A big part of writing is research I find. Reading and gathering facts is important to truth and accuracy especially with historical subjects. I take great liberties with word usage most of the time when engaging in my writing projects. I apologize for improper sentence structure and blatant mistakes with pronunciation. “Mega-editing” has never been my goal here on the blog site.Telling stories in a “real-time” manner is however. I tell a story as if you were standing next to me. In my own words and in the emotion of the moment. What some refer to as “living in the now. It’s that rawness I often mention. There’s a connection to rawness in words and rawness in nature that surrounds my thought process I suppose. That place of truth and simple facts which brings me to today’s subject. Whims. Defined as a sudden idea or turn of the mind. Or even as a sudden desire that is unexplained. Anyone who has ever spent any time around me will attest to the word whim as being a description of my mindset at times. I enjoy playing with words and even creating some. MOONTABS was a creation of mine in 2018. By now you must surely understand my fascination with my own word. I tend to think of it as a word where everyone can find a piece of themselves. As for whims it means more than its definition. It’s also an abbreviation for “Winter Has Its Moments”. Those things and thoughts that only the season can deliver in this four season region of the world. I often associate it with fun recreational pursuits and hobbies. Cross country skiing,snowboarding, snowshoeing, and ice fishing. As for current WHIMs, we recently returned from volunteering on the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival Ice Palace project where we assisted in harvesting the ice blocks for the walls and sculptures. It’s hard work and rewarding at the same time. Zane and I also snowshoed our final two peaks of the Lake Placid 9 hiking challenge. The challenges of winter trekking make it a thrill of a different sort. Heavier layers of clothing and extra safety gear to carry than we would require in other seasons. The knowledge that staying out all night would only happen in an extreme emergency. Far different than a summer hike! There’s a certain “buzz” to be found on a winter trek though. One we chase at times. Staying inside on cold,stormy days can be relaxing and rejuvenating most certainly but only in small doses. So we choose to engage in a variety of winter activities to balance our lifestyle. There is a less glamorous aspect to winter however. Those WHIMs of challenge attached to the rural heritage of the farm property. In the interest of positivity I simply mention them as obstacles. Those things which slow a winter farm workday. In this direction of thought there are profound observations of my dependency on modern technology. Consider the following: upstate New York winter. Cold and snow are the normal here. As a result gaining access to the farm property becomes difficult as more snow continues to accumulate. I typically plow out the driveway and trail to the warehouse about once a week. This involves getting a cold diesel tractor started. Jumper cables, starting fluid, and plugging in an engine block heater often occupy the first couple hours of the workday. A fire is usually kindled in the farm cabin (or “warming shack” as Jennifer calls it!) for lunch break. Once the tractor is started there is hay to feed to the two horses after the trails are plowed. If we have decided to cut and split wood them we also need to break a trail to the wood landing. All this is pretty typical on any given farm outing during the winter. As we approach March we will need to break in the maple sugaring sap hauling roads depending on the snow depth. This can be very difficult at times especially when we get larger accumulations of snowfall. The bottom line is the amount of time needed to accomplish some simple tasks. There’s nothing negative in any of this really. It’s just that every task takes extra effort! Frozen locks and barn doors to shovel out. Slow hydraulics on tractors and wood splitters. Getting the picture? It is in these moments that I realize our dependence on modern machinery. At this point my reflections swing years into the past. Our ancestors who called this winter landscape home certainly faced many challenges. They lacked electricity and modern medicine. They had no gas vehicles with heaters. Traveling was cold and preparedness was key to survival. Heat came from burning wood not from fuel oil, natural gas, or propane. All that being said I like to think that they adapted more to winter than we as a modern society have chosen to do. In nature winter is a time of things becoming more dormant. Trees without leaves but with tiny buds slowly developing. Some animals hibernating while others slow their activities. For some it is the hungry time and they must expend energy hunting to survive. The beavers feed on brush sunk below the ice until spring. Talk about preparing! The pulse of life continues but seems to slow somewhat overall. Our ancestors adapted well to winter living. They broke out their horse drawn sleighs and cutters. Fed hay they had stored away for their livestock. They butchered their meat and used the winter temperatures to freeze it outside. They ventured into frozen swamps and over streams to harvest firewood that was usually off limits. These things I learned talking to my father and grandparents. For my family those things were commonplace and they spoke of them with a certain reverence. Rural people enjoyed certain comforts that we do not. They didn’t worry about airline cancellations or impassable roads. Delayed school buses and power outages. I won’t romanticize their lives as easy or perfect. Just very different that’s all. In comparing their lives to mine I find myself wondering about what may have been lost in all that was gained. And then the inevitable question: without our modern conveniences would we survive the upstate winter? And so begins the questioning of my preparedness or lack there of. All this as I sit in a warm house fueled by natural gas. Electricity and hot, running water. Tv, internet, and the technology to launch this post into cyberspace. Have I become soft and too modern? Is there a better balance to be struck? Should we follow the migratory birds south each fall? Perhaps it is our stubborn love of the four seasons that keeps us here. All these questions and more. Does winter have its moments? Absolutely. The sun is out and it’s warming up some today after our recent cold snap. I have a sudden whim! Travel to Macomb today with the dogs and snowshoe down the Beaver Creek gorge to the ice falls. Embrace this February day and connect to nature as the winter season advances forward. A story waits for me in frozen wetlands. Today is meant for simple pursuits in search of something more simple in its truth. The now is here and the past can be researched tomorrow. The future will show itself. Today is waiting with the thrills of adventure. The recharging of my spirit energy. Whims are good! ✍️
Author Archive: Greg Washburn
The Run Of The Mill
I recently Goggled the term “rural heritage” to learn exactly what it means in terms of its usage today. It’s often used to describe buildings of historical nature. My usage differs as I use it to describe those things learned from living in close proximity to the soil. Not necessarily farming either. Rural heritage can span any number of subjects in the context that I freely employ. For me it’s a story of learning. One of family history and that of my own. It is a connecting piece of my story that has profoundly shaped my life in more ways than I sometimes even recognize.It’s easy to take for granted those things we associate with normal in our locales. Those things that we are accustomed to may not give us any pause for reflection. But when we engage in a conversation with someone who has lived in another part of the country or perhaps in a more urban setting we can suddenly realize our differences. Our normal may be very foreign to them. Our daily routines as we live out our existence in the places we call home could be considered “run of the mill” in terms of weather conditions and seasons. There’s a larger observation that deviates from my intended story. When I hear the term “run of the mill” something far different enters my mind. I think of a series of events that spans decades. The “run of the mill” in my life is a story uniquely my own. One with many gaps and unanswered questions. In my story are many small stories. I suppose they could be considered branch stories. True to the nature of my written work I leave clues buried in my stories for those who wish to dig deeper and search for larger meanings. In deeper reflection there can be a greater destination where a reader can arrive with a better understanding of themselves. I charge you the reader to remember your personal journey and your memories from that journey. As for this story? I hope to take you to a place of my youth where I can almost smell a certain memory! A story that revolves around a much younger me in the beginning. My memories are often gray in the misty years of time passage. It concerns me at times honestly. But that is another story. This I do remember and commit it to cyberspace.As a young boy we lived in a renovated farm house on the site of the original Washburn homestead in the Township of Macomb,New York. It’s the first place I ever lived and the source of my earliest memories.The house was set back from the road a short distance and had a huge lawn that was dominated by giant elm trees. Their sprawling branches nearly touched the ground in spots. They were a favorite nesting tree for families of colorful Baltimore Orioles each spring. The woven nests always amazed me as they swayed in the summer breezes. Our property also contained a small horse barn and two garages. Further back was a hay barn that was part of my grand parents dairy farm. We had a large garden area as well behind the house. I suppose I could write an entire post about my boyhood home at some point! My earliest and fondness memories are being outdoors playing in that large area. Some distance off was my grand parents large dairy barn. Beyond that their house and out buildings. A fence that surrounded our property was a boundary not to be crossed although as my parents would learn that my curiosity and desire to wander would challenge that boundary often. Living close to an operating farm was a source of ever changing sounds. Machinery and mooing cows. The milk truck with its throaty diesel as it slowly entered their bumpy farm driveway. But one noise stood out with a clarity all its own!The loud noise of the sawmill operated by my grandfather. I was taught to avoid the sawmill and the huge piles of logs in the stockpiles when visiting at my grandparents house. (I was there quite often as both my parents worked). My father would take me up to the sawmill sometimes and I was fearful of the large circular blade mill with its many moving parts. But the scents were the draw. Fresh pine sawdust from recently milled lumber in a huge stack where a drag chain piled it. Racks of milled lumber covering the ground in dimensional piles of certain lengths. And the logs. Everywhere.Always a big pile lined up on the landing where they were rolled onto the sawmill. My grandfather had built a large building that covered the entire operation. At the back there was a truck landing where slab wood and finished lumber could be loaded. It was large and intimidating to me in its layout. The building still exists to this day on my Uncle’s property but it’s only used for storage now. I have a faint memory of my father talking to my Grandfather about something while I stood safely beside him as my Grandfather throttled the engine down and the huge blade stopped spinning. Other than that I remember very little actually. But some memories still possess the ability to transport me. Those of playing in our lawn on crisp autumn days while searching the sky for migrating geese. I always hated going in at night! Winter memories also have retained their clarity. Cold and snow. Sleds and toboggans to slide down the steep hills in the pastures. One winter the snow became so crusted that we could walk on top and explore beyond the lawn. Far over back the pasture was covered in thick layers of slab wood where it was dumped each time the truck was full. I never got to really know my Grandfather all that well. He passed away when I was still quite young and the sawmill was no more. My two Uncles were too busy running the dairy farm to continue operating it. My parents moved us to our farm property about 1 mile away around 1970 and I lived there throughout high school. Sometime in the early to mid 1970s the elm on the farm began to die from Dutch elm disease. Everywhere elms of every size were dying in large numbers. My father decided to begin burning wood again in the farmhouse to use up the over abundance of dead wood. Some was used in the sugar house as well. It was during the fall and winter months of the 1970s that my training to become a woodman began in earnest. Most winter Saturdays were spent in the forests around the farm using a team of horses and a set of sleighs to draw loads of firewood. We also saved saw logs from some of the larger trees. One spring across the meadow from the farmhouse my father cleared out a huge section of large dead elms for logs. They were trucked to an Amish sawmill about 5 miles away on a wagon. The Amish had moved into our area and set up sawmills where they would do custom sawing if you delivered the logs. Elm is a heavy and difficult lumber to build with but very strong. It doesn’t hold up well to moisture though so must be used for interior construction. I spent a lot of time loading and unloading lumber from all those logs. Red elm was a prized saw log on the farm. They grew to large proportions and made wiry but strong lumber. One log in particular stands out in my memory. We labored long and hard to get it skidded out and loaded. That one log made an entire load for the mill. It sawed out nearly 1000 board feet of lumber! I learned a lot about hitching chains and skidding logs. The dangers of felling trees and chainsaw safety. I learned a variety of tricks for loading logs and safely binding them down for transport. My fear of sawmills hadn’t subsided entirely either.When we would deliver a load of logs to the Amish sawmill I would stand back and watched as the large circular blade ripped through logs at what seemed an unreasonable speed. The sawyer was an Amish named Ben Shetler. A friendly man who became good friends with my father. Ben’s manner of sawing was not my idea of fun I decided. Fast and furious! Regardless I learned to handle plenty of lumber at a safe distance from the blade. Eventually my father trusted me to draw loads of logs with the tractor to the sawmill. I learned how to unload them after marking them with our name and the “cut specs”. We used a simple lumber crayon to accomplish this necessary task. After unloading some logs I would need to load up any lumber that was ours and draw it home. I spent hours on a tractor in those days and wish I could remember more but much of that time escapes me. I just remember working very hard and how much I enjoyed working at the logging. Eventually the elms were mostly gone but occasionally we would find a dead one to salvage around the farm. My Dad used that tough elm lumber for everything around the farm. Once nailed in place it was almost impossible to break! Another memorable logging event occurred in my Uncle’s woodlot near Heuvelton, New York. My uncles hired my father to fell and skid out a large bunch of white pine logs. I loved the woodlot property! Sandy soil and low swampy sections full of blueberry bushes. Huge stands of white pine growths and stands of white birch and soft maple. Very different than the rocky ridges of our farm property. My father brought a single draft horse to skid the logs. A black Clydesdale/Percheron horse named Don. He was a true gentle giant! I was given the job of leading him to the log landing with single log hitches where the logs were loaded onto a truck owned by a bachelor named Claude Rayburn. I will write about him sometime! Don was such a good horse that he would actually pull a log to the landing without leading him! I don’t remember much more than that really. All I know is I found the logging venture fun and exciting! Beyond that the years on the farm continued with a “run of the mill” change of season and task. Each season with its own challenges and menial jobs to be performed. But the responsibilities I was given were to shape the form of the future me. I became more of a woodman. A farmer as well. I learned to care for cattle and horses. I became a lover of horses and riding. A great wanderer of all the surrounding land in an ever larger circle of travel. I hunted and trapped for fur. I was a wannabe mountain man I suppose. But my roots were grounded in nature and the many changes that awaited me would not tear those roots free. Yes I lived a run of the mill existence. One I treasure as a gift in my older years. The farm property is sacred ground to me. A place where I can go to escape in mundane task even now. There is a larger story that I will tell of logging and sawmills. But not today. It must be told with many words and great detail. For it is the second chapter of myself in a different time. A story of gains and losses. I must assemble the words with loving reverence.✍️
Catching A Breath
It’s been a busy week since I flew into the Clearwater,Florida International Airport last Sunday. Things went smoothly leaving the airport in my rental car.Technology amazes me as I try to dive deeper into depths that are sometimes unknown and unchartered for me. Jennifer took care of most of my travel arrangements prior to my departure. It was my first time using an electronic boarding pass on my IPhone and the process was seamless. Basically all I needed to do was show my passport and everything flowed without a hitch. The first thing I did when I got into my rental car was connecting to its screen. Very simple and with that simple action Siri responded to all my needs. The need for a road atlas has become obsolete but I always carry one in my truck just in case. There’s a certain comfort having a hard copy behind the seat. However when traveling alone there’s also a certain comfort with Siri doing the navigating and supplying my music. The streets were packed leaving the airport and with Siri talking me through the turns I could focus entirely on the highway. The highways leaving the airport were choked with speeding drivers and I needed to join the pack with no hesitation. I had been rented a Kia Forte sedan and it proved nimble with adequate horsepower. I settled in and soon left the fray in the distance. At 80 mph the distance passed quickly and Siri even notified me when speed traps had been reported. My goal was simple. Reach my rental property before dark. I successfully accomplished that mission and the rest has become history. Busy days hanging out with my friend Norm getting the grand tour of their home base around Lake Rousseau. The fishing was poor despite our attempts so we turned our attention to destinations. Historical locations soon became a focus and we made the rounds. Siri continued to be a trusted and reliable source for directions. We kept busy all week and were favored with great weather! Back home in upstate New York the temperatures were low with wind chills keeping folks inside. The locals in Florida thought it was cold but I found the weather awesome! As for this post I need to keep it short as boarding for Plattsburgh has begun. So much for catching my breath after a very windy and dark ride down this morning! My feet hit the floor at 3am for some quick coffee before the 100 mile plus trip. Once again Siri came through although I had my doubts for a few minutes.
Manatees And Me
My decision to visit the Crystal River region in Florida was mainly based on my desire to visit my friends Norm and his wife Ellen who live on nearby Lake Rousseau. It wasn’t until I began to do some research on the area itself that I learned about the winter groups of manatee that seek refuge in the natural springs that flow out to the gulf. Manatees are in danger when water temperatures fall below 68 degrees in their natural habitats. In winter months they seek out the shallow spring fed inlets and shallow bays that make up the shorelines of the Crystal River coastline. Some of the canals are man made however and this sometimes places the manatees in danger of boat collisions. There were about 600 recorded manatee deaths in Florida in 2020. 90 of those deaths involved boats. Fortunately through better awareness and eco friendly practices the Florida manatee population has increased in the past few decades to approximately 6500. Their population once dipped below 1300 and they became part of the endangered species list. Federal regulations have helped restore their numbers but they continue to face new threats as pollution,climate change, and greater human development in their range increases. I knew very little about manatees until today. I had only ever encountered two on two different occasions while vacationing in Florida years ago. I did know that many were injured and killed by boats each year. It’s a topic sometimes mentioned in newspapers and on the news. All these facts may seem a little negative and somewhat depressing I suppose but they are very real. I feel such facts need to be noted for greater public awareness of the manatees situation. In a more positive direction I found these manatee facts interesting and noteworthy! The manatee has earned the nickname “sea cow” as a result of its grazing appearance underwater. Manatees are mammals and must breath at the surface every 3-5 minutes. They are capable of staying under for 20 minutes if necessary! They exchange 90% of the air in their uniquely shaped “hemi” lungs with each breath. (Humans exchange a mere 10%).Their average weight as adults approaches 1000 ponds. They can live for up to 65 years in captivity. They can produce only one calf every 13 months upon reaching maturity. These gentle giants of the gulf tolerate humans rather well given proper etiquette and respect. They are capable of speeds up to 19mph in short bursts! That surprised me honestly watching their slow gracefully executed swimming today! Another cool fact is that manatees are distant relatives of the elephant. A group of them is known as an aggregation. Usually 6 or so but sometimes many more when winter water temperatures force them to seek shelter together. Now that you know what I know about manatees I will get to today’s adventure. Crystal River is known as the manatee capital! I had arrived here just ahead of the annual celebration which begins this Saturday. The manatee were in the springs and the tour business was in full swing. I decided to book a kayak paddle adventure to view the manatee with a local rental shop. I also opted for a guided tour as I felt it would offer a better experience. I chose Hunter Springs Kayak for my adventure. A random choice but they are located walking distance from the launch which was a huge bonus. I arrived early and was informed that I was to be fitted for a wetsuit! I would have dieted weeks prior had I known I mused as I squeezed my slightly overweight body into the stretchy garment. Perhaps I would be less likely to spook a manatee given my somewhat plump appearance I decided after a short deliberation. I sucked in my gut and exited the changing room trying not to be too self conscious. I don’t look that bad I told myself. The suit rather flatters my arms and legs even if not so much through my mid section. I quickly dispelled my anxiety and got busy concentrating on the instructional manatee etiquette video. Our guide was a slender fellow named Matt who was a lifelong resident of the area. He typically captains a tour boat for the manatee swim experience but was to be our kayak guide today. He uses a paddle board instead of a canoe or kayak. Our group was small totaling only 5. A mother and daughter, a married couple of retirement age, and myself. We also had a trainee along to assist Matt. We were given masks and snorkels along with a pool noodle for floating. The sea kayaks we were assigned were flat and very stable. I launched mine with practiced ease and immediately felt comfortable with its maneuverability. One person had never kayaked before and struggled somewhat at first but gradually made some forward momentum. I wasn’t concerned with time or anything really. There was a gentle breeze and wonderful sunshine touching my face while sea birds flew in all directions around us. We headed up into a narrow canal and passed under a bridge. Every inch of shoreline is developed with houses, docks, and a huge marina dominating the landscape. Pretty typical for much of the Florida coast but not offensive or rundown in any capacity. There were several tour boats and private watercraft that passed our kayak procession as we began to near the first manatee sanctuary ahead of us. Rope barriers were strung across the mouths of the bays and spring inlets to give the manatee safe haven. We didn’t see any in the murky water however until we reached the mouth of a large barricaded bay. Beyond the ropes the backs of dozens of sun seeking manatees were visible. And suddenly we were in the thick of it! Manatees all around us! Surfacing for air and dipping under. Swimming below our kayaks. I lost count rather quickly and began trying to snap photos. Difficult at best as they surface and disappear rather quickly. There were several that were in a mating group that we were cautioned to avoid. They can easily tip a kayak when engaged in mating and unaware of little else. It was all happening fast with more boats and people began arriving. Matt suggested that we continue up to the next area to another spring. I paddled out in front along the shore and occasionally would see a manatee as it passed under me. We reached a location where we would tie up and get into the water. Now the real adventure truly began! I had never snorkeled before but with the pool noodle under me I found it easy and very relaxing! Schools of fish began to appear below me as I searched for a manatee. We had been taught to move slowly with minimal movement so we would not disturb the manatee. I got a glimpse of one beyond a rope barrier but the water was rather murky from all the activity. Matt told me that many times the water is crystal clear but there was just too much agitation for that to happen. I reached a section next to shore and was rewarded to have two manatee swim right past me! What a thrill! I headed back towards the kayaks and suddenly was next to a mammoth one! It was feeding along the bottom with a nonchalant attitude. More boats and people began to arrive so we headed back downstream eventually. The wind had picked up and I was actually cold despite my wetsuit. We passed several more manatee headed upstream and even watched two feeding on sea grass that was floating on the surface. People seemed to have a respectful attitude today but the shear numbers of us made me wonder if perhaps additional barriers should be implemented at some point to create more undisturbed sanctuaries for the manatee. As we paddled back I reflected on the adventure itself. I rated the experience as extraordinary and would highly recommend it to others of all ages. These gentle creatures deserve our respect and our stewardship! I hope to return sometime and visit them again!✍️
What I Never Knew
History is an important part of adventure for us! There’s nothing like stumbling upon old foundations, buildings, and other human impacts that nature is slowly healing and covering with vegetation. Some areas however have been changed forever by large and costly human endeavors. At a glance these locations might never catch my attention at first glance. But everything changes when I suddenly find myself in one of those locations and realize something much larger once occurred there. I can and will explain but first I must lay some groundwork. It’s January 11th 2022 and I have flown to Florida to visit a friend. I escaped northern New York just ahead of a bitter cold front that has temperatures well below zero. I have settled into a fully functional Airbnb in the Dunnellon area and have a rental car at my disposal. I arrived here late Sunday and spent the day yesterday catching up with my good friend Norm. He once was a neighbor of mine at Black Lake where he and his wife Ellen owned a summer cottage below my former home we called Hill House. We became friends and we fished together occasionally out on the lake in his pontoon boat. He also loved to hunt so I introduced him to our farm property where he could roam at his discretion anytime he wished. He became hopelessly addicted to our farm crafted maple syrup at some point! He once asked me what I put into the stuff! My answer was simple and honest: energy and love of tradition. To craft the finest tasting maple syrup and be proud when people noticed! Norm became a steady customer and would always stockpile his supply of maple syrup before heading south each autumn. Time passed. Years that sped by with season and task. Norm and Ellen decided it was time to sell their lake property and would only be visiting upstate New York on occasion. We talked on the phone and I continued to get his syrup to him through a courier type system when necessary or through the mail. I missed my friend and our time together. Norm is 24 years older than me and I had confided in him when we fished together as the sun would set on a tough day for me. I trusted his advice and wise consul. I believe I thought of him as someone who was much like my father. Older and someone to be trusted for advice. I never told him that though. I think I will before I return home. Some things shouldn’t wait I have learned. At the time however it wasn’t necessary in the givens of common bonds. Some history to note. Norm and Ellen had been and were travelers. Wanderers.Full time Rver’s for over a decade. Adventure lovers and nature enthusiasts.In their stories I could feel a kindred spirit.Wow! I fear that I begin to stray far from the original story! Suffice it to say that Norm and Ellen invited us to come to Florida to visit them at their place on Lake Rousseau. Circumstances kept us away until I finally decided enough was enough in 2021. I won’t go into lengthy details of how those plans changed or how it finally occurred. I am here now and writing in the moment. Yesterday after Norm and I had some breakfast together we headed out onto Lake Rousseau for some fishing. I was immediately interested and intrigued by the lake itself. Channel markers everywhere amid dead tree stubs that rose above the water with a stately perseverance. Below the surface algae covered stumps were abundant and needed to be avoided. My curiosity perked and I began to grill Norm with questions. What had happened here and why? What was this lake all about? Man made reservoirs are nothing new to me most certainly. But this one in this location begged further investigation. And just like that history unfolded and opened up the doors for a much larger story! A place of history that I had never knew existed. Enter the story of the cross Florida barge canal. Lake Rousseau had been created in the early 1900s to create power for industrial purposes. The Great Depression would create a larger vision that actually was put into motion. The cross Florida barge canal was begun and never completed. It was a potential environmental disaster that was averted if the facts are correct. It’s a piece of history that I would have never known if not for my friend. I have visited Florida many times over the years. I came for sun and warmth. A break from the north country at times. I know the traffic packed highways await me as I become a part of the problem each time I visit.History was never a motive for visiting but now it will draw me back again. Norm and I discussed the need to keep the mind active and alive today.Those things we do to aid in that capacity. History is the perfect place to keep the mind in motion. What can I learn tomorrow? What did I learn today? I learned that we as humans often don’t truly make the best decisions. But the habitat of Lake Rousseau has become a place of refuge. For birds and other wildlife. It controls flooding and more. It is a marvel of human engineering and worthy of praise. It could have played out much differently but it didn’t.One thing is most certain. It is of a very human and personal nature. Don’t wait to visit a friend. Tomorrow is uncertain. Today was secured and now a memory to cherish forever. MOONTABS! They’re as simple as it gets! Wherever you find yourself!When you enter the realm of history and reality it can offer a new place of spirit energy. We can’t live in the past but must acknowledge it sometimes. It has shaped the world around us. It as shaped us.✍️
Thoughts For The New Year
2022 is upon us already! Seems like the past couple months have been a blur quite honestly. Work,the holiday season, parties, gatherings, etc. My work adventure in Lake Placid has entered a new reality of part time work as December fades behind us. It’s time to catch up on those things back in the valley that took the back stage for much longer than I intended. A new MOONTABS strategy is brewing . It must be implemented in 2022 I have decided. There needs to be a greater blog presence that encompasses the daily rhythms and hiccups of my life. I feel there may be a larger connection to positivity that remains hidden at times. It could emerge from the shadows of negative realities that so many people face including my own. It’s going to take some heavy thinking to take that chance and a greater balancing effort of time on my part. I think the message that I am attempting to send is that of recognizing the positive energy that can exist in the smallest details of daily routine. In those things that occupy much of our time. The importance of those moments can be lost when we fail to acknowledge them. My plans for 2022 and all of time beyond will manifest themselves from simple routines and activities. The word ordinary is in the word extraordinary. That magic that happens during a “run of the mill” day. Watch for the story titled “The Run Of The Mill”.
Today I once again postpone the larger story as it must be told properly and with many words. Today’s schedule is booked and waiting for me hit the timelines of appointments and details. A new adventure is but days away now and another immediately behind that as January enters its third week. Our calendar for 2022 began to take shape well in advance. That’s something that Jennifer and I share in common. Planning. We have learned that flexibility will play a huge role in all we schedule. The positivity lives in the desire to stay in motion and chase adventure. We can’t predict tomorrow but we certainly can prepare for it. If all this seems a bit confusing that’s because that’s my intention. To remind everyone to expect the unexpected and face it with a tenacious attitude. Make plans to escape the run of the mill when opportunities present themselves.Schedule your vacation time and don’t look back!Sorry no stories today. Just an update and a brief check in. Creativity is rarely far away but often takes a backseat to daily details. It’s going to take some time on my end to get this right. Btw! Don’t forget to watch for my words and photos on the Facebook group Just Go Outside. You will find short segments of my life there when I am silent here. It’s a fun group! Let’s all make 2022 count! With hopes and dreams filled with promise! Forward momentum. I call it “MOONTABS In Motion”. That’s a larger story that bids its time.✍️
The Game of Unfinished Words
It’s a cool afternoon here on the shores of Black Lake, New York.43 degrees and falling slowly. I have just finished settling into Camp Edith for what appears to be a period of the next week or so. It’s going to a little rustic however as the camp has been winterized so there’s no running water. Well that depends. Me running to the lake to carry buckets of water up the hill is a form of running water. It’s nothing new really. For many years there was no running water in the cottage. We hand pumped water from a dug well down by the old horse barn next to Sand Bay. As a young boy it was my responsibility to keep the camp water bucket full each day. It was the late sixties and we actually used the water for drinking too. My Grandmother Edith and Grandfather Wayne had built the cottage in 1927. They actually lived in it after their farm house burned one winter. It was a mere 480 square feet with a screen porch on the front. It’s difficult to imagine them crammed into that tiny space with several children! A large potbelly wood stove provided their heat source. The outhouse they built was still in service until 1995 when I decided to upgrade the cottage by adding an additional bedroom, full bathroom, loft, and utility room. We pumped lake water directly from the shoreline and ran it through a basic water filter system. We brought in our drinking water from home. The old dug well had gotten rather toxic I felt so it was filled in one summer. The cottage entered a new realm of existence with the addition of a septic system, hot water heater, and all the amenities running water provides. I began to refer to it as a “summer home”. Indeed it was really! It had electricity, refrigerator, and many other small creature comforts. Fast forward several decades and little has changed. Some minor renovations to improve upon living space, a few new windows, and a larger front porch would transform the cottage further. I began to use it less however as years passed and I found myself drawn into the exploration of new locations. During the summer of 2018 though Zane and I lived here for much of the summer in between our Adirondack hiking trips. It’s sat rather idle since then however. It wasn’t until the pending March sale of Hill House in 2021 that we seriously began to visit Camp Edith again. I moved in officially on March 26th. The ice went that evening just before dark. I spent the night hunkered down in front of the pellet stove that had replaced the old potbelly stove of years past. The pellet stove was no match for the temperatures of late March and April. The cottage is very open to the rafters and mostly uninsulated with the exception of the 1995 addition. It was a rather challenging time for Zane and I for a few weeks! Fetching water from the frigid lake for flushing the toilet and doing dishes. We showered next door in my sister’s basement bathroom so that helped aid in our survival. We used a couple electric heaters to assist with heating the cottage for a time. I decided to move in a beast of a wood stove we had in storage at the farm. It was easy to load once we managed to ramp it down a crude structure we built to reach the warehouse loft. We then used the tractor’s loader to place it in the bed of the truck. Getting it through the cottage door proved difficult and somewhat dangerous actually. There was a mere quarter inch of extra clearance passing through the door. Zane and I managed to get it stuck on our unloading ramps at one point. Tipped sideways it was lodged in the door frame until we figured out a strategy. Basic physics to the rescue! Levers and fulcrums. Ramps and pry bars. Brute strength and the necessity to get the job done or have no heat that evening. We had taken the pellet stove out that morning to make room for the huge wood stove. We finally settled the beastly wood stove onto its resting spot after finally freeing it from the door frame! I think Zane learned a lot during the entire process. If nothing else then what it takes to accomplish something with inadequate manpower. We connected the stove pipes and just like that we had our supercharged heat source! One that defies the need for insulation with pure mega btu’s of wood burning capacity. It’s ironic that warmer spring temperatures arrived shortly after and the wood stove was rarely used most of the time thereafter. Fast forward to November. It’s been a whirlwind of migratory living. Camping in the Adirondacks in our gently used Airstream. Staying at Jennifer’s some. More camping in the Adirondacks in the weeks since returning to work August 9th. The recent Airbnb rentals of the past 4 weeks. Sometimes spending the night in the cottage but mostly away usually. I recently drained the waterlines as we do every fall. The huge wood stove would quickly heat the cottage on the nights we chose to stay over. We stocked the porch with a small amount of firewood for those times that we would need it. We find that no running water is no great hardship expect for there being no shower to enjoy. It seemed that the cottage would be mostly uninhabited for a time. Until today. Things have changed suddenly and with no warning. I will not be returning to work until the end of the month. The reasons for this will remain unwritten with full words. There are certain key words that I don’t use on my blog site ever. Or topics of sharing. This page shares my experience with connections to nature. Emotion and reaction. Survival and existence. Learning and personal growth. Positivity and the power derived from it. Thus the title of this post. The game of unfinished words begins. It is a puzzle board type of field. One where I give you a letter and a short description. You identify the word that I leave unfinished. Clue number one involves the timeline of recent events that have become rather commonplace yet often distant from our daily lives. The most important clue is the year 2020. The first unfinished word begins with “C”. The second word begins with “P”. Words such as fear and uncertainty could possibly assist in your choices. Enter a second “P” word to the game. It involves choices made by citizens. Also a word banned from my page. It is ever in the public focus. A new word to ponder begins with the letter “V”. Something I chose to receive while others refuse. Maybe you don’t find this game fun or entertaining. Let me speed things up and bring you into my present reality. The next series of letters that form words are connected in a sequential timeline. They begin in this lineup. First “E”. Next “T”.Next “Q”. One follows the other directly. As for what falls in between it is not a game. It is about the power of nature or power that humans have constructed from natural forces. I am newly educated to that which once was distant and unknown to me. What connection does this strange game of words have to nature? Survival and adaptation. What I have I will try to utilize. What I lack I will try to go without. Key words that I do allow on my page:Rural heritage. History. Adventure. Remember our ancestors. They survived similar circumstances with much less than we find necessary. I find comfort in the simple ways of my ancestors. With a few simple things I can provide myself with so very much. With wood and the wood stove I have heat. I can make hot water with water that I carry from the lake on the stove. I can cook on that same stove if necessary. I must simply do the work. This manner of living takes time. This I have in plenty suddenly. I embrace the challenge and find positivity there. I have no desire to become soft and helpless. In challenge there is a deeper understanding of nature and life itself perhaps. In that which brought me here I must reflect further on a much deeper level. I end the game with a final letter and its word. It will answer your questions. The letter is “I”. The word is isolation. Camp Edith is a fine setting for that! But there are even finer places if necessary. Places where challenge was a practiced pursuit of happiness by an imaginative boy of hills and books.
November Speaks (Where October Left Off)
Time has flown and my writing has taken the backseat recently. Actually it’s totally missed the car ride. Life hasn’t stopped most certainly even if my creativity sometimes remains furtive. I have managed a small amount of sharing on my Facebook groups even if I don’t find my way here. It’s not that my days have lacked adventure or travel. The Adirondacks have been like home to me these past few months as my 14 week work tour continued last week. We spent some quality time camping prior to my work assignment. Gone are the weeks of camping out of the Airstream that I enjoyed until almost the end of October. My last week of boondock camping at Fish Creek State Campground just before they closed proved to be quite the adventure! No hookups there.Rainy weather and cool nights would tax my batteries despite the addition of a portable Zamp solar charger system. I ran the furnace after returning from work while the generator was running before crawling under my thick stack of blankets each evening. The campground had made the decision to close the shower house early this season. No problem I decided. I had my fresh water tank full, a propane water heater, and a nice shower of my own in the Airstreams! Perfect right? Yes at first! Then my circuit board failed on the water heater and the hot water ceased. I troubleshot it in the dark with a flashlight to no avail. Too bad they didn’t still use the old style propane hot water heaters with a basic pilot light that you could hand light easily. No board means no hot water. But being stubborn (not to mention in need of a shower ) I did what any lover of a clean body would have done. I began heating pans of hot water on my propane stove. I had plenty of propane and plenty of water. I had considered for a nanosecond bathing in the lake itself! But after a day spent working outdoors in the cold rain that was not really a pleasant option.The next trick would involve bringing a dishpan into the shower itself. I filled it with a mix of hot and cold water to begin the shower experience. I won’t go into great detail of the entire process but let’s simply say it was mission accomplished if not mission supreme! I followed this procedure for a couple days then bide the camping season farewell. The Airstream has sat vacant for several weeks now at Jennifer’s.As for its departure south that is a rather obscure subject for the moment. Some plans had to altered while others were still being developed. Things can be quickly set in motion when your home is on wheels. It’s winterized at the moment. The nighttime temperatures continue to plummet and we decided it the safest course of action. The past few weeks have found me living in rentals in Saranac Lake. One has become my favorite after I discovered it last October. The owners have taken the time to make the space a cozy, warm retreat. They are friendly and welcoming as hosts! I consider myself fortunate to have found them. The Olympic Center Revitalization Project inches forward with substantial progress having been made since August. My time working there almost finished as the critical manpower shortage winds down into its final days. It’s been a blur of work, travel to the valley for weekends, and back up for the next week. I have watched the transition of autumn from the moment it began in the Adirondacks. The St. Lawrence valley autumn has lagged slightly behind and it’s been fun observing the differences. I had one memorable hike about mid -October when I decided to take on Cascade Mountain after work one evening. I hit the trailhead at 6:16 pm chasing the sunset after a beautiful warm day on the project. Darkness would overtake me before I could summit however. The views were still remarkable and I stood there gazing off to the horizons of flickering lights in the distance. It took me much longer to descend the mountain than I intended. Lucky for me Jennifer called and chatted me down! I reached the car close to 8:45 pm. What a hike! Hiking adventures have been replaced by farm tasks recently. A wood order that needs to be filled. Hay to store away for our two remaining horses. Many different tasks present themselves as winter approaches. It’s best not to get caught short I have learned even if I struggle to get it together! We cruise the farm woods searching for firewood and sugar wood trees sometimes. There is still an over abundance of dead maple to be found although some of it has begun to move past its prime. Time is bringing change to our devastated forest as the upper canopies continue to fall. We have made some inroads of harvest into some sections while others remain untouched. It’s been a rather disturbing cycle to witness since 2017. The dual deadly tap of tent caterpillars and drought of 2016. The subsequent die off has been far reaching across the high ridges of the farm. We hope to begin some forest cleanup attempts in the time before us. Time flies and progress comes slowly at times but nature throws us some pretty stiff challenges from time to time. Ice storms.Insects. Invasive species. The future of the farm landscape remains unclear and hazy. We have a basic plan and hope to further our stewardship efforts moving forward. So that’s about it really. Work and commutes. Packing bags and moving around each week. Travel back and forth. Balancing time with Zane and Jennifer on the weekends when home. The shortening daylight throws a twist into everything. As much a part of autumn as the falling leaves themselves. All this I chose I must admit when I question my trajectory some days. This is a temporary path I hike. The objectives begin to be completed. Time can’t run backwards nor can the courses of action that decisions created. It’s strange the energy that drives those decisions. And the energy that steers the feet back to the farm property in the valley. For some tasks can’t be postponed indefinitely. Winter changes everything. A sugar season must be prepared for with no further delay.New goals take the stage and there’s still time to fulfill them. That becomes the new focus. November speaks and I listen closely. It’s a familiar song. The northern breeze in the trees of the farm property. A time to enjoy a simple lunch next to the farm cabin wood stove. A time to enjoy a few minutes of silence. A time to reflect and a time to reconnect. There is a calming peace in the simple accomplishments of farm tasks preparing for winter. It’s an adventure of a different sort. A destination where you travel back to simple roots. A familiar feeling in an old place. It’s a new autumn in a year well underway now. Many things have changed and many things have not. It’s a powerful place to stand and count small blessings. Spirit energy is ever present on the rocky turf of these Macomb hills.
Autumn Finds Us
The final week of Adirondack camping for me. It’s been an incredible summer here! One that led to autumn ultimately. It’s such a gentle transition that I marvel sometimes at the progression of season. Summer days seemed to flow with a different pattern. Autumn crept up suddenly and quickly. Yes I saw the soft maples giving me their hints way back at the end of August. No surprise there. The change when it came hit with mind shattering speed! Slow at first I suppose. Maybe I didn’t tune in quite quick enough. Long work days draining my energy could have had an influence. I did tune in eventually and once I did it was game on! On my commutes I’d focus on certain sections of forested slopes. The winding roads in the Tupper Lake and Saranac Lake area don’t allow for careless driving!So it was glance and go! But as the weeks passed it became a place of sensory overload! Almost overwhelming in its magnitude! The colors intensified every day. There was so much to see with every passing day. Going home on the weekends brought a different perspective to everything. Down in the St. Lawrence Valley we seem to run a solid two weeks behind the Adirondacks. I could notice the difference on the commute down as the miles passed.The peak came just before Columbus Day weekend in the Lake Placid area in my opinion. Then the rain and wind took their toil on the foliage. The ground began to be littered with more and more fallen leaves. Suddenly you could see it. The forest opening up. But beautiful sights remained. The vastness was too great to be done that easily. The beauty was found in a smaller landscape. The overwhelming vistas replaced by simple fixtures. For me the magic lives there. I love the over stimulation of peak leaves but relish the search for the secondary treasures. It will can be found long after many depart the area. I wait with patient anticipation one of my personal favorite fall spectacles. The turn of the tamaracks. Also known as larch.They are the strangest of trees! Carrying needles like a conifer yet shedding them each season. Unnoticed in the forest most of the time they step forward late in autumn. Their beautiful time occurs well after peak deciduous season. I suppose that’s why I find them captivating. The forests will have shed their thousands of leaves and the tamaracks will still be holding their golden needles. They favor wet locations and can often be spotted on the outskirts of marshes and beaver ponds. They grow throughout the St.Lawrence Valley and well into the Adirondacks. Once prized for sturdy timbers and rafter poles they live on in old barns and houses. Large ones seem uncommon now although I am sure they exist. I hope to find some old growth ones someday. I pulled their large timbers from the barns of the past when I reclaimed wood in the time around 2006. The barn builders of the late 1800’s obviously prized their strength and versatility. I wander far here into places some may fail to appreciate. Perhaps my love of the tamaracks may need further explanation. Not today however. I think the simple message I hope to offer lies in the transition itself. That place where you move beyond the super stimulation of peak leaf viewing season. The beauty remains in smaller places. It’s easier for me to see then. I’ll take it all! The full on and the less noticeable. My connection to nature lives to its fullest there. The beauty and the magic of the autumn transformation goes far beyond when you take that extra time.To notice. To look closer. To connect in that which you may have missed. Short and sweet. To the point. Little more may need be said. And if more need be said then let it be said.✍️
The Gambles of Decision
Week 9.Day 1 in the rearview mirror as darkness overtakes me here at Draper’s Acres campground near Lake Placid, N.Y. I cruised down to Keene to do a little post work leaf peeping along Cascade Lake. The leaves are approaching peak now and it’s a constantly changing landscape. It’s difficult to capture such beauty in photos. Throwing myself right into it works best for me. It’s a beautiful area in any season quite honestly. I had another mission in mind as well! A fun one! The Powerball jackpot was at $685 million! I rarely gamble but sometimes it’s fun to dream. I think of all the good that I could do with those sort of funds!But the odds are steep at 1 in 292 million.No matter! I played a few bucks for some recreational dreaming! I don’t mind earning money the old fashioned way at any rate.But money is a subject not worthy of a place on this blog. I just wanted to point out that I am not impervious to games of chance. I took a gamble working this year in the first place. We had big plans for the summer. Did we succeed or fail at those plans?It’s a slippery slope at best! We can’t predict so many things in these lives of ours. If I had to assess this past summer I would have to say that we lived it well in this game of decision and deed. A gamble? Perhaps. Throw buying the travel coach into the mix and everything changed.It’s been an incredible learning curve living here in campsites these past few months.Call it the proving ground. I decided not to wait for that perfect time to fit it all together. Is there ever a perfect time anyway? Sometimes you need to follow the energy. It felt right. As for all that has followed? A forward path of positivity.The unknowns can be frightening and overwhelming. We have faced a few them this summer. This past year plus now. I have faced them myself. We can only control so much. That’s when we gamble. Make decisions. Some things challenge everything. I bet on love and roll those dice. I really don’t need to bet on love. It’s a sure winner in the end. I also bet on nature. It’s a 100 percent payback with little investment. Call it your go to place for a secure return. Time and the seasons are the currencies in that reality. There are no complicated equations or strategies. Step outside and the investment is made in the moment. In these Adirondack mountains I have invested well! Placing myself and those I love in this beautiful place. That was the gamble. Of time and season. I would have to say we won! Maybe not the ultimate jackpot but one well earned. If there’s a message here it’s simple. Skip past what holds you back.Dream big and follow through. Why not? Losing doesn’t matter. Playing the game of life with everything you have does! Play fair and often! Kindness is free. The weeks pass and my time here working ticks away with 4 weeks remaining at this point. Zane and I hiked two more of our Lake Placid 9 peaks this past weekend. Only two remain. We are hoping for some sunny weather and mountain top views as we complete them soon. Weather. A gamble always. I’ll keep you posted. Good climbing!
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