Tag Archives: Spirit Energy

The Transition

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Wow! Week 7 here in the Adirondacks of upstate N.Y. as my work adventure continues since August 9th.Tonight camped out here at Little Wolf Campground in Tupper Lake. It’s had unexpected bonuses! The sunsets here are unbelievable! I never expected that I would like it so much! I initially thought this place was too small and crowded. But in September it’s quieter I think. Pretty busy on the weekends it seems. When I return on Sunday nights the Happy Campers are still in full swing. It’s a party place for a certain group it appears. No worries here as I spend most of my weekend in the valley. No surprise that I will exit the ADK park tomorrow night after work. Always details that need my attention. It’s my time to grab Zane and spend some quality time with him. As for the transition it’s underway. Today the first day of fall ushers in a new season here and in the valley. The leaves are changing fast with each passing day. Thus the transition. Less daylight greets me on the morning commute.32 miles that I actually enjoy driving each end of the day.The sun rises through the trees and over the mountains with a weather determined predictability.It usually seals the deal for me on most mornings. It’s so very different than the flatter lands of the St. Lawrence valley. I watch for deer and truly hope to see a moose sometime. As for the job I signed on for? In the dirt and totally outside at the mercy of the weather. I love it though! The simple tasks.The big sky above. The high peaks in the distance. Close and familiar to me.I came for the experience and the location.A chance to live a few months in the Adirondacks. Money and benefits that will further the MOONTABS vision as winter settles over the northeast. My schedule taps my energy and severely impacts my writing! The stories add up and don’t get written. They occupy my mind and grind away like the contents of a cement mixer. It’s hard to focus sometimes on a certain post. But I live in the midst of an incredible transition.Autumn in the Adirondacks. My first ever. That’s what lies at the heart of the transition.Deeds.Work. A shuffle of time and energy. Miles and purpose. But most importantly nature showing her colors. It represents so very much to me this special time of year. Perhaps the primordial hunter/ gather lives in spirit energy at the heart of my enthusiasm. Mental or something much more? Something more I can safely say after my many decades of experiencing this feeling. The transition is as much a part of my identity as anything I have ever known. It’s raw and powerful. A place where words fail me. If only I could share it properly. The challenge presents itself I suppose. Autumn doesn’t happen overnight after all so why should my words? While experiencing the change I too transition. If the decades of my life are likened to seasons then perhaps I have truly arrived to my temporary destination of autumn. A time to show my colors. The connection is obvious to me if not to everyone. And there lies the aspiring writer’s challenge. To draw you into the transition. It lives in scents and sounds. The changing leaves that will fall with a timeless grace of all that will be reborn. The migration and the preparation of those who remain to face the winter. The energy is intense and urgent. But never unfulfilled or wasted. To the watchful observer it plays out with a familiar progression. The transition. Follow it.Embrace it. Find it in yourself. It’s so simple in its perfection. True happiness lives there I think. Other things can wait in the demanding burdens of a frantic society. Small blessings and simple truths multiply during this magical time of year. It is now week 7.Day 4. The final 10 hours of work on the Olympic Center Revitalization project in Lake Placid, New York. Who knows what waits to be discovered today!✍️

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The Last Day

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The simple words of my title likely mean different things to different people. Perhaps it’s the last day to get a project completed. Or the deadline for a bill or payment. The last day of school. ( something I always enjoyed!)Or maybe it’s the last work day of the week for you! Friday for many folks who have weekend plans. It could even be that last day before you head off on a vacation. There’s a certain energy that follows that last day before a vacation that only working people truly appreciate. On a more somber note maybe it’s the last day for you to take a medication. Or your last day of chemo treatment. I find myself needing to mention that today. Health is on my mind. Not mine. But that of people I know. Those hit hard by health issues. I could head down a somewhat different path than I originally intended quite honestly. It’s a rather troubling fact of life and of the end of it.I acknowledge the struggles so many face and honor your courage here on my page.This week Tuesday was a last day for me. The end of living in the Adirondacks on campgrounds since July 10th. I remained the sole occupant of our campsite. Everyone else had gone home for one reason or another.Lucky for me I still had the dogs Stella and Gracie close by to keep me company! Jennifer had left just that morning and it was very strange being the only one there. I continued packing up the miscellaneous items that were no longer needed to save time on Wednesday morning as I needed to leave the site by 10am. The day had started calm and somewhat sunny but as noon approached the sky began to darken with heavy clouds. A damp chill settled in and a message from Jennifer mentioned rain was inevitable by afternoon. Phone service is unreliable and unpredictable in this part of the Adirondack park so I was lucky it got through to me at all! I found my mood getting as dark as the slowly approaching clouds. My last day and it was going to rain yet again! I had planned on an exploratory paddle into Floodwood Pond with the dogs. My choices were before me and a decision needed to be made. I considered sitting in the Airstream and drafting a blog post. Always a decent use of time but not when I had gotten interested in an adventure first. Leaving was an option also. I thought about packing up everything and hooking onto the coach. I’d being using my time productively I figured. The unknown provided the answer to the decision in the end. The fact that I had no clue how much it was going to rain or how long even. Adirondack weather has been fickle this summer. But it was the greatest unknown that would truly set me in motion. Floodwood Pond. Zane and I had explored a tiny piece of it just a week ago on a loop paddle. Jennifer and I had explored the upper part of it months ago. The sections that were still new to me held a certain draw. Sure I had looked at a map! But not extensively. I prefer to understudy as opposed to the opposite. It keeps things more exciting for us and adds to the sense of adventure. Not studying a map had led us to Rock Pond days earlier. I was pretty sure we were headed to Floodwood Pond that afternoon as we fought our way up a narrow waterway filled with beaver dams and abundant aquatic plants choking the passage. I forced us to retreat backwards after we found no passage through eventually. We had struggled up a chilly,narrow channel after leaving a pond we knew couldn’t be Floodwood. Our voyage ceased at an ancient beaver pond with no channel leading anywhere. It was breathtakingly remote and wild. Fresh and totally absent of human activity. Quietly sitting at the base of a large ridge in a rounded swampy basin of sorts. Our second dead end that afternoon where the daylight was fading along with our strength. We fought our way back out,paddled back to camp, and later studied our map. We had paddled to Rock Pond we learned! Good for a laugh at that point as we headed to the shower house to clean up and shed our muddy, soaked clothing. Perhaps it sounds a little reckless but traveling upstream on water leaves little chance of getting lost when returning the same direction as you come in. So maps are optional many times. Tuesday afternoon would find me enthralled with the prospect of the unknown. I quickly packed some drinks, a spare sweatshirt, fire making devices, and stuffed everything into a waterproof dry sack. I tossed in a small handsaw as well. It began to seriously rain as I prepared to launch the canoe. No thunder or lightning so I loaded the dogs and we left the campsite behind us. The rain intensified and we passed two kayakers returning to their campsites. The pond was quiet with most campsites devoid of human activity. Their boats and kayaks beached securely as they hunkered down in tents and campers. Some had their fires burning near tarp shelters and the smoke hung just above the trees. A faint,foggy mist hovered on the surface of the pond as large rain drops sent out thousands of tiny ripples. I felt warm and cozy inside my raincoat! Strong and confident. Ready for the probe into new waters. The temperature had dropped some but I gauged it well within safety margins. I knew better than to underestimate an Adirondack July but felt that I was well equipped. I ran the small outlet that leads from Rollins Pond into Floodwood Pond as it was running high from all the recent rain. Much easier than the canoe carry and faster! Not to mention fun! The dogs hunkered down oblivious to the steadily pouring rain. As I reached the main body of Floodwood Pond I began to feel a slight discomfort as my rain jacket began to soak through finally. A mixture of sweat and water running off my hair. I had thrown my hood back for better visibility some time earlier. There was smoke rising from several primitive campsites on Floodwood Pond and the scents reached me out on the water. The sweet, pitchy smell of burning evergreen mixed with the more pungent smell of damp hardwoods. The distinctive scent of burning birch suddenly made me think of the warmth next to those fires! There are several privately owned camps along the shores of the pond and one had woodsmoke billowing from a chimney. The occupants dry and comfortable inside no doubt waiting for the weather to break. The rain fell steady and the temperature continued to drop. My discomfort grew somewhat but I pressed on into sections of the pond that were new to me. I overtook a couple of older gentleman fishing from a canoe. Clad in full rain suits and as determined as me to salvage their day.We exchanged greetings and laughed about the weather. I found an inlet dumping into the pond and headed up to explore. Beaver dams forced me to get out and drag the canoe forward. Gracie jumped out of the canoe and waded along with me. She was forced to swim in the deeper sections. Stella stayed calm never once jumping out. The inlet narrowed dramatically and I decided to turn back since I was soaked. It was really starting to cool down. I donned my dry sweatshirt and put my soggy rain jacket back on over it. Definitely time to return I decided as the Icewalker’s Motto echoed in my chilly head: the distance traveled in must be traveled out. My own words that I never forget. Summer is a much safer time of year to explore but it’s still best not to ignore a chilled body! We quickly paddled back to the outlet creek of Rollins Pond but first I stopped to gather some resin wood from an old stump. It would be handy later for my evening fire. We skipped the canoe carry again and I pushed the canoe up the creek against the current in the still pouring rain. I gathered a few awesome beaver sticks that had washed up on the sandy banks from a high water event. We found Rollins Pond empty of any watercraft. The dogs and I had become the only paddlers. Now very wet and chilled yet happy in the moment. We reached our beach and took shelter immediately after I unloaded the firewood. I was quite cold by this time so I ditched my wet clothing and turned on the furnace in the Airstream. The heat was wonderful! The rain slowed some and with dry clothing in place I kindled the fire with the aid of some dry birch bark. The somewhat wet resin wood did the trick and my fire surged with fragrant abundance. I had made the most of my last day! Not the most comfortable but certainly fun in its challenge! The rain returned eventually and forced me inside where I prepared a warm meal as the rain pounded the metal rooftop of the coach. A staticky radio played some old eighties music and I reflected on my time living in the Adirondacks this summer. I remembered the many trips when we had no camper. Our time in the Canadian bush cabins next to a wood stove. We lived with savage intent. Tarps and leaky tents at times. Emerging to face cold and uncomfortable days. We made it happen and left with a greater appreciation of nature in the end. So many stories and memories! MOONTABS!The older me loves the comforts of the camper. But the future will find me far from it. Wet and cold. Embracing the hardship for all it has ever meant and all it still can mean.For adventure is addictive and intoxicating in ways not everyone can understand. I hope it never leaves me. This powerful draw of the unknown destination and the need to challenge myself. I have a willing partner in Zane! Jennifer in a similar capacity. It won’t be easy or always cozy. That’s ok. The inner core burns as hot as resin wood. Bright and fragrant in the realms of the five senses where the sixth sense waits to surround us with invisible spirit energy. To that we run. In nature we live our finest days and become our truest selves. It is the unfinished work of a lifetime this endless wander of discovery.

The Subtle Art Of Camp Life

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July presses forward with somewhat unseasonal weather here in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. The rains have dominated the forecast and pound the area with incessant,unrelenting frequency. Our soggy debut camping trip of six days at the end of June left us more experienced with boondocking in the Airstream but found us regrouping with a more weather focused preparation. We purchased additional tarps and light tethering ropes. We retired the screen house in favor of a larger steel framed garage sale tent. We only had six days before leaving our staging area in Jennifer’s yard and heading back up to the Adirondacks for our next trip. The forecast was anything but promising but we decided that canceling was not an option. Jennifer had toiled hard to secure the dates through a cancellation website. Giving up wasn’t an option for us at any rate. We headed out on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The truck fully loaded with gear, a kayak, and canoe pulling the Airstream. Jennifer’s car also fully loaded with gear. Sporting a canoe on top and two dogs in the back. We were a party of four. Jennifer,Zane,Garrett (Jennifer’s nephew), and myself.The dogs Stella and Greaser. Coolers,drinks, and all sorts of dry goods. A fully loaded refrigerator and freezer in the coach. The cupboards and drawers packed in advance. Jennifer is a fabulous planner and organizer. She’s set up the travel coach for efficiency and order.It remained up to us to learn the locations of the different things we’d need as the days unfolded. Our camping locations are state parks without full hook ups so there’s a little extra planning on my end of things. We need the generator and extra gas for it. I use a plastic siphon to gas up my generator. It’s clean and efficient.Better than a funnel I feel.We checked in at our campground then headed to our site after a quick stop to fill the 40 gallon water tank of our coach. I prefer to travel with minimal fresh water on board. At 7 pounds plus per gallon it adds a lot of weight to the trailer.Next came my least favorite part! Backing the trailer into the campsite! We like camping in forested parks so the abundance of trees makes for tricky parking at times. It’s a group effort with spotters on both sides. It’s always a relief once I get it close! We then work together to get it level side to side and front to back. We employ a variety of plastic ramp pieces and pieces of lumber. It gets easier with experience! Front to back is never a problem with the electric tongue jack doing all the work! We begin to work separately after that as I finish the final coach setup. The camp takes shape fairly quickly once the large tent site is chosen. It takes a couple hours of brisk activity to get everything in order in a manner that flows. The boys settle into their space after blowing up air mattresses and rolling out sleeping bags. Our bedroom area is set up permanently at this point so that saves us time! The cooking/dining tent is a vital part of our camp. It cuts down on traffic in and out of the coach. We also have learned to set up an outdoor dishwashing station behind the coach. I mentioned much of this in a recent post but there’s a direction of thought here that begs reflection. It’s that point early in the trip where you settle into a sort of informal daily routine. We spend most of the day outside if the weather is favorable. Cooking and dining both. Evenings find us close to the campfire talking about the adventures of the day. We don’t always do everything as a group. It just depends on the activities that are chosen for any given day. I suppose it’s the use of my time each day that takes me into a pensive forest of thought. I very quickly adapt into a life of late evenings and late mornings. I find myself sleeping in longer. Eight hours in bed sometimes. Very different than the four to five hours of sleeping each night during my working years. I find myself feeling as if I am wasting time or missing out.Perhaps I am still too driven to truly relax. After all time can be a nemesis for me as you may know if you follow my stories. I’m trying to overcome these strange thoughts but it’s going to take some time it appears. A typical morning has certain tasks that must be performed. Perked coffee the first order of business. Much more time consuming than a Keurig but very tasty! Generators can’t be started prior to 9am. The boys sleep late so breakfast becomes a daily brunch. Today we didn’t eat until almost noon! The morning walk to the toilet and drive to the shower house. Our daily activities begin after 1pm many days. Rarely before 11am. Sometimes brunch is early with no cooking at all. Today is day thirteen here for me. We were supposed to go home after six days but Jennifer picked up some cancellations that tied two separate trips together. We actually moved to an adjacent site for one night last Friday. Talk about tear down and set up! We didn’t need to set up the tents at least! Then the kicker! The site we vacated remained empty that night! The whole reservation system is a mess in my opinion! Reserve America? How about we focus on New York State? But that takes us down the dark trail of negativity so let’s get back on track! When I stop and take a solid inventory of my days here where exactly did my time get spent? Most definitely on camp chores. The constant rain events keep us scrambling to dry towels and gear. We had a couple of somewhat destructive rain and wind events. The one two nights ago nearly destroyed our cooking tent.It hit suddenly and fiercely with little warning. It had been a rather lovely day. Warm and humid with a mix of sun and clouds. Zane and I had spent several hours paddling what’s known as the Floodwood Loop. Very fun with two short canoe carries. We had just gone to the shower house to clean up when the storm hit. Jennifer and Garrett rescued the tent and a bunch of our gear. We returned to help salvage the cooking tent and reset it. The boys sleeping tent and large tarp above weathered the storm like nothing happened! Regardless those types of storm events keep us busy! Zane and I have spent quite a bit of time paddling and hiking during the time he’s been here. It’s been in and out some for my three companions here with the endless details back home that can’t be avoided. I’ve pretty much put life back in the valley on hold these last thirteen days. One thing that takes time here is getting to town to get decent cell phone and internet service. We basically need to drive into Tupper Lake to do that most days. We double down picking up necessities like milk and ice. Firewood if we run low. It gives us a little diversity at times. Zane and I often need to drive to reach our hiking trailheads so we do our business on the way. Our most recent hike was up Catamount Mountain. It turned into quite the ordeal when we got separated from the dog on a tough rock scramble! It pretty much finished our day by the time we bushwhacked our way back out after losing the trail while retrieving Gracie. We learned a valuable lesson of teamwork and the importance of not getting separated! We didn’t return until after 7pm and a thunderstorm drove us into the coach. It was one of those nights where we were glad to have it’s kitchen and sleeping amenities! I think it may take some post camp life living to truly reflect on our time spent here. The days run together here and time passes much too fast. I need to run home for a few days before returning for the last three days of our reservation on this site.Today a north born wind chills me when the sun hides behind a cloud for a moment. The clothesline sways and our items finally dry! All is well and the afternoon awaits our decision of how best to spent the remainder of our day. Evening will require the second meal of the day to be crafted. Dishes and the purring generator recharging the batteries. A carefully laid fire if the rains don’t return. Camp life as I have never known it continues for the moment. How best to describe it and honor those moments remains the writer’s challenge. For the hours become rambling and difficult to follow at times in their silent passage. I don’t watch the clock here. I watch the sky and track the movement of the sun if we’re lucky enough to view it. Life flows with the daylight and the darkness. And if I sleep long and deep perhaps I need it. Leaving the race has been a challenge. Not to worry. I always seem to find my way back onto the track for a time. The home on wheels can’t stay here forever nor can we. The energy lives in the forward motion. This life that has become MOONTABS In Motion.Places of outdoor beauty where loons cry and waves gently lap on sandy shores. I try to find my balance here as these summer days tick past. I pull out my map and gaze upon the many unknown waterways that wait for us to explore them. And fondly remember those we know now. The dashes of untraveled trails on a map call with an urgency at times. Perhaps the drive represents more than I can understand at this moment in time. I must enter the now and count my small blessings. To question is to learn new answers. To follow the heart brings passion and love into the light. It is enough this simple existence.The spirit energy will fuel the journey.The stories will follow.

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”.

Time and Task

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People who know I write often ask me why I still haven’t published my first book. That’s an easy one to answer! Taz-mania! I have felt that other plans for the MOONTABS evolution needed to come first. In fact if it hadn’t been for my administrator Gerry Washburn’s nudging you wouldn’t even be reading this! I mentioned creating a blog and he made it happen rather quickly! The “homework” assignments that he gave me several months ago are still incomplete in fact! I’d better get them on a list. There’s an interesting story in my struggle to balance time and task. Rather life long when I truly begin to ponder it. There’s also my own personal bewilderment as too how I managed time during my many years of working. The questions begin to add up with sometimes frightening self conjured speculation!Is the older,retired me slowing down? What if I do? Is that a bad thing? Have I lost my ability to manage time properly? Where exactly am I spending my time each day? I don’t think there’s a simple answer for any of those questions! The best example might be comparing myself to a hydroelectric facility.It’s not as crazy as it sounds! Let me try to explain! When thoughts of time and task begin to back up in my mental reservoir it’s time to clear the grating that covers the entrance to the penstock of a dam. That dam is holding back thousands (millions?)of gallons of water. (I read that the average person has about 70 thousand thoughts per day!) There’s a lot of potential energy stored there right? Getting that potential energy into the penstock and down to the turbines is the key to generating electricity.That’s the goal of hydroelectric production. Budgeting time can be compared to that.If the penstock doesn’t have flowing water the turbines don’t spin. No electricity gets produced. The water just gets released over the dam’s overflow wall.Thinking of it as being wasted is negative.Time is our water. Our strength and energy are connected to time. How we choose to use it is the key to exactly what we’re capable of producing. Our time can get diverted sometimes before it even reaches the dam. That’s a little more complicated then I am willing to try and explain right now. Let’s throw this into your reservoir instead. Ask yourself this simple question: Do you ever question the passage of time? Have you ever? Sometimes we can only see that “time is money”. We’ve all heard that. When I refer to generating my electricity it doesn’t represent money. Balance is the best word.That place where you give of your time and energy yet find time for yourself. It’s going to take some deeds and positive action to fully bring this subject into the light of comprehension.If you’re swimming frantically right about now trying not to drown in the murky waters of Lake Taz-mania don’t panic! This post is merely a shallow dive. The waters quite warm actually.We’re going to attempt to make this journey fun! Learn something along the way. Get other peoples perspective and hear their stories. On the shore of the reservoir you may see yourself in a reflection on the surface. An early blog post of mine was titled “It’s About Time”.As short and sweet as they come. When I wrote it many things hadn’t happened yet but now they have come and gone. Situations and circumstances have changed quickly. Decisions have been made and followed through with little or no hesitation. Other decisions have taken hours of deliberation. People I know are facing new and difficult moments on their rivers of life. These are dark days for some and I must ask myself tough questions at times. Can my electricity light my way forward? Can it comfort or help others?Can the spinning turbines of Taz energy make a difference? How will I react to the low waters that arrive if there’s a drought? There are no easy answers. But this day of summer awaits me with plentiful daylight. We have a plan of how we’re going to spend our time today. It’s that “power of the now” I embrace these days for its simplicity of action. I started out to write of my latest plan for MOONTABS.It’s called MOONTABS In Motion. The fork in the road has been passed now. We punched the gas and went straight ahead into the unknown. There’s no turning back from some of these decisions. From simple origins we are building a small platform for a rocket launch of hope and dreams. Imagination is the fuel. The short story “Escape Velocity” continues to be written. MOONTABS is more than me now. I suppose it never was truly mine anyway. I’m simply the generator of words. They have become my work and I pass my time penning them. ✍️

What’s Over The Next Hill?

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The simple words of a title can’t always capture the passion that inspires a story or even come close. Several weeks ago my short and sweet post titled Glamping would break the ice and provide a tiny background into my love of camping. In my desire to seize the moment and hurl myself into the realms of nature all else can fade somewhat. The words must wait as I chase the daylight across the sky. For there is intense energy in the poetry of motion and the magic that waits for us in the great outdoors. It’s as much a part of me as anything. As for the title of this post the words are borrowed. They will forever belong to a man named Wally Byam. I borrow them with respect for they truly resonate within my inner spirit. Who was Wally Byam? He was the creative energy,passion,and founder of the Airstream Company. You’ve no doubt see their signature travel trailers as you journey the highways of North America. Their metal hulls instantly recognizable and truly unique.Why my sudden interest and connection to Airstream? The story is much deeper than even I realized until today. It wasn’t until I visited the Airstream home page and read the story of Wally Byam that I could truly appreciate my connection to his words. Wally’s Creed. Powerful and meaningful to me.It sends a shiver up my spine and adds fuel to a fire that has always burned. As for the video Airstream created it’s remarkable! Check it out! The camera footage of vintage tow vehicles and travel trailers alone makes it worth watching! Why the sudden interest in the Airstream story and Wally Byam? I will need to back up for that one for a few paragraphs. Traveling was not a big part of my childhood or adolescent years. We never owned a travel trailer or even camped.I was the lover of camping! The thousands of acres surrounding us provided ample space for me to explore. Books and magazines connected me to far off destinations. Historically speaking, I have always secretly regretted not being born in the 1800s. Tales of explorers and fur trappers out on those wide expanses of America would trigger my imagination. Western novels of the old west as well. Ranches and cattle drives. Alaska and the frontiers of fortune. Our mom loved to travel but it was hard to get our Dad to vacation so our Aunt Betty Washburn traveled with us! We toured parts of upstate New York and the New England states as far up as Maine. Great memories that time turns hazy as years pass and the decades run together. After our Mom died our father eventually decided that we needed a family vacation around 1978. We left in a giant Ford Mercury. A boat of a car! Two weeks on the road would take us to Arizona and back. The Grand Canyon,the Painted Desert, and the Petrified Forest baked into my memory in the dry,arid lands so very different than home. I loved the experience although towards the end I was rather burned out by the daily long distance itinerary. Miles and miles of travel. Motel rooms and sometimes sketchy restaurants that challenged the digestive tract!But I’ve always treasured that road vacation as it was the only one we ever did together. Our Father’s job,the farm, and my sister’s entrance into college were all factors in lives dictated by time. By work and schedule. Overall the trip broadened my horizons considerably. On the roads we passed the Airstream trailers. “Sardine Cans” our father called them!Fast forward many years. 2012. The Alaska road trip towing a used travel trailer with a new Ford 3.5L Ecoboost power plant. I’d never lost my imagination or desire to travel and with the approach of my birthday it was time. Age 50 was one I’d be taking seriously. Time and travel had been grabbed in small pieces until that 5 week road trip.The trailer was sold in Alaska and never replaced in the frantic years that followed. But retirement in November 2017 changed the game. Zane and I threw ourselves in camping and hiking in the Adirondacks. I met Jennifer.A woman who’s love of travel equals if not surpasses my own. We’ve discussed traveling many times. We’ve experienced some fabulous family vacationing in the Adirondacks and once in California together. The drive to branch out and head off to new places has intensified since the events of 2020 forced restrictions that halted long distance travel.This year we began to seriously consider purchasing a travel trailer or Rv after I sold my home of 6 years. Hours upon hours of research. Endless reviews complete with purchaser horror stories. Indecision began to steal the fun from the moment. Buy new or used? Which brand? Certain ones were impossible to locate and would require waiting almost a year if one was ordered! We found a decent used one that we decided would work this year. We’d order our new one and have it in the spring in time for summer travel. But the deal feel through suddenly and without warning much to my dismay. I began to search once again. I looked at a few new ones here in the St. Law. Co. area but nothing felt right. No offense but there are some rather disposable travel trailers out there. I recently read that the average life of some travel trailers is a mere 15 years! Yikes! Not a good investment considering the cost. I wasn’t thrilled with any of the used travel trailers we located near us. It was a very disappointing moment for me! But the energy of the universe works in mysterious ways. I suddenly began considering an Airstream for the first time. Call it that gut feeling we sometimes get. I previously had felt that an Airstream was beyond our reach as a sensible investment but as I researched every aspect of them I decided that we should try and find one! There were several key factors that factored into that long term investment of features, and quality.Finding one proved somewhat difficult however. But I was not easily deterred once I decided that an Airstream was the perfect fit for my long term vision of MOONTABS. My search led me to Colton Rv in Orchard Park, New York just outside of Buffalo. They had 4 used Airstreams for sale so I made the 4 hour plus trip down on a Tuesday morning just planning to look. I had never stepped into an Airstream despite my researched familiarity with their floor plans and accessories. I ended up buying one! The experience deserves a more detailed post. There’s an energy that lead me there having never read Wally Byam’s words until today. I need to ponder it and try to get the story right! The dream of MOONTABS can be found in the life of Wally Byam and what his company has represented since 1931. Honestly, I still haven’t totally gotten used to the fact that we now own an Airstream and it’s parked in Jennifer’s yard being prepped for a trip! The time spent researching a travel coach purchase is behind us. The open road is there ahead of us! We’re proud of our decision and all it represents for the MOONTABS dream!Watch for an upcoming post showcasing the life of Airstream founder Wally Byam,Colton Rv, and the Airstream family of travel coach’s! It’s inspiring to say the least! As for my connection to Wally Byam? My word’s as a young boy quoted back to me by our father eerily and similarly echoed in a quote of his. They were penned by me in November of 2017. My story is called “The Other Side of the Hill”. I leave you with Wally’s quote: “Keep your eyes on the stars,and the stars in your eyes…see if you can find out what’s over the next hill, and the next one after that.” (Does that give you a shiver or pause to reflect?)I feel I made the right choice without even knowing why. Spirit energy? Or simple coincidence? I chose the energy every time now. It’s going to be a wild ride my friends!✍️

Gone Central:Part I

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The weather Friday night at Camp Chaos was rather frightening at times! The wind shifted and driving rain pounded the cottage from the north for hours as the pellet stove rumbled it’s heat producing rhythm with a comfortable backdrop. I had a sudden realization about my dependency on its mechanical continuation and constant hunger for the pellets I load into the hopper once or twice a day. It numbers as one of my pieces of “tired iron” that I coax along with a practiced gentle hand. It’s fickle controls would madden the less inured perhaps but I never expected to need it daily as the first of May waits for me to turn the page of my kitchen calendar. Lake living has been interesting as the chilly weeks of April continued to slip past with the new routine dictated by the move from Hill House. Summer will come! We’ll add our memories of this unusual spring to our collection of MOONTABS and revel in the deeds of our ever changing now. It follows the motto we followed on our quest for the Adirondack 46 high peaks. “Never settle for the path of least resistance”. Zane likes lake living and the rough charms of its rustic interior. We have everything we need really and what we lack we tolerate with a stubborn mountain man mentality. My goals remain simple here but progress seems painfully slow at times. Camp Chaos will return to being Camp Edith at some point before summer. It’s easy to blame the weather for our moods and dips in positive energy. Quite honestly I know the blame is mine to own if I use the weather as an excuse to procrastinate and delay certain tasks. My lack of drive can simmer in my consciousness like a forgotten pan on the stove. Eventually it will boil over if left unattended and unstirred. The weather Friday was not conducive to outdoor task so I spent my time researching writing projects and tossing blog subjects around like a platter of chopped up soup ingredients that never actually ended up in the crock pot. They become a byproduct of potential creativity and are packaged for another time. Hopefully not frozen and forgotten in the back corner of the freezer. Unfortunately I fear some will never see the table in this ever changing now of circumstances. A late call from Jennifer Friday saying that it was snowing and accumulating quickly brought me to a startling conclusion about our as yet to be determined outing for the weekend. I slept fitfully as the rain/snow mix beat it’s drumbeat on the camp roof. Dawn arrived frigid but somewhat sunny and my determination to salvage the day was decided with some strong coffee laced with dark, robust maple syrup. Jennifer and I still had no definitive plans but I packed an overnight bag just to be prepared for what my mind was percolating into a potential adventure brew. I arrived at Jennifer’s to snow covered steps and lawn. She was dressed,waiting, and ready for suggestions for the day. I had a sudden impulse and recommended something we had discussed recently thinking that the warmer days of spring would find us. I suggested we take our chances on the road and head to the Old Forge area on a reconnoiter. I also suggested that we spend the night despite the chance of rain or any weather that we might encounter. She agreed immediately and without question headed off to pack while I played in the snow with the dogs. I quickly searched for an overnight accommodations and found most were unavailable.I sent out a request to book a hastily chosen cabin and we were off on our adventure! It was sunny and cool but I felt an inner warmth from our spontaneous decision. Warmed by the fact that we were off on a new adventure together. Modern technology has its moments and a chiming email rang in saying our booking was declined. Jennifer tackled this new dilemma and quickly found us another location. A booking request was quickly sent with no delay as I continued driving East towards the blue line of the Adirondacks. It’s strange to ponder our new age progression into cyberspace where you never actually speak to someone or actually pay them in person. It all occurs with tapping fingers and a super efficient exchange of codes and currency sent silently with practiced ease.We continued our journey and the booking confirmation arrived with a familiar comforting tone. We relaxed into the drive and offered thoughts on our potential outing once we arrived at our destination. Traffic was light as we entered the Adirondacks headed towards Sevey’s Corners on Route 56 and we enjoyed the scenery around us. I can’t say that this winding road is one of my favorites but I know it’s features well and enter the turns with confidence ever watchful for wild game. Turkeys are the biggest daytime threat typically but the occasional whitetail deer will surprise you at times. We traveled quickly and the towns of Piercefield and Tupper Lake fell behind us. We stopped for a small shopping spree at Hoss’s General Store in Long Lake. It’s an Adirondack browser’s mainstay of books,clothing , and gadgets. Refrigerator magnets in the candle section where balsam permeates the air and triggers the desire to hike in freshly snow soaked forests. We decided that we couldn’t leave the Long Lake area without a trip to Buttermilk Falls. We were not disappointed and it had warmed up nicely as we explored and took pictures. We found sunny spots and easily avoided the other spectators as we walked together. I began to truly enter that magical place of peace and blissful oblivion that the Adirondacks bring to me in the awakening of the five senses. The mysterious sixth sense followed as I took Jennifer’s hand and saw her smiling face light up. Her eyes alive with happiness and her laughter blending with the roaring water. She is truly the ADK Girl in this moment and I am happy with our decisions that led us to this place of powerful moving water. The cost of this moment had been almost free yet priceless in its gifts. These are the moments that dwell in so many of my words and deeds as we live out our daily existence. I chase them with Jennifer every chance I get. Zane as well but he doesn’t always get the chance to join us. They are the MOONTABS of our time together and forever ours to hold within our hearts. A bright star in the heavens to view with hopeful eyes when darkness overtakes us and guide us forward with positive energy. One that lifts the burdens of grief, challenge, and adversity. I moved closer to the rushing water and a gentle spray washed my heavy thoughts away. We left secure in the now and bonded in silent security. We share much but we respect the other’s silence of what was thrown into a set of falls each time we find ourselves next to them. We don’t always know exactly what troubles a person next to us at any given moment (if anything)but we can always offer a strong hand to grab if they need it. Or take their offered hand .We resumed our travels and soon reaching the Eighth Lake State Campgrounds. It was on our reconnoiter list in the central Adirondack region. We drove through the grounds and walked some as well. It’s a destination new to me and a possible summer camping location. The sun remained warm and inviting but the day was passing so we traveled onward to Old Forge to check into our Airbnb rental and stow our gear. Jennifer and I are similar in our mutual desire to familiarize ourselves with our accommodations well before dark if possible. It serves us well and we will usually discuss possible dinner options. It’s a planning thing and Jennifer is the mistress of preparations!No arguments need ensue there.We secured our bedtime destination and found ourselves with ample daylight remaining so we drove East from Old Forge towards Inlet to scout the Limekiln State Campgrounds. We had spent a wonderful series of camping days there in July 2019 and were hoping to book a site there this summer. I could write an entire blog post on the NYS campsite booking procedure as it has existed since last year but will simply say that’s it’s somewhat flawed at the moment. Limekiln is a lovely lake for paddling and exploring. They provide large metal “ bear boxes” for storing food and supplies at your campsite. Our day would wind down touring the campsite and taking notes. We are rather particular campers as we bring watercraft and like to launch from our campsite rather than engage in the continuous daily transport of them.We were disappointed to find the Screamen Eagle Pizzeria was closed in the hamlet of Inlet but got a good meal at Tony Harper’s in Old Forge. It’s a busy place on a Saturday night! You order your drinks and food at the bar,pay, and are given a number to place on your table. A server brings your meal and attends to you after that. It works and the food was good but it was rather loud. Prior to his death in 1972 Tony Harper rented camps in Racquette Lake and had a home in a roadside building. A family who had rented from Tony purchased the property and started a small pizza/sub business around 1973 in Tony’s home. ( they called his home a shack with humerous respect I am guessing). They named the business in his honor and have since expanded to Old Forge and Lowville, N.Y. Why do I add this information.? The menu shows a picture of an older gentleman dressed in Adirondack fashion but offered no explanation so I had to research Tony to satisfy my own curiosity. Perhaps I can gather more information and facts at a later date. Jennifer and I concluded our day of adventures with a drive to find Nicks Lake State Campround just as darkness overtook the hamlet. There was no time for exploring but in typical fashion for the “Paddling Pair” (as we sometimes call ourselves) we had secured the location for Sunday’s adventure. We returned to our cozy room and spent the remainder of the evening reading our new books and studying maps. It had been a wonderful day and we had been successful in our escape from the energy draining snowfall of the night before. We were well fed,warm, and safely in for the night. Together and making MOONTABS. I must leave you here in the living room! The coffee is ready to brew for my morning ritual but I forgot my maple syrup! You won’t wish to hear me snore the night away. I sincerely hope you are not snoring right now trying to follow the story but if you did I suppose my words can serve multiple purposes. I write them for you. I write them for me. I write them for all of us. I dedicate this post to all who wander and seek to explore the unknown with a tenacious passion born of the struggles of life.Our destinies await in the haze of future days that will often begin quite ordinary. It is in the days of ordinary that the extraordinary may be found. In nature I am free and lost to an energy that words will never describe. MOONTABS are more than just memories. They are my spirit energy full of hope,dreams, and love for chasing the path of the sun with reckless abandon.There are no finer moments or finer blessings for those who seek to be lost outside. I leave you with my personal quote: The answers to all questions, in nature can be found. Never to have asked them, uncertain future bound.

Not Castle!Palace!

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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 .

The Sum of All Totals

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Winter weather still continues to drag its feet so yesterday we decided to take advantage of the lack of snow and grab a mini adventure. I asked Zane if he was interested in exploring the Eastern side of the Beaver Creek gorge near our farm.It’s 3664 acres of state land provide some rugged terrain to explore. There’s little of that acreage that I haven’t explored in the last 4 decades at some point. It’s always been a wonderful place to observe nature. A mix of forest,bare rock outcroppings,and extensive wetlands. Numerous beaver ponds along the actual creek channel and along the small watersheds that feed it. There’s large ledges and deep valleys to cross. It’s difficult to cross the main creek if not impossible in the months other than winter. Occasionally there’s a beaver dam that spans the gorge but those are usually not readily available. We typically explore the Eastern side when “ice walking” becomes available. It’s about timing unless we decide on a snowshoe trek. That’s rarely been the case in recent years. I gauge the weather conditions and make a spontaneous decision to hike it on foot when snow doesn’t hinder our distance.Yesterday I wasn’t sure the main creek had adequate ice thickness to safely hike the wetlands so we took an overland route that kept us on solid ground. We soon found ourselves fighting thick patches of invasive wild honeysuckle. Mixed with “whip brush” and the riddled stands of Scotch pine the state planted over 50 years ago. The Scotch pine never did well as the rocky ridges and fallen rock piles supported numerous porcupines.They developed a fondness for the planted groves and girdled them until they wiped out most of the transplants. The few surviving pines have an alien appearance. Short and stunted they bear the scars left by the porcupines who still continue to further their demise.I mentioned to Zane that it’s too bad they don’t relish the invasives!That sure would make things better for those fighting their way through the brush. Ultimately the brush would prompt us to take to the ice and marshy sections in the lower sections below the ridges where beaver had altered the landscape.The ice is still tricky and it takes some maneuvering to dodge the thin spots.These beaver ponds didn’t exist when I was a boy but the beaver populations have continued to expand since then. They found their way into every trickle and created some new sections of wetland. It’s a cycle that rotates. They move in and create a pond sometimes making it larger each year. Eventually they diminish the availability of feed and move to a new location.The dams eventually rot in disrepair and the water drops. The open area of the pond ( known as a beaver meadow) begins to revert back to a forest or grassland. We crossed a number of active and dead beaver ponds. It was much better walking on the sections of creek and pond ice. Lesson number two of the day for Zane!Lesson one was deciding whether the ice would support us at all. It’s a decision an “ice walker” must weigh heavily or risk a soaking.We managed to stay dry and eventually would be able to get up into some older open growth forest where walking was better. Our destination was an area well known to me since a boy. The Black Ash Swamp.We hit a beaver pond above it first. Also well known to me,I was pleased to notice that it was occupied. The ice was well formed so I suggested to Zane we wear our micro spikes as I intended to keep us on the ice as long as possible. The pond we crossed joined the upper end of our destination just beyond a small overflow. There it was! The Black Ash Swamp.It’s an area that has seen a huge transformation since I was a boy.It’s former brush and the trees that bore its name gone now. Only a few small stumps protrude through the ice. It reassembles a small,shallow lake these days. A product of the beaver and their work of decades.They had first moved into the swamp in the seventies and began flooding the forest.The higher water eventually killed even the moisture resistant black ash trees.The beaver no doubt cut many of them also for their tasty bark.For many years the dead trees stood like skeletons.Gray and bark shed I had walked the ice between them witnessing the transition over a period of years. Rot and wind have broken them down now. I stood on the edge of the former swamp forest and let the memories travel over those years. My father had brought me here when a large stand of hemlocks graced the the higher ground above the swamp. There was a light layer of powder snow that cold,cloudy winter day. We’d come to the swamp for a reason that day!To run our beagle/basset hounds on snowshoe rabbit. The cottontail rabbits of our pasture land had a habit of diving into woodchuck holes and cutting the dogs short of a worthy pursuit. Not so with the large, bounding snowshoe rabbit! They stay afield and easily avoid the much slower hounds. The dogs Snoopy and Hushpuppy jumped a snowshoe in the edge of the swamp that day and gave chase with excited bellows! They sped off after their quarry and would soon get some distance from us. I was the eager boy who wished to run after them! “Stop”We’ll sit here in the hemlocks” my father would quietly say. “But the dogs are getting away!” I replied. “Sit still and wait!Watch closely and you will learn something of the snowshoe rabbit” my father replied.It was cold and I had no wish to sit but did as I was instructed. Glad to have my warm wool pants and wool mittens inside my leather choppers mitts. The collar of my wool hunting jacket hand stitched with a band of cotton flannel by my grandmother’s loving hands.She knew I hated the wool touching my neck so had done it for me.The cold air stung my face and I listened to the distance dogs. Their sounds suddenly seemed closer and they began to return our way. Still on a hot track and moving quickly! I was busy trying to spot the dogs when my father pointed silently. Far ahead of the hounds the ghostly, white snowshoe rabbit was moving directly towards our position. My observations were cut short as my fathers 12 gauge fired once from his position. I was instructed to retrieve the rabbit from the ground but wait for the dogs. They reached me soon after and we let them sniff the rabbit they had brought to us. A tasty meal back home awaited us with scraps and fur for the dogs. I had learned a valuable lesson! The jumped snowshoe will circle and retrace his steps. The hunter must wait and watch. We would only take the one rabbit that day. It was enough and we had the long walk back to the truck. Barn chores and a wood furnace to stoke. As I stood on the edge of the swamp yesterday I pondered the passage of time. My father gone but my own son beside me. The hounds long buried in a special location on the farm. Carefully laid to rest in graves I dug after carrying them some distance in my arms. I no longer have hounds or hunt rabbits. But I still wander the lands of my youth. I show my son my special places and tell the tales. I watch the forests and wetlands change in the seasons of nature. The spirit energy finds me there with positive blessings. Not lost for it is eternal. The years add quicker and I realize that someday I will circle back to where I started my chase of years. To retrace my steps and serve a higher purpose perhaps. If time is the rabbit then I am the hound. Such thoughts are best kept for winter nights long after dark. It was time to keep exploring. There was too much to be found in the moment yesterday to stand still for long. There were things to teach and lessons to be learned. Miles to walk with an ice walkers stride. The distance traveled in must be traveled out.

fireplace

Change Is Good

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Early morning finds me sitting by the fireplace sipping coffee in our small,cozy rental. Wisps of wood smoke tickle my nose when I fuel it. The owner’s choice of firewood wise. White ash. It burns with a certain fragrance. There’s even a small Xmas tree here! So many comforts I won’t even mention. It’s the perfect location for our latest battery charging adventure! The Adirondacks! Our home away from home!The town of Wilmington just down the road. It was a surprise for Jennifer that was pried out of me a little at a time! She never knew everything but I had to let her know how to pack and prepare! She’s got it together when planning,preparing,and packing! We had some good laughs last night when we realized things had been forgotten! One of us expected the other to bring certain things but it didn’t happen! We will manage! More laughs when Jennifer asked me what’s on the agenda tomorrow? No clue I said! All I planned was getting us here! There are messages in my simple sentences above that I hope people will recognize. Ponder and consider in their own lives. The first might be that home is where your heart finds itself. It’s that feeling we get when we settle in somewhere. It quickly becomes home for us. It gets easier the longer we travel together. There’s a certain buzz that comes with each new location or returning to a familiar place. Usually Jennifer is the planner. Finding the locations and making all the arrangements. I wanted this time to be different. I wanted to get it done on my own! Pick a worthy destination where she could relax and rejuvenate. Myself as well! As for an itinerary I deliberately didn’t make one beyond the destination. It’s something I wanted to be spontaneous. That place where our spirit energy takes over and guides the decisions that will determine the outcome of a day. That place where two people head out together with no other plan than being together in a special place. Life is very real in those moments of unplanned decisions. It’s when she’ll say “stop! Turn down this dirt road! Let’s see what’s down by the water!”Or me saying “I need to see what’s down that trail.” It’s that moment when one wants to make the other happy and agrees with no hesitation. Or when both of us decide to give Stella some dog playtime on a sandy beach we spot. Life finds us then. MOONTABS follow. Change and spontaneous decisions can lift the spirits especially in stressful times.It’s that place where you give in to the inner voice and place your trust in love! It’s that moment where a smile turns to laughter and all is forgotten for a time. It’s stepping out of yourself and offering your hand! To say “walk with me! All is well in the now! Tomorrow we’ll figure it all out! We need to live today!” It’s where we live,laugh,and love!Whenever we place ourselves! ✍️