My younger children attended a neighbor’s birthday party this weekend at a local farm called North Run. Beautiful place. Each year, they do a corn maze that is in the image of something rather extraordinary. I believe the first year they designed a blue crab; another year, they patterned GO RAVENS with a Ravens helmet. This year, their eighth in cutting designer corn mazes, they created an elaborate statue of liberty.

I never even knew they were there (located just off of Greenspring Valley Road). What we found, though, was an autumnal gold mine, complete with a genuine pumpkin patch (they bring large branch cutters to help you cut your pumpkins when you’ve made your choice), hay rides, a hay field playground, and a petting/feeding zoo with chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, and cows. They also have a store filled with fresh produce and homemade jams and preserves.

Most important, though, was the friendly and kind demeanor of everybody who worked there, from the owners to the seasonal help. My kids and I were treated wonderfully from beginning to end.

I took the above picture while my kids were in the pumpkin patch, making new memories to kick off the autumn season, our favorite time of year. I hope each of you can afford a few hours in the coming weekends to stop by your local farms to partake in a little seasonal relaxation. Have a cup of cider, walk the maze, and absorb the change in seasons. This beauty lasts but a few weeks.

Presentation at Towson University Saturday morning….Here’s the Powerpoint for attendees (and others!) :)

MWP MetaJournals

I happened upon these early budding inkberries last week at my daughter’s horse farm, and the memories of early autumn in my backyard appeared as if they were made yesterday.

My mother would give me that standard lecture every morning or afternoon that I would leave the house to play. Me–the Tom Sawyer wanna-be in the neighborhood, nearly courageous enough to take any risks necessary to have some fun, would listen to her with a happy grin, as if I were taking it all in.

“Don’t leave the neighborhood, don’t get in anybody’s car, and for goodness sake, stay away from those inkberry bushes across the street. I’ll never get your clothes clean again if you keep popping those berries. They’re poisonous, you know!”

Invariably, I’d leave the neighborhood, usually by car, and eventually come home with inkberry stains all over me. Mom would yell, but we had fun, and she knew it.

To me, these inkberries recall calmer days filled with reckless wonder and abandon. I think I’ll head out for a little walk and find me a few to pinch between my fingers before sunset… :)

Good Sunday, everyone.

A few days ago, I arrived home and was greeted by my screaming son, who wanted to know if I saw the praying mantis outside. I told him that I did not, and just as quickly as he told me all about the green-brown bug standing sentry by the front door. he vanished and resumed playing with his sister.

It wasn’t until we were ready to head out for dinner when he remembered about the bug by the door. He eagerly awaited the chance to run outside and check to see if he was still there. To my surprise, he was.

The praying mantis is such a good subject to photograph because they are amazingly still (much like the great blue heron I shot in yesterday’s post). I did not enlarge this photo at all. He was positioned and poised beautifully, and I felt like I had all the time in the world to get this shot (and a few others, which I will post at another time).

But that’s it, right? Positioned and poised beautifully. Stillness. Taking the time to savor even a few of the many moments in our hectic lives.

On this Sunday, may we all make the time to position ourselves with beautiful poise. The rest of the day may very well be filled with moments enriched with greater love.

This is an uncut blog entry, meaning I have done little to censor the flow of thoughts about the topic of simplicity. Please do not read too deeply into what I say below; in the words of my good friend Larry, “I’m just trying to figure it all out myself.”

I remember years ago–perhaps 15 or so–when the world wide web was on the brink of changing our lives. Never before (at least in my lifetime) had a promise of simplicity been ushered to us so strongly. With this new technology, we would be able to save hundreds of hours of researching and seeking out important facts simply with a few keystrokes. All we ever needed to know would be nanoseconds away, freeing us up to live our lives more fully, more simply, free of the anxiety and stress that had plagued us in our endless pursuit for simple things.

Here I am, 15 years later, voluntarily chained to more electronic devices and accounts than I could have ever imagined. The simplicity that was promised back in 1994 is The Last Great Lie of the 20th century, only now being fully realized.

I sometimes think that I just missed this generation rush by a few years, and I will be forever held back by my memories of the way life used to be, where simplicity was more than a concept; it was a way of life for most of us. Had I been born in the early 70s, I don’t think there would be this constant pull to return to something that, for the most part, no longer exists.

Don’t get me wrong. I love writing here in my blog, and I am beginning to pick up the pace at The Examiner. I do my best to manage the flow of email that comes in for the various projects I’ve taken on  (again–all by choice), and I genuinely love and appreciate all of the great connections I’ve made on Facebook.

It’s just that, when I need to take a little break from it all, the guilt is so strong when I return and I see all that I have neglected. I want technology to provide a life that was promised to me; I want my life to be simplified by my e-choices, not complicated.

I know it’s up to me and the choices I make, but even in the last two years or so, the choices have come at critical costs.

Writing and publishing is all about marketing and selling yourself. Having a Twitter account does wonders for my publicity, but if I pause even momentarily, I feel out of the loop and no longer in the running for serious consideration as a bona fide writer.

Same with Facebook. We are so close to so many, and I begin to feel guilty when I cannot muster a response to somebody who is having a bad day. Every pulse of who we are is available for comment, for concern, for celebration. I love it all, and yet I feel the pull to disconnect, unplug, get out of that pulse and return to the solitude in the woods, on the water, that know of no status updates or blog posts.

It’s that same feeling you get when you’ve been running a fever or fighting a stomach bug. You aren’t hungry at all for days, and it feels pretty good to have that empty stomach. But the lure is strong to eat, to return to your old ways. Within days, you’re back to the things that probably made you sick in the first place, and the cycle continues.

When I unplug for a few days and refresh, I look at Twitter, Facebook, and my blog with a renewed energy, and I come back with daily posts, witty tweets, and inspiring status updates. In a few short weeks, though, that fades once again, and I am left seeking out simplicity.

I want to live simply. I want to live without conflict.

I want to allow love to guide my every breath, my every thought, my every action.

I want to embrace technology and have the ability to do my job and power down when the time is right.

I want to please, to share, to enjoy, to cherish.

I want to be the heron in the reeds: still, patient, focused.

*sigh*

I want to not want. I just want to be.

I first want to thank all of you who have contacted me in recent days, checking in to see if all is okay. As is always the case in the end of August, I get swept away in preparing for back to school. This year’s preps were joined by a wondrous trip to Florida (drove down Friday, family wedding on Saturday, drove home Sunday, school began Monday) and starting two new jobs teaching at our local community college and writing for Examiner.com. I also picked up a column in another pub, Mason-Dixon Arrive, earlier this summer, so there’s been a rush of good things here in the last few weeks.

But I’m glad to be back.

My nephew’s wedding was a magnificent event for our family. This was the first family wedding in 15 years (my wedding was the last in 1994), and our children’s first wedding ever attended. Needless to say, they had no idea what to expect.

Driving down was the best option for us, and although I don’t think I would do it again under normal vacation circumstances, it really wasn’t so bad. The kids were great, and my wife and I kept the conversation running for most of the 15 hours it took each way.

Here are just a few of the pics that I took of the wedding. Both of our nephews are in the Army. Kyle’s leave from Iraq was timely for the wedding; Kevin, who was the groom, leaves for Afghanistan in 2 weeks. Needless to say, the event held great significance–even more than a family wedding might normally have. My sister Cindy, who has been battling cancer, was thrilled (as we all were for her) to be dancing during the reception.

Like I said–a truly remarkable occasion.