Yesterday was a special day! A trip to the DMV with Zane’s credentials would see him leave with his learners permit. He had dragged his feet since his birthday November 2nd. He hadn’t done the research that I requested he present to me once he’d completed it. I had simply said to him that I wasn’t the one needing my license to drive. That he needed to do some of the work. He finally stepped up and asked me to help him. So I helped him get an appointment set up. Everything to do with public places has gotten complicated in the past 10 months.Getting a learners permit is no exception.Zane began to study for the 20 question test he’d need to pass to secure his permit. He asked me numerous questions and I realized that I couldn’t even answer some correctly! Me a driver of some 42 years!We filled out the forms and presented them. Consent form for me and the permit paperwork for him. Zane is an individual blessed with two middle names although I don’t think he fully understands why I insisted he be given them. His first middle name is Alvin after my grandfather Washburn. His second James after my father. I knew on the day of his birth that he would be my only son. I chose to honor the names of my father and grandfather. Zane passed his eye exam and proceeded to the computer to take his written test. We had studied together on the drive to Gouverneur and I felt he was ready. He settled in behind a barrier and began the test. I wanted patiently at first for him to complete it. My patience began to waver though as the minutes passed. My thoughts began to spin out of control! What’s taking so long?Oh no he doesn’t know the answers!This is bad! What happens if he fails?My energy was wasted on such thoughts for he suddenly appeared from behind the barrier! His smiling face said it all! Success! A score of 17 out of 20!What a relief! Then the next step of payment for everything.In New York there’s not much that’s free!But Zane’s happy face as we left was priceless. In the truck on the way to the farm we discussed what would come next. Eventually the conversation would turn to me. Zane was curious about my driving history. I told him that I could remember nothing of the day that I got my learners permit. What I did remember was that I must have gotten it fairly quickly after my August 26 birthday. I remembered practicing through the fall months occasionally with my father patiently ( mostly!) sitting in the passenger seat. We practiced mostly after dark it seems to me now. I had already learned to drive at 15 anyway. My father taught me on the frozen surface of Black Lake while ice fishing one Saturday in the winter of 1978. What better place to learn I realize now. Wide open spaces with nothing to hit on the expanses of frozen lake. I learned to drive a standard shift Ford F-150 Custom truck with “ three on the tree”. I mastered the clutch after a few jerky starts. Driving using a clutch wasn’t foreign to me. I had been driving tractor on the farm since I was 12! Not just a tractor but with a baler and wagon behind. Making turns was easy for me. I took my road test in December after my August birthday just before Christmas break. My dad worked construction so my Uncle Arthur who farmed with his brother Charlie just up the road agreed to take me. What a day! A big snowstorm the night before my road test would leave the streets of Gouverneur icy and make for tricky driving! My father had decided that I would road test with the standard shift truck. We had a big boat of a car in the garage but it’s automatic transmission was not meant for my destiny. I was nervous and jittery as the road test driver climbed into the truck with me!He instructed me to head out and I followed his instructions. Turn left here! Turn right here then take the next left. Numerous intersections and stop signs. But I feathered the clutch with practiced ease despite my nervousness. Things were going great it appeared!It wasn’t until I was instructed to do my three point turn that things took a horrible turn! No pun intended! I got through the first two portions of the drill fine but as I worked the clutch pedal through the final turn my foot slipped off the wet pedal and became trapped between it and the brake pedal. There was no freeing it and the next stop sign was approaching quickly! Decision time! A quick glance at my tester revealed that he hadn’t noticed! I couldn’t take my right foot off the gas without risking a stall however should I try and press the brake pedal the distance it would take to free my left foot! Can you picture my dilemma? I did the unthinkable! I bent over and used my hand to free my foot all while moving forward! The tester said nothing. He directed me through even more stops and turns. I was in shock beyond nervousness and obeyed his many commands. Finally the moment of all moments! My tester would give me the ultimate challenge! He ordered me to parallel park between two plowed in cars! I failed on my first attempt but made my way mostly in through the deep snow. He ordered me to try again. I did better but still failed to get close to the invisible curb. We returned to the starting point and it was over. I croaked a timid question. “ Did I pass”? His response was flat with no emotion whatsoever. “You will be notified”. I climbed out of the truck with a sunken feeling . Embarrassed to tell my Uncle of my obvious failure. But fate is fickle sometimes and imagine my surprise when I received my license in the mail while on Christmas vacation! I was shocked to say the least! How had I managed to pass after the clutch pedal episode? Who knows?I certainly never will all these many years later. Those memories came flooding back yesterday across the decades. I have driven numerous standard shifts since that day and never have repeated that mistake. I’ve driven thousands of miles in the past 42 years. I have stories of blizzards and ice storms. Stupid mistakes and dumb decisions. Zane asked me how could I make it look so easy when he felt a little overwhelmed. “Practice. You will get there and I will help you”. We talked of the milestones of life after that. Those that he has reached and those that await. I have reached many of society’s milestones at this point in my life. Those I still seek are a construct of my own mind. I ask myself will I pass those next fateful tests?How can I prepare for those tests?It seems we are tested often and with no chance to prepare. What will I do when my foot slips off the proverbial clutch pedal? I will do what I have always done. Keep my foot on the gas, reach down, and free myself. Keep moving forward even when I feel like I have failed the test. I’ll be out on the road a lot with Zane these next 6 months before he takes a road test. Teaching and learning at the same time. He works to achieve his next great milestone. As do I.
The Sum of All Totals
Winter weather still continues to drag its feet so yesterday we decided to take advantage of the lack of snow and grab a mini adventure. I asked Zane if he was interested in exploring the Eastern side of the Beaver Creek gorge near our farm.It’s 3664 acres of state land provide some rugged terrain to explore. There’s little of that acreage that I haven’t explored in the last 4 decades at some point. It’s always been a wonderful place to observe nature. A mix of forest,bare rock outcroppings,and extensive wetlands. Numerous beaver ponds along the actual creek channel and along the small watersheds that feed it. There’s large ledges and deep valleys to cross. It’s difficult to cross the main creek if not impossible in the months other than winter. Occasionally there’s a beaver dam that spans the gorge but those are usually not readily available. We typically explore the Eastern side when “ice walking” becomes available. It’s about timing unless we decide on a snowshoe trek. That’s rarely been the case in recent years. I gauge the weather conditions and make a spontaneous decision to hike it on foot when snow doesn’t hinder our distance.Yesterday I wasn’t sure the main creek had adequate ice thickness to safely hike the wetlands so we took an overland route that kept us on solid ground. We soon found ourselves fighting thick patches of invasive wild honeysuckle. Mixed with “whip brush” and the riddled stands of Scotch pine the state planted over 50 years ago. The Scotch pine never did well as the rocky ridges and fallen rock piles supported numerous porcupines.They developed a fondness for the planted groves and girdled them until they wiped out most of the transplants. The few surviving pines have an alien appearance. Short and stunted they bear the scars left by the porcupines who still continue to further their demise.I mentioned to Zane that it’s too bad they don’t relish the invasives!That sure would make things better for those fighting their way through the brush. Ultimately the brush would prompt us to take to the ice and marshy sections in the lower sections below the ridges where beaver had altered the landscape.The ice is still tricky and it takes some maneuvering to dodge the thin spots.These beaver ponds didn’t exist when I was a boy but the beaver populations have continued to expand since then. They found their way into every trickle and created some new sections of wetland. It’s a cycle that rotates. They move in and create a pond sometimes making it larger each year. Eventually they diminish the availability of feed and move to a new location.The dams eventually rot in disrepair and the water drops. The open area of the pond ( known as a beaver meadow) begins to revert back to a forest or grassland. We crossed a number of active and dead beaver ponds. It was much better walking on the sections of creek and pond ice. Lesson number two of the day for Zane!Lesson one was deciding whether the ice would support us at all. It’s a decision an “ice walker” must weigh heavily or risk a soaking.We managed to stay dry and eventually would be able to get up into some older open growth forest where walking was better. Our destination was an area well known to me since a boy. The Black Ash Swamp.We hit a beaver pond above it first. Also well known to me,I was pleased to notice that it was occupied. The ice was well formed so I suggested to Zane we wear our micro spikes as I intended to keep us on the ice as long as possible. The pond we crossed joined the upper end of our destination just beyond a small overflow. There it was! The Black Ash Swamp.It’s an area that has seen a huge transformation since I was a boy.It’s former brush and the trees that bore its name gone now. Only a few small stumps protrude through the ice. It reassembles a small,shallow lake these days. A product of the beaver and their work of decades.They had first moved into the swamp in the seventies and began flooding the forest.The higher water eventually killed even the moisture resistant black ash trees.The beaver no doubt cut many of them also for their tasty bark.For many years the dead trees stood like skeletons.Gray and bark shed I had walked the ice between them witnessing the transition over a period of years. Rot and wind have broken them down now. I stood on the edge of the former swamp forest and let the memories travel over those years. My father had brought me here when a large stand of hemlocks graced the the higher ground above the swamp. There was a light layer of powder snow that cold,cloudy winter day. We’d come to the swamp for a reason that day!To run our beagle/basset hounds on snowshoe rabbit. The cottontail rabbits of our pasture land had a habit of diving into woodchuck holes and cutting the dogs short of a worthy pursuit. Not so with the large, bounding snowshoe rabbit! They stay afield and easily avoid the much slower hounds. The dogs Snoopy and Hushpuppy jumped a snowshoe in the edge of the swamp that day and gave chase with excited bellows! They sped off after their quarry and would soon get some distance from us. I was the eager boy who wished to run after them! “Stop”We’ll sit here in the hemlocks” my father would quietly say. “But the dogs are getting away!” I replied. “Sit still and wait!Watch closely and you will learn something of the snowshoe rabbit” my father replied.It was cold and I had no wish to sit but did as I was instructed. Glad to have my warm wool pants and wool mittens inside my leather choppers mitts. The collar of my wool hunting jacket hand stitched with a band of cotton flannel by my grandmother’s loving hands.She knew I hated the wool touching my neck so had done it for me.The cold air stung my face and I listened to the distance dogs. Their sounds suddenly seemed closer and they began to return our way. Still on a hot track and moving quickly! I was busy trying to spot the dogs when my father pointed silently. Far ahead of the hounds the ghostly, white snowshoe rabbit was moving directly towards our position. My observations were cut short as my fathers 12 gauge fired once from his position. I was instructed to retrieve the rabbit from the ground but wait for the dogs. They reached me soon after and we let them sniff the rabbit they had brought to us. A tasty meal back home awaited us with scraps and fur for the dogs. I had learned a valuable lesson! The jumped snowshoe will circle and retrace his steps. The hunter must wait and watch. We would only take the one rabbit that day. It was enough and we had the long walk back to the truck. Barn chores and a wood furnace to stoke. As I stood on the edge of the swamp yesterday I pondered the passage of time. My father gone but my own son beside me. The hounds long buried in a special location on the farm. Carefully laid to rest in graves I dug after carrying them some distance in my arms. I no longer have hounds or hunt rabbits. But I still wander the lands of my youth. I show my son my special places and tell the tales. I watch the forests and wetlands change in the seasons of nature. The spirit energy finds me there with positive blessings. Not lost for it is eternal. The years add quicker and I realize that someday I will circle back to where I started my chase of years. To retrace my steps and serve a higher purpose perhaps. If time is the rabbit then I am the hound. Such thoughts are best kept for winter nights long after dark. It was time to keep exploring. There was too much to be found in the moment yesterday to stand still for long. There were things to teach and lessons to be learned. Miles to walk with an ice walkers stride. The distance traveled in must be traveled out.
Tracks
Time sure has a way of speeding past during the holidays!Today finds us one week into the official winter season already!We were unable to view the the planetary alignment last Monday on winter solstice due to cloudy skies. In fact it’s been very cloudy much of the time lately.Darkness seems pervasive and almost overwhelming at times in the days leading up to winter solstice.Also in the days that follow.I find it best to plan activities accordingly. If I fail to get moving in the morning I find myself cutting my outdoor activities short most days.Far different than the days of summer where my energy will be depleted well before the sun sets! The recent weather has cycled in a pattern that never truly enters winter. Very little snow and lots of rain. The absence of snow postpones our winter plans somewhat.There’s no doubt winter will arrive in earnest at some future date. We desired some post Xmas hiking since there was almost no snow.We made our plans. Got in touch with our friends who would join us. It was all set!Nature decided a few changes were in order!A surprise snow storm would dump several inches of powder in just a few hours.Not enough for snowshoes or skis but more than we would typically hike through. We decided to hike regardless. We chose a trail system near home as travel time in December eats daylight. This trail system is called the Grand Reserve. It’s part of a local conservancy known as Indian River Lakes Conservancy.IRLC for short. It was created just over 20 years ago by a small group of dedicated individuals who desired to build a legacy of preservation. Through acquisitions and donated parcels they’ve grown to over 2200 acres of protected lands and watersheds. They have a small full time staff and groups of volunteers who assist with trail stewardship, summer children’s programs, and educational seminars. I will showcase them further in a future post. Our family has been affiliated with them since 2018 so we have some interesting stories to share!Our friends weren’t familiar with the trail system so we wanted to introduce them to the location. A party of six people and two dogs would constitute our group.As we entered the trail after parking our vehicles we realized someone else had been there ahead of us. A person most certainly from the tracks in the fairly recent snow but others as well! Enter my special winter hobby of years! The study of tracks in snow!It’s a fascinating outdoor activity for me! It’s a bonus of winter treks especially on fresh snow. I become the detective and look for clues .Who is living in these woods?What are their activities? How many different species can I identify? Will I guess correctly and piece together the stories of the animals who inhabit this winter habitat? The birds as well. Their story much more difficult to unravel.The tracks will confuse at times but never lie. Those who leave them have no need to cover them up. Their’s is the business of survival.Winter brings challenge and struggle. Danger for some and advantage for others. Studying tracks brings me into a state of “ mental painting”. Picturing the event that has been left for me to decipher. It draws me deep into a place of quiet reflection at times. Beneficial and relaxing in its simplicity.Tracks are a gift of winter snow. Each thaw or storm to reset the canvas.A fresh set of stories to be gathered and recorded. I knew beforehand what tracks we might expect to find. I would not be wrong with my predictions. We spotted the tracks of numerous gray squirrels.Groups of cloven footed deer on the move.Porcupines whose distinctive waddle makes them easy to identify. Their tracks originating in the the fallen rocks of cliffs where they den up and then forking off to their feeding trees. The bare bark of girdled trees as obvious as their tracks. There was one set of tracks I had to guess at however. They belonged to either a large weasel or small mink. They entered the base of a hollow log and exited further towards the top. A well known habit of theirs. As is their hopping nature which gives their tracks a certain signature. This was the extent of the tracks we would find in the forest. It wasn’t until we reached the shore of Grass Lake that things would change. I had mentioned my desire of getting close to the thin ice of the lake to my son Zane. I hoped we’d be rewarded with the tracks of a water dwelling mammal.We’d spot nothing at first as we stood on the shore of the lake. But I suddenly spotted an abnormal spot in the ice. Falling snow collects in the water and freezes into a gray layer I call “snow ice”. There was a section of snow ice that had obviously been broken by something. It had refrozen into clear black ice. I carefully studied the evidence before me. “A beaver did this” I said to Zane. It had poked its head through the thin snow ice but had not come ashore. I turned to the right to study the swamp beyond us and there sat the beaver! On top and feeding some distance away! I felt a sense of accomplishment in that moment!I had guessed correctly! The presence of the beaver confirmed my observation. Darkness was approaching and we’d need to cut our hike short. But our first outing on winter snow studying tracks was successful!It gets me fired up and ready to return after the next snowfall. I’ve spent many happy hours studying winter tracks.There are many tales to tell! The tracks didn’t lie. I don’t either.
46 times 2
Christmas Day draws near.A time of year where pensive thoughts seem to take root in my mind more so than usual. It’s tied to the end of the present year. A time of year where happiness and sadness can engage in a tug of war sometimes. I simply acknowledge that today as a part of my journey.MOONTABS is a journey of memories. Dreams and hope. That place where darkness that frightens can enlighten. For we can only see the stars when we step out into the dark of night. Happy moments can become the stars in our night skies. They shine there forever.As this year of many changes,challenges,and decisions winds down I must tally up all that went well. Subtract all that didn’t. I find myself with a solid total on the plus side! For that I know I am truly thankful and blessed!Those who love me made all this possible walking this journey with me!My son Zane recently asked me if I mentioned him in the blog. “Yes!I have!” I replied. I also mentioned that I jumped right into the blog and strangers might find it confusing! I further explained that as part of the evolution of the blog we would introduce the people of my journey under a welcome category. Today I introduce my 16 year old son Zane Alvin James Washburn. My only child. 42 years separate us yet we share a special bond. I could write a post dedicated to him everyday easily!Let’s jump well into his 15th year for now!He received his Adirondack 46er climber number in a letter last week. September 1st he finished his final mountain!I was with him and photographed his happy face!A 46er at age fifteen!His feet had summited all 46 of the ADK high peaks!A goal we set two years ago. One that seemed impossible at times given the ever changing circumstances of life. Stories live within stories of that journey.For his goal was also my goal! I would become a 46er beside him.It was a proud moment for me as we stood soaked and muddy on the summit of Allen Mt. We had begun our adventure in October of 2016. That June a much smaller boy had climbed the “Saranac 6”mountain Ambersand on a dark and rainy day while on our annual camping trip. There would be no views to greet us there. Rolling rain burdened clouds surrounded us in all directions. His happy, excited face foretold of larger destinations! He was hooked!Intrigued by the bare rock surfaces of the small summit.A dream was born then. We’d plan to start hiking the ADK 46 high peaks!Our quest began slowly.Cascade and Porter the first bundle for us.The peak of autumn foliage was our reward that day. School,work,and unforeseen consequences would slow our mission. We’d grab only two more in the autumn of 2017. Another day of rain to greet us. We’d hike regardless.It became our motto of sorts!Make the plans and follow through without question.We were a well matched pair.The mornings belonged to his youthful energy.The afternoons were mine from pacing myself.2018 would find me retired and the hikes ramped up!We’d take a High Peaks workshop class in June to gain knowledge of our quest. We’d hike 13 peaks that summer. Engaging in a tough man challenge between the two of us. Zane was growing and his tenacity would challenge me!His rock scrambling antics amazed me!We were still well matched.Neither winning or losing the challenge.It became a subject that seemed to worry him.Always asking who won the day.I relished the competition but conceded the game. “You are the winner” I told him! “It’s your time to be the leader.Time to accept the responsibility that comes with it!”. I took my place behind him with fatherly pride!That was a priceless reward!2018 was full of happy memories!Camping.Planning hikes while driving.Sharing in favorite moments.My boy continued to grow in so many ways.As did I.We began 2019 with a goal of peaks to summit. More camping.More weather. More driving. Zane now firmly the leader. His approach to hiking tenacious as never before. I would accept the role of follower but would push him hard.We set new personal peak bagging records. I’d learn to enter a mental state that would enable me to go that extra mile somehow. Zane would patiently wait for me to catch up many times. But he’d learn not to underestimate my own tenacity.Our bonds were strengthened on those mountain trails. We’d finish 2019 ahead of our goal.16 peaks completed by October. Christmas Day 2019 would find me in the hospital in Vermont awaiting surgery. Broken and in pain from my own carelessness riding a horse. My trail tested son had manned up that December 23rd afternoon.Faced his fears and got me into the truck.Another story within a story. In my hospital bed unable to walk I would face sleepless nights there alone. Haunted by fear.Would I even be Zane’s hiking companion to reach our goal?Fast forward. My challenge to overcome my injury is a different story. June 2020 plans for the final 13 were made but questionable. A test hike to Ambersand Mt. A 5.4 miles round trip that I struggled to complete.Time to reboot the plans. We’d need to camp the backcountry for any chance of success. Miles were my adversary now. We’d shoulder the heaviest packs we’d ever carried. Zane would wait for me patiently on the trail.He’d take his role as leader into the camp site. Setting things up. Helping filter our water. Offering encouragement when he knew that I was tapped. I’d fail him for the first time on the trail.Tap out in a col below Seward forcing a stop for the night.It was a rough night! Nicknamed Hell Camp we hit the tent before dark. Yet another story within the story. We survived that first backcountry trip with the four Seward Range mountains part of our total.A Saturday day trip to Santanoni Mt. would bring me to a mental state I call the Zombie walk. Success once again. A second backcountry trip would finish the Santanoni’s.The next backcountry trip would see us in the Great range cleaning up the remaining few mountains there. Gray would bring us to number 45. We were close!Not just in mountain peaks but as father and son. I’d leave for Pennslyvania for a work adventure to raise funds for my writing plans soon after. I’d return home to hike that final peak with Zane. It was an epic journey!One a short blog post can’t even begin to describe!So now you have been introduced to Zane!Yes in a more recent sense but that was my intention.There are many lessons here in this quest for the ADK 46. My son who has become my teacher in a full circle journey that continues! The words that wait on summits yet to hike! I am very proud of my son! His love of adventure and nature will continue to push me! As we drove home from our final mountain I asked him what he thought his most successful accomplish in life was to date. “Becoming a 46er Dad!”he replied. “Want to hear mine?” I asked. “You are my greatest accomplishment!” I replied as I fought back tears. Pondering your answer to that question is where I leave you today.
Tired Iron
Choosing a title for a post is a fun part of the process!Always searching for a short combination of words to make a point,tell a story, or leave a message of positive thoughts. I can’t claim ownership to the term “tired iron”. I simply borrow it from a conversation I once had with a local “collector”.He ran a mixed antique/collectibles shop.He’s what we call a junker! (“Junking” is another hobby of mine that gets us into some interesting shops and barns around the north country.)The junker owner was showing me his collection of old cars and trucks with great enthusiasm and knowledge of each.He then referred to them as “tired iron”. I have always remembered the term. I use it now when I refer to the old farm equipment around our farm. Rusty with weather checked tires,it’s stored here and there in my various buildings.It sits idle much of the time but is safely held in trust for “that time”.A time when it may be needed and pressed back into service. Machinery isn’t the only tired iron around the farm! I have lots of other things of questionable value!Space is privilege of those who have it and my spaces are full!Many of my prized pieces of tired iron actually perform productive tasks!Our old evaporator is great example!Also our mixed collection of other maple syrup equipment.It sits stored and ready to go mostly.Nothing a patch here or a chunk of tie wire there can’t fix!We keep a set of worn out hand tools in the sugar house always.We use things that are actually antiques around the farm on a regular basis. Things many people can’t name let alone know how to use them.When my mind reflects on all repaired tired iron that’s used on the farm I begun to examine myself. I’m mostly flesh,blood,and bone but I do carry a few screws and a plate. (Stainless that can’t rust!)Fillings in my teeth. A bicep repair with nylon screws and surgical bindings left in place to hold me together.An interesting comparison if not a little strange.Speaking of strange!I have strayed so far from my original thoughts for this post that it’s going to take some effort to bring a reader back to my intended message! To get there quickly I’ll simply say my latest piece of tired iron is my nine year old outside wood boiler. Sold with a long term warranty that isn’t worth a well tarnished penny. I patched it together with determination and luck in February of 2019 after it breached while cleaning it. That fall I did some premeditated repairs to another section where I suspected a problem might develop. It’s held together well until last night. Major breach number two on the coldest night this fall.A total “ I’ve got to shut this down and plan a repair now moment where it’s questionable if a repair is even possible”.But this is where the message comes into play. I started getting really down. Irritated and thinking why me? It really was threatening my day or worse the next bunch of days. But it all came down to preparation. I had known the boiler might fail me. We put backups in place. So it was time to switch modes and get moving!Having a plan helped. It was then that I realized something.This was not the end of the world. This is nothing new for me. Problems grow less the moment we face them with possible solutions. I thought of people trying to overcome much worse situations. I am fortunate to be capable. Determined to do better. Tired iron breaks down. It can be patched if a person tries. It doesn’t need to last forever. Just a little while longer.If it can’t be repaired it must be accepted. Cut the anchor rope if it tries to sink the boat. Be happy to still be in the boat. It’s not a shoreline of dry,safe land that’s easy to reach. But calm seas never make for skilled sailors.Count your blessings even when your “tired iron” gets heavy!
Colossus
Yesterday was our annual trip to a local tree farm to cut our Xmas trees. One for Zane and I at Hill House. One for Jennifer and her daughter Kelsey at their house. Jennifer’s nephew Garrett gets included in both houses for a double dip of Xmas fun! As we wandered the tree farm the inevitable affliction we named Tree Cutting Conundrum Syndrome would strike us with an onslaught of symptoms! These include sweaty palms, anxiety, difficulty concentrating, and an over all state of panic! What causes TCCS? The desire to find a perfect tree! That one tree in the forest of hundreds desire! That wandering aimlessly,not settling, and stubborn need to get that perfect tree!!Kelsey was chosen to pick out their tree which she succeeded in doing by the time we had reached the back forty of the tree farm. She seemed largely immune to TCCS. A benefit of living in California for the last few years perhaps?Zane was in charge of finding our tree. He too seemed rather symptom free. I had mentioned that we could have a larger tree this year. I was stricken badly with a case of TCCS! I pointed out a few possible trees to him but he declined them. “I know the one I want Dad! It’s near the entrance to the field.We exited the back forest with Jennifer and Kelsey’s tree over my shoulder. A small, nicely shaped fragrant white spruce. Zane had trouble locating his tree upon our return to the start of our foray. We searched for awhile until he found it. I was expecting to see an average sized tree. When I saw him gazing up with unbridled enthusiasm at a white spruce of monstrous proportions I was taken back! I quickly said no! It’s too big! Too tall! It has a narrow section in the middle! It’s not good enough! His disappointment was obvious. I walked around looking for another with him then decided to go back! The tree wasn’t perfect. Never chosen many times over the years for one reason or another.It had grown far beyond most people’s vision of a Xmas tree. But not Zane’s. The tree spoke to him somehow. I suddenly thought. Why not? We’ve got enough room. This is 2020 after all! A year of big changes.Big challenges. Big decisions with big consequences. Big moves in new directions. If ever there was a year to cut a large tree this was it! I named it Colossus! A tree this size needs a name! It took Zane some time to fell it. Some effort to get it into the bed of the truck. Getting it stood up in our house was no easy task either. Colossus needed a haircut to fit! Standing tall in our house Colossus makes a statement. Not perfect in shape but certainly in the spirit of nature. This year will be difficult to forget for all its been. As will this giant of Xmas trees! We studied the growth rings. We estimate the tree to 20 plus years old. There’s history there. The narrow band of branches possibly the result of deer browsing in the deep snows of a harsh winter. The dry years apparent in narrow growth rings. Colossus must have been a tiny seedling during the destructive ice storm of 1998. We felt a certain remorse in cutting it. But the neighboring seedlings will flourish in the more abundant sunlight produced by the tree’s removal. Colossus was planted to be harvested. A harvest that waited years for our arrival in the year 2020. This tree will bless our home in many ways. Sweet forest scents. Presence and dignity in that tall and sturdy stance. That annual time when we truly invite nature into our homes. The new year will come and Colossus will end up next to our bird feeder for awhile. We’ve made some happy memories in just one short day gracing our home with this imperfect behemoth. We’ll make more! Colossus will live forever! In our hearts and in our MOONTABS!
Beaver Sticks Build Beaver Dams
It’s interesting how simple outings in nature inspire a “flow” of words. As the blog develops I realize that flowing words could possibly become white water rapids for someone who just decided to jump in! Tossed around in a confused state not knowing where the stream was headed! Anyone who knows me very well knows my fascination with beaver ponds. My Facebook followers know my obsession with collecting beaver sticks! Jennifer knows better than anyone! My muddy collections messing up her car constantly!They’re the ultimate natural walking stick! A subject of future posts! There’s a much larger connection to nature however that my large furry friends have taught me!It’s nothing new really. It’s going to be a little tricky to follow perhaps! Don’t step out onto those slippery rocks just trying to get a better look! If you get wet you may decide to go home! There’s a path around the white water.When you see it follow it!These rapids of confusion slow eventually! How do I know this? That’s easy! I released the white water! Constantly poking holes in a large manmade dam of negativity upstream! The result was a flood headed downstream! I decided to jump right in and start swimming! Now you must be totally confused! Let’s get nature to slow down that white water! The beaver I mentioned? That’s where they fit in! Anyone who has ever wandered the north country has come across beaver ponds. They can transform the landscape very quickly! They can turn the tiniest trickle into a large sanctuary for themselves. (I always call the beaver in large lakes and rivers “lazy”! They don’t build dams).Beaver dams start small in wisely chosen locations most of the time. It starts with that one stick. Some mud. More sticks. Sometimes the work of one at first. With hard work and determination the beaver dam grows larger. The sticks and mud intertwined make it strong yet flexible.Another Beaver joins the first. A family group forms. More workers with a mission. Behind this dam a sanctuary forms.Calm water. Deep and protecting. A safe home for the beaver. Other species arrive and call it home. Often in time multiple smaller dams are created above and below the original dam. Relief dams they’re called. The waters of the stream have been tamed at this point. The white water rapids may not even exist anymore. Flooding no longer occurs in this habitat. The strong dams control the flow. They need constant maintenance and improvement. The transformation is amazing and inspiring! Enter the blog now! It’s that first tiny dam that has been created with the sticks and mud of life. We’ll add to it. You’ll find flat water to paddle behind the dam as it gets larger and deeper. We’ll build more dams. Call them “categories”. More ponds for you to paddle. They’ll all be connected with channels. Ones of words. You chose your destination. Don’t want to paddle today? Wade in one of the warm,shallower ponds.Your reflection awaits your arrival. Storms of negativity will threaten our dams. But they were built to bend.Adapting to seasons and circumstances.We’ll attend to the weak spots and shore them up.In time we’ll invite you to add your sticks to our dams. This is my vision for the blog .A sanctuary for all to find calm water and enjoy nature! This post inspired by all who say they enjoy my words! Also by my recent adventures with the Adk Girl! 🌲⛰✍️
The Unexpected Bonuses
Yesterday I mentioned just “getting out there”. Those times when we have no cut and dried plans for the day. I certainly value a well planned itinerary as part of an adventure strategy. But making spontaneous decisions needs to enter the equation I feel. “ Place” is the word to best describe it perhaps. When we “place” ourselves in a certain “place” we open doors of unforeseen possibilities. The events of yesterday would prove this to be totally true! We chose a small restaurant for brunch just down the road from us in Wilmington. It had a small parking lot and a certain outside charm. It’s called the Country Bear. A den of delicious homemade yumminess! One of those “cash only” family run gems! Food that’s made to order where you sit and relax while you hear them prepare it nearby. It was nearly empty as we waited. As for the food when it arrived? That’s a separate story! What made the morning interesting was the people! An older gentleman entered while we munched away with happy abandon. He was obviously a regular. Close by and very animated in conversation. I listened to him for awhile and decided that I would need to strike up a conversation with him! It turns out that Earl was as much a gem as the restaurant! His story of life and adventures could fill books! Well traveled and diverse the topics flowed like the warm,tasty maple syrup we had poured over our French toast!On the tongue very real and authentic. Nothing fake or watery about this fellow! The owner soon joined in and we had several conversations going at once! Two people talking became three which in turn became four and eventually five! The former quiet space energetic and full of memories! We realized we needed to leave or risk spending hours talking! We promised our new friends we’d return again! People’s stories of life are fascinating! 86 year old Earl has lived a full and rewarding life! Nature a fixture of light and positivity in his journey.Passion and a love of adventure. A man who valued time. A man who spent that greatest of currency with a lust for life. As we drove away Jen and I spoke of the kinship of spirit we shared with these people. We could have just sat there with callous disregard with thoughts of our own plans the whole time. All it took was that first step. Our offer to listen and learn something new from someone who had a story he loves to tell. We headed out to our next hazy destination. Our bodies and our spirits full! We’d stop often and find beauty everywhere. Pictures and moments. A snowy hike in late afternoon worthy of its own story. There were no big dollars spent yesterday. No showy, artificial traps of falsely promised happiness. We found that which we had not spent time planning to discover. MOONTABS! New places and people. Kindness and sharing. Honesty and openness. All waiting for us in the beautiful Adirondack Mountains. We’ve learned something together Jennifer and I! Stay in motion and the magic finds you! That’s the message! Step out and walk into the unknown. Nature waits for us out there. So do the good people of this world. Soon to leave this base camp of opportunity and chase the new day!
Change Is Good
Early morning finds me sitting by the fireplace sipping coffee in our small,cozy rental. Wisps of wood smoke tickle my nose when I fuel it. The owner’s choice of firewood wise. White ash. It burns with a certain fragrance. There’s even a small Xmas tree here! So many comforts I won’t even mention. It’s the perfect location for our latest battery charging adventure! The Adirondacks! Our home away from home!The town of Wilmington just down the road. It was a surprise for Jennifer that was pried out of me a little at a time! She never knew everything but I had to let her know how to pack and prepare! She’s got it together when planning,preparing,and packing! We had some good laughs last night when we realized things had been forgotten! One of us expected the other to bring certain things but it didn’t happen! We will manage! More laughs when Jennifer asked me what’s on the agenda tomorrow? No clue I said! All I planned was getting us here! There are messages in my simple sentences above that I hope people will recognize. Ponder and consider in their own lives. The first might be that home is where your heart finds itself. It’s that feeling we get when we settle in somewhere. It quickly becomes home for us. It gets easier the longer we travel together. There’s a certain buzz that comes with each new location or returning to a familiar place. Usually Jennifer is the planner. Finding the locations and making all the arrangements. I wanted this time to be different. I wanted to get it done on my own! Pick a worthy destination where she could relax and rejuvenate. Myself as well! As for an itinerary I deliberately didn’t make one beyond the destination. It’s something I wanted to be spontaneous. That place where our spirit energy takes over and guides the decisions that will determine the outcome of a day. That place where two people head out together with no other plan than being together in a special place. Life is very real in those moments of unplanned decisions. It’s when she’ll say “stop! Turn down this dirt road! Let’s see what’s down by the water!”Or me saying “I need to see what’s down that trail.” It’s that moment when one wants to make the other happy and agrees with no hesitation. Or when both of us decide to give Stella some dog playtime on a sandy beach we spot. Life finds us then. MOONTABS follow. Change and spontaneous decisions can lift the spirits especially in stressful times.It’s that place where you give in to the inner voice and place your trust in love! It’s that moment where a smile turns to laughter and all is forgotten for a time. It’s stepping out of yourself and offering your hand! To say “walk with me! All is well in the now! Tomorrow we’ll figure it all out! We need to live today!” It’s where we live,laugh,and love!Whenever we place ourselves! ✍️
The Look Ahead and Behind
It’s been a busy past few days! Working on last minute details as winter approaches in these last days of autumn. The Grand Harvest of collecting firewood continues but we reach a milestone of accomplishment. It’s like that with the blog as well. I still continue my introduction of myself for the moment. Most people who know me on social media will remember it was in 2018 when I first joined Facebook. Retirement in 2017 would see me finding more time to write.New beginnings and a ramping up of adventures. The works of that year and every year after continue to pile up! Unpublished but not forgotten. Facebook has been the ultimate practice writing site! Consider it an experiment of sorts! Several people suggested that I begin a blog. Thx!The message today dwells in the simple word “now “. My now is that place I choose to exist these days. It’s that place where I try to sync in with nature in seasonal harmony. Nothing new for me honestly. Only in a greater sense of appreciation and perception. I find strength and positivity as I dive deeper into nature. It’s something I wish to share at a deep emotional level while keeping it fun at the same time!Another experiment! My best writing I feel is in the emotion of the now.Day to day. Nothing staged.Not processed and prepackaged with artificial ingredients.Best served raw with minimal editing. Nature taught me valuable lessons in the raw honesty of hard truths. Very real at a primitive level. It’s about life and death.Everything in between. Diving deep is fine but it’s the stories I’ve learned that people seem to enjoy most! I’ve been experimenting on other individuals sites. In fact I’ve been kicked off one for crossing manmade boundaries! Gently kicked I’d have to add! They were patient!Nature exists everywhere on earth. That’s where the stories can get interesting! I fear my continued introduction may bore you to tears! Patience! Remember this quote! “In nature there is no hurry yet all is accomplished “! There’s time and plenty of stories! The now will trigger memories. New ones are made each day. It all ties together! That’s a promise I can honestly make. It’s time for me to pack for our next adventure! Consider this the end of formal introductions. Don’t worry comments will be accepted in time! I’ll jump right into it next time! But first we must live those moments! Taz