BOXCAR-LOADING DOCK RESTAURANT

BOXCAR-LOADING DOCK RESTAURANT
circa 1986

ITHACA, NY LANDMARK FOR OVER 30 YEARS

Built in the 1960's by TV personality GARY MOORE'S son after graduating from the Cornell Hotel School. This was his first "theme" restaurant and was very successful as a noted bar and restaurant.

Behind the restaurant was the famous Warehouse bar, a sheet metal building that was one of the largest drinking establishments in the state, those were the days of 18 year old baby boomer drinkers!!

Currently the property is an orchid growing facility with only the Loading Dock section of the restaurant left. The original Boxcars were torn down in 2004!
.........................................................................................................................RDS

BLUE MOOD RISING ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION

BLUE MOON RISING

Protect a very secret, special spot,
One's vulnerable and secret heart,
And almost always come to rue
Allowing anyone at all to view.

Vulnerability but seems a curse you see.
Angst begets a sorrow not meant to be,
Painfully, one's emotions swing rapidly,
Events spiral out of control, helplessly.

Love's journey looks to be catastrophe,
Not heart's blissfulness it's meant to be,
Surrender, release your heart, be free,
Suffer not angst's misbegotten tyranny,
Surrender yourself, Love is meant to be.

...................................RDS

POETRY MUSE : SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS "POETRY"

POETRY MUSE


Before rising morning sun
A pleasant walk was begun
To my quiet, special place
Nature's beauty to embrace.

Vicissitude does not intrude
A walk in morning solitude,
Living life with beatitude,
All becomes good attitude.

Soon golden rays of sunny day
Brought company from far away
To enchant and even beguile me.
Alone in solitude was not to be.

For in a sunlit leaf I would see
Your charm and femininity,
Golden sunlit glow on pines
Is inspiring in my designs.

So on this pleasant sojourn,
You will be glad to learn,
Even though you never went
Morning together we had spent.

...............................................RDS

ALLOW ME TIME ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION #78

ALLOW ME TIME

Would you take a walk with me,
A quiet, simple walk with me,
Discover quiet, simple things,
The quiet joys of life with me,
A special, quiet brook with me,
A ray of light, a leaf with me,
A morning song of bird with me,
A meadow flower and bees with me,
And especially,
A quiet in dappled sunshine with me?

........................................................RDS

EVENING AT SAPSUCKER WOODS WATERY WEDNESDAY

EARLY EVENING AT SAPSUCKER WOODS

Early August usually means that the streams around here are running fairly quiet, but excess rain has given them a rage.

Quiet summer thoughts seem out of place standing near a maddening stream, but a calm pond filled to the brink, on a pleasant summer evening, a perfect, soul reflecting spot.

August sun slants the horizon more each day as the days shorten, the march towards the solstice quickens.

The deep-blue reflected sky on the pond is deceiving, from a different angle the pond is brown from the heavy rains. With camera in hand perspective is everything, poetic photography!!

Quiet along the pond a few details.

The late sun gives sustenance to a small beech struggling on the shady forest floor for its moment in the sun.

Along the waters edge wild bergamot blooms, less showy than it's cousin beebalm's brilliant red but I like it's fragrant foliage better.

And what would summer be without the ubiquitous Queen Anne's Lace. This flower head caught my eye by facing sideways, not flat, and catching the back-lit sky, it's fabled tiny purple bloom so clear in the center.



The final photo is just my back yard, where I like to dance in the morning dew!
.........................................................RDS

SAUNTERING TREMAN LAKE NATURE NOTES

Picnicing and Sauntering Upper Buttermilk Falls

Buttermilk Falls State Park in Ithaca, NY is probably the most crowed of the local parks because it is at the city's edge. Yet the Upper Buttermilk section is almost always quite, a great picnic and sauntering spot.

This small waterfalls and stream is actually the outlet of Treman Lake, a man-made lake formed by damming one side of a pinnacle of land that was the original stream bed.

It's always amazing that in a fast moving stream back eddies are formed that seem to catch and hold so much floating debris. The story of the stream can often be read in this floating mosaic.

The Treman Lake dam is deceptively high. The lake laps at the top and must be nearly 40ft. deep. No hand- railings on the water side, vertigo on the other! The old gorge and pinnacle makes a perfect dam site.

In the Finger Lakes gorges it must be said there is never a shortage of stairs. Built mainly in the Depresion era they have taken on a natural patina and even seem part of the geology now.

Sauntering around the lake, half the time was cloudy, then late in the day the sun broke out, then with a sunny backside, the reflections and gorge walls became painted with color.

And then its time to go home! RDS

DREAMS ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION

DREAMS

Stormy waves of passion,
Released by ocean's fury,
Exists only as a dream,
In morning's gentle calm.

Dreams, inner soul's reality,
Heart's truth so contained,
Reveal desire long restrained
In the morning's gentle calm.

Gentle sea, shore waves silent lapping,
Quiet moment, humbled in solitude,
Inner soul's reality certain to intrude,
Humbled by the endless calm.

.............................................RDS

A NEW BIRTH --- SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS

A NEW BIRTH

All character is etched,
Upon our very being
By life's beginning,
When we started seeing,
Seeing truth of ourselves,
Seeing truth of all others,
When first light of ourselves
Begins to glow awareness of whom we are.

Retreat we cannot, for who is there
Who starts not blank.
Develops into what?
We grow from our earth,
Though unknown in worth
Until too late in life.
When what we are is
Whom we seem to be.

What seems but destiny,
Doesn't have to be.
Take charge,
Become the one whom you want to be.
Pain is not all that life is meant to be.

Reject, reject, reject early reality
Then accept only as allegory.
For the story that you write
Is the right story meant to be.

Attack, attack, attack the past
Until it has no sway,
For then and only then will home
Be home, not just a place too far away
From which your life to stray.

Release its painful hold,
That painful past to which you have surrendered,
For until released by you, life will be rendered
Sad, not joyous, potentially forever lost,
Love never tendered,
Life's beginning love may never be remembered.

Free, free, free yourself
To love yourself unfettered,
To love yourself for the truth
That to yourself you are!!

............................................RDS