Monday, September 30, 2013

Back Wall

Would you chuckle? Maybe roll your eyes a bit, if I told you that yard sale we had scheduled for three weeks ago still hasn't come to fruition yet? However, it WILL happen this weekend. If it's good weather and it doesn't materialize, I'll promise you this. They'll be a pile of our stuff at the end of the driveway come Tuesday morning's trash collection. Scouts' honor! Am I allowed to say 'scouts' honor', if I was a Boy Scout for just three weeks? Now, I was a card carrying, pledge reciting and multiple merit badge receiving Cub Scout for quite a few years. Might that count? I got one badge for making my bed everyday and keeping my room tidy for an entire summer. It was worth it, but I must admit it might have been the longest summer of my life. Those that know me well, will be very quick to point out that I still struggle with that 'organizing thing'. Junk drawers, a messy workbench, a desk at work that leaves a lot to be desired are my calling cards.
It's embarrassing too. 
I still really haven't mastered that bedmaking technique.
Can they take back merit badges?
I might need another lawyer.

ps. Well, at least this back garage wall is neat. Can I get points for this? 
Didn't think so.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Rusting Hull

Yes, it's a rusting hull, but everytime I look at it I just see puzzle pieces. Jigsaw puzzle pieces to be exact. When it came to cards, we played Crazy Eights, Old Maids, 500, Gin Rummy among others. However, when the chips were down, Mom was an early 'game changer'. She knew just when to pull out those puzzles from the back closet. We often had a couple going on the kitchen table on those long, boring winter evenings. It was amazing how far a glass of homemade chocolate milk and a jigsaw puzzle could take her. When she had her stroke, I remember staying at Maine Medical Center till early morning trying to keep my mind off of reality by working on one of these puzzles. I think it was a fall, covered bridge scene.
Why do I remember these things?
Why does this look like puzzle pieces to me?
She always told us to start from the edges and work towards the middle.
If you do it right, a pile of chaos can turn into quite a bit of satisfaction, and take your mind to a different locale for a few hours.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Sea Cairn

This latest artistic rendition is new at Lobster Cove, either that or I missed it on last year's visit. I'm impressed with what some people can do with plain old rocks. Ever seen any of Andy Goldworthy's work with stones? Simply amazing! I see them most often on hiking trails above the treeline to mark the pathway to the top. On Mt. Washington in New Hampshire, they are quite important. For after the snow hits, these markers show the way to the summit. Yes, there are crazies that hike to the peak in winter.
Back here in the real world, there are cairns that help to lead us to our destinations and keep us away from harm's way. Work, family, friends, home and a few others too corny to mention help keep me pushing onward to the top. Sometimes, I've taken a turn or two off my trail, but these markers are quick to point out my straying ways.
Onward... to the top! 

Check out the link below to Andy Goldsworthy. 

Friday, September 27, 2013

Island Stones

Some people and families come to this island and never leave. It's like there is some unidentifiable pull that no matter how hard the lifestyle they are fated to 'run' their course here. The island cemetery lies just below the lighthouse and is a solemn place that was basking in afternoon sunlight when we stopped. As we left, we passed the grave site of 'island institution' artist Fred Wiley. On our early trips to Monhegan, we always saw him set up and painting along the island roads or toting his easel and paints towards sunny fields. He ventured to the island many times, and on one of his trips a friend offered to sell the plein-air painter a house. The artist took him up on it, and his island fate was sealed.
He's here forever.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

On Burnt Head

The trip to Burnt Head is only about a 30 minute hike. Steep at the beginning, it flattens out pretty fast after you're off the dirt road. For the most part, it's a causal walk through pines, spruce and some scrub brush. The views from the backside of the island are some of the most magnificent that you'll see in the state. The rugged, rocky coast of Maine is most evident here. Elenka did some sketching, while I ventured down to gull cove, apply named for the hundreds, upon hundreds of gulls that roost on the wild rocks. You have to have your wits about you, for many of the winding pathways can take you treacherously close to the steep cliffs. Later, Elenka took a stroll to see the birds, and get a better view of the crashing waves, while I stretched out on a large, smooth rock and took in the warm sun. Believe it or not, I was also entertained by a fellow hiker picking apples off a tree nearby. Back at his cottage, he was probably going to carefully pare them down for a delightful apple pie for dinner.
In awhile, we headed back and hiked to this otherside of the island and a trip to the lighthouse and museum to watch the sun rays creep towards the water.
It was an afternoon well spent.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013


If you're thinking that this is one of those glass-bottom boats that you might find near a southern resort hotel, well you might want to look closer. The aqua color is about as close to the Caribbean as you will get. In reality, it's skiff tied up along Fish Beach on Monhegan. If you're looking to join the island working community, one of the most challenging jobs is making your living directly from the sea. Heck, when that wet, fog breeze blew across the island Saturday, it was cold enough for me. If you are lining up to put your lobster traps in on Trap Day (January 1), you wouldn't find me in the next boat. Look for me in the wimp line, probably sampling a lobster roll with a cup of clam chowder at the Barnacle. Later, if I had a TV on the island (water and electricity are precious items), I'd just kick back and watch the latest installment of "The Deadliest Catch". That's as close as I'd venture most cold days out here.
The beauty seen covering this island, often disguises the hardships and danger of making a living on the water out here.
Maybe the newly opened brewery needs a hand or two sampling their pale ales. 
I could do that!

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Room 12

Our room was on the second floor, tucked away at the end of the hall. Similarly to most of the rooms at the Monhegan House, it was sparsely filled. Ours had a double and a single bed with each a wonderfully, thick comforter that made it a struggle even for me, a notoriously early riser, to hit the floor running on a drizzly morning. A nightstand between the beds, this standing lamp, a bare bones wooden chair, a small dresser and a tiny dry sink filled the room. The walls were washed a ghostly, pale white with not a hint of a frame gracing them. Givin the look of most of the delightful corners in this old hotel, it would have been a nice touch to have a couple of items hanging. The curtained windows reminded me of the lace that hung on Coyle Street. Now, there are quite a few rooming houses to stay a few days in, but this one has the right look and feel of an island house for us.
You could do a lot worse, 12 miles out to sea in the Atlantic.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Island Dock

Elenka and I took our annual sojourn to Monhegan Island this past weekend. The island is about 12 nautical miles off the coast of Maine. The name Monhegan derives from Monchiggon, Algonquian for "out-to-sea island." We stayed at the Monhegan House, where we've stayed our last few visits. When we stepped on the island Saturday, we were greeted with a pretty good crop of fog and mist, but by 2 PM the sun broke through. We had an enjoyable afternoon heading up to Burnt Head via the road behind the hotel to view the cliffs and crashing sea and then on to the otherside of the island to the lighthouse and cemetery. Yesterday, we woke to what looked to be a day of heavy rain, but again by noon the sun was out for a pretty nice day. 
Enjoy our weekend, island get-a-way images here this week. 

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Fall Dragger

Well, we can kiss summer goodbye officially this afternoon amid the rain. I'm not complaining though. I think I enjoyed every single day, at least I tried to.

Saturday, September 21, 2013


My sunflowers have finally exploded. They went into the garden late. Way late! I had all the seedlings set to go, but they never made it to the garden's edge until after July 4th. What was I thinking? Well, better late than never. There's something about beautiful sunflowers lighting up a September afternoon. It's still summer for two more days, so I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.
Got Sunny?

Friday, September 20, 2013


J's a history buff. He had wonderful teachers in middle school and high school that lit the fire within him. If he's watching TV, there's a pretty good chance the tube is tuned to the Military Channel or the History Channel. Since he found out that his great uncle flew a B-17 in WW2, he's gone out of his way to learn all he can about the plane. He's taught me so much I was ignorant about this important part of that war. As we toured the plane, he was more than pointing out all the subtle nuances that he had read about the plane but never really seen up close. This is a shot looking out the nose of a Flying Fortress. I was quite surprised by the amount of wood that was a part of the plane. From nose to tail it was found. The passageway to the tail was oh so narrow. If you were overweight, you probably weren't going to be a part of the B-17 crew. I thought about a lot of things as I wandered inside the belly of the plane. How difficult it must have been, after they were hit, for all of the 10 member crew to evacuate the plane in bulky parachutes. Not easy at all.
On starry nights, I took up at the diamond-clad ceiling. Buster's up there somewhere looking down on us.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Nine O Nine

What a treat J- and I had yesterday afternoon. We went to the Portland Jetport and visited the "Wings of Freedom fly-in. 
They had a B-17, a B-24 Liberator ("Witchcraft")and a sleek, silver P-51 Mustang ("Betty Jane") available to walk around and actually tour. 
Pictured here is the B-17 Flying Fortress ("Nine O Nine"). This plane has a special connection to our family. My Uncle Leonard was a co-pilot on one of these in the 'Good War'. The walk inside was quite amazing. It looks pretty spacious from the outside, but the quarters inside were just so tight, not a lot of space to move around in, especially when you factor in the payload they carried. It was a bit of an eerie walk too. The backstory, that I have written about before, is that Uncle Leonard's plane was hit and went down with all the crew parachuting out. This was his last mission. At this point, our family story turns mysterious. The entire crew, except Uncle Leonard, were taken prisoners of war. There are various accounts of what happened to my uncle, aka Buster. All not good.
This is one of my connections to the "Greatest Generation".

Because many have asked: Wings of Freedom schedule-

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Kindling Stack

Do squirrels know something we don't? Are the husks on your corn thicker than normal? Are ducks and geese flying South earlier than usual? Is the hair on the nape of your cow thicker this year? Are two woodpeckers sharing a fall home? Have mice invaded your home early? Are crickets dancing on your hearth already? Were there heavy fogs in August? Has there been an abundance of spiders in your house? Your local raccoon has a thicker than normal tail? Are ants not meandering, but moving quickly in a straight line? Are the pigs in the pen gathering sticks? Who comes up with all this nonsense? Does your neighbor's chainsaw seem louder than normal? See, I just made that last one up. Here's another. Did someone stack your kindling pile upside down? My local 2014 Old Farmers' Almanac listed most of these, and I for one don't believe a one. Well, maybe that one about my neighbor's chainsaw holds some credence. I know he's making me feel a bit guilty about not cutting mine up and putting it under cover.
I best be getting busy.
Pigs are gathering sticks? 
Like I've got the time.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Hey Fourteen

Ever bit into an apple and came away with half a worm? I have. Lots of spitting ensued.

You might call these 14 the best of the lot. I'm not quite sure myself. You see, we don't spray or prune the 5-6 apple trees that grow wild on our land. Never got around to it. Always thought about it, but the job just never got done. Growing up, the Golden Delicious was a favorite of mine. These days, I'm partial to the shiny Cortlands. For me, they have just the right blend of sweetness with an edge of tart. Besides, they are wide at the top, which allows me to showoff my skill of splitting it right down the middle. Placing my thumbs on either side at the top, and pulling with the thumbs to the side provides me with a fine opportunity to showcase my fall trick, long before All Hallows Eve. My expertise with apples gets around. Often these days in the fall, youngsters will hand me an apple and say, "Do your thing." If it's a big, fat Cortland, or say a Mac that's a bit soft, it's easy. 
Oh yeah, I also, often eat the entire sphere, core and all. Why?
Well, that's another story, for another autumn day.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Fall Colors

It's just early fall and already the colors surrounding us are fading to yellows and browns. This round birdhouse, that hangs in an apple tree out back, needs a little roofing attention, it looks like. Around here, weekends in September and October are set aside to ready the house and yard for the winter winds that will be blowing here soon. And nope, this birdhouse doesn't swing in the winter winds. I'll pick this one up, along with about 15 more that are sprinkled about the yard, in a month or so. Then, as the snow flies, mice will make their winter homes in them, as they are stored in our outbuildings. 
Birds dwell here in the summer; mice curl up cozy in them in the winter.
Every season, almost everyday something is happening in here.
Tweet, tweet!
Squeak, squeak!

Sunday, September 15, 2013


Even in early fall, it's fun to walk along the edges of ponds and listen to the plop, plop, plop of frogs diving off the banks to the deep below. As I remember, Leo was always the big frog catcher. He wasn't afraid of getting warts from handling them. Ha! He had a couple already, anyway. He claimed he had the knack, a slow, quiet approach to the water's edge and fast hands. Sometimes, he'd wade in after them in bare feet. When he was on the 'hunt' for a large bull, he could stay knee deep for five, ten minutes at a time without moving it seemed. And every so often, he's purse his lips with his index finger to clue us shore dwellers to be ever so silent for he was very close to a 'catch'. On our many trips to the five ponds at Evergreen, he seldom came away empty-handed.
I was not a big frog guy. The downside was the aroma of swamp water on hands and feet that would accompany you throughout your day. Mom always knew if I had been wading in my sneakers and sent me straight to the bathtub before bed.
No ugly warts for this kid.
I was a true believer.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Lurking Tank

I took a trip, around Labor Day, across the bridge to South Portland in search of a family plot at Calvary Cemetery that I had lost track of over the years. My Dad took me there a few times, but after they trimmed away the identifying towering yews on either side of the stone, I could not find it amid the stones and myriad of dirt roads. I ventured over many times but always came up empty-handed. If I had remembered that the family name was not on the stone, that would have helped a great deal and shortened the hunt significantly. So, J- and I went out to breakfast and headed out on our quest. We stopped at the cemetery office and the gal there was quite helpful in giving us a map and heading us off in the right direction. After about a 10 minute search, we found it just where to lady said it would be. In a section at the back of the cemetery with large colorful oil tanks keeping watch. In the family plot is buried my grandmother, who died in 1922, when my Dad was only 9, my grandfather who passed away in 1970, his sister Madge and her two husbands. The next day, I headed back over, looking for the large plot, that I knew I'd find of the Sisters of Mercy. I found the resting place of Sister Mary Adelaide, my Dad's aunt, who passed away in 1978. I took mental notes of the two sites, so I'll be able to take both my sisters there when they are back in the area again. I'm sure they'll both want to see these sites. 
Another job, of a big brother, accomplished.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Phone Box

Happy Friday the 13th!
You superstitious?
Have a little friggatriskaidekaphobia?
That's the fear of this Friday the 13th.
As I've written before, I have found myself falling into routines involving sporting events, but that's about it. Black cats? Love 'em! Walking under ladders? No problem. Breaking mirrors? Done that a few times. The number 13? Doesn't really bother me, although I do think it looks funny on the back of an athlete.
Do I have fears? Of course I do. We all do. Do I want to ruminate on them this morning and share them with you? Of course not. You see, they might be irrational bothers, but in my mind just thinking about them can stress me out a bit. So, outta sight, outta mind.
Maybe, when I get myself worked up I just need to call Ghostbusters!
Got the number?
No worry. It's a Friday!

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Canopy Above

Here we see the canopy above. Do you have a favorite breakfast place? I think I read someplace that your morning meal is the most important meal of the day. I'm going to file this in the 'old wives' tale' column. I really don't believe it at all. Show me the proof. When I head out to breakfast, show me some eggs over easy, a side of homefries, some sausage links or bacon, a couple of slices of wheat or Texas toast and let the indigestion commence. Around these parts, Denny's and Becky's fit the bill for a pretty fast morning meal, but I really must say, if the time is special (read Birdman's BDay in July or when blog friend BC visited last summer) Bintliff's American Cafe is the place. The wait can be formidable, but end result is very pleasing. 
I usually 'sin' and go for the Classic Eggs Benedict. 
Bless me Father!
The presentation is quite pleasing, and the view 'up' on the outside dining deck ain't bad either. There's quite a canopy overhead.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Art Muscle

This was an interesting find last Friday on the ArtWalk: an Art Truck. Muscles and Art two things, that at least in my mind, aren't necessarily drawn together are here, I guess. What we have here is a box truck, open in the back, with art hanging on the walls. Looks to be some sort of mobile art gallery, although at all the First Friday celebrations, it has always been parked in the street. If you are  not looking at this side with the display, it just gives you the look of a moving van, complete with the long, gradually metal walkway up the back. There wasn't a lot of movement into the truck to view the art. Most of the potential customers of art were scurrying by on the sidewalk. 
Caught in the blur.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Pipe Dreams

I took a ride the other morning over to South Portland along the water. I was looking to take some photographs of Portland from across the water. I found myself among the oil storage tanks that line the Route 295 bridge. Looking down next to a short walkway, I noticed a stack of piles rolling into the water. The oily smell was a bit sickening, overwhelming at times. I didn't stay long. It reminded me of the times we walked among the buildings of the paving company at the end of Bishop Street, at night. The smell of the tar was sweet at first, but after a while it began to make you ill. We didn't stay there long.
I'm not staying here long today either.

Monday, September 9, 2013

Yard Sale

Well, we spent the weekend getting ready for a yard sale next Saturday and Sunday. We spent a few hours Saturday emptying the contents of our garage attic of lots of stuff  that we thought we'd need again, but we were wrong. Yesterday, we tackled the the attic above the main house. We worked for about three hours up there, and as Elenka said hardly made a dent. To be honest, it looks the same as when we started. How can that be? If you're looking for a couple of comfy living room chairs, a weight bench with weights, an exercise bike, a kid's desk, a bike for a teen, a small crib, a set of dishes, a couple of sets of golf clubs, a rocking chair, kids' toys, a solid back door, a set of tires, two suitcases, and much more, stop by from 8-3 next weekend. You'll lug away something and make me a happy man. By the way, none of the left over crap comes back in the house this time. Scout's honor. Our last sale was three years ago, and for some God only knows reason, we brought a lot of the 'leftovers' back into the house. Theory? Next time we'd make a 'killing' selling the stuff. Of course, we were wrong again. It only collected dust and made it darn hard to maneuver around that area.

*ps Don't tell anyone, but anything not sold goes to the end of the driveway Sunday with a sign that'll read, FREE!

*ps2 No, the boat's not mine but is for sale down the road a piece.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Love Lock

I guess this fenced wall with locks shows true love. I guess it shows commitment. I guess I'm going to have to get me a lock. Back a ways, all you needed was a sturdy jackknife, a tree or wooden wall and about twenty minutes of your life. My guess is that most of the couples that 'locked themselves' into this fence didn't just meet their mate Friday night at a dance at Frye Hall. That's where I hung out, and I never carried locks with me. Trees and that wall on Bishop Street were constantly, it seemed, being carved up with every initial in the alphabet. I must admit now, for the first time, that I carved my letters into that wall with a secret someone. It was a situation bordering on unrequited love. I loved from afar. I never got any closer than a liplock in a game of kissing hide-and-seek. Oh, and I was so insecure, as an early teenager, that when I put my initials on the wall I did so in code so no one would ever know who LN was. It worked too. When looking at the wall everyone in the neighborhood knew the girl's name, but her 'secret admirer' from a distance was never revealed. It was a mystery.
See, a jackknife, a wall... true love... Well, sort of.

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Poet for Hire

Stop me if you've heard this one before.
What up with ArtWalks?
We took a stroll up Congress Street last evening to take in First Friday art walk.  We started our brief journey at the library and viewed the  opening of a retrospective on the work of Maurice Sendak. It was a journey through the darkness laden with images of Where the Wild Things Are. It was a fun visit. Later, we continued our venture up the street stopping at various galleries along the way, including a map shop where we found a map of our town in the 1800s. If I can find a places for it here at the homestead, I'll make the purchase. Elenka says I must do this from now on. You see I have this problem of buying stuff and having no place to put it. I've had this 'illness' for many years. Now, the galleries were fine. No problem there. However, the streets were overly-loaded with with people and, let me say this as delicately as I can, "Crap!". There. I hope no one is offended. There were little kids drawing crap on the walkways, one guy burning tin cans and selling them, a fella selling strings of beads for $20, that probably cost $2 tops for supplies, teens wailing away on guitars, that they had no business possessing, a gal selling photographs that she had certainly ripped off the Internet and photoshopped a bit, a poet typing his words, old ladies hawking their knitted wares, a group of young adults wearing animal heads and walking among us, and many, many more card tables loaded with, and I'm being gentle here, "CRAP!"
Bottom line, I really don't know what I saw covering the sidewalk last night, but I do know that  MOST of it wasn't art.
To paraphrase the gal in the backseat of Nicholson's car in the movie "Five Easy Pieces", "It was crap, nothing but crap, crap, crap".
Head-shaking, Embarrassing really.
Has art come to this?
Will I return? Of course. 
Laughter is good for the soul.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Dying House

This house needs some love. It's salvageable for sure, but it needs some structure work, a few pieces of window glass, some paint, a new roof and a couple of hours with a chain saw. And that's just the exterior. I'm almost willing to bet that the interior has been gutted. I haven't seen any activity around it for about four years or so. Similar to us, let yourself go, get your body in a tough spot, whether old or young, and the 'repair work' won't be accomplished overnight. With us the road back, is often filled with many a pitfall, both physical and emotionally. But whether you're a 100+ year old structure or us, the payback is the same. It's a mighty good feeling to have worked your way back to the point that the mirror is your friend again. 
So maybe the recipe for today is: invite a building inspector over for lunch, purchase some lumber, pull that chainsaw out hibernation, mow that front lawn and get yourself back on track.
You can be a showplace again.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Rolling Tires

These look to be pretty tired looking tires that have seen better days. They resemble the discarded tires that used to be stacked behind the ESSO gas station. Back then, times were simple. We often spent hours just rolling tires down the hill behind the station. The stocky, olive-skinned guy who was the boss said, Roll to your heart's content, but just get 'em back up the hill at the end of your fun". One afternoon, we found a couple of huge tractor tires and rolled them to the BIG hill at Gullivers Field. It took us about 20 minutes to get them there, and then we dared each other to 'ride the tire' by climbing inside for a downhill scream. It was a scary 'downhill adventure'. I tried it once, and that was it for me. When I finally crawled out, I was in a state of heightened dizziness and was sick to stomach for the next 20 minutes. 
It wasn't the smartest of our adventures, but it sure was 'quick fun'!

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Wooden Trail

This wooden, rambling bridge meanders off into an early September morning. It's a piece of Portland Trails, a group of connecting foot trails that run around the city. This piece here is just off Hobart Street and sets off towards Thompson's Point, along the Fore River. Bridges like this provide a good analogy to our lives, hopefully it's long and winding with many twists and turns that provide us with lots of adventures along the way.
Find a good friend and head off on your quest.
Today is a fine day to start.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Bike Rally

These classic bikes were ready for sale, as is, a few weeks back. No excuses! No regrets! No haggling! No mas! My red, Schwinn with the thin silver fenders and the old baseball cards a flappin' in the spokes would have fit nicely next to these fat-fendered numbers. To get the real strong rappin' noise, that I guess attempted to resemble a motorcycle's whine, you had to replace the cards every few days or so. No Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays or Whitey Ford ever got placed near the spokes either. This 'honor' was always reserved for the lesser named players and those you had doubles or triples of. Now, everyone in the neighborhood had their own unique bike look. Some of the girls had 'almost perfect' bikes with those plastic flowy things that hung off of their handle grips. Most of the guys all had bikes that were pretty much beat up but got the job done. Eddie got a new JC Higgins from the the guy he worked for at the candy store, but by the end of the summer the fenders were gone and it was but a shell of the bike new in May. The main job was getting from house, to house, to ball field, to the Corner, to treehouse and back home through backyard trails. Our bikes were for transportation not for show.
We truly were bikers!

Monday, September 2, 2013


Even aboard a Coast Guard cutter, an 8 AM muster comes early.
Happy Labor Day!
I'm not working, but these guys will be. They were out and about yesterday assisting in the rescue of four people and a dog, as a cabin cruiser caught fire and burned to the waterline just off the Portland Headlight. Luckily, there were quite a few boats nearby, and as thick black smoke billowed skyward, the occupants and the pooch were pulled from the water. Their rescues  might be not as dynamic and made-for-tv like the reality show Coast Guard Alaska on the Weather Channel, but they are equally as important. 
Just ask those four people yesterday.
Their labors were not lost.
A job well done.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Theme Day: Pink

Today, September 1, 2013 is Theme Day across the City Daily Photo (CDP) community. The topic for today's post is Pink. Since I'm not a close friend of Pink, herself, although I do enjoy her music, I thought I'd get a shot of something else I deem delicious. Salmon. Pink, pink salmon.