshamHelsby.html mscch.org/frodsham/helter.html

Though we can go back to Descartes to find philosophers who believed that mathematics and geometry might provide for a kind of thinking that was pure and precise, it was George Boole, a young mathematician from Lincoln, who put flesh on the idea. In 1833, when he was just seventeen years old, he had what he described as a mystical experience. Whilst walking through a meadow he became convinced that his vocation in life was to explain the logic of human thought in symbolic or algebraic form. It was Boole's lifetime of thinking that was picked up by the first computer scientists in the middle of the twentieth century. ~ Page 302

It was taken some time ago At first it seems to be a smeared print: blurred lines and grey flecks blended with the paper; then, as you scan it, you can see something in the left-hand corner a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree (balsam or spruce) emerging and, to the right, halfway up what ought to be a gentle slope, a small frame house. In the background there is a lake, and beyond that, some low hills. (The photograph was taken the day after I drowned. I am in the lake, in the center of the picture, just under the surface. It is difficult to say where precisely, or to say how large or how small I am: the effect of water on light is a distortion. but if you look long enough eventually you will see me. ~ Margaret Atwood

................................. I heard the merry grasshopper then sing, The black-clad cricket bear a second part, They kept one tune, and played on the same string, Seeming to glory in their little art. Shall creatures abject thus their voices raise? And in their kind resound their Master's praise: Whilst I, as mute, can warble forth no higher lays. ....................... Excerpt: "Contemplation" ~ Anne Bradstreet HBM YE, ALL

HBM to all

Modern technology Owes ecology An apology. ~Alan M. Eddison

HFF Ye, all

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