Looking Forward, in More Ways Than One

As I assembled this latest batch of pictures there is a striking common theme running throughout–which is that every one of our current projects is inundated with snow–with a few exceptions in Virginia which have the lesser blessing of lots of red mud….

While currently on business in TX and AZ and visiting family–I am watching the news predict yet another Nor’easter (the fourth in less than three weeks) and am thinking of all the crews battling the elements and spending almost as much time getting their sites ready to work as actually working. This winter has definitely prompted some reflective soul searching in terms of how difficult it has been to actually get things done, how resilient our crews and clients are in being willing to move forward in such adverse conditions, and how behind we have gotten not being able to keep up with the amount of work we have and with what keeps coming in.

In addition–if this were not enough–we have just launched our new website–and hope you will all take a look at the new format which also includes archiving the old and familiar which has stood us in good stead over the last 15 years or so.

Sharing some heartbreak–our beloved golden retriever Tenley–known to so many of you for her hard work and tenacious attendance on many Geobarn jobs–who started working with tools as a pup (see images to right), loved snow and was famous for climbing ladders onto roofs and chasing her beloved tennis ball–left us two weeks ago with grateful and broken hearts. For those of you who new her or just love dogs in general–I attach a poem I wrote many years ago that partly captures her loving heart…


homecoming up the drive, you were there
expecting little, appreciating much
eager eyes and pacing paws, anticipating arrival
you were waiting, and I came home to you.

vacation companion, where we walked the world together
(you traveled such greater distances than I)
you were warmth to my hands, rough and tumble friend–
you were waiting, and I came home to you.

like the children, but not my child
eyes that looked and longed for me–
wherever I was, there you were, or wanted to be
you would wait, and I came home to you.

and now, so painfully different, it is I who watch and wait
wishing you were beside my running steps, licking my outstretched hand
which longs to touch my faithful friend…
now, it is I, who wait for you,
my waiting friend.

In memory of Teddy Bear
January 24, 2002

March2, 2018