There’s a harbor town near here -- I guess one might say that it’s kind of a hippie village -- with a great Saturday Farmers’ Market, a wonderful used bookstore, many cool restaurants, and a pub with a cozy wood stove and a pub dog who wanders from table to table, looking for a pat on the head and french fry handouts, not necessarily in that order.
Every time I visit that town, it seems like I find a picture that I like. This week was typical in that way.
Spring was afoot and blossoms were yelling to me from here, there, and everywhere: “Take my picture! Take my picture!” I often hear voices when I'm in creative mode and I’m connecting visually with a human being or a place... but it’s possible that in this case I had just spent too much time hanging out in the pub.
