and an orange capital T

Earl Grey tea and cinnamon danish samples

Languages of Papua New Guinea, highest mountain North America, comic strip based on fan section.

A meeting of the minds.

23 Meyer

relected sunlight on the Tulpehocken creek at Red Bridge – it strikes the anled support beams to the upright beams of the covered bridge – the way it flickers is like the start of cinema – motion on a screen, only this without a sneeze or a gallopping horse – and it is high abstract movement depicted here, flickering here.

Vallen: innovation and proven Value

11:46 a heron flying north northwest in vicinity of Spring Ridge.

These are glorious days, weatherwise. Every day is gloriouswise.

Res85cue engine, these are a few of the pathlings of the day. Good afternoon.



Kitty City. Bing! Sur le pont d’Avignon. Dosie Dough for coffee and toast, courtesy of Mary and Adam. Extratra trivia question, if not metric, what? Je ne sais quois! Walk at Gring’s Mill + clear and stunning day. Petit frois. Today’s date owns curious magic square. Very very interesstinggg. Walked mmore south than north at fafafafirst. Une heron flew due west above course of creek at 10:10. Sunlight rested on rocks and climbed tree trunks, splashed leavvez with full and fading color. Squirrelz, of course, were out, and grewups of cyclists, families of trois generations and deux boys planting forked (Y ) stick at end of time.

by Allison DuBois


Please allow me to express mu undying enthusiasm for the darling book called “TYPEWRITER” subtitled: the history * the machine * the writers!

Tony Allan and the Shelter Harbor Press have assembled, written, compiled and printed a masterful, informative and pictorially engaging work. It shows both scholarly research and a playful mind on the part of the author. Thank you for creating this book!

The particular book I read was courtesy of the Main library in Reading, Pennsylvania. A book-plate added to the front inside cover pages have added this book is in memory of Jan L. Deelman and “was purchased with funds donated from his estate.”

The book contains a page devoted to the parts of a typewriter, a diagram as nice as some illustrations of the points of a horse that I’ve seen. Only a typewriter has no soft velvety muzzle, although you can write about one with it.

Was especially delighted to learn about holding a Type In. It would be a riot to plan and host one here in Reading. Hold me to it!

N – 1 over 1

A walk this morning at Gring’s Mill to marker 7, the site of the Winters Mill and on to red Bridge and back. Sunshine and blue skies, decent temperature making it a sparkling day. Found a small green candy wrapper with Asian characters, a discarded white facial tissue that had become folded and flattened just enough to forma a pattern much like petals. Checked my balance on the wooden beams of the parcouse. My balance was good.

Admired the trees. Said hello to some of the walkers and joggers and mothers with children in carriages. On a Wednesday morning, there is light traffic. enough to keep you company  without being overcrowded.

Wondered why one sycamore in particular has its trunk forming hard bony protrusions much like some horses’ withers. A glance across the Tulpehocken Creek leads me to think it may have something to do with the telephone pole. The growth of the tree trunk is that direction, at the angle that points that way.

On the fine screenings of the path further up find an oval sticker “Proud to be an American” that looks like the kind a customer may receive at one of the local grocery stores. the stickers come in rolls and the cashiers will give you one or two if you ask.

Near the 6 marker is  a   metal (stainless?) piece of some kind with a black rubber tip. Ten holes have been made in a row lengthwise. It is a piece from something – to make an adjustment? I left it there.

A splendid pathling composed of black walnut stems. No pen , no paper, no camera, had to measure it with index finer and rely on recollection. At red bridge watched the reflection of the ripples of the creek upon the underside of the bridge and wondered how the two affect each other over time. Beyond that point a couple of squirrels chattered and chased on the trunk of a big tree.

This is the time of year the ash blades fall to the ground. At first these look like fairy oars; as they become weathered and trodden the blades split break up a bot. A bowl of ash blades makes a marvelous fall decoration – just to look at, sift through your finger, hear the very faint rustle of a big collection of them. And the color – neutral and gentle.

On the way back to car, saw a perfect example of the compound leaf of a shagbark hickory. It was in the center of the path lit by sun and was extremely tempted to touch it but did not. Also one very nice Judas tree leaf – heart-shaped; and a locust tree that has grown as large as some sycamores get. You do not see locust trees that large very often.

The one pathling had been disturbed by travelers by the time this writer got back to it. I spent some time thinking about my father William, whose name comes from the German Wilhelm for helmet. He died at age 55 from colon cancer or its complications. The name of his high school yearbook was the Colophon. Reflecting on this made me wonder if it is not only fiber and diet that affect the health of the colon, but also its Ph.

Back to the sycamore tree with sideways withers, observe a Bell Telephone pole within the park. Metal numbers and a letter with a dash

             N – 1     


are nailed to the pole. the lines connect to the larger telephone pole across the stream.

More pathlings, one of a broken pine cone in vertical section with pine needles. Met a friend from the horse world and her 21-month old son!





Do Not Touch God


Courtesy of the Reading Library and the extension of lending privileges, over the weekend watched two DVD’s: The Asphalt Jungle and Septien. Although these are two totally different films they get rousing recommendations and wholehearted endorsements from the Heron Report.

The reason they are totally different is one is black and white and one is in color.

The reason you might find them interesting is that they are interesting.

The reason to watch them is they are well-done on all counts. One is old. One is new. One is city, the other is country.

Both depict human relationships – the first mapped out and completed with flawless execution by director John Huston, right down to the last blade of bluegrass; the second is absorbing and allows time to reflect its unexpected and sensitive content, down to the fuzzy warm football, from Director Michael Tully.


Digital Red Emery

   A red emery board lies on the asphalt, parallel to the yellow line that marks one of the spaces at the post office. As I fumble with the engineering compass to obtain the heading of the man-made arrow to find out if it is pointing north, I get a reading of 330: it appears to be shy of north by 30 degrees west. How did it get here? How did I get here?

   Today I am doing bullet work. There is just one thing that must be done today and that is pay the Target bill. I have accomplished that and more. Here is my account.

   I slept from (blank) until (blank) on the couch in the living room. When I got up I played guess the time .

   “It’s between two and three,” I said, traversing the dining room to bedroom and kitchen, where the clock on the stove read 2:27 in digital red.   

   I fed the cats, changed to go out and went out. I stopped at the bank to withdraw money. I drove toward Target. The sky, which delivered light rain this morning, now was the color of a bleached heron. An unbleached heron flew, flapping eastward, in the sky over Spring Ridge at 3:11. It made me glad to see one.

   Morphine was playing on the radio when I arrived at the shopping center. At Target, I picked up a lighter someone had dropped inside the store. It was filled with lighter fluid. It was light. It was pale pinky-orange-red. It was a cheap one. It had no markings. It lay on the carpet between the food area and the dollar deals section where the indoor carts cluster. A lighter would not be the kind of thing I would want running loose in my store. I gave it to the individual who processed my payment, which was for twenty per cent of the total and six times the minimum amount due. Exited without further excitement, leaving the lost light lighter behind, and photographed a round sticker with a happy giraffe face next to the pedestrian crossing area with its multi-stripes of safety yellow-orange that run at a diagonal to the curb kerb.

   Next, visited the library jonesing for a computer and suspecting they were in possession of my library card. Yes, they were holding. Was assigned a public computer next to a man who has been searching for a job from there for weeks. The computer monitor in front of him contains his resume.

   During a check on business, I learn Target has dropped Amazon Kindle. I learn I have an order to be fulfilled. The computer next to displays a letter to Human Resources. I go home to the fulfillment center and process my order. I learn about the evils of sugar by perusing a book, like when you go on a vacation you take one last look at where you’ve been. At 5:37 the package is taped and ready to go with me to the post office. I drive like a conservative bat out of hell to get it off by 6:00 p.m.

   “Take the Skinheads Bowling” plays in the radio during the drive on the expressway in Reading PA, much to my amusement. My amusement, My amusement. The package I busted ass to send off will arrive next Thursday, Next Thursday? Next Thursday!

   Read my memory. A red emery board is in the space I pull into at the post office. This is how it got there.

Cast Rite Metal

   A Cast Rite box truck is on the road the same time as I travel by car to walk. Cast Rite Metal is located in Birdsboro, from what my reading of the lettering on the vehicle tells me.

   My arrival at the park is greeted by something the crew has deposited in front of the dumpster: a crumpled 50-gallon steel  drum. The cast away container stands upright, yet is a third of its normal circumference. No longer round, its outline is irregular.

    The color, possibly once green, is now rust. Its patina is that of having been submerged in the water for a while. It looks like some of the crew dragged it out of the creek, there is the thread of a weed across the top, stuck on a jagged edge.

   It looks like a sculpture that an artist would make of a steel drum container – one that might cost a good sum. This is the original.

   As for this morning’s walk, there are no herons along the creek that I can see under the overcast light gray sky and clouds that bring intermittent rain. Trees and shrubs are filling out, the forest is filling in with new, green foliage and wildflowers such as Philadelphia fleabane and wild geranium polka dot nature’s dress.