Just drive –

•March 29, 2013 • Leave a Comment

ImageRock and roll up , windows down – all back roads.

This is more than “unwinding” this is therapy.







sometimes we have to unplug and remember where we are from –

but we can bring our toys along to document the ride..



Think about it next week or the week after you are more than likely going to forget the simple things, like what you ate that day or the mindless hours spent on social media – but take a Photograph and that moment becomes an instant memory to be remembered for ever-


Go Out and take Your own photographs, and don’t forget to Breath.


Lot’s Of love and Light



“The Honey Moon Suite” – ( Tybee Island GA )

•January 27, 2013 • 1 Comment


Just outside of Savannah across MC Queens Island is a long tidal road passing beside the historical Fort Polaski monument and lasting several miles that if you are lucky that day the tide is in, and the inner coastal waterways is lapping at the side of the road that is decorated with the occasional “Terrapin Crossing” sign and azure waters all around it is a real visual treat as you make your way over several bridges  you will get some great views from the decent height and see adjacent port towns such as Thunderbolt. If you were to look to the left you will notice a dirt tidal road with warning signs that threaten trespassing should a man decide to make that path, although I did see one bicyclist the time we were there and for good reason, I noticed when the tide was in that the water came up on both sides of this simple narrow tidal road barely making it passable in certain areas as the mysterious blue brackish of the Water and grasses consumed the road from all around, a man could get stranded had he went for a ride at the wrong time, local alligators love this grassy back country and at the right time of the day if a person was lucky and had a good eye you will notice the occasional Alligator in the reeds.

Soon homes begin to appear looming out of the tall grass and the backs off boats can be saw tied up outside of colorful houses as we make our way into town it feels a lot like entering a tourist place by the boutiques as on the way to the campground myriad shops on the left all boasting of antiques and local crafts, it is a busy little place with a big spirit, it was evident from the moment I laid eyes on it we were going to love it, we did already.

Well, just inside of town and a little on the side streets to the left we arrive at the Rivers end Camp Ground and make arrangements for the three nights we had set aside to stay here, the staff was friendly enough and soon we were following a nice old man on a golf cart that led us to our “primitive” campsite that would be our home base for the next three days and nights.

The old man smiled as he showed us the very simple but private corner of the Campground that was off to the side and surrounded by a hill underbrush and vegetation  behind us and several trees all around that was indeed fairly private after all.

” We call this one the honey moon suite, no joke. On account of how private it is, be perfect for you two lovebirds we thought.” as he smiled and drove off, we always remembered it being called that and refered to it ever since as that, it proved to be a nice little spot in the scheme of things, it is within a short walk from the Savannah River on that side which to the eye appears to be the ocean because it is just as vast to the eye and by all other standards is a beach just the same and it was only a five minute walk to that side of the Island should you decide to venture there which we did quite often and it is truly beautiful and a great vantage point from the famous Tybee Island Lighthouse.  

Beachcombing the first day was a adventure unto itself to say the least because at fate would have it the day before a mighty tropical storm had came through and beached multitudes of various see creatures that I had the pleasure of helping back into the ocean in some cases and in some cases not, for instance I found two large horse shoe crabs that had lost there way and were lurching dry in the sand and intent on saving them I ran and grabbed some branches and what was once the remnants of a net and went back to save them with my lady in toe only to find that they had just perished on top of one another of all places, it was as if they were saying goodbye or trying to comfort one another in their last moments of life.


I found it a little sweet, sad and frustrating that I could not save these creatures at the time, while wondering a bit what one would taste like roasted on a fire and quickly discouraged by the notion by memories of signs forbidding it upon arrival on the beach, do not take wildlife outside it’s natural habitat.

It was a truly beautiful evening on the beach combing the sand after the storm for the occasional shark tooth and colorful shell washed up from the depths I could spend a lot of time doing that and be completely happy, I suppose there are worse things to be than a comber of beaches…


Later on that evening after a much needed hot shower and glass of wine back at the tent we were off for more random adventures and much to our delight We ate at “The Crab Shack ” which is on the way back into the mainland which is it’s own Gem of the south of sorts. It is a bit of the tourist attraction as not only do they have live alligators as you walk into this pirates paradise they have a Live webcam stream for you to show your friends and wave at them back home but once inside and much to my delight We discovered it was an open air Eatery which opens up to the scents of the Salty Savannah river below and night air, it is truly a wonderful experience to sit out in that open air as the breeze comes in from the ocean and eat your meal staring out over the water and tall grasses all the while throwing your broken crab legs and other delicious crustacean parts in the hole in the middle of the table with a trash can beneath to catch everything and what wouldn’t be better than paper plates and plastic forks not to mention rolls of paper towels to complete the combination for the perfect low country boil utensils. We ordered the largest thing on the menu and shared it which proved almost to much but was great just the same.

For breakfast on another day we fond this great little family owned place on the way into town were you could get our eggs over easy and biscuits and gravy almost like back home at a reasonable rate, The Sugar Shack should you get the Notion.

Should you ever get the opportunity to go to Tybee Island Georgia You should, and ask for the “Honey Moon  Suite.”

Dream Weaver: a look at dreams and the possibility of psychic ability through the unconscious mind

•June 15, 2018 • Leave a Comment


Warning some content may be unsuitable for minors.


I awoke with a bead of sweat fresh on my forehead, my hands still gripping the sheets in panic while the imagery of my vision swirled out of focus and sunlight chased it away.

It was just a dream..

I felt relieved.


Last nights nocturnal cerebral movie had turned violent in the end, it scared me awake.

I wondered what in the world would make me dream such things, social media was my first thought perhaps..

All these godamn internet shareables depicting violence of one form or another.

Things I never in my life wanted to see but some random friend felt the need to “Spread awareness” of a dog literally being skinned alive in Vietnam or other violent acts I care not mention here less you to suffer the act of having “seen” something you wish you hadn’t “saw” if only in your minds eye.

Curse you Facespace with your auto play video mode,

And damn you random now deleted friend for “spreading awareness” of some cruelness I can’t un-see,

Some despicable nonsense hanging around the corner of my conscious like a cancer.

If you knew the anxiety the wrong picture can bring to my fragile empathetic bipolar mind and the feeling of impending doom that occurs until a thousand invisible thoughts scrub the screen clean behind my eyes and we forget the revolting millisecond we took in the calamity.

These things make me nervous.


The dream was like any other, obscure and shapeless for a time- not memorable until the end scene that awoke me.

It was a golf course, a man entered the scene driving a golf cart a little faster than he should.

Older white fella, typical golf attire- polo shirt, I forget the color.

He was swerving, perhaps he had been drinking- I did not see that part but assumed.

Another gentleman enters the scene on a four Wheeler

A dark skinned muscular man, younger than the man driving the cart. Mid twenties perhaps.

It was obvious he worked at the golf course due to his anagram polo shirt with an insignia that belonged to either a country club or a golf course.

The man on the ATV was obviously upset with the other man for  either not having paid a bill or his blatant drunkenness and erratic driving.

You get the idea without knowing that this feud had been ongoing, call it a tension or a vibe.

He followed him steadfast and shouting out diligently for the

Older man to stop to no avail.

The speeding cart headed towards a water hazard.

Moments later the old man drove into some tall grass,

Not by drunken accident but very deliberately.

Suddenly you don’t see him any more,

Maybe he’s laying in the tall reeds.

The African gentleman on the four wheeler slows down looking confused, he is still a fair distance away.

A walkie talkie barks into life.

He is reporting what is happening.

“Mr. Jones has lost his mind and is laying in the reeds across hole number three.”

Some voice barked back through the walkie, unregonized and static.

All at once the reeds that hid “Mr. Jones “ erupted into loud booming gunfire leaving little trails of fire streaking out of the tall grass, the noise is heard of the metal on metal impact

Of bullets connecting with the all terrain vehicle, a few more muted thuds are heard of several bullets striking its driver.

The sound of hot metal splitting flesh.

The worker howls and is able to get behind his vehicle.

I am suddenly seeing things unfold through his perspective

My shoulder reduced to meatloaf, there is a fire burning down my arm and the feeling of hot blood rushing out and down my chest and dripping off my elbow. If only I could get my hand to obey I might be able to pull my own gun out of my holster

I might be able to defend myself, only I can’t just yet.

My small firearm is holstered on the left shoulder and I am laying on my left side now. My right hand doesn’t comply and there is bone sticking out my shoulder.

I’m aware that gas is leaking down the tank of the four wheeler.

If only I could get up even for a second.

If only…

We cannot see Mr. Jones but are aware that this is not normal gunfire, the pattern is to fast and brutal to be a hand gun.

It’s obviously an assault rifle.

I don’t see how this ends but knew it couldn’t end well,

And all of a sudden we are no longer watching the scene unfold.

I awake in a sheen of sweat,

hands gripping the wrinkled sheet.

It was only a dream ..

I tell myself “relax” and quickly pop one of my “nerve” pills prescribed by my psychiatrist.

The sublingual dissolves under my tongue,

A few blessed seconds later my heart rate begins to slow

Now I am practising my breathing excerises and the feeling of peace comes back gradually yet surely.

Feeling relieved to learn this was merely a dream I pick up my tablet and start pecking away at the screen

Transcribing my thought into the dream journal in which you are reading now.


I record these as often as I can whenever lucidity and memory permits. As of late much of that depends on which of my three prescribed sleep meds I took the night before.

One on which I do not dream or at least do not recall,

A second I do dream but its always fleeting and I seem to only grasp bits and pieces and the last one makes me dream incredibly vivid and lucid dreams that sometimes turn to nightmares. Last night I took the latter.

I suppose I could chalk this recent one up to that,


Now before I dive into an unfamiliar region I will simply state the facts.

We all dream nightly even if we do not recall what we dream about.

There is nothing unique here, a simple nightmare – we all have them.

Who knows exactly what stimuli our brains record that eventually shows back up in our thoughts as unconscious “Nightmares”

One could use the simple law of “Occam’s razor” that the simplest answer is likely the accurate one.
With that being said again I’m going to go out on a limb an state that I believe that media in all of its forms whether that be videos, movies, books, art or oral stories more than likely provide the bulk of the scenes we encounter in dreams.

Simple put we record what we see and our brain mixes and replays the imagery we are exposed to in one form or other.

That would be the easier way to explain the mystery,

I would think?

Again I am no expert on the matter and mine is merely an opinion, that being the simplest answer.

But I think we know deep in our own minds whether we are comfortable admitting it or not that there is something else there too that causes these “nocturnal movies” also,

Maybe not all the time. Perhaps some of the time,

I’m not going to go out on a limb and tell you I know this secret

I would be looking you in the eye and lying to you.

Again mine is a mere opinion and I cannot speak for all but I will state my own personal belief that “some of us” if not “all of us” sometimes tap into a “wavelength” or “vibration” that comes from somewhere else and are meant for us to “receive” for reasons we do not know be it a “warning” or otherwise.

As a civilization we now know more about our vast oceans and the dark secrets they contain than our own human brains.

Again mine Is an opinion only but here is a bit of what I believe effects “some of us” or “all of us” at least some of the time.

If for lack of a better way to explain it, that is I am no psychologist nor scientist just yet.


    We are made of energy.

We have a magnetic field.

Our planet is surrounded by a magnetic field.

Just as iron ores and other minerals at the churning core of our planet give off this field resulting in “magnetism”

So does the iron and minerals in our own bodies that do the same.

We are also mostly water, just as the oceans ebb and flow with the lunar cycle so do our own thoughts and emotions.

We understand the simple science behind the radio wave for example, that one point emits a signal while another receives it

No doubt made possible by the magnetic spectrum

Is it to far fetched to think our own brains to be capable of the same?


From my own personal observations I have found I have a creative and emotional cycle in synchronization with the lunar calendar.

Essentially before and during the full moon I become very creative and restless,

like I want to do all the forms of art I create all at once.

I feel “psychically charged” and generally happy.

A sort of “stirring in my soul”, “raised awareness” or “wanderlust” of my spirit occurs.

I am outgoing and communicate with others easier,

I am comfortable in my own skin.

I feel powerful.

Once the moon has gone away I have about a week or so period of lethargy if not sadness and my will to create is not that same if vacant all together.

I have noticed that this to effects my own personality in that I go from extroverted to introverted.

Again pure speculation and opinion

Believe what you must, no one is forcing you nor twisting your arm to be here but I am glad you came.

A woman has her monthly cycle, I believe we all have an emotional one as well that directly correlates to the phases of the moon. Don’t believe me look up statistical analyses on the influx of crime in major cities and notice the increase that occurs as the moon comes into full and how it declines soon after. Strike up a conversation on the subject with a firemen, a triag nurse or a police officer! You may now realize the difference in your own self if you hadn’t noticed it prior.

I think we would have to be a bit foolish not to think of such a simple coincidence- after all we are once again primarily made of water.

Just as the oceans tides rise and fall, we to are not immune to this magnetism.


Let us once again circle back to the subject at hand,

Are we or could we be “in tune” with something greater than ourselves that sometimes reveals itself through dreams be it “God”, the “ Universe” or little green men with Antennae that watch from afar?

Am I being unrealistic to assume that there is some sort of “well of knowledge” that can be tapped into be it completely by accident or otherwise?

Friends you can think me crazy if need be, if it makes you feel comfortable or are a few of my words making any sense?

Ever get that tickly feeling that creeps up the back of your brain

When you know something grand or realize something for the first time that to often than not you don’t have a word for, you just “know”.



I’m going to tell you a story to elaborate a bit on this madness we have discussed to lend a bit to my theory. I can only tell you from my experience however and the rest is up to you, believe it or don’t- it makes no difference to me, you have surely made your mind up either way.

One thing I will say is that there is one witness to this other than myself for whatever that is worth,

I will get to that in a minute!

To be perfectly honest what Im about to pen I have wanted to say for quite some time, almost twenty years to be exact but could never find the right words or even setting to explain this,

I am thoroughly pleased that now I can finally get it down on paper without seeming like a raving lunatic anymore than I do right at this exact moment.

This falls into what I was speaking about earlier about “waves and receivers”

The mind, the cosmic radio.

At this point over half of you aren’t going to believe what I’m about to say, and thirty percent of you have already got bored and changed the channel.

It is for the remaining twenty percenter that I even bother to mention this now.

Still awake? Good, I’m glad you came.

Follow me a little further, we are almost there.

Where ever there is.


       Something a bit strange runs on my mothers side of the family.

As far as I know from the way it was told to me, mostly on the women’s side.

What I mean by strange is that sometimes they knew things that they weren’t supposed to know.

Got a certain feeling about things before they took place that hadn’t quite happened yet.

Not all the time mind you but more often than not.

Put it like this if they warned you about something you listened,

You didn’t question it.

Some folks just “know” things.

My great Grandmother Ballard read tea leaves for people.

That was an old mountain magic sort of way to tell the future so to speak, much like the modern tarot or runes or any other form of divination. For a few cents she would look into the bottom of your coffee mug or tea glass and answer whatever question it was you needed answering.

They were farmers wives and grew up mainly in the backwood country of Appalachia, mostly in Eastern Tennessee and around.

There was never much talk about it other than that.

It was always just an odd thing in the family tree that we didn’t speak of really. There wasn’t any reason to.

You either believed it or you didn’t.

My own Grandmother never mentioned it much other than those few basic facts I just passed to you.

My mother was a free spirited type lady, most would call hippy.

She was quite a gentle soul that had a way of making you feel happy to be in her presence no matter the occasion.

She grew up with a strong curiosity in the occult and I’ve heard it told on more than one occasion that she fancied herself a “white witch” and leaned much toward the nature based belief known as Wicca today without ever having called it that. Herself and her best friend of twenty years also a women of like mind would spend a deal of time doing what they call

“Calling down the moon” and other naturey things on Sabbaths and solstices.



It was never a main theme in my childhood although it was undeniably there,we were taught to make up our own minds on what if anything we did believe when we wanted and there was no pressure to believe anything.

I did enjoy the nature aspect of what they did and the simple practice of “Do what thou will but harm none” it seemed simple enough and resonated the same as “love thy neighbor” and “do unto others what you would want done to you.”


There was never any spooky mumbo jumbo or stereotypical bullshit you might be conjuring up in your head while reading this.

Except for broomstick’s, that part was real but not for flying they would sometimes place a ornamental one with a bay leaf in it above a door to ward off evil spirits or so it goes.



Anyway, enough about that- I had to weave a bit of a back story so as to better explain this part, or confuse you more.

My grandmother ( Mimaw ) my mother and myself were close.

I was transfixed with all the divine smells coming from my Mimaws kitchen while she canned the vegetables my Grandfather ( papaw) grew and was never far from her house or knee as a boy.

Once when I was around thirteen on the day of Thanksgiving that year I had a terrible dream that my first cousin

( I will not mention his name here for respect of my families privacy) had gotten in a motorcycle accident and passed away.

I woke that morning in tears. The dream had been so real it literally ripped my heart out. It was downright painful.

I couldn’t get it out of my head and that day our family came from all over to celebrate the holiday together including my young cousin whom I had dreamnt about came out showing of his new Ninja motorcycle.

He was seventeen and oh so proud of the brilliant blue bike.

What I remembered of that day was a happy time with family and great food. It was one of the rare occasions all my family was in the same place at the same time.

We had a fairly large family and most were kind country folk with huge appetites and friendly faces.

The very next day, the day after Thanksgiving we received the terrible news that my young seventeen year old cousin had gotten into an accident on his new motorcycle and died instantly. The family as you could imagine was absolutely devastated. I remembered the dream I had the day before and felt guilty, it literally haunted my young mind until I had to get it off my chest.

I approached my Mother on the subject and began to tearfully explain my dream to her when she looked at me and with tears in her bright blue eyes finished my sentence for me,

She to had the same dream as I on the same night.

We approached my Mimaw on the matter and without even admitting what we had just realized my Grandmother told us that she to had the same dream on the same night.

There was no room for coincidence here you see, we somehow knew without knowing before it came to pass.

We didn’t speak of it again after that day, I think we all felt guilty by not warning him but looking back what can you really say to a teenage boy that has his heart set on something to make him change his mind anyway. Absolutely nothing, wasted breath.

Now I am going to leave this here and not mention it again.

I still don’t understand it but on my mother’s grave and the souls of all that I love, it happened- I was there.


Now fast forward some years into the future I am now twenty years of age and my beautiful mother that taught me to love life and nature has been passed on for about four or five years now. I am married to a nice girl my age and we have a son together.

Life was actually really good at that time in hindsight and out of pure drunken stupidity on my behalf I got myself in some big trouble.

Not your standard I stole a pack of bubblegum or “I got drunk and drove my car into the lake” kind of trouble,

But big boy felony “You did the crime, now do the time!” Kind of trouble. The sort where you go away for awhile and think about what you’ve done and then some.

The sort where you get a fancy new number instead of your name be careful to not drop the soap kind of a calamity.

And so It goes I spent a year in jail before I got to breath fresh air again.


I would have read multitudes of books and even wrote a few of my own during the interim of my extended vacation at the hands of the law.

The state of Tennessee owned my ass and I had nothing but time on my hands.

My wife wrote to me faithfully and I cannot tell you the great comfort that it brought me and every now and again she would bring my young son, now eighteen and a man, to see me through the glass of the visitation room.

As sad as it were I was blessed just the same and an uncle of mine ( rest in peace) would receive my handwritten manuscripts and type them up and mail them back to me so when I finally got out, I had more typed pages than the bible!

I still have all that work but that is a story for a different day.

Long story short ( pun intended) I began to keep a dream journal.


I began to record the visions of the evening prior every morning when I woke and sometimes if they were half way coherent or interesting I would copy a few of them into my letters to my wife. She was always my supporter and encouraged my writing even as obscure as some would be.

This went on for at least six months or so.

Not always dreams, I bombarded her with pictures I had drew and anything my A.D.D mind could think of while confined to the loneliness of my six by nine concrete room I was imprisoned in.

It was a way to ease the loneliness and boredom.



Eventually when I got out we had some problems

( all my fault) and I was staying and working in the next town over.

One day while I was at work as a server at a truck stop in Nashville the phone rang and a coworker handed me the phone.

“It’s your wife” she said and I greeted her on the other end.

She had been crying and It took me awhile to figure out what she was saying.

Sobbing and almost studdering on the other end she had me worried half to death, she sounded like someone had died- my heart was racing.

“Your a witch” she said in a voice I could finally understand.

“Your a witch, what is wrong with you- how did you know?”

She said through her tears, I was puzzled but let her get it out slowly in her time. I was horribly confused by the call as you could imagine.

“ Order up!” The cooked barked from the window and I motioned for the waitress I was working alongside that day to run my food so I could finish this perplexing conversation.

“ I am scared” she said again.

“ I just don’t know how you knew?” in a whispery voice.

Knew what I asked authentically puzzled.

“Your dream journal, I found some when I was going through the attic today, I thought you should know…” she trailed off before coming back around in a circle with

“ your a witch, how did you know?”

Finally I firmly told her to get on with it that I was at work and a few hungry truckers were giving me the eye and it was clear they needed coffee.

Then in a calmer voice she finished what she was trying to say.

“This is from one of your dream journals you sent me, it was written in April- I have the letter and it’s postmarked April 3rd”

She then recited word for word something I had written that made my skin crawl!

( in my words )

“I believe there is going to be a volcano erupt in New York city,

because I dreamt that ashes were raining down everywhere

And people were running and screaming for their lives!


It was frightening and I could hear their screams as the ashes covered them and the building were burning and falling down.”

You see a few days prior to this phone call 9/11 happened and a terrible calamity occurred in New York city and the twin towers fell. We all remember that day well.

It was a sad day for us all.

Whether I like to admit it or not I had dreamt of it almost a half year before it happened,

I had even forgotten about it until she mentioned it and my perspective of it in my dream was from the ground level as the buildings came crashing down.

I had not seen the planes only the aftermath and the only way I could explain away the amount of ash and debris I saw was that I thought it was a volcano.

(I even went as far as to include a little drawing of two buildings that had fallen into one another a single flame, like two match sticks  propped against one another.

The symbolism here was a bit frightening in hindsight)


I’m not going to go much further here but I tell you this cautiously and honestly.

I don’t have an explanation other than some of the things I stated earlier, sometimes we receive things that we do not understand.

Sometimes the universe shows us something we aren’t supposed to know- we don’t know why

It just works that way.

I would be lying if I told you that I knew.

You’ve already read my opinions of at least a bit of the science behind it.

Positives and negatives, we give and we receive.

There is so much more taking place than we know or would like to admit.

     This is based on my own personal experience,

You can decide if its fiction or not,

I know the truth and at least one other human being knows the truth also.

I’d like to tell you a bit more but I’m afraid I’ve said to much.



I don’t feel I’m psychic because my “knowing” hasn’t happened often in my lifetime but when it has it has been significant

I am merely curios about the science behind it and  firmly believe that like many other things in history that are once “science fiction” will come to pass as fact eventually.

I won’t tell you the lottery numbers because I simply don’t know or you and I would not be having this little long winded chat.

I will tell you one little secret I unfortunately dreamt about a few to many times for comfort in that : I know the first nuclear attack to occur in our lifetime does happen in the Middle East, Jerusalem if I had to geuss, but I would say that isn’t to far of a leap as an educated guess either but you will have to wait to find out.

In the interim I will keep my dream journal going and trying to better understand this mystery.

Thanks for stopping in.

Love and light

     Roger (Silver moon ) L’Huillier

Thursday, June 14th





Winter wondering

•January 2, 2015 • Leave a Comment


If I could I would spend my whole life traveling, roaming around from one scenic destination to another taking in the fruit of the land with my mouth ears and eyes- documenting the beauty I find along the way.

For me that would be the perfect path, every day a new adventure- every night a different piece of earth to lay my nomadic bones.

Once it gets in your blood it’s all over – the traveling jones.

The only downside to that urge is the profound restlessness we endure when we sit still for too long

Winter is always the worst…

My wanderlust grows greater as the months drag by- planning, daydreaming and reflecting.

Eager for future explorations, I study the occasional map and daydream about what the tiny towns might be like along the way- As soon as spring arrives I plan to drive down to New Orleans by following the Mississippi river south from Memphis and cut across the delta into the backcountry all back roads on the motorcycle with only my camera, a tiny tent and a few changes of clothing. I am looking forward to camping along Lake Pontchartrain and eating authentic Cajun food! My mouth waters in advance thinking of the piles of fresh Craw fish, and low country boils.
Pure love for nature and food are always the perfect combination while camping on the open road.


It’s always a joy to dig through the Hard drive and enjoy past adventures, I can’t tell you the

Magnitude of nostalgia I feel sometimes when sifting through my treasure trove of imagery from the places I have had the pleasure to experience.
Lassen Volcanic Park  Mineral, Ca
It truly has been a blessing.

Our trip up the California coast into Oregon and Washington was my favorite trip to date. It was so full of wonders that it will take a great many separate stories to show you everything but I will try if you don’t mind the drive. We have coffee, sunshine,and a radio and nothing but air and opportunity.
What more could we possible ask for?

Go west young man.. (part 2 :California dreaming)

•December 2, 2013 • Leave a Comment

It was my first time flying and I am not the biggest fan of heights but after a valium and a little coaxing from my road dog I had finally opened my eyes and let go of my white knuckled death grip on the seat.


Hours went by and soon enough we were in Houston and safely on the ground.

The airport was huge compared to ours back home, the only one I had known thus far- BNA Nashville, much smaller than this one. After an electric train and many feet of escalators and then a much needed cigarette we were on the second plane and safely in the air. I have to admit the moment the machine leaves the ground is my least favorite part, that moment of uncertainty as it pulls heavenward- I have immense respect for gravity and prefer to keep my head in the clouds and feet on the ground as the saying goes.


Soon after and much to my delight the sun began to rise over the horizon to reveal the clouds and miles of stretching desert below. The Grand Canyon looked like a tiny scar on the reddish surface, somewhere down there in its depths a blue snake of river crawled through – the culprit of this giant chasm. Image

I was oblivious of the folks around me and lost in the sights from the window, my camera rattling off a code of its own with every snap no doubt wreaking annoying havoc on the adjacent passengers in-flight movie. To that person (S) I send this short apology .

I was lost in a world of geometry my eyes tracing the multitudes of shapes below with autism accuracy or the mind of a map maker- I couldn’t believe all the different sorts of patterns we etched into the earth – from what seemed to be toy size factories to cookie cutter suburban houses it was all so interesting and was a welcome distraction to the fact that we were up so high in the air. Image

My first view of San Francisco in over twenty years was out of that same plane window and just as you might expect- the fog was in.Image

We were greeted by the camper company at the airport and driven a few miles away into an industrial part of town where we were given the keys to what was to be our travelling home during the interim of our journey- a gutted out dodge caravan that had a fold out bed, sink- small propane grill and few other basics to help us on the road. It would become our base camp and carry us thousands of miles along coast and through mountain passes that would be closed for the season a few short weeks later.

After the paper work was complete we gave our new base camp on wheels a quick inspection and headed out to begin our ten day adventure. Image

( our van a few days later while camping along the coast )

First we drove the few hours south down to San Simeon California and got a hotel for the night directly across from the ocean- it would be my first time seeing the pacific in over twenty years.


( full moon over the pacific ocean- San Simeon CA )

In the morning we would drive the few miles to the Hearst castle and spend much of the day lost in its labyrinth but that is another tale soon told- 


 ( one of the beautiful passages in the Hearst castle- lots more to come )

the adventure had just begun ….

(In the following blogs to come we will visit many epic places, from the Heartz castle I just mentioned to other California sites some touristy and some not such as the famous Sarah Winchester House and some of the lands where if there were a real big foot- he more than likely calls it home.)


We will soon venture our way into Oregon and Washington with a lot of great places in between – hope you are down for a drive, but not tonight we need our rest

big day tomorrow ….







( Heartz Castle from a distance and the what I consider the beginning of our adventure )

( in continuum )

when in roam

•November 20, 2013 • Leave a Comment

If you ever get the opportunity I recommend you go someplace new and grow a beard, drink the local beer and eat the cheese- make out with an islander.
Lose your name and pick a different one- but harm none as the saying goes- take only pictures.












All Images (C) Silver Moon
Nashville, TN


Go west young man..

•November 19, 2013 • 3 Comments

part one :

It’s only been a few short months since the trip out west and already am feeling that all too familiar  hunger for adventure-

Even the flight out was a beauty to behold, why just a few years back we drove out to the grand canyon and stood on the edge and now we were flying over it at a perfect time for a photograph from six thousand feet above out of the plane window, it was a good omen of the sights to come..


The need to travel tugs at my heart strings like an old lover.

I am always at my happiest when I’m traveling- it is that one time of the year I feel alive, sometimes the rest of the year is spent day dreaming and researching – editing and planning.

With great moments too in between don’t get me wrong but it feels ill in comparison to the joy even a few short days on the road can sometimes provide

Its easy to lose yourself along the way and hard to pay attention to much else when your eye is constantly trained on the horizon, hand on camera waiting for the next adventure to unfold- the next capture to present itself.

 Something new to taste or see.


( Local Oysters in Seattle Washington – Athena Bar and Grill, Pike place market )


Being still is the hard part, I get restless.

A close friend once asked me if I was running away from something or towards something, the answer is always going to be a little of both..

One thing I swear is true is that you can put the hammer down long enough to wear it takes your problems a few to catch back up with you but in the end it always happens-

But there is something to be said about the healing properties of camping underneath the stars in a different hemisphere, even if for a short while.


( night sky over Diamond lake Oregon )

The trip out west was the most epic thus far, we covered a lot of ground in the ten days spent driving, exploring and camping up the coasts of California, Oregon and Washington.Image

( the first moment I laid eyes on the pacific ocean in over twenty years )

I now have an entirely new concept of scale as everything out there is so much larger in comparison, even to our own smoky mountains here in Tennessee that I so adore.


 Part of me will always be day dreaming about some of the beauty I was fortunate enough to see out there and longing to go back.

I hope you enjoy the stories to come as much as I did in the capturing them,

lots more to come !


•May 23, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Woke Up somewhere in between places.  The kudzu covered trees floating past the night window at a high speed, looking a lot like most states south of the Mason Dixon, we could have been anywhere.

“Wake Up” She said softly again, this time the voice coming directly from her and not from the radio like it had moments before where it made its appearance  into my dream, cutting short an unimportant fantasy of one form or another- taking me back to reality.

“ I am” I reassured her, not quite sure I believed it myself as I reached into the cup holder between us and quickly found the Styrofoam  that held the liquid energy- I slurped it back cold and fast like an afterthought and lit a cigarette.

 (In truth I wasn’t quite awake just yet)

“Where are we?”  I asked as I rubbed my eyes.

“Almost into Cincinnati, but still in Kentucky” she said and gave my knee a squeeze.

This time the voice was hers alone here in reality, the dream already fading into obscurity from which it came.

It was my time to drive again and we switched places, a few hours and a lot of Mp3’s Later we were arriving at her Grandfather’s House on the lake in rural Ohio, the rest of the drive a blur of corn and other wise un-memorable.

Despite the darkness the full moon illuminated the manmade fishing area that classified this property as “Lakeside” and then that of the German style A- frame house her Grandfather had built there decades prior.

  As the Halogen headlights cut across the yard my eye immediately focused on the vacant chair on the porch where her Grandfather was sitting only half a year prior when I first met him, I remember shaking his hand and noticing that despite his age and arthritis his grip was firm and honest and you could tell they had been used to build (or take apart) a great number of things.                                                                                                 The same chair that now sits empty and had for the last four months since his death.

 For a moment, I was reminded of my own grandfather who passed away so many years prior, he too was a builder and fixer of things, a handyman of sorts. He had similar hands. My thoughts returning back to the farm when I was a boy, a flash of warm summer sun and fishing poles- my cousin was there too, we were smiling and then the moment faded as quickly as it came, bittersweet- I gave her knee a warm squeeze and we got out. The night air cold on our skin was an unfriendly greeting, much different than when we were here last. Our mission was different last time as well, just a visit in passing- not the somber task of preparing the house for auction after his departure- she seemed to be holding up surprisingly well but I offered a kind word or two anyways and we made our camp and soon she was fast asleep, wore out after working her normal shift much like myself before piling into the car and making the eight hour trip north to here to handle his affairs and get everything organized for the estate auction.  

The next day went by in a spinning blur of cleaning and attempting to organize remnants of one man’s past into a collage of boxes and tables, things were catalogued for the auctioneers- some things were deemed garbage and tossed but the majority of it all remained, and there was an awful lot of it left behind. The Neighbors of all the adjacent properties and even some folk from the local tiny townships started driving by and previewing the Estate sale scheduled for the next day, apparently there had been quite the buzz about it- the scavengers were out in full effect. One could easily have used the word “hoarder” without hurting feeling when referring to the amount of things gathered here on premise, it took decades to accumulate this much stuff- steadily collecting.

 There is a saying that states “One man’s Junk is another man’s treasure.” And that much is true I cannot deny nor can I dispute the fact- that goes both ways.      

One man’s treasure can easily become another man’s puzzle, due to apparent poor planning and not asking yourself questions Like:

 “Who will take care of me when I’m gone?”

“What Chaos am I leaving for someone else to clean up after me?

Have I even though of that?”

I’m not saying consume yourself with this type of mindset: waiting around in clean underwear with fresh coffee grounds set up in the coffee pot for your post mortem company to arrive- everything neatly dusted and tucked away into its own labeled box. I am simply saying it’s good to be prepared, make a will- put more thought into the afterlife than your religion because eventually whether we like it or not someone is going to come along and take down our favorite painting, you know that sentimental one- and since we forgot to even mention to anyone what it was or where it should go it is about to get sold to a stranger for less than it was worth let alone no one will ever know its significance.

Don’t dwell on death to the point that you forget to enjoy your life just be aware in the uncertainty of tomorrow and realize that weather we like it or not: it goes on without us, how do you want to be remembered?

It pained us all to know that so many things I am sure he was fond of fell into the lives of strangers that will never know its story, and I will spare you the details of how the sale went although it was a successful one- over and over again strangers picking through boxes; placing bids on memories greedily.

It opened my eyes in a lot of ways and I am glad that I was able to be there because it made me think of my own life and loved ones, it made me think of all the stories I have inside of me that have not been told yet and an uncertain amount of time left to tell them in, it made we want to run home and kiss my kids- and write a few things down, it reminded me yet again of how short life is but it also made me realize that there is a proper way to make an exit – but you have to prepare it for yourself in advance unless you want strangers picking through your past collected in boxes-

It woke me up.



What wakes you up?


•March 29, 2013 • Leave a Comment


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