Thinking of my dad . . .

It seems impossible to believe that it was thirty-four years ago today that my father died suddenly at the age of 55. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him and realize how lucky I was to have had him in my life for 26 years. He was the finest man I have ever known.

George J. Hawley Sr.

March 11, 1924 - December 5, 1979

Hop Brook Lake Recreation Area

As Monet could never stop painting his water lilies and haystacks, I cannot stop phtographing the 500+ acres of Hop Brook Lake. This has turned into my morning walk and I look forward to it each day. The one morning I did not bring my camera two magnificent bucks crossed my path and stopped around 20 feet away watching me watching them. If only I had my camera!! I realize that several of these views are repeats but I just cannot resist the ever changing colors. The best things in life certainly are free. Joyce Kilmer said it best: 

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.