We approach the middle of February and last night on the long drive home from Lake Placid I had plenty of time to think. My work there is only part time now since December. That’s fine with me because I have more time to write and get caught up on some of the things I let slide. Speaking of time it’s become a frequent subject of discussion with a young coworker of mine on the project. In his late twenties his perception of it is noteworthy given my obsession with it. Despite the differences in our ages we walk common ground when discussing time and how we choose to manage it. We also shared thoughts on memories or lack there of sometimes. The realization that we can’t remember everything and certain things are lost in the haze of busy existence. I exposed him to the blog the other day. I then encouraged him to consider writing private life journals as a way of preserving his own memories. I kept hand written journals for years. (long before the creation of this blog and the very public sharing of my personal life).Just before beginning this post I did a quick review of my previously published titles and content.Time is a reoccurring subject and one I mention rather often. Some of my followers have told me they enjoy the stories of my life on the farm and roaming the forests of Macomb as a boy. For me those stories bring back many memories! I hope to continue to blend the old with the new this year as the seasons bring the different tasks and hobbies into play. A warm stretch of weather these past few days has certainly aided in turning my thoughts to the upcoming syrup season. Mid February does that to me regardless of temperature typically. I begin to consider those activities of winter that must be experienced before syrup season begins or they will need to wait till next winter. That’s a fact of time.There’s a certain energy in the sunshine now that can’t be denied or ignored. Dripping icicles and tiny rivulets of runoff that begin to flow bring a certain expectation to lovers of producing maple syrup. It’s almost that time of year again! I wrote several posts last year about sugaring if you haven’t read them. I will no doubt take a path of redundancy again this spring writing about sugaring. I suppose that I am trying to set a stage of sorts. One where the actors perform a yearly tradition. If asked what my message might be I would have to say that it’s one of the magic of seasonal transition and the power it brings to my now. Something that I have written about many times. Something real that can’t be bottled or sold. Something elemental in its simplicity and interconnected with nature as only certain experiences can be. If this seems like my same old story it’s because it is! There is a solid positive energy in traditional hobby and task. In a world of ever changing circumstances there is comfort in the approach of sugaring. Predictable to a degree yet still very variable. As I enter the forest as part of a daily routine I will find peace there despite the physical challenges the weather may bring. Or the challenges of life itself. I learned this fact of time most painfully once. The year 2007 was to be the final syrup season that I would share with my father although I didn’t know it at the start. I was busy with balancing the realities of time. A household, a young son, and my barn wood salvage business. Being able to help my father with the annual syrup season was a big part of why I wanted to be self employed in the first place. It was a time thing make no mistake of it. I temporarily left construction suddenly in March of 2006 after becoming ill with a double lung infection from breathing fire proofing all winter on an inside project. The year from March 2006 to March 2007 was a year that I will never forget! Freedom and a new lifestyle where I chased a dream of controlling time. I had done it! Taken control of time! But life is never that simple it seems. That year changed me though. So many great memories and then those I would like to forget. My father began to have some changes in health in the winter of 2007. It started with some strange accidents and memory quirks at times. But things were pretty normal for the most part. We tapped trees in mid March as was our custom but my father was not feeling all that great and went to his doctor. He underwent some tests soon after.He was fearful of dementia he told me one day while we were working together. His sudden changes in mental state were a concern. And then the fateful day. I was boiling sap in the evaporator and could see him walking towards the sugar house. He seemed bent over and I knew something wasn’t quite right. He stepped into the sugar house and we exchanged some simple banter about the quality of the syrup or subjects of that nature. He surprised me suddenly with an sudden outburst. “ I have good news! I don’t have Alzheimer’s! But I do have brain tumors. Two of them on one side of my head.They don’t know much more than that right now.” To this day I can’t remember what I said to him then. But I will never forget my sudden thoughts. I knew at that moment that we would be losing our father. Me a trusted friend. My son his grandfather. I know it sounds very negative but I was being painfully honest with myself. There were times in the coming weeks when I would be hopeful and positive. The doctors would operate and cure him we prayed. But lose him we did by the middle of June. To honor him I wrote my first ever rhyming story “For Pop”-A son’s story of life. And just like that, the aspiring writer in me began to evolve. Why do I share such a sad personal story? Because of time. It is not certain and not without circumstances. It is not guaranteed. I am forever thankful for whatever force told me to become self employed in 2006. The time that I shared with my father that year and into 2007 cannot be altered by any circumstances.It was carved out with deed not words of wishful thinking. I ultimately returned to construction for another 10 years but never again questioned my drive to manipulate time itself. As for what followed in 2009 when cancer was found in my body?Life would take on new meaning and purpose. Time would be on my side throughout that fateful journey. As in “they found my cancer in time to rid my body of it”. And in these moments of my present now I know of several who wrestle greatly with time and much more.Just how much remains for them? A stark reality for all who love them.All this may seem dark and cloudy in the face of a large storm. I apologize. It is not dark to me. It is just very real that’s all. Immortality is not a gift of natural world nor should it be considered.Acknowledging our own mortality need not be dark or foreboding . It’s rather the opposite really. It’s that chance for us to truly reflect on our choices for today and for tomorrow. How best to spend our time and are we happy with our choices. It’s about saying why not do that? Why wait? Why not take that vacation or visit that person? There’s not always a clear path in front of us. It’s not always easy to make the best choices or recognize them as the best ones. For me the answers may be found staying in motion I have decided. Chasing the seasons of nature and finding the magic hidden in each one of them. For time and love are greatly connected I feel. That’s a tough one to explain. If you took the time to read this far thank you! After all I took the time to write it for you! I promise a fun story soon! I simply ask you to reflect on time today and find the small blessings that surround you. ✍️
Tag Archives: home
The Goldilocks Story of Recent Events
We’ve all heard the old saying time flies. It certainly has for me! My writing has fallen behind in the past few weeks especially the blog. We have been busy with the maple syrup season in a crazy series of abnormal weather events. A Goldilocks spin of too warm or too cold. Some days were just right and we produced some high quality amber rich grade. Then the swing to dark robust. Full flavor and signaling the progression of season. We had hoped for one more day of jug worthy syrup but Saturday’s boil produced only commercial grade. A sweet and bitter brew with a biting aftertaste. The trees have begun to grow their buds in the sunny,warming days of spring. Frosty nights can’t bring the sweet syrup back now. Even our 50 new taps that ran clear sap couldn’t produce sweet syrup. We decided to begin filling one of our stainless steel barrels although we don’t expect to fill it. They hold 30 gallons. It’s no big deal honestly. We’ve enjoyed a more leisurely season with the goofy weather. None of the mind numbing days and nights where a type of exhaustion would prevail. It was an on again, off again sugar season. During the off days we stayed extremely busy though packing and moving from Hill House. Zane and I have lived there the past 6 years. I sold it to a family from northern Virginia recently after trying to sell it for almost two years. It was the Goldilocks story of real estate. No one wanted to buy it. It was too remote. Too rocky. Too whatever. A couple low offers but nothing I would consider accepting. Jennifer had suggested that I keep it listed on Zillow. A free site that gives you updates almost daily. There were lots of views and saves in my stats profile but other than a few random questions no one had ever stepped forward. That would change last Xmas eve however. I received a text from a man asking more questions. I didn’t take him seriously at first but he kept contacting me asking questions. We eventually spoke on the phone and had an interesting conversation that lasted a long time. About that time a fellow from Pennslyvania also texted me. It had happened. An exodus of buyers was causing an upsurge in real estate in the north country. The Xmas eve buyer requested a showing. I didn’t have a realtor so I would be showing my own property. The Pennslyvania individual also requested a showing through a local real estate agent. To make a long story short the Virginia person whom I will simply call Scott toured the property with me in January. We spent most of the day together. We shared a lunch with him that Jennifer had made in a gesture of northern hospitality. These days we treat strangers with a different attitude. The pandemic has altered our mannerisms. Scott said he wanted the property pending an inspection. I politely turned the Pennslyvania fellow away. He was not happy with me! Scott returned in February with his wife and one of his sons. The house and property were just right! The Goldilocks event had occurred. The handshake agreement of January had led to an accepted offer and we were moving to a closing. Things were moving quickly and we began to pack with an urgency that bordered on obsession.I plowed out the farm driveway as there was a lot of snow at the time. It took some time and effort. I rented a storage box that we call a convex in construction. Twenty feet in length and eight feet wide. Later a second. They’re sturdy,dry,and rodent proof. We started moving out and loading the conex boxes. All this in winter. Not an easy time to move. We dug out our cottage at Black Lake and stored things there as well. March 1st marked the beginning of the syrup season. Now we were both sugaring and moving. It became a little hectic at times with a closing deadline looming. Wow! We owned a lot of stuff! Not surprising I suppose when you enjoy several different hobbies that revolve around a four season location in the world. Spring clothes. Summer clothes. Fall and winter clothes. Footwear for every season. Books and collectibles. Zane’s belongings. You must be catching my drift if you’ve ever moved! Scott and his wife agreed to let us stay ten days past the actual closing on March 17th. A super generous gesture of new found friendship. March 27th found us moved into our small Black Lake cottage. It’s usually called Camp Edith (after my grandmother).She and my grandfather had it built in 1927. They owned a farm in the area and several other lake properties. They actually lived in the cottage at least one winter after a fire destroyed their farm house. A large wood stove heated the cottage then. They only had four small rooms and a covered screen porch. An outhouse. A hand pump from a hand dug well. It must have been cozy living and challenging at the same time! Especially with all the children! I had built on to the cottage in 1995. Added a bedroom,bathroom,and utility room. Indoor plumbing modernized the cottage to a degree. It’s pretty much stayed the same since. One room was removed and the kitchen area was expanded several years ago. Upgrades to electrical. Insulation and some new windows. So here we are in April. Moved into a fully crowded cottage I now temporarily call Camp Chaos. Every day finds us more settled. It gets chilly some nights when the pellet stove can’t keep the cold at bay. I miss the large wood stove but it had become unsafe. We carry our water from the lake for the toilet and washing dishes. We shower at my sister’s house adjacent to the cottage. Some mornings I sip coffee in front of the warm pellet stove with the lights off. I muse on the similarities of my present time to my grandparents time. Very different but connected in some ways. There’s a friendly energy in Camp Chaos that will bring Camp Edith back to full glory. It lives in my determination. To rough it for a few weeks. Rough it? We have a roof over our heads. A flush toilet. Electricity and appliances. Heat. There lies the positivity. Why do we sometimes fail to see what we have and not always wish for more?Our time at Camp Chaos may humble our neediness.Why say it’s too small or too cold?Why not say it’s just right for now? That’s how I think I will approach these days of living in the cottage. The days grow warmer and lake living will get even better. We will end the sugar season this week sometime. Move forward with the cottage transition. Move forward with adventures and travel. Move forward with the blog and my writing. We will approach life with the attitude of saying it’s just right. Try to avoid the negative. What we find lacking we can attempt to change. In the meantime it’s nice to have moved on from Hill House having found the ideal new owners. The move is towards simplicity. Another story for another day.
Home Is Where You Hang Your Hat
A March cold snap has postponed our maple syrup season momentarily so my thoughts run in a different direction today. Yesterday I wrote of the freedoms of having a blog site to basically write whatever subject matter seems pertinent at any given moment. While my blog is heavily nature themed most of the time there are other topics that invite pragmatic muses. A while back I wrote a post titled It’s About Time. I mentioned Hill House where we have lived for close to 6 years now. I have been wanting to sell it for almost 2 years but despite two different realtors efforts nothing happened. Just a couple totally ridiculous offers that I refused. On social media recently I have hinted around about being busy and making apologies for being a bit behind with my blogging. What most people don’t know is that we have been packing and moving our belongings out!We are selling Hill House and will be spending our last night here very soon. The story of how we came to be here in the first place really doesn’t need to be told. Let’s simply say that it was part of my “old life”. 2017 would be one of the most challenging years of my life. I was faced with many tough decisions. I tackled them one day at a time. I threw myself into my two large work projects and decided that they would be my last. I retired that November. It was one of the best decisions that I have ever made! The way forward wasn’t always clear but time passed. I put my son Zane’s happiness and needs at the forefront of all my plans. We bonded greatly through those days of massive change. He kept me focused and on track. I found more time for writing and nature once again. We continued living at Hill House despite the fact that it was way too large for us. I wasn’t ready to uproot Zane. I felt that he needed that sense of home and stability. We ditched Hill House in the summer of 2018 and moved to our cottage on Black Lake for a few months. We lived a carefree existence of camping and hiking in the Adirondack Mountains a few days each month. Adventure became our theme. Hill House was still home base but I think the lesson that I was presenting to Zane was beginning to take hold. We could feel at home wherever we found ourselves. In a wind swept tent on an Adirondack camp site buffeted by rain and struggling to keep dry. Emerging in the morning and laughing about our harrowing night! Or in a sketchy motel room with no locks where we barricaded the door with furniture. In the old cottage at Black Lake where we shared evenings paddling and hunting beaver sticks. Barbecuing and sharing dinner with family right next door. It was proof of the old adage “home is where the heart is”. Back at Hill House in the fall of 2018 big chances were about to come. Jennifer would enter my life in October of 2018. She’d bring joy and new meaning to our time spent at Hill House.Meals shared together and a most special memory of the Xmas we decorated a freshly cut tree together. Time spent safely tucked within its warm,safe haven as winter blanketed the north country. Home yet sometimes falling under the shadow of the old life. We’d feel moments of home in the tiny unfinished interior of our farm cabin during maple syrup season in the spring of 2019. Gathered around the wood stove for lunch before returning to work in the sugarbush. Summer 2019 more tenting and camping in the Adirondacks. Again that sense of home. Camping and traveling with Jennifer to Limekiln State Park near Old Forge, N.Y. with her nephew. Tents our home for a few. Fall 2019 the first of our Adirondack rental cabins. A week of home within a log cabin. A wonderful fireplace for basking with morning cups of coffee and chilly October evenings. Another fall at Hill House stacking in the large piles of firewood to heat it and the garage. Sometimes we’d stay at Jennifer’s house where we always felt at home after a day of adventures. Home was wherever we were together. Summer 2020 would find us calling the Adirondacks home more frequently. Tenting in the backcountry as we continued our 46 high peaks quest. Back to the log cabin rental once again at Tupper Lake. I’d leave for Pennslyvania to work for a few months and share a small apartment with my two friends. It was a home of necessity but I never cared much for living there. Dinner times when we shared a meals and conversations were the only time I felt a small sense of home. Sleepless nights missing my loved ones would become my norm as I searched the Pennslyvania countryside looking for a place for them to visit. Fate would not allow it however. I’d return home for good in October shortly after spending a most wonderful week with Jennifer,Zane, and her family at an Adirondack rental in Cranberry Lake. Once again proving that home is not one fixed destination. I spent a couple weeks in late October working on a project on Whiteface Mountain near Lake Placid,N.Y. Once again calling the Adirondacks home for a few. My motel room near Lake Placid was less than home so I moved to a small Airbnb in Saranac Lake. The moment I stepped into my new space I felt at home! Missing my loved ones but knowing they were only a short distance away. Something that was impossible to feel in the suburb city of Beaver, Pennslyvania weeks earlier.December 2020. Jennifer and I spend a few days in a cozy Adirondack Airbnb in Wilmington. That sense of temporary home again as we returned from our daily adventures. I did a quick count just now! I have used the word home 19 times give or take a few! Totally my intent! My objective was simple this morning. I hope that I have succeeded in making you think about all the places you’ve called home over the years. I mentioned just some of mine. We are about to close the door forever here at Hill House. The final door of the old life. The closing of a chapter. Zane is feeling a little sad these days at times but he’s traveled enough now to know that home can be many places for us. As for me I feel little sadness leaving here. I will miss our beautiful views of the lake. Our private location. Our good friends and neighbors who live just down from us.But home for us becomes a blank page once again and a new year of adventures await us. We’ll live at the old cottage for the moment while we decide our next destination. Home will be many places once again this year. We leave Hill House with our many MOONTABS. Home will be where we hang our hats! Always!
Not Castle!Palace!
I’ve always had a fascination with ice! That should come as no surprise as I have lived my entire life here in the Macomb/Hammond,New York area. We experience the full benefits of four seasons of change. Winter brings its share of snow and ice each year. I mentioned it recently in a post. My father remembered a time when ice was harvested for storage. He spoke of it occasionally. There would come a time each winter when the ice of ponds and lakes would reach the desired thickness to harvest. People constructed ice houses where the harvested blocks would be stacked in layers using saw dust to insulate the thermal mass. It was then used during the warmer months in ice boxes as refrigerators and electricity had not become commonplace. We as modern people do not fully appreciate all our ancestors endured as part of their daily routines. It’s a subject worthy of a blog story. Today I tell a different story. Our lives take many turns and sometimes where we find ourselves can be the cause of some serious reflection. Prior to yesterday I had nothing but some rudimentary knowledge of ice harvesting. My father had once pointed out to me a location on Beaver Creek near Dekalb where some Amish were harvesting ice. It’s not very common here in the St. Law. Valley anymore. Fast forward many years.Winter 2019. My girlfriend Jennifer took me to the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival for the first time! Very fun! A parade,food,drinking,and dancing in the local bars. A room at the renovated Hotel Saranac. “Hot Sara” to the locals in reference to some burned out neon lights on it’s roof prior to the renovation.We went cross country skiing at nearby Cascade Ski Center as well. But it was on a walk to the shores of Lake Flower that this story truly began. One that is forged by my fascination with ice! For someone who had lived so long in the north country, I had never spent much time in the Adirondacks during the winter months. A little snowmobiling years ago but that’s about it. It was Jennifer who would introduce me to a walk through an ice palace for the first time! We bundled up and strolled through the ice palace.Took photos and enjoyed the moment! We were talking to a local gentleman when I used the term “ ice castle”.He corrected me immediately! “It’s not called a castle! It’s called a palace!” I was a little taken back as it appeared that I had offended this man! Some research has uncovered that at one point it was referred to as a fortress as well as a palace. Further research has uncovered the origins of the Winter Carnival and some history of ice palace construction. An interesting story of human endeavor and love of community. It dates back to 1896. The first palace was constructed in 1898. The ice palace construction was put out to bid each year to local ice harvesting contractors.It hasn’t been constructed every year since the carnival began I also learned. There are gaps in the timeline. But it’s been a yearly fixture since around the 1950’s. During World War 1,the Great Depression,and World War 2 construction didn’t occur at all. After 1960 the project became a volunteer effort due to cost constraints.This is a point where I think the story truly becomes even more remarkable! That place where local colleges,businesses,and dedicated individuals work together for a huge undertaking!My timeline of Adirondack adventure began to spike in 2018 when Zane and I pursued our high peaks quest in earnest. How ironic I’d meet Jennifer that October. The Adirondacks are a favorite destination of hers! Things began to ramp up! Standing under the sturdy walls of the ice palace in 2019 I began to grow curious about its construction. After spending over 35 years working construction I could appreciate the work that had occurred to construct it. I told Jennifer that one day I’d love to volunteer for the build!January 2020 would find both of us missing Winter Carnival due to surgery recoveries. Then the bad news in autumn 2020 that Winter Carnival would be modified due to the pandemic. The good news was that the palace construction would occur! Volunteers were needed!While staying at a Saranac Airbnb on a work adventure, I got some great intel from the owners. I was added to the volunteer email list and waited for our possible chance to get involved. We followed the weather and progression of the formation of the ice. The construction start date was January 28th we learned. We were unable to volunteer until January 30th. We’d miss some of the build!Cutting ice was the draw for me! Twenty something years ago I had purchased an ice saw from a local junker. I didn’t even know what it’s purpose was until he told me. I just knew I had to have it! I asked him how much to purchase it. I held my breath as I waited for his reply. $30 he said. Sold! I didn’t know if I had gotten a good deal or not but my prize was worth all that to me! It’s the curse of a hoarder, junker! When a piece “speaks” to me I must try to leave with it! Often taken home and stored for some uncertain purpose. I really didn’t think I would ever wish to cut ice but it could make a nice rustic wall piece. Heavy though and super sharp!The ice saw was hanging in my garage in 2012 when the house fire engulfed it. The firemen were able to extinguish the garage fire but it was a total loss. I scoured the charred walls trying to salvage things. I found my ice saw. Black and covered with a greasy ash film. The wooden handle badly burned with an outer layer of charcoal. But still ok it appeared. I gave it a simple cleaning and stuck it in the back of one of my barns. It has set there for over 8 years. I dragged it out last week. Took it home and wire brushed it back to bare metal. Sanded the charred handle and stained it. Built a simple transport guard. Got it packed into the car. Yesterday we were there on the shores of the lake ready to volunteer at 8am. Signed in and put to work. Given some basic training by the experienced volunteers. I asked if I could bring my saw to the ice field. Yes! It became that moment that a hoarder dreams of experiencing! That moment when your prize becomes something more! Would it even work properly? Too dull or ruined by the fire? No! Once I learned the trick of handling it I made cuts until my arms grew weary. The end of the ice field became a goal to reach. The harvest is a team effort. We were invited onto the ice as part of that team. Zane didn’t find the cutting all that interesting so found his niche with the spud crew. Three people striking in unison to free the 2×4 feet blocks out into the leading edge of the open ice field. We had been warned of potential shears from cracks and told what to do if one occurred. It happened suddenly with no warning! Zane was the closest to the open water of the now large float section. A couple yells were all I heard before I realized something was up! It was over quickly! I turned to see Zane and the other two guys leaping from a freed section of sheared ice to the safety of solid surfaces. Close call! Lots of nervous laughs after! A short pause then the return to our task. But I was on alert after that! But proud of Zane! He took his spot and returned to work like nothing had happened! We finished the cutting shortly after and put away the cutting equipment. My ice saw carried from the ice with a new found reverence. In a few short hours I had learned a new skill! As a lover of rural heritage I found positivity and connection to history under the cold but sunny skies of Saranac Lake. I have a connection to our lands in Macomb that time has forged with blood,sweat, and tears. It will never break for time lived there was the beginning of all I would become. Yet an inner voice calls me to the Adirondacks. To call it home for an unknown length of time. Yesterday was more than just hard work and volunteering. It represents something much larger. I must return soon and saw the ice once again before this opportunity falls behind. I can be quoted as saying that “ a person has a finite number of syrup seasons in their life! They should never be missed!”Perhaps it’s true of ice cutting and ice palace construction. We met some truly, great people yesterday!I got an interesting story from one fellow and made a new friend! The citizens of this community radiant warmth and positive energy. I know exactly what I will do when I return. I will stand at the end of the open waters of the ice field we have cleared and face the sun. Listen to the voice that continues to speak softly but louder with each passing season. I will listen for the answers out there. The slush makers who cement the ice palace together desire a certain blend. That perfect mix of snow and water. Life can be compared to that. Spirit energy fuels dreams. Lends strength to decisions. Those moments when you step out and explore. That place where history meets the present. A destination of now. Adventure keeps us young and growing. On the drive home yesterday I told Zane that I am regressing in mental age. Traveling backwards now to a place where we will meet. It’s the boy inside the man who whispers from that inner place. Home can be many places. My heart knows that the Adirondacks will be called home. The seasons of chance are meant to embrace .