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What Color Is My Next Chapter?

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November 2nd. Zane’s birthday today! It’s 5:19pm and very close to the time of his actual birth give or take an hour or two. Zane becoming 20 today really gives me pause to reflect. But honestly? When aren’t I reflecting about something? To keep it simple I must acknowledge several gratitudes. First that I am fortunate to have Zane living with me presently! Although some of his nocturnal wanderings can give me anxiety! I never know what time he will roll in. The fact that I even have a 20 year old son is noteworthy. As is the fact that we still enjoy each other’s company most of the time. So I am feeling blessed tonight ! I still have vivid memories of the evening he was born. That moment when my life would change forever.Yesterday was the 7 year anniversary of my retirement. Thursday was my last day of my full time critical shortage work on the methane project. These are the simple facts. I am about to write a new chapter of my personal life journey story! And a strange blog post title occurred to me suddenly. A continued introduction to myself in a sense. Sense becomes a key word as this new chapter begins to be written.

Change seems to be a big part of my life really but isn’t that true for everyone? In this the 1st day of the 11th month I truly begin to reflect on my year. I was fortunate to move beyond the health issues I experienced in January mostly unscathed. My daily medications serve as stark reminder each morning though. I was lucky! The universe responded to my calls in late January and a new chapter began that would see me frequently in the Adirondacks until my work would bring me back to the valley in late July. This chapter was a defining moment of my year. One of tremendous personal growth, discovery, happiness, and many special,private memories. But my growth as summer progressed did not come without bad decisions and mistakes on my part as it turns out. I was accelerating much too fast in the spin and blinded by forces that I could not comprehend. Difficult to explain or understand in some ways . Pain is a part of growth at times perhaps but a part that I would rather not experience or inflict on others. A lesson I learned too late this time to halt my impetuous forward momentum.It has cost me in emotional currency. A toll has had to be paid to keep moving in the flow. Looking back it’s almost surreal at times. The universe responds to the frequency we vibrate if you walk the paths of universal vibration and the Law Of Attraction.They are a study of mine. Sometimes we over shoot the runaway when trying to land on our feet. Will I grow from what I have learned? In time, yes!

Looking back at what I can’t change now makes me ask myself: What color is my next chapter? This I can say. Not written with black ink with dark bold letters on ghostly white paper. Cold and haunting in their intent. Black does represent something positive though. Black is the gift of night and shadow. Found in nature everywhere. I will not choose to falsely vibrant and use bright imitation man made colors that don’t resemble anything that looks like me. That is artificial and false for me. I hope to paint my next chapter with earthy browns and natural greens. The blues of sunny skies,water, and beautiful eyes. The grays of cloudy snow laden clouds filled with blinding white snow flakes falling with mesmerizing silence. The reds and oranges of the rising and setting sun. So many more colors live in nature with which to paint. Ones that invite with honest simplicity. Ones that solidify integrity and honest testimony. Truthful confession in the midst of confusion. A colorful path to seek out and follow even when I must limp up it.

What flavor is my next chapter? Bitter or sour? Distasteful and unpalatable? Served cold with a side of cynical? I am certainly not planning on that. I am hoping for the taste of fresh maple syrup on ice cream. Deliciously sweet and making you crave more of my sugar house creations. The taste of freshly picked berries plucked from dew soaked bushes on a summer morning. Raw and satisfying. Frozen to be enjoyed months later on a rainy autumn evening when baked into a pie.Or sweet fresh pressed apple cider from apples right off the tree. Tart and refreshing. A gift from nature. Most definitely maple infused coffee in a favorite steaming cup.Warming my hands as a new day begins. Those are but a few of the many wonderful flavors that enhance my life. How best to have them grace my next chapter?Share them perhaps?

What will my next chapter feel like? Freezing cold and icy with clinging frozen tears of failure that refuse to fall? Or burning hot? Scorching and searing with burning intensity? Burning bridges over raging rivers of doubt and indecision ? Thorny and prickly with hurtful wounding branches? Ripping and tearing at all they touch? No. If I am fortunate it will feel soft like delicate forest moss or the silky seed tufts of dry milkweed about to rise high on an autumn breeze. Or the soft caress of morning sunshine on my face. Maybe the softness of layers of scented pine needles on dry ground. To feel is to know you are still alive. That place where hope is found and your spirit energy resides with quiet resolve waiting to be released for a greater purpose .

What will my next chapter sound like? Raspy and harsh like a dead tree limb rubbing on a rusty metal roof ? Like squeaky hinges on a battered door hanging loosely on a neglected barn? No. I wish for my next chapter to sound like dripping sap drops falling into a bucket on a freshly tapped maple tree on a warming March morning. Like migrating geese high overhead. Strong and purposeful. Connected to nature’s call of survival. Or a buzzing honeybee landing on a clover blossom next to me. Working for the benefit of the hive. All these things and more I desire my next chapter to sound like.

And what will my next chapter smell like? Rotten and decaying like roadkill hit by a speeding driver? Left to be wasted and forgotten? Stale and musty like a moldy book? Tainted and offensive like fruit left in the sun too long?No. I hope my next chapter smells like apple blossoms in an orchard on a crisp spring morning . Like freshly mown hay on a hot summer night tickling my nose with a fragrant bounty. Like sun soaked balsam aroma wafting down onto a secluded mountain trail inviting me to stop for a moment. That’s just a few examples of what I wish my next chapter to smell like.

And you might read this far and think that I am somewhat negative in my direction of thought in this most unusual of posts. No. I am pensive and examining this moment in time. How did I get here? Why did I do certain things? How best to correct my mistakes if possible or at least and never repeat them. Ask those I have hurt for forgiveness and help them understand if that is even possible. How best to balance myself in the flow?How best to coexist with others and be kind. Learning to be a more supportive,better listener. There is no exciting destination here to send you off to with a set of directions. Not this time in this post.There is no map to the future. Just whispers from the inner spirit that needed to be written and shared as a continued testimonial of my life.Sometimes it’s hard to hear in the spin of Taz energy. Or slow it down. There is a connection to nature here. It lives in the five senses we possess and in the hidden one. The 5+1 I so often write about. This post serves to remind me of my many challenges and my personal struggles. And share that I am far from perfect. I am humbled by my own emotions at times. Lost at times to them but always trying to do better. I acknowledge and feel grateful for my many blessings. They are the mortar that holds it all together like the mud of hornet’s nest on the underside of a roof. MOONTABS come in different forms. I offer few answers but ask many questions at times. But today was a special day. A day to connect and attempt to make sense of it all. A beautiful new Adirondack destination to explore. The warmth of a campfire while snowflakes fell at times. A brief sun drenched moment on a rocky escarpment. A walk through open glades of forest where fresh beaver activity next to the pond offered a message. Prepare for winter in their case. Preparing. As in preparing to write the next chapter in my case. So what color is my next chapter? Only time can tell. ✍️

Growth Rings

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December is coming in mild after the recent cold snap and snow of November. We got about 14 inches during that lake effect event that reached up into St. Lawrence County. Some parts of New York got record amounts. It was a surprise after the mild weather that we have been enjoying all autumn. I am taking advantage of the bare ground at the farm property to do some forest cleanup in an upper section that was formerly part of our sugarbush. Most of the trees have died off and we harvested heavily in this area a couple years ago. I called this area The Upper Landing. I started burning up the rotten remnants of the large log pile that once occupied the site. The entire area was a mess of downed limbs and miscellaneous debris. I took down a massive dead maple that was a threat to the trail system. It was a sad moment for me. We had tapped this giant many times over the years. It’s gnarly trunk was riddled with old healed tap holes. It fell with an earth shaking crash and exploded into numerous fragmented pieces. I stood for a moment and gazed at the diameter of the stump. The connection was made.

The stump of the felled maple was over 3 feet in diameter. I could only guess at it’s age and it’s rotten outer layers offered no countable growth rings. Not familiar with them? I will explain them quite simply. Growth rings are the marker of tree growth during a one year period in temperate climates. Visible on a tree stump they form a pattern. The lighter outlines represent the start of that season’s growth. The darker outlines represent the end of season growth. They are never identical and a history of a particular season is left there.I can’t remember when my dad first introduced me to growth rings.Sometime when we were cutting wood at the farm most likely. But they have become a glimpse into time and the life of the forest for me. The unfortunate part of growth rings is that you never get to study them until the tree is cut down! Nature leaves us clues there and a place to reflect on ourselves even.

We are just past the two year anniversary of the blog site’s creation. 11/20/20 the first ever post went up. It was titled Bog River Flow. The administrator and creator of this site pulled it from a Facebook post of mine. The rest have followed with no pattern or storyline. Curvy and winding in unsymmetrical circles like the growth rings of a tree stump. It’s been a fun experience and one of learning for me. As I revisit my former posts I look for signs of growth. The blog site hasn’t changed much overall in two years but that’s about to change. I am constantly researching history and fact as they apply to the locations I visit on my personal journey. I continue to search for connection and a better understanding of nature. I am dredging the stories of my life from my memories and saving them here to share. I hope to bring people together in our common love of nature. Each year I hope to show growth however how large or small it might be.
Zane and I were recently in Virginia visited my cousin and his family over Thanksgiving week. My cousin and friend Gerry just happens to be my administrator and creator of this site! He’s the shadow behind all that makes this possible! We are working on upgrading the site and adding a comments section. I hope you will that advantage of that new feature! I will be personally reviewing all comments and would love to hear from you! If you happen to know me feel free to say hello! Look for a subscription page soon where you can receive updates on recent posts and other MOONTABS information.

I ask for your continued patience and support as we work to bring you the best MOONTABS experience ever

Many Chances

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It’s a calm and cool morning here at Camp Edith but very peaceful. I returned to the valley yesterday after my sojourn in the Adirondacks since October second.The leaves have mostly gone by there now but are in full regal here. It’s like getting a second chance at autumn! It gave me pause for some serious reflection early this morning as the shots of duck hunters echoed across the lake waking me at daylight. It was going to be one of those mornings! The words were arriving even before that first sip of maple syrup infused coffee. I have a busy day of catching up after arriving home but wanted to get a few thoughts down before the events of the day could push them into the backseat.

It was cool inside the camp this morning and not especially pleasant. I had thrown a little wood into the wood stove at 4AM but it had been reduced to a few glowing coals by the time I finally got up. First things first though! Coffee! While waiting for it to brew I noticed the rising sun hitting the treetops across the lake on Bigge Island. A picture was in order. Coffee and the fire would have to wait. Time was of the essence so when I couldn’t locate my Crocs I slipped my bare feet into my hiking boots. I was quite the sight in my bathrobe but there was no time to waste. The bathrobe was no where near warm enough for this morning’s chill I quickly decided as I stepped out the squeaky screen door. But the pictures were worth a little discomfort. The morning was off and running!

The scent of coffee greeted me as I stepped back inside to tackle building the fire. It kindled quickly and was soon warming the interior. It had been 76 degrees inside when I went to bed last night and Zane had opened the porch door. I call the porch door “The Thermostat” in Camp Edith when using the wood stove. It works and wood fired heat is basically free for us. There were but two things lacking at this point. My tablet and my music. It was writing time.

One of my favorite Pandora music stations has been painstakingly created by the thumbprint process they offer. I named it “Band of Horses Radio” after the band by that same name. The first song up this morning was strangely ironic. “On My Way Home” by the Band Of Horses. It was about to be one of those mornings. Turn it up and let the horses run.

Music isn’t necessary for writing but often sends me to the deeper recesses of Tazmania. My personal place of creativity. A forest where each tree is a story. That’s a story all it’s own and people get lost in Tazmania all the time. Imagination runs wild there as do the memories. I never know where a path will lead or how times it will branch off. My go to place of music when writing is Indie rock typically. I discovered Indie rock in the fall of 2017 and have followed it ever since. It’s a never ending series of new bands and new music. These songs are special because there are no memories attached to them initially.They are freshly neutral and waiting for memories to be attached to them. Indie rock and 2017. The old life was falling behind and the new me was rising. It was a new chance and a new now. A breath of fresh air that would become a gentle wind.

People who follow my rambling storylines often find redundant threads with no chronological order. Kind of like the Star Wars movies. The first movie didn’t start at the beginning of the story or end with that episode. They jumped all around. I’ve always admired that approach! Filling in gaps and satisfying curiosity. The questions aren’t always answered immediately anyway. The big question this morning is where is all this leading? It’s leading to reflection and self awareness. When the chances come do we take them? Will we take them? Or let them slip away? That’s a place of reflection where each person must stand.

My Adirondack sojourn was productive and I was able to write quite often. But there was adventure as well. It reminds me of an old fashioned carburetor using a mix of fuel and air to produce the horsepower. This morning my thoughts are running back to times of challenge and decisions. I haven’t been able to pull a story together with any clear message. These past few days have been filled with list making, emails, and a gathering of intel. It’s time to put another date on the calendar. October 16,2023. One year from today. A day of comparison. A day of answering questions. Did I take the chances and run with them? Or hesitate? Or land somewhere in between? Don’t worry if you are lost right now. I wrote this to challenge myself and set a deadline of sorts. Consider it the continuing introduction.

Autumn is speeding forward and here in the valley the transition is in full swing. I am transitioning as well into a new living arrangement. There are numerous other small details to close out as winter approaches. There are lots of new plans being formulated and investigated. It won’t always make sense or nor should it I have decided. I believe in following the invisible energy and connecting the dots that lead somewhere. I believe in taking chances so I do. The experts say that living in the past breeds depression while trying to live in the future breeds anxiety. Living in the now seems to be a good approach. We are approaching two years of the blog site being created. It’s been fun and I plan to continue with it. The MOONTABS vision is much larger though. The stories of the past. Plans for the future. Adventure and challenge. Life in the now. Mark your calendar. October 16th 2023. It won’t be about where I have landed. It will be about where we have landed. A day of reflection for all of us.

I dedicate this post to all who support the MOONTABS vision. Those who support me and give me inspiration. One person in particular. I also wish to acknowledge my Uncle Kenny. His wise words advising me the importance of keeping journals decades ago has never been lost on me. It was the first rock of a foundation that was destined to be built upon. No need to be lost here but if you are never fear. I will lead you back with a story or two. Next time. ✍️

Hill House Days

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Monday morning and the rain has returned again. It is that time of year when it often gets very damp here. Autumn is taking charge now. I heard some local geese here on the lake last night but they aren’t the ringtone ones that I mentioned yesterday. The local geese have become a nuisance here these days. As daylight arrives I hear distant gunfire as hunters cull them from the cornfields.One thing I forgot to mention yesterday was snow geese. They are the true geese of the north these days. Their late season migration is a different ringtone. Almost like an alarm going off. But the ringtones haven’t rang yet so the rest of yesterday’s story must wait for now.

Wish me luck this morning as we battle the technical issues experienced recently. Maybe I should have thrown the technology overboard in Quebec and never looked back!But then you would be missing out on the balloon release of adventure, life, and exploration. I don’t want that for us. I will be sending out a brief message this morning speaking of all those writing projects that never get read by anyone but me. I do read them to Zane sometimes. I read him something after dinner the other night here at Camp Edith. He listened quietly and then said that’s good Dad! Then my often quiet son who sometimes reminds of my own father said something profound. You write like Mark Twain Dad! Funny I thought since I never read much Mark Twain. I was inspired by authors Zane Grey,Jack London, and Louis L’Amour.That’s an interesting start to today’s story. Then there’s the whole Wally Byam quote that is so similar to my childhood statement to my father many years ago.It’s all just a coincidence right? Or is it something much bigger?

Enter Hill House. Purchased in early spring of 2015 after a search of several months for suitable properties in the area.Town living in Hammond for almost 3 years after the fire was fine. I won’t go into all of the details of that time. The post fire years were busy. But I didn’t know that I was racing towards a slippery intersection.The Hill House property would demand some serious capital investments as it turned out. We were already heavily invested into this property when we eventually paid to bring electricity to it. Quite the story there. We had lived off grid for well over a year while I was still working full time. Solar charging and batteries.Using the sun to supply our power was a great connection to nature. Great in the summer.Not so good in the fall and winter. The “Dark Ages” I called those months when we needed a generator to keep the batteries charged each day. It got rather old after awhile. The price the utility company was demanding to bring the power in was an insult of its own! I can’t tell you how evenings that I walked the road along the bony rock cut looking for a better solution. As things sometimes happen a plan began to show itself one night. I pushed my plan forward as fall threatened to become winter. I called in a few favors and got the project finished. My plan had cut $11k from utility cost. We went onto the grid soon after and life got easier. Where’s the next connection to nature here you might be asking?The connection is in my stubbornness to challenge it by placing us in this location in the first place.Einstein once said you never fail until you quit trying. Not sure if he ever mentioned how to handle those things that “try” our patience.

The off grid property that I named Hill House sat high above an upper section of Black Lake. The views were spectacular! Nature set me up the first time I stood in the great room with the realtor. The snow covered lake was stunning off in the distance! I could envision the sun rises and sunsets! This could be home I thought! It’s my kind of place! I could picture Zane running free and safe here with the dogs. I hated the main highway in Hammond. Deadly to pets and something I always felt was a potential hazard to our young son. So with a reckless burst of positive energy Hill House was purchased.Sure I needed to go to the circus and jump through some fiery financial hoops. But we don’t talk about money and politics here.

The property encompassed some 41 plus acres of rugged land. Beautiful forests, a small creek, and a series of valleys. It had a back access road too. 5 miles from Hammond where Zane went to school. Hill House was .9 miles in from the town plowed road.The private road leading to Hill House was full of curves and several inclines. But one hill in particular was bad news. An 8% grade according to a graph on my truck’s dashboard. Getting the connection to nature a little better now? Think about it for a minute.The dusty dirt road was bad enough during the spring,summer, and fall.But winter was a beast of burden that challenged me after work many times. By now you know me as a lover of high ground and rock. The Hill House property was all that and more. The property certainly answered some inner call and offered a unique living experience. It was maddening at times though in the winter when I had to park my two wheel drive company van at the end of the road and walk the .9 of a mile up to house after work. Sometimes I had to wade through snow before getting the tractor out to plow the road. The walk in actually relaxed me on nights when I didn’t need to plow. There were several small pullouts that I kept plowed out so sometimes I parked much closer to the house. But rarely made “the run” on the hill after one night of getting the van stuck. I was possessed by stubbornness that is difficult to explain. Can’t make the drive in tonight? Walk and enjoy the sunset. Besides exercise is good right? Maybe I thought I was some type of modern pioneer. There’s a connection to nature in that statement.

Ok getting the picture? A big beautiful house overlooking the lake. Privacy and safety. The farm property a mere 15 miles away. A big outside wood boiler that heated the house and the garage for practically nothing. 20 face cords of wood were usually enough. We brought most of it in from farm. There was an abundance of wood there. The forest of the hill house property had limited access due to its rugged layout of ravines so we didn’t cut much wood there. Stewardship is a good word for how I hoped to manage the woods there. There’s a place of peace in managing a forest with an attitude of stewardship.

Enter the event: 2017. Few connections to nature that summer.Two big construction projects to fill my days. One was a monster of deadline and schedule. The best part of the job was all the roof work! Out under the sky playing music with my coworkers.Dozens of energy recovery units that were part of the huge ground water heat extraction project known as phase 4. Nice connection to nature there as they removed almost all of their fossil fuel boilers.My personal life was falling apart but my professional one kept me focused. Things were about to get interesting as I staggered out of “Dark Ages” of a different sort. Cancer had taught me a good many things especially how to fight for my own life. At Hill House I new found new freedom and made big decisions. Zane and I got busy redecorating and setting up the huge painted blackboard where there was always something chalked in. Quotes, rhymes, lists, and funny little drawings. Zane and I tightened up together. We summited our second set of high peaks one weekend in October. Our count was now at four! Only 42 to go! A great rhyming story was written in the sketchy motel room before the hike even started early that morning. Great story there! Especially the part where I could barely climb stairs at work Monday morning!

I was going to retire in November. Things needed to change and I was ready to put things in the rear view mirror. The race intensified to complete my projects as full on heating season approved the NYS school deadline. My boss was not very happy with my decision to retire! I tried to explain my need to take care of my son. We reached a place of common ground eventually. I kept my promise and finished both of my projects. Exit full time work!

I was free! The first two weeks of retirement found me on fire and writing a lot. Some decent material followed I feel.A series of short stories that had been tumbling around for far too long. All hand written on Quill paper pads with a ball point pen. I I got my first IPhone with unlimited data. I played a lot of music and started a collection of custom crafted Pandora stations. I discovered my love of Indie rock with its haunting and soaring notes.Retirement fit me well. A new beginning and a period of new growth. The quiet sanctuary of Hill House was perfect for writing. I had a desk facing the window wall of the lake. I was ok with being alone most of the time. But I missed Zane especially at bedtime. We found a new way forward though and life was good. I was empowered and bending to those proverbial winds of change. The same old me was growing into someone new. Outside on Hill House’s outdoor deck I captured many beautiful sunrises that I had missed while working. I counted my many small blessings in those moments. Zane was my one big blessing! Growing himself.

2018 was a year of intense recreation and continued education in a new direction. Enter the land trusts and conservation volunteer work. Fun and we met a lot of great people. I became involved with SLELO Prism.They are the people who battle and track invasive species across New York State in five different regions. I began to attend all different types of seminars and presentations. Zane came to some of them. It was fun and educational!Worthy of a story and definitely a connection to nature. We moved into Camp Edith in late June. I adopted a rather tough conditioning workout into my weekly routine. Weights and a 40 pound field survival backpack. Evenings would find me kayaking on the lake to further condition my body. The conditioning paid off with huge dividends. We pounded the trails leading to the high peaks of the Adirondacks. Several great rhyming stories were scribbled hastily in the firelight while Zane and I recounted the day’s events. We laughed and laughed as I wrote them!Life was good! I even managed to work a little! We left Camp Edith in late August and returned to the comforts of Hill House. We regrouped for the next adventures. This brief foray into that year doesn’t even come close to covering all the details. But you don’t want to hear about everything. At Hill House we discovered that we weren’t alone! We had uninvited guests! Mice!

Fast forward to 2019 when I first decided to sell Hill House and listed it with an agent. Retirement was great and I was working part time for my former employer. There were more periods of creativity and writing projects. But Hill House had started to feel like an anchor. My connection to nature and Hill House was beginning to break.We loved many things about it but it was becoming something else for me. A symbol of “The Old Life” as I began to think of it that way. The house didn’t sell and we preparing for another winter as the seasons changed. Life was good. Good health and good fortune. Many happy adventures as Zane and I pounded down our ADK 46 high peaks challenge. I was trying to figure out a plan for my writing but I wasn’t pushing towards publishing. I blamed making myself too busy for my hesitation to advance. Work, adventures, and all the other small details that filled my days. It is of little consequence now as those days are the proverbial water under the bridge. We were needing a new direction.

Fast forward to 2020 and another real estate agent. Once again the contract ran out despite her hard work. People would come look at the property but always step away. The remote location we loved so much was the problem. The road and the whole winter situation was too much for most people. We were searching for that one special buyer. Little did we know they were searching too! We just hadn’t found each other yet.Things were good for us though. I counted our small blessings. I took a job in Beaver, Pennsylvania to raise extra funds for future writing plans. The setting kept my words subdued but I did write the funny rhyming story “Beaver Cracker Head”while I was down there. Zane and I finished our final Adirondack high peak in September while I was home from Beaver on a week long break. The real estate contract expired and I tried a different approach. Zillow. But it just sat there as we prepared for another winter. I ditched Beaver in October and took a short call job at Whiteface Mountain near Lake Placid. Things were entering my circle that would ultimately change many things for me. Back home to Hill House by early November I enjoyed freedom once again. I threw myself into firewood and farm details. Sugar wood and getting hay put away. But new energy was about to enter the equation as autumn sped past.

Enter a new character. It was Xmas eve when I got a message inquiring about the property. I didn’t take it seriously at first but a fellow named Scott kept messaging me and asking questions about the property.He eventually wanted to talk on the phone and we exchanged some background information. He told me quite a lot about himself and I liked chatting with him. He expressed interest in looking at the property sometime that winter.It was now 2021.Someone from Pennsylvania had also inquired about it too through a realtor. The realtor and I would enter into a partnership to attempt to get it sold. The Pennsylvania people toured the property but didn’t make an offer. Scott came up one winter day and we became introduced. I gave him a guided tour of the house.We ate lunch together inside hill house before heading over back to tour the remainder of the property. It was a fun day and we had some great conversations. Scott knew about the Pennsylvania people because I had mentioned them to him.He asked for a private moment to call his wife then came in and said that they wanted the property contingent on his family’s approval. We closed the deal and shook on it. Very old school and I liked his honest demeanor. He asked if I would hold the property until he could bring his family up to check it out. We agreed on a timeline and that was that! We had found our people and they had found us! Things followed quickly after that and we left Hill House in late March after the closing.

Scott and I became friends although we never saw each other that much. We stayed in touch with texts and the occasional phone call. He had questions about the house and I would help him navigate his way forward with the new property. He and his family loved the property! They renamed the house and began making it their own. I got to see it on occasion as they repainted walls and got the place furnished. Everyone got what they wanted in the end and I figured that was some positive energy in motion. I can’t think of anyone else that I would have wanted to turn the property over too!2021 was filled with adventure, work, and so more. Those days keep showing up in these posts from time to time.

2022. A year of change again as new intersections were reached. Lots of time to tell that story once I reflect on it further. Autumn has arrived now. The perfect time to find reflections in the waters of northern New York.This past week I got a text from Scott that he was going to be staying up at the property for over a week. We made plans to meet up at his place where we got a chance to meet his friend Mike briefly. I returned to see Scott and Mike late Sunday. We got into some heavy conversations! Turns out that Mike had gone to college and become a writer years ago! All this before he joined the military and later entered his present career.Mike’s Dad had also been a writer! Imagine how those conversations went!We talked a long time while Scott finished up some last minute house details. At one point in our conversation Mike started calling me a story teller. He said my writing reminded him of Mark Twain! The same thing Zane had mentioned to me! That’s very flattering! There were lots of things to learn about Mike! His personal journey story inspired me as did his Dad’s story. We plan to keep in touch and I asked if he still wrote. No he said but I am thinking about starting up again.You should Mike! I told him.Let’s push each other to get busy with our projects!

You could say that all this is nothing more then a series of unique circumstances. Sure I paddle my canoe of life in a certain direction. But not always. People continue to enter my story with an energy and unpredictability that can’t be simple coincidence. One in particular.Impressions. The magic of the first and of the lasting.Mark Twain and Wally Byam entered the journey despite being long gone but are now destined to leave a lasting impression. What connects us and brings us together? The living and the dead. It’s been said that energy is neither created or destroyed. What brings us all together? Nature in it’s most elemental form. We all need this tiny planet to survive. The questions are many and keep coming.Where’s all this lead and what will happen from all these chance meetings? New friends and new stimulating conversations. New directions and new beginnings. New places and endless possibilities.

I hope you enjoyed this very personal and continued introduction to my journey. Why do I tell you so much? That’s an easy one! Can you find yourself anywhere in my lines?Ponder this one: growth. Let’s make a date! Let’s come back to this day a year from now and see where we are in the ever changing now. Will there be growth? I can’t promise you anything. Just an honest story about life and my personal journey.As I so often say: It’s enough! And when it isn’t? Make it become enough! I think Mr. Jangles said it best: And you thought being me was simple! Silly you!

The writing projects that no one gets to read will be published eventually. It’s going to take me some serious focus to get to that next level.The problem is me always hard charging the future. I hate to sit for too long. I will be taking to the road on Sunday with the Airstream for my next set of adventures and life on the beloved Adirondack clock. It’s where the rubber meets the road as they say.Autumn in the Adirondacks. Nothing heavy there. I will be covering old ground and searching for new. There’s always something to discover that will charge my spirit batteries. The “A” in MOONTABS this time? Adventure!✍️

The Special Day

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4AM. I woke suddenly while having the most bizarre of dreams. In the dream I was standing on a pile of logging slash next to a house trying to figure how how to get down. The pile was huge and was made up of entire trees,evergreen limbs, and brush. The bark hung from the fallen trunks in shreds as a result of being dragged and knocked about. There was no order in the manner the pile had been arranged.It was if it had just been pushed in place by a huge machine that was no where around. There was a house beside the pile and I was thinking about how strange it all was getting. I started getting anxious because I couldn’t see a safe way down from the pile.Each direction looked the same. Dangerous. Weird as I have no fear of heights. I loved to climb trees on the farm as a boy. In the dream I turned in a slow motion circle. The devastation around the pile was disturbing. A huge clear cut of stumps and torn earth. A road of devastation had been carved out of a landscape that definitely wasn’t upstate New York. It resembled the Canadian bush to a degree but seemed different. The road was leading to a lake that was just beyond an untouched section of forest. The machine of destruction was out of sight but I knew where it was headed. I was afraid suddenly. I needed to get off the pile and run to the safety of the forest. And I knew what I needed to do. The fear left me and I got ready to jump off….Ok! Alrighty then! Wow! Dreams are strange! I wonder what Freud would find in that one!

I got up shortly after and reassured myself that all was well in Camp Edith. Gracie was lying next to the wood stove near the door to Zane’s room. All was well! I checked the fire and the large pieces of firewood that I had loaded in before bed last night had been reduced to glowing coals. One small piece of unburned wood sent out a wisp of smoke that assaulted my nose. I refueled the wood stove and headed for the Keurig.Destination numero uno! Ok it’s showtime! Busy day ahead! Lots to do today and there would be no time for writing. Too bad I thought because my creative hangover had been replaced by a familiar feeling. I was suddenly overcome with warmth! It had been a wonderful evening. A meal with Zane, small research projects, and conversations. A phone call.The Keurig finished brewing with its squishing sound that pushed out the final drops of morning rocket fuel. I dumped in an random shot of maple syrup. Followed by a healthy shot of half and half. Talk about a constant! My first fix of the day to satisfy an addiction of over thirty years. Just how did I get addicted in the first place? A different sort of story with a different connection to nature. Natural selection they call it.Not sharing that story today.

I headed back here to my cluttered bedroom to prop myself up against the headboard and started gulping my sweet brew. I really need to do something about this room I thought to myself. But how about a little music first? I knew what would set the mood. Andrew Belle. His music can bring me to tears! Yes tears! I once read that tears aren’t the measure of a man. I once mentioned that to Zane. I often dose a writing post with the phrase blood,sweat, and tears. It was like that on the farm. We had lots of livestock. Cows,horses,pigs,and chickens in a rotating cycle of farm life in harmony with season. There was the magic of birth. The time in between. Then the tough one.Death. These animals weren’t all pets. I learned things fast in those years although I never recognized it until years later. But that is the magic of discovery! Discovery doesn’t always wait out there beyond that next hill. It’s already there sometimes. Already inside us.Under our feet and already there in places of our heart rarely visited. Buried in our memories. Sometimes buried on purpose.A different story for a different day.

I learned the true kindness taking care of the livestock. They depended on us. Their needs came ahead of ours quite often on the farm where I had learned to climb trees with no fear and little regard for the danger of a fall. I guess I trusted my own hands and my balance. I am almost ready to jump back into the next chapter of my rural heritage series. I am waiting for something though. The day of autumn that stirs up certain memories and a special feeling.I can’t stage it or mark it on my calendar like some random event.It is a revolving event though that is tied into nature and always a new discovery in itself. Enter the familiar phrase: if only I could bottle that feeling and share it.Why do I write like I am creating a screenplay? Because all the world’s a stage they say. Not going there this morning!

I can safely say that my “special” day will fall sometime between mid October and late November. I will get a inner spirit call coming in from somewhere from an unknown number and I won’t let it go to voicemail. I will drop everything to answer it. I never know the time or exactly when my custom ringtone will chime. Many times the call comes as the sun is setting and a busy day of firewood cutting on the farm property ends. Tired and dirty as we put the tools away. The custom ringtone that is now set inside me originally came from miles above me. In the sound of distant goose cries as they begin their migration south.It is a sound that can span decades in the fraction of a second. Backtrack to a small younger me playing in the backyard with my sister at the first home I ever remember. I don’t remember every single detail but what I do remember is the feeling of excitement I got that long ago day when I spotted the first flock of the season. I can picture myself pointing to the sky and yelling to my sister! Geese! This was the 1960’s and geese didn’t frequent our section of the St. Lawrence valley all that much. They came from much further north stopping occasionally to rest and feed in the post harvest corn fields.A lover of the higher places at a young age although I didn’t know where that would eventually lead.I was being a kid and the forests of Tasmania were mere seedlings far in the future. I envied the geese their lofty status and wondered why they honked as they flew. Enter the Canadian goose and the stage was set for a grand performance.(to be continued)

Oh btw! It’s a special day indeed! Ironic given the title I chose!You are not going to believe what just happened!

I lost most of today’s post somehow! I had started it yesterday actually as a draft. I thought that I had it edited and published correctly. I went back several hours later to review my own work and was shocked to see what had actually uploaded. A total piece of something that had no rhythm nor reason. It dropped off in the middle of a sentence practically. What a disaster! So much of the once longer post is lost now! There’s some question as to what happened and why. The post was as heavy as a lead balloon but I was determined to try and fly it anyway due the amount of time I had spent on it! There must be a ghost in the machine! There’s only one possibility! A small mouse named Mr. Jangles! I know! I know it sounds crazy! You still are a little skeptical about Mr. Jangles and that whole story! Believe what you want! Ask Zane. He was there. After the post crashed I realized something. Mr. Jangles still wants to play! I don’t how he got the ghost virus into my tablet but it’s raising hell with everything! I know it’s him because of the photos and videos he hacked into my gallery. That one of me snoring? Horrible!So embarrassing and I am worried it may go viral!There’s also a cartoon version of himself that shows up like a screen saver and loops continually. His mouse laugh is creepy. He must have access to some sort of forest command post with satellite Wi-Fi and a backup generator. He’s pretty resourceful and I respect that about him! He hasn’t done anything serious yet I suppose. Unless you think destroying hours of my work is serious. And that notice from my bank that someone got in and tapped my checking account for a few hundred Canadian! I guess he’s just playing or he would have taken a lot more!I was mad at first and ready to go back up there tomorrow. But I don’t have time for that right now. I need to figure out a way to reverse hack him but he’s using someone else’s equipment somehow. I can picture him sitting hovered over someone’s laptop keypad.Hey it’s only a game right? I you know you get bored Mr. Jangles but how about a tv series or something. I can recommend one. I thought we were friends and I didn’t throw a fit over that last practical message joke of yours.

So here we are and I never got to finish my post. That’s ok as there’s always tomorrow!Just remember about the special day and the custom ringtone. Remember the farm property. Remember my promise to tell the stories of rural heritage. I keep my promises and tell the truth. Sure I have a big imagination. I told lots of true facts here. There is a mouse in Western Quebec. A cabin too and an actual Lake Dumoine.There was a big piece of blog post lost today. Can a mouse work a keyboard and understand passwords?Hack into someone’s system? Come to think of it I was missing some cash when I got back home last August. Maybe Mr. Jangles has a helper he pays. He can read as we already know. It’s difficult to say really.. ✍️

3 AM: Introductions To The Ever Changing Me

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The wind woke me up early this morning and I got up to check the wood stove here at Camp Edith. Aka Camp Chaos when I come in off the road and unload the car. It seems strange to think that I even needed to have the wood stove lit but yesterday afternoon a strong north born wind turned the surface of the lake upside down. The temperatures began to drop and a quick look at the weather on my phone told me what my body already knew. Good thing that I keep an adequate supply of dry wood on hand. The days of living here are winding down now and I will soon be winterizing it once again.

I have considered turning Camp Edith into a full time residence but something always holds me back. There’s a certain charm to its rustic rafters. Darkened by years of exposure they are a constant of seasonal cottage living. It’s similar to the feeling I got years ago when I briefly considered retiring the old sugar house at the farm and building a new one. How awesome I had thought! All new and fresh. Straightly framed with electricity and running water. But the old sugar house has a certain dignity in its sagging presence. And what of the history and the memories that fill the air with invisible energy within its tired walls? The cracked concrete soaked by blood, sweat, and tears. It’s the same here in the cottage. The inner voice speaks wisely many times. Change can wait with certain things. There is no hurry or least there shouldn’t be sometimes. “Nature does not hurry, but all is accomplished.” Lao Tzu

Quotes are a productive medium of creativity for me. I look for them constantly and even have a few of my own. So it should come as no surprise that I love this one! “3 AM is the hour of writers, painters,poets,musicians,silent seekers,over thinkers,and creative people.” Do you recognize anyone in that group that you know? This week has been a very productive one for writing! I came in off the road late last Thursday night a little burned out and very tired. After a bit of work on the side project over the weekend I was shot. But nature saved the day! The days of rain that began Sunday kept me inside and the words found me in the early hours Monday. By late yesterday I had finished the first series of bush living stories. As I relived the days we spent there I entered a special place. The “well” Zone. My photos and simple cabin journal pulled it all together. But there were other forces responsible and they launched me past all that had previously been holding me under. The daily Abraham-Hicks inspirational quotes that chime onto my email each day had been trying to tell me something.The term is manifestation and with it I followed the energy trail of bread crumbs to a place of many words.Some things happen for a reason. Enter the surge and the geyser.The well wasn’t dry.It was just plugged. The last few days drained the well and I am experiencing a creative hangover. It’s been quite the journey these past nine days. Living on the ADK clock. Leaving the ADK clock behind for a moment. And then experiencing the surge. Things are ramping up and I find myself adding lines to the story Escape Velocity as a side project.

It’s amazing how long it takes me to write a few simple lines into that I feel is good! I invest a considerable amount of time poking around in the digital dictionary and searching for descriptive words. There are over 170,000 words in the Oxford English dictionary. Impressive and it offers a unique challenge. The word MOONTABS will never enter those hallowed pages but it means something that can’t be described by a simple sentence in a dictionary. It confuses people sometimes actually. People ask what does the “A” represent? One answer I give is that it created a flowing word that is easy to say in English. Call the “A” a silent bridge that crosses a deep chasm. In the process of creating a private domain it nice to discover that word wasn’t used or even existed. At the time the word was born I was drawing heavily on memories that I was expressing in my written work. I was trying to humbly acknowledge the importance of recognizing my genuine journey and story. Capitalizing on memories it was a short stretch of imagination to create the remaining letters. I was going through a period of reinventing myself after the events of 2017. I realized certain things could be lost or taken without warning but never our memories. Our personal memories are ours alone. The good,bad,and the ugly. (Good movie!) I found something profound in that realization. There something more though that dealt with a deeper place of realization. How does one blend painful memories with good ones? The name doesn’t imply only good memories. So what about those painful memories? I remembered something nature had taught me. Storms were always battering the trees sometimes knocking them down but they had evolved to bend. There’s a place of strength and resilience there.So too with memories. We must learn to bend in our acceptance I feel.That’s a powerful place of mental focus. Not all the branches survive that’s for sure. When I get the short story “The Trees And Us” published we can walk that littered path together. Yes I know! The promised book. Did you forget the Lao Tzu quote already?

There are deeper meanings in the word MOONTABS. I couldn’t make it too simple or it wouldn’t best represent the vision I had for it. The moon represented something significant to me. The moon undergoes a monthly transformation. It radiates an energy that is mysterious even if science offers all the answers as they claim. It’s that energy thing again. That place I always return to wander and search for answers. A full moon lights the way for unique adventures and much more. It is a destination for passion and romantic muses.Not everyone sees the same thing in the moonlight. That’s what makes us individuals with our own personalities. So moon was perfect. Here we are four years later and I never explained my own word properly. It wasn’t the time for things to manifest themselves I guess.So during this busy writing week the question of the “A” came at me from a new direction. I began to dissect the word into pieces and discovered something amazing! Something that was unexpected and priceless! Tabs. Usually associated with technology these days or music right? But a deeper dictionary dig reveals a less used meaning! Tabs can also mean close surveillance. To watch. To single out or designate. I was blown away! All this time it had escaped me. I am going to head out into the wilds of Tasmania and sit quietly while I contemplate that one. MOONTABS is about connections to nature and looking for them. Watch, single out, and surveillance. It’s there in my own word. Oh by the way! It’s your word too! I mentioned that a long time ago.

I am headed to the farm property today to ditch my creative hangover with some fresh air. I hope to realign my spirit energy and do some inner battery charging. Autumn 2022 is here and I wish to capture some the transition on the farm before I head back to the Adks. A thought came to me this week. A plausible explanation of something else. If the “A” is not meant to have one descriptive word associated with it or one meaning then there was a reason why that happened. Just as there are many unexplained reasons why any multitude of things happen. Coincidence, circumstance, or something beyond our understanding of the now. So the “A” can be whatever you want it to be. It’s your personal invitation to hide your secret and special word into my journey. Our journey as it is truly not mine alone. The fun times and stories that make up the MOONTABS are diverse at times. As am I. Continued introductions are how I seek to emphasize my personal growth or lack there of when I stall out. Either way it’s meant to keep me real to my readers. It’s a place of elemental honesty. Failure is as noteworthy as success and should never be kept out of journey if the portrait is to be genuine.

BTW! Mr. Jangles left me a note in my luggage! Tiny droppings.A gift that traveled 400 miles and crossed the border. I guess he didn’t know how to write me a note any other way. Goodbyes are hard for him apparently. There’s a lot buried in those tiny, nasty droppings. Mr. Jangles is a heavy over thinker it appears. In every gross dropping was a message to me! They read like this as I fished them out of my duffle bag: #1 Hey buddy do you miss me? #2 Are you coming back? #3 No hard feelings trying to kill me. I forgive you!#4 You can’t beat me anyway you know! Give it up pal! #5 If you do come back please bring more of those delicious peanut butter cookies! Yum! #6 Yes I will be careful! Thx for caring!God I hate owls!Hooting all night when I am trying to sleep. #7 Those other mice weren’t my family. Quite the story there. Sometimes I have been lost in this world with just my quick wits, passion for life, and my love of fun adventure to keep me moving forward. That’s ok because getting lost leads me to new places. And new and exciting possibilities.I always count the many blessings bestowed on me.I believe in the future. And that belief will always drive me to live my best life.And you thought being me was simple. Silly you!.#8 Just wanted you know how fun it all was! Most campers are boring so I ignore them.#9 Oh by way that fleece hoodie of yours that I chewed up made a super bed! Sorry about! I have teeth that keep growing just so you know! #10 Do you realize how long it took me to chew through that bathroom floor? BTW! I didn’t chew through that hot water line! It was those other ones!#11 I know you are wondering. How did I know that the cookies were peanut butter? Winter is a drag so I taught myself how to read from some old magazines before I chewed them up. National Geographic was my favorite! Especially the pictures.Sure would love to spend the winter in Florida! It’s cold here! #12 I don’t want hurt your feelings but this MOONTABS thing you guys were talking about. I don’t get it. Oh you better check that MOONTABS shirt! I really needed to pee! Sorry!#13 Best wishes my friend! I hope you find what you keep searching for! Enjoy the Great Wander and chasing the buzz! Be it on rock, water, or sky. I will send positive energy across the miles! We made a connection! One more thing! I am not old so don’t call me that! Premature gray runs in my family. I’m more Mus than Muridae so please correct that!Our story isn’t finished. Peace out! Mr. Jangles

Can you even imagine? 13 droppings in my duffle bag! The nerve of that rodent! Yes you deserve that Mr. Jangles! That was my favorite hoodie and a Northface at that! 😡 This is a true story folks! Mr. Jangles is very real! These things really happened! I intend to visit him next August.You can’t make this stuff up! Out on the big lake known as Dumoine life continues without us and things continue to add up as they seem to do there. Mr. Jangles lives out his simple life and continues to fight for survival. I suppose we all do in some capacity. Until then I better check my belongings over because there may be more messages left there!It seems like forever until we return but time moves quickly these days. How how will I fill my days and nights until that fateful August week arrives? Outside and seeking new adventures. Exploring beyond that distant horizon.Inside researching and fact checking.Looking for the paths less traveled. Tapping the keys and tapping into my mind. Many stories remain to be told.The question of the next adventure is never if but when. I pray for strength and good health to bring me there and back. I leave you with portions of a Wally Byam quote that truly says it all. I find myself between its lines and it empowers me to live as never before. I mentioned it in another post and I have a personal connection to it. “Don’t stop.Keep right on going…go someplace you’ve heard about…Find out what’s at the end of some country road. Go see what’s over the next hill,and the one after that,and the one after that.” I’ll let you know when I hear from Mr. Jangles. Maybe I can take him to Florida next year.🤔✍️

Surrendering To The Bush

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This is the fifth post of the Canadian bush series. Initially it was going to be a single post but I decided that there was a much bigger story. I left a lot of myself between the lines.And openly in the lines. Consider it the driftwood of life. I’ve written of driftwood on other occasions. I am a collector of driftwood actually. It speaks to me of nature’s power. There is a shallow sandy beach in the Adirondacks where sunken driftwood lies in rippled sand. On sunny days under gently lapping waves it appears with mesmerizing clarity. I wade there sometimes collecting small pieces that catch my eye. It’s a wonderful place to relax and reflect. Perception and imagination wait just below the surface to be discovered. The sandy sections of beaches on Lake Dumoine were littered with driftwood. In these posts I set my personal driftwood of life afloat there for you to discover. You’ll never need to dig below my surface. I want you to know certain things. And perhaps see what I see in those tiny weathered pieces of time. I hope you find a greater connection to nature there.

Monday morning arrived with the precision of routine firmly established. We were settled in and truly having a wonderful time. Running free with renewed spirit energy I felt. My companions might have their own words for how they felt. Greg was firmly ahead in the competition in the remaining two categories. Zane was becoming intent on the total number of walleye caught. We got up and there was zero visibility on the lake. A heavy fog covered everything and the boat was almost invisible at the end of the dock. No worries right? We know the lake now! It was cool and we all were decked out in heavy rain gear as we left the dock. The motor was a little sluggish and had started harder then usual. It was impossible to see very far in front of the boat and my eyes began to feel strained almost immediately. I tried running the center of the finger that made up our portion of the lake. I couldn’t see the trees or anything else I used for navigation. We never thought to bring Greg’s gps unit at the time. He had loaded it with fishing locations and it plots courses automatically. We sure could have used it! I did fairly well at first navigating the initial finger but we soon entered one of the larger sections of the lake. Fog in all directions! I grabbed one vague shoreline glimpse and pointed in the direction I felt was right. I kept the throttle cracked full on. Nothing dangerous there. The 15 horsepower motor doesn’t push us along all that fast especially with three good sized guys in the boat! On a side note I would have to mention how happy I was with the four stroke Yamaha engine. Easy to operate and super efficient on gas. We hadn’t used much gas given the miles we were covering each day. I did all the driving and my two companions were thrilled with that. Conversation was difficult when underway even though the motor wasn’t all that loud. Combined with the wake noise and the noise of the boat itself conversation at the stern of the craft wasn’t happening. I plenty of time for thinking while driving and I enjoyed those private moments.

I knew it was about 4 miles to our destination and that a large expanse of unbroken water needed to crossed. My eyes were really feeling the strain by this time. Off on the eastern horizon the sun was getting brighter but the land masses remained in gray shadows. My internal compass told me Ile Quabie should show itself shortly. It’s a huge island that dominates a southern section of the lake. We were searching for Raspberry Point on the eastern side on it. Suddenly I spotted a land mass off to my right and slowed our forward progress. It looked familiar but much of the lake shoreline looks the same. Rocky with the forest coming right down to the water. You can’t just stop anywhere on Lake Dumoine and exit your boat. The broken glacial rocks of the shorelines are uninviting. They are a risky proposition. Out alone with no rescue plan in effect you protect your hull and motor propeller as if your life depends on it. None of us relished ever needing to spent a night on shore or trying to row back to camp. Those thoughts weighed heavily on my common sense rather often to be blatantly honest. But we were somewhat prepared for emergency. Lighters and flashlights. Some water and knives. Snacks and almost always fish that could have been cooked on shore. A plan for future trips began to percolate in the recesses of my mind. Enter the lists jotted down in our personal camp journal.A book in itself. A story within a story. To plan to return to the bush is the story of hope itself. That place of dreams and drive. Hold that thought and I will return there. The forest that is the bush itself is thick and lush. It’s wild and beautiful The sandy bays and sections of beach offer better opportunities. In fact all of the cabins we had seen were built up above sandy beaches. This beautiful place was a hidden gem of many facets. It caught the light from every angle. Lost in a fog? No concern of mine.

As I slowed the boat and neared what I believed was Raspberry Point I suddenly realized that something was amiss! That island feature sure did look like Raspberry Point! But that rock shouldn’t be there. Nor that line of rocks that created a shoal. Ok! Time to stop and regroup. None of us recognized our location but I can’t say I was anything more then confused. The sun was rising even higher by the minute and it was only matter of time before the fog lifted. But the morning walleye fishing window would be closed by then. It was the perfect walleye morning. Walleye chop and cooler temperatures. I consulted the map then handed it to my companions. Greg and I couldn’t reach an agreement as to our location. I gazed through the murk and my internal compass found the bearings suddenly. I engaged the gears and said here we go! I got this one! I wasn’t entirely sure at first as we sped along side of what I knew had to be Ile Quabie. The sun had turned the trick of location and realigned the compass. And just like that Raspberry Point showed itself and we were back on track. This was to be Zane’s morning to shine and show his walleye skills.

Greg is definitely the best walleye fisherman of the three of us. His jigging techniques and choice of colors had assured his standing. My leeches keep Zane and I in the standings. Jigging has never my strong suit. Greg had given Zane one of his jigs that was rocking the boat. He then coached him with his technique. Zane already had a good jigging technique and had proved himself in 2016 at the Quebec lake known as Echouani. He had taken the prize of catching the most walleye.With my help and guidance I suppose but the credit became all his. Some nights his skill with the rod would amaze me! My catch would suffer as I netted fish after fish for him. But I was the clear winner of fatherly pride as I lived those treasured moments with my son. I can’t tell the whole story now or the story of Echouni in 2015 when he took his first ever bush trip. Magic lives in my son’s fingertips. Be it fishing rod or in his guitar these days.

Monday morning was all Zane’s. He was dialed in and his jigging was productive. He took the morning count easily. Greg and I were happy for him! I was off and missed multiple fish. But my mind wasn’t on fishing. It was lost in small details of nature. An eagle put in a brief appearance for the second time that week. The sun and lifting fog were beautiful. Although I was trying to block it out I knew Tuesday was our final day of bush living. My companions spoke of it too. But there was still time to run wild and free. Age means nothing in those moments for me. We were all equals on the lake. Far from the expectations of modern life and society. Far from technology even though we had it in our hands. As crazy as it sounds there were moments when I wanted to toss everything associated with technology overboard in some strange gesture of rebellion. But it would pollute the lake and a blogger needs technology. Let me think on that one.I think harmony is the best word for what my companions and I were feeling. We all felt something powerful. The energy radiated in laughter and excitement. Enter the surrender. I had surrendered to the power of the moment. The now. If only. If only I could bottle that moment and share it.It was nothing new to me this buzz of nature and experience. It had found me many times over the years. And the words I so often repeat: I will chase it forever!

Monday post morning fishing presented us with a new and pressing problem. The routine went well until Greg went to shower. Zane had his first and all had gone well. Greg was not so fortunate however. It seems the hot water side of the mixing valve was not functioning. He got a rather cold shower and he was not happy! Not good for me either as I was last in line. Why of showers in the first place? First and foremost not all bush camps even them. Or flush toilets and running water.Bathing in the lake is an option with consequences in most of the bush lakes I fished. The wonderfully clean water holds a predator other than walleye! Bloodsuckers! I hate getting them on me! So no lake bath for me! I chose to tackle the water issue head on. The ridge gravity tanks were full and everything else worked but the hot water knob of the shower. I crawled under the cabin looking for potential problems. Found one! Wait two! Leaks in the hot water lines! Small but enough to cause a problem perhaps. Guess we now why the propane ran out. Hot water was leaking out 24/7. I’m sure Eric had no clue and it appeared rodents might the root of the issue. I knew the mouse escaped under the bathroom when we pursued it. There was nothing we could find that we could fix at any rate. Not given our lack of tools. I took a cold shower and my demeanor was threatening to spoil the happy feelings of the morning. We headed out early that afternoon to contact Eric for assistance. Rewards are always waiting there for us when we least expect them. It was mostly clear as we cruised the finger on our mission to find Eric. By now the lake shore was familiar. We were running the center of the finger in the safety of the deep water. I noticed something in a small cove off to left that resembled a brown stone. I thought to myself that’s strange! I don’t remember that rock out out in the bay. My “ rock” moved and the calm surface of the water exploded! My rock further appeared from under the surface and I realized it was a cow moose! I throttled down and yelled to my companions! The moose didn’t want to have its picture taken though and burst out of the shallows on a dead run. It crossed the beach quickly and hesitated for a moment. It looked over its shoulder before racing off into the forest. Just like that and no one saw but me. We found Eric out on the lake and flagged him down. He said he would come up by the next morning at the latest. We were ok with that as we wanted to get out for the evening fish.

The evening fish once again proved the worth of the lake. Zane and I continued to add to our take home count. Greg carried the night and we were now tossing back walleye that would make some fisherman cringe. I was still off though catching fish. Not concentrating. I wasn’t concerned though. My numbers were solid and we had fish enough for the last two nights of frying. One day we had eaten walleye twice. I was ready for something a little different for dinner and promised the boys Alfredo pasta for one of the sides. Beans and potatoes are great but not every night. We had a great evening and yet another spectacular sunset. We discussed a plan for our final full day and decisions were made to include everyone’s wishes. As we cruised all of us seemed a little caught up in the moment. Zane was snapping photos and videos. He was talking to Greg but I couldn’t hear a thing. The routine played out with a comfortable rhythm. But something or rather someone was missing.

Our friend the mouse had been strangely absent. I felt maybe it was stressed after the last harrowing game of cat and mouse. I began to worry about it actually. I won’t lie here. The mouse traps were still set but I was forgetting to bait them. Or was I? I kept hoping it would show up while we were making dinner. I expressed my concern about the mouse to my companions but they had no answers. We were all wondering if there were still others though. We were at the table and the conversation turned to the movie “ The Green Mile” starring Tom Hanks. If you know the movie you might assign me as being Percy! Trying to kill the mouse and almost successful. Hmmm. I had never given my opponent a name or implied gender. I had been referring to the mouse as It. Creepy if you ever saw the movie:The Silence of The Lambs. Very derogatory and disrespectful to my worthy opponent. At this point in the story I am going to name the mouse Mr. Jangles. The mouse has earned that privilege. I hope it’s not a copyright infringement. The evening played out and Mr. Jangles never showed. We were all feeling a little melancholy about our trip nearing its end. But it wasn’t over and we still had time! This story must continue!

At this point in the story I wish to add a new character. Kathy. No she wasn’t in the bush country of Western Quebec. But she’s a blog reader and offered me some interesting encouragement! She liked the story but was interested in hearing more about the mouse from the start! I valued her feedback and assigned the mouse Mr. Jangles a greater place in the story. He’s the constant I once mentioned. He provides levity in the middle of this very real story. In a continued introduction to myself please note I am not lost or trapped in the pragmatic wilderness I call Tasmania. Quite the contrary. I liken Tasmania as a vast forest where I go to unload some heavy thoughts and escaped for awhile. Sharing stories and hoping to make a difference. Nature heals me and helps me grow as an individual. I will end this post with a quote written by someone I know very well. “ The answers to all questions in nature might be found. Never to have asked them, uncertain future bound”. ✍️.

The Forgotten Ones

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August 9th is getting closer although I can’t always wrap my head around the passage of time. I often written about time but these days I am trying to live in the now. I am searching for answers to new questions. I find myself at the proverbial fork in the road. There are no signs or mile markers. I certainly haven’t been traveling an interstate anyway by any definition of highway. Picture a single lane road with twists and turns. Numerous bumps and potholes. You can never see very far up this road ever it seems. It doesn’t show on maps or have gps coordinates.It’s certainly the road less traveled I have decided. I am thinking that maybe it’s not a fork in the road at all. Maybe it’s an intersection of different roads. Some I suspect are dead ends even though they are not marked. Call it intuition.They look too easy to head down with colorful billboards filled with promises. Others look too smooth and predictable. I fear I would fall asleep driving down them.See here’s the thing. They all end up in the same place. It’s all about how much time I get to travel and if I am able to keep driving. And since this is a nature themed blog where my imagination runs wild let’s also assume that I am walking.Call this a continuing introduction of sorts to my present state of mind. As for the road? I am planning on taking the one that is choked with weeds with lots of low hanging brush that may scratch me up some. It seems more interesting and calls out to the spirit energy that spins my inner compass. No fear. Things will show themselves in time. I have a story to tell now.

August 9th 2021. The day I started at the Lake Placid Olympic Center Revitalization Project working as an electrician. Nothing new to me. Just a new location filled with new people and tasks. I was there for several reasons and I have mentioned them before on this site. Aside from financial compensation I was there for another important reason. Stimulation for creation. I was going to be working and living in the Airstream in the beautiful Adirondack Mountains! But that’s not the important part of this story. The important part is the people I have gotten to know. This my story but more importantly it is their story. One I promised them last year. One that needed to wait as fate delivered new characters and new events. A story that only time and proximity to all the other workers would write all by itself. It would take the change of seasons and a job that continued to move forward to fill in the chapters of this story. Lots of listening at break time and asking people questions. No I don’t spend all day talking! There’s time in the morning before the shift and after. There’s always time to gather a little bit of people’s stories. It’s been a difficult week on the job. Today we honor and remember one of our Union brothers. He will not be forgotten by those of us who got to know him. Just who are the forgotten ones then?They are my friends, fellow tradesmen, and those who occupy our workplace. They are more than a passerby will ever know. In the fray we are united.

I can’t say for certain when I began to ponder the subject of the forgotten ones or if most people would even understand. There’s no connection to nature in this story.There’s certainly a connection to human interaction and coexistence. This story is not intended to insult non-construction personal nor unfairly target anyone. It is meant to portray a certain lifestyle choice we choose. A profession that is far too often misrepresented and stereotyped. I am the seasoned veteran at this point as are many of my peers and I know more people then I can even remember now. The forgotten ones are construction people I work with and find interesting. They all have a story! I love to hear their stories! I can’t name everyone unfortunately. But if someone reads this that works with me or knows me and wants to share then I am all ears!There’s always room for a part two!

Let’s lay a foundation of sorts now. Picture reading the newspaper or watching the news. A project of new construction or renovation is featured. The plans were drawn and bids were accepted. Things are about to take off. You might see a golden shovel and a ground breaking ceremony. Shiny new hard hats on smiling dignitaries in spotless clothing kicking off the project.But where are the workers? They aren’t there yet of course! Fast forward many months or sometimes years. A ribbon cutting ceremony with smiling dignitaries and high end project personnel. But where are the workers? Gone of course! The job was finished and “punched” out. Countless man hours were expended and all manners of tradespeople were involved in the process of completing the project. Sure we got paid for our efforts.That’s what employment is all about. But not many ever really recognize the team efforts that make up a completed project.In all fairness is it safe to say that we as construction workers know exactly what other people truly do or how they accomplish their jobs? Probably not in every insistence. By now you may have gotten the gist of the title! Yes I fear sometimes we are the forgotten ones! Maybe far too many of us American workers. Our service men and women too. We’re not looking for a holiday! We have one! It’s called Labor Day!Most importantly it’s all about joking around and keeping people engaged!I have fun talking to other workers and kept telling them that I will write a story for us!

On my present project we have a morning safety/coordination meeting that everyone attends. It’s common these days and a good idea truthfully. It turns into a golden opportunity for talking before and slightly after most days. We are a diverse group of individuals. Men mostly but there are several women as well. That’s common also now. I enjoy looking around and watching everyone.There are quite a few trades represented on our project. All levels of talent. I work on a crew of electricians that numbers around 10 most days. There’s usually someone that’s missing for whatever reason. Mainly me! Lol!We are a pretty tight bunch and our foreman Mike knows how to pair us up best. I get special treatment cause I am the odd man out being a part timer. I work with other trades people that I know by name only. I don’t know their stories and it’s only because we had some type of job interaction. We come in all sizes and shapes. Heavy,slim,tall, and short.Worn clothing and crusty old hard hats are the norm. Our hard hats are our badge of travel experience.Covered with stickers that sometimes give a snapshot into our personal lives. Steel toed work boots and safety eye protection make up the remaining wardrobe. We are all ages. From the very young fresh faced apprentices with shiny new hard hats to grizzled,gray veterans of countless projects. Plenty of teasing and bull shitting going on. You learn quickly or suffer immensely as one young apprentice did recently. He stepped away and decided our crude workplace wasn’t his true calling. We’re not cruel or hateful but we expect a lot. It’s the nature of the beast as they say. It’s not for everyone. I take the inevitable teasing all in stride and would be disappointed if I didn’t get ribbed by the other workers. I give it right back with crude adjectives sprinkled in like toppings on a salad.Language is spoken differently amongst the forgotten ones. Fortunately I have learned to alter my vocabulary off the job. Funny how that works! You never truly have time to get to know everyone and some workers are totally off reach. Cynical,dark, and possessed of negative attitudes. Best avoided and left to their internal strife. They are few in number fortunately. You never truly know what’s going on in someone’s life so it’s best not to judge harshly. We are the motley crew. Plenty of long distance driving for some. Motel rooms and nighttime bar life for others during the week. Camp ground life for some of us. The days begin quietly and end the same. In between it’s a beehive of noisy activity. My first day on a new project always give me a twinge of anxiety. It’s been like that for years despite my decent knowledge of our trade. There’s a new commute to learn. Parking issues sometimes. Not knowing anyone sometimes. I always fear that I won’t make the grade for some strange reason. I am not alone in this feeling though. Others tell me that as well. We are just migrate workers I often tell the new apprentices. When the work is gone so are we. It’s off to new places and new coworkers. That’s the juice and the addiction that has always fueled my buzz for construction work once I get settled into the job. The unknowns and the unexpected. I have made some great long term friends out on the jobs. Others turned out to be passing through but once we are separated from the job it’s not always easy to connect. That pretty much sums up some of it. My heart is heavy today as I leave to say goodbye to our friend and brother. I so wished to get to know him better and hear more of his story. He now numbers as one of my fallen coworkers that we have lost to accident, time, and health issues. They are not forgotten ones.

I find it time to lighten the subject and bring some levity as I close this post to continue my day. The levity lives in the nicknames that follow some of my coworkers. Please don’t be disappointed if I miss you this time around! I will start with Eric. Aka Fat Dog. I hope he lets me feature him on a future post. We think he’s the best! There’s another cat they call Swamp Buck Billy. What a trip that dude! There’s Big Al and my new friend Sky Dog. Aka Cowboy too!A guy they call Dougie Fresh. There’s also the Odyssey of Homer. He’s funny when he yells a the younger guys to get stuff done!There’s a guy Cody that I call Code Red. And Ryan the spaceman due to his weird helmet visor. There’s Light Pole Larry and Scotty the satellite whisperer. There’s Matt known to some as the People’s choice in small circles of competitive large weight lifters off the job. A few know me as Taz but mostly call me by my given name. I can’t even begin to acknowledge everyone. A few from years ago stick with me to this day! Road Kill and Bad Ass Bud. Buffalo Bob and Smurf. A longer haired me sported the nickname Goldilocks. There’s Dirt Belly aka Black Out. Rocket Man Ron and the Turbo Tot. Rug burn. So many forgotten ones as well. How ironic this occupational assignment of names and faces. We will leave your town a better place we feel. Not to mention a few dollars short of our hard won cash. Enjoy the ribbon cutting folks! We won’t be there for it. If fact I don’t know where I’ll be headed. Maybe to the rocky hills of Macomb to wander the farm property for a bit. It’s been hard to leave this racket for some reason. I guess it poisoned my blood a long time ago. Who’s to say and should I even bother asking at this point? It’s the people I think. It’s the stories and how we get there. It’s the finished product we craft with prideful purpose. That’s how I see it anyway.✍️

Times Like These

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Week 4.Day 3.It’s how I refer to my time here these days. I really need to cut to the chase this morning. Work in a few minutes and another busy day ahead. The totally lost words of the August 16th post titled The Return has been frustrating to say the least! I started piecing it back together but have decided to table it for now. It was a two part story anyway. If you’ve read some of my introductions then you are familiar with my attempts to write raw and honestly as I put it. Driving in this morning I realized something. It hit me with a sudden clarity. What triggered it actually was the rising daylight coming through the trees as I sped along the mostly empty highway headed towards Lake Placid. I snatch views as possible ever vigilant for the deer who love to feed on the roadside grass.They ultimately place themselves in my path. But I am trying to respect that the Adirondacks are their home and slowing down is the best way to coexist. So the trees! Solid and silent. Their branches and needles so finely detailed it was breathtakingly beautiful! There never seems to be a good place to park the car for a photo in these moments along the narrow highways of the Adirondacks. What’s this got with words on a blog post? Triggering. The title of this post was triggered. It’s a borrow on a Foo Fighters song I recently heard on satellite radio. It fits the mood and tone of my daily routine these days. There’s no internet service at my campsite so I do very little writing at night. 10 hours a day on the job site and the 1 hour plus daily commute leaves me somewhat drained I suppose. I truly do enjoy my work outdoors on the Olympic Center skating oval. It’s as raw and honest as my words. I show up clean and leave dirty. Wet sometimes after a day in the rain. After spending much of my career inside of buildings I relish the big skies overhead with the high peaks in the background. They shore me up with positivity. Always there if I needed to escape for some mountain therapy as a friend of mine calls it. There’s a lot going on in my life right now. It was my choice to be here in the first place. I came for a new experience. A story. Dollars and cents. Benefits of all sorts. It plays out like a movie script. Life is never perfect nor without challenge. How you embrace the challenge defines you I like to think. I strive to be a solid presence here. Much like the trees along the highway. I have been busy getting people’s stories. At the campsites and on the job. Many thanks to everyone who takes time to chat with me! You are all part of the MOONTABS In Motion project! I’d like to acknowledge several people from the last few weeks! Ron and Nancy.Jason and Darlene. David and Kelly. Mike and Sammi.Just to name a few. We find common ground in nature,camping,and in life. That’s the heartbeat of this project! Don’t get lost in “Taz-mania”!This story is far from over!

MOONTABS In Motion

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I love creating words and phrases! Titles especially! One of the benefits of writing a personal blog is not needing to hand my work over to a supervisor for permission to post! One of my long term goals for the blog is simplicity. I desire to keep my work honest and raw. I’ve touched on this before. I dislike editing my own entries quite honestly. I don’t really worry about criticism of my misuse of the English language and sentence structure. If I bring you something edited to the point of being artificial then I lose something in the process. This too has been mentioned. It’s that sense of living in the “now” that I try to capture and get launched in a post. Quite honestly I feel some of my best work dwells in some of my short Facebook posts as we live our day to day lives. My “A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words” posts have been well received. It’s shortened to “APIWATW” if you happen to run across it. The title of today’s post is a phrase that I recently created to describe a future lifestyle choice I hope we can embrace shortly. If you’re following our story then you know about our recent purchase of an Airstream travel coach and pickup truck. These will be taking the place of a permanent home eventually for an unknown amount of time. I haven’t worked out all the details as we get accustomed to the proposed transition. But such answers will often appear to me suddenly while driving. The phrase MOONTABS In Motion occurred to me suddenly one day while driving around wiping out a myriad of small details. There’s a hazy destination in the term that I have yet to fully understand. Call it a feeling of gut instinct. It’s connected to nature and migration. Perhaps it’s just my desire to travel and explore. The imaginative side of me believes different. As does the romantic adventurer side. If you’ve ever read my Facebook profile then you know my simple quote: The answers to all questions in nature can be found. Never to have asked them, uncertain future bound. My true spirit energy is connected to the natural world. It’s where my stories originate most of the time and always have mainly. Sometimes writing can take a turn down pensive and pragmatic pathways that I risk getting lost on myself at times. I consider this a continuing introduction. MOONTABS In Motion is going to take a little work to fine tune. It’s travel. Adventure.The mundane days of trying to get it right and still stay positive. It’s about the unexpected and the unknown that hits you right between the eyes sometimes. It’s about getting knocked down and staggering back up. It’s about giving and sharing. Taking the time to say I can wait for a minute. I need to help someone today. I still have tomorrow.Motion is the key word. As in forward. That place you always wanted to head off for but just couldn’t for some reason. I don’t expect words will capture what I hope this simple term brings to life. It will express itself in deeds. Ones that say I want to make a difference. Not just for myself but for many. I recently had a meet and greet with Patrick Bourcy. He’s the creator of the Facebook group Just Go Outside. We shared a lot that day talking for several hours. It was nice to know that others shared the same hopes that I did when I began to put my ideas in motion. If you’re not familiar with Just Go Outside I think you’ll like it’s positive energy! I may be posting there more frequently soon in a somewhat different capacity. There’s a strength in a group of positive individuals that can truly make a difference to someone who might be struggling. Most of us have struggled at some point in our lives in some capacity. Some struggle everyday. MOONTABS is where I chose to count my blessings. To honor the simple gifts of nature and what they mean to me. It’s a journey underway. Decades in the making. It’s recognizing when ordinary is extraordinary. I hope you find yourself in the journey. You have your own MOONTABS. “Memories Once Ours Never To Be Stolen”.