Speaking of the augury of birds (were you not?), Dana and I saw a blue heron fly over our path (from left to right). It was the largest heron I’ve ever seen. It reminded me of our pelican omen of 1979, when we christened our business partnership, which has survived 26 years. Whether or not we’ve begun a new cycle of good fortune, it certainly feels as though the recent studio tribulations are firmly behind us.
Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category
Today’s thoughtform—YAY
Wednesday, October 12th, 2005Various & Sundry, part twenty-five
Friday, October 7th, 2005— Dana and I began our day having coffee with Kristi, my niece whose family is temporarily displaced by Hurricane Katrina. What a lovely person! I’ve met few people in my life who exhibit such thoughtful striving. I’ve never been more impressed with her, and I was incredibly impressed with her the very first day I met her in 1977. Take care, sweet heart.
— Being with Kristi makes me think of Caitlan, my neice who’s off on her adventure in England. That first week can be quite lonely. I was there. I don’t mean England, although I was there, too. I mean alone in Europe, facing a long separation from family and friends. I was the same age. It was difficult at first. It was also one of the most important personal challenges I’ve ever surmounted, perhaps the most important one of all. Caitlan is a terrific young lady—one of the most gifted people I know. She’ll get through this. She’ll be ok. If you’re the type of person who gets homesick, it never completely goes away, but when she discovers the intellectual center of her universe in Oxford, she’ll do just fine.
— David the Mac Guru urged me to just “sit tight” and await the arrival of a new startup drive for our G4, so that’s what I’m doing, but trying to keep clients happy in this crippled state is gnawing at my nerves. Get a grip—I’m not experiencing anything that countless millions haven’t already dealt with over the centuries—since that first clever human who chose to link mental equilibrium and financial well-being to an infernal machine.
— I was just thinking about my recent stay in the U.P. and the extraordinary “moments” I manage to bring back (in spite of my frayed memory bank). Like observing that remarkable “cinematographer’s moon,” as translucent clouds swept a midnight sky above the dancing treetops, or crossing the brisk Moscoe Channel in full open-water gear—wet suit, cap, goggles, fins, and my treasured diving gloves (generous Jerome will never know how much good use I’ve gotten out of them). I recall those minutes of tense exhilaration when, after all the effort, a big king takes the hook, and all mental energy is directed to the goal of successfully boating the fish, working with the net handler, knowing you may not get a second chance… my annual rediscovery of the pleasures associated with simple industry—preparing a meal, washing dishes, maintaining the boat, butchering and freezing the day’s catch, or salvaging a rusty salmon smoker… the sense of comfort and belonging that has now replaced the former disbelief, when I arrive and first absorb the low-key majesty of the Les Cheneaux… and that elusive point of peak relaxation which occasionally comes with fishing, recognizing that consciousness has been emptied of all thought when mind floods back into the vacuum…
Day Three at Barefoot’s Resort
Wednesday, September 14th, 2005A big storm moved through last night and we lost power during dinner.
Fortunately Bill had bought a jar candle on impulse, which saved us from having
to sit around my Mag-Lite to finish our meal. I remember getting up during the
middle of the night to turn off the lights in the cabin when the outage had run its
course. By morning the outlook for the day’s weather looked promising. We made
a four-man, two-boat outing to Connors Point, hoping to find yellow perch.
Inexplicably, JD and Bob each caught a northern pike. We worked Little Joe Island
and Moscoe Channel before packing it in. Clearly we’re not having luck with the
smaller species, but the return of the pike is a great development for the region.
They wouldn’t be back if it weren’t for an abundance of prey, and that must be a
result of the systematic elimination of the destructive cormorants. Perhaps the
balance we knew as recently as the mid-90s will be fully restored. Meanwhile,
we’d better focus on harvesting some king salmon.
Day One at Barefoot’s Resort
Monday, September 12th, 2005Dana and I left Augusta early, barely catching the first ferry across the Ohio.
Wick had already told us that he’d never seen a day that the ferrymen hadn’t
operated due to fog, and today it was so thick we couldn’t see the other side until
the last moment (kinda spooky). We missed the rush hour in Cincinnati and arrived
at my good friend’s Tipp City house in time for Dana to make her rendezvous
with her chums from Wright State days. It was tough to say “bye” to my sweetie
after such a precious day together, but we parted and I continued north with Bill
Barefoot. I expected it to get cooler when we traversed Michigan, as it usually
does, but it stayed warm instead, all the way to the Upper Peninsula. We arrived
at Barefoot’s Resort and settled into Cabin One. The last patrons were leaving
for the season, so we had the lakefront to ourselves. After grilling a tasty
supper, we stayed up too late in fairly heavy conversation, and then took a boat
out into the channel for a midnight drift, soaking in the reality of being back in the
Les Cheneaux.
Maybe I should have kept this to myself
Wednesday, August 10th, 2005Something buried in the fiber of my marrow will not allow me to discount the augury of birds. In any case, I’ve always been convinced that seeing a blue heron while on a bike ride is a sign of luck, and that observing one take flight while in the saddle is an omen of good fortune, but what do I know about such things?
OK, OK… This evening I also saw two big vultures perched together in a dead tree, but that was before the heron flew over…
And I think to myself
Saturday, July 23rd, 2005It’s my month to care for our family cemetery, so I spent most of the day doing my duty on the quiet hillside. I’ve come to notice that when I’m working there, I actually take the time to absorb the natural beauty of our secluded valley, especially on days like today, with the cerulean hue of an N.C. Wyeth sky, and the wooded knobs in their full summer contours. It was hot and humid, but I didn’t mind. I’d gotten any discomfort out of my system early in the day during a 10k run on Bluegrass Pike (after Buck showed off his new MINI Cooper topless—super-swank!).
So long, my friend
Wednesday, July 13th, 2005Mack was buried in a family cemetery on his farm, as some day I will be at our farm (near the grave of my namesake). Mack was a generous man… no, more than that—magnanimous. The same can be said about my father. They also had in common a low-key personality that was somehow magnetic. They were both complex, multi-talented individuals with deep connections to the natural world. Whatever they chose to do, they did well—and they attempted many wide-ranging things. They also had a profound spiritual side to their character that was instructive by example, never overbearing. Until today, I hadn’t thought about how Mack and Dadbo were so much alike. Indispensable to their families, the void they leave can never be filled. It can only be honored. Mack was not a father figure to me, but perhaps a mentor, although I thought of him only as a friend, which, I believe, is all he would’ve wanted. And even though he defied the foe until the end—with his expansive optimism, quiet competitiveness, and good cheer—I think he knew that everyone in his world was watching how he countered death’s grasp, as we all must when our time comes, and continued to share his graceful spirit until called to run the unknown trail ahead of us.
Report from Camp Hourglass
Sunday, June 19th, 2005It was a refreshing, worthwhile, and really fun weekend in the woods with Marty (thanks, James, it was a good idea). Out of the one fearful episode came a name for the place—Widow’s Knob—after we encountered the black widow spider at our campsite. No black bear were sighted, however, although they must certainly be in the area by now. I underestimated how much effort it would require to lug our provisions up to the heights, so we’ll rethink how much gear is actually necessary for the next expedition. A tent might be a good idea, since spiders clearly rule the darkness there, especially the long-leggers, who consider a mere facial landscape no deterrent to their nightly mission.
— Bruce — Wayne — hmm… that does hit close to home
Friday, June 17th, 2005It seems a shame to enter a dark theater on such a glorious day, but, on the other hand, I’ve been waiting since childhood to see a Batman movie that did justice to my favorite comic book hero (who, along with Tarzan, possessed no superhuman powers). And then we’ll make up for it by spending the weekend camping on one of our knobs at the Blue Bank Farm (but we’re not saying which one!).
Everybody needs a Yorkie
Wednesday, June 8th, 2005As I continue to crank away at solving another batch of Website perplexities, Lee and David sent a picture from our recent cabin time. I was able to pause and revisit a relaxing moment with my pup.
Day of Clan
Saturday, June 4th, 2005All of a sudden the visited links color has switched from violet to black. Hmm… maybe it has something to do with Brendan fixing the style sheet so that my entries don’t look like a single, continuous line. Speaking of Brendan, it was good to see him yesterday. He turned us on to “Pirate’s Cove,” perhaps the coolest board game I’ve ever played (gotta try “Ticket to Ride” next). It was also fun to be with Alyx on her big day. I really think she liked the “Arts & Crafts Companion” we got her, plus my photorama (number two). A huge “thanx” to the Keepsters, who always throw an enjoyable bash. Marty and I headed up to one of our knobs and kicked around until sunset, then we took some pictures of the evening mist sliding through the Valley. I’ll feel stupid if I end up getting poison ivy.
Various & Sundry, part seventeen
Saturday, May 28th, 2005— Marty finally convinced me to watch “Collateral.” Mann outdoes himself in this one. I won’t be the one to explain why it isn’t a flawless picture. If you haven’t seen it, I dare not give anything away. If you have, need I say more?
— Seth and I confirmed our desire to recut “Pirate Revenge,” and now I just have to schedule a block of time. He has access to the editing suite this summer, so it will be essential to have a new version before our Ohio gathering around Labor Day. If we hit the mark anywhere near my original visualization, minds will be most certainly blown.
— James encouraged me to spend time with Marty in the knobs, learning the terrain together and sleeping under the oaks. I own that land. What prevents me from claiming stewardship?
— Bruce undergoes a major surgical procedure tomorrow. I believe it will be the final turning point in his successful recovery. This is something that the providers would preferred to have have done much sooner, had he been strong enough to handle the general anesthesia, so I view it as an important step forward, rather than a setback. He’s ready for it, and it will lay to rest this stubborn condition in his internal core. May the mercy of Divine Law govern every aspect of the operation, guide every thought, and each skilled hand, to fulfill the promise of his unfolding destiny and the ultimate potential of his Christ wholeness.
Splitsville
Friday, May 13th, 2005Dana heads north to Indiana, while I head south to a rare meeting of “The Wood Duck Society” at a not-so-secret location between Bradfordsville and Gravel Switch. Nothing at all sinister. Just some cabin time with friends… relaxing, talking, drawing, shooting, reading, and throwing together some good chow. And there’s nothing quite like watching thundershowers from a porch rocker as the low clouds drag themselves through the knobs.
Goats Do Roam
Tuesday, May 3rd, 2005Dana and I enjoyed a splendid dinner and evening of conversation at Lee and David’s, hearing all about their recent trip to South Africa. They shared stories and photos of Durban, Capetown, and their stay at a private reserve in the bush. As if that wasn’t hospitable enough, they sent us home with an unusual red vintage.
Saturday in the sun
Saturday, April 16th, 2005Marty and I agreed—it was a “satisfying” day. It began for me with the “Repair Affair,” Boyle County’s annual day of exterior house chores on behalf of those who can’t physically do them. Danville Rotary Club took primary responsibility for it this year and that’s how I got involved. We couldn’t have pulled it off without all the volunteers from Centre College (those students are something else). It was a good deed sort of thing for me and a welcome change of scenery. My friend Scott was there and said he was planning to attend the 30th birthday cookout for the Governor’s son at the Mansion in Frankfort. I told him to give Ernie and Ben my warm regards. I don’t get to hobnob much with Fletcher any more, now that he’s hit the political big time.
After lunch I picked up Marty and we went to the Blue Bank Farm to work in the orchard, which also happens to be our family cemetery. I’m late with the pruning this year, but we got through it all and had time for a hike up Horse Lick hollow for Marty’s first adventure to the Pine Forest, which we both speculate was near the sawmill settlement that used to be located back there. We saw a spot that looked as though a small twister had touched down and leveled a few pines, all in precisely the same direction. Also had a chance to confirm that the back edge of the hollow had been unintelligently logged. What a waste! We came back to the valley by way of Blue Bank’s ridge and the Buddha Trail, probably the most peaceful spot in Casey County.
It was good to see members of my Clan after a month of turmoil. I spent a few moments at Joe’s grave with my sister and learned the sad news that her pet Pookie had just died. Throughout the day, Bruce was never far from my thoughts. Dana called from Indianapolis and my heart went out to her.
Various & Sundry, part eight
Tuesday, March 1st, 2005— Month of February workout totals: Swim-5; Bike-5; Run-4; Lift-6.
— It’s snowy, windy, and the temperature is dropping. The forecast for the next few days is cold and wintery. In my book this will classify as “March comes in like a lion,” which is good news, because this natural equation has never been proven wrong for me, so long as I gauge the general trend rather than make the call based solely on the initial weather of March 1st. Ah yes, the season for cycling will start early, and March will “go out like a lamb.”
— Good heavens, I’m discussing the weather! This must surely qualify as a major “blogger’s blunder” of some sort. I probably can’t even refer to myself as a blogger if this is the kind of nonsense to which I fall prey.
— Well, it could be worse. I could be discussing the lead story on Action News 36: Inside “Wife Swap.”
— Help me here, I’m stuck in quicksand!
One Man’s Journey
Wednesday, February 16th, 2005Rob Perkins is so amazing that I don’t know what to say about him. Canoeing alone in the remote arctic? Impressive… Capturing it on tape with such honesty and artistic vision? Unreal…
After the silence
Sunday, February 13th, 2005The rhythm of raindrops striking metal roofing punctuated each heartfelt expression rendered within the old cabin. Over the weeks, our group had moved from stunned disbelief to analytical precision. Every legal doctrine, ethical nuance, or metaphysical possibility was now open to full scrutiny. Lord, what has Mack set in motion with his generosity of spirit? I stopped to look around the room and was grateful beyond measure for such a circle of incredibly bright and deeply caring friends.
Man, that might sound sappy, but I felt it, I wrote it, and I’m sticking with it…
My Milky Way— love it or leave it
Thursday, February 10th, 2005“We have never before seen a star moving fast enough to completely escape the confines of our galaxy,” said Warren Brown of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics. “Only the powerful gravity of a very massive black hole could propel a star with enough force to exit our galaxy.”
Yeah… We know ya said, “I’ll leave this galaxy if Bush gets a second term.” Gowahn… See if ya like it out there!
Cold fear
Sunday, January 23rd, 2005This morning I decided to go out to the Jackson farm before sunrise to run some of the cross-country trails before friends gathered around the wood fire in the cabin for “shared silence.” I suppose I’ve run in more frigid conditions, but not recently. The raw intensity of these workouts are impossible for me to verbally capture, but they come loaded with rich sensory moments, like the crunch of refrozen thaw under foot, the visual pattern of animal tracks in the dusty snow, the sound of startled ducks temporarily fleeing the nearby wetland, and the massive heads of the horses as they surround and nudge me, wondering, perhaps, if I’ve come to deliver their overdue ration of hay.
It goes without saying that these stimuli make me feel very close to nature, and her power. I can’t say I particularly enjoy the cold. I realize I don’t have the same resilience as my father had. I know that, because I spent too many hours shivering, watching the steam of his breath, as he repaired rabbit pens or some other winter task, when I desperately wanted to seek the warmth. On mornings like today I think about whether he might have had similar experiences as mine, moving through nature on his cold, all-night ‘coon hunts (ventures that I was never equipped to endure at the time).
Years ago I came upon the words of Robert W. Service and shared them with Dadbo at Christmas, but we never got to talk about those poems of the Yukon. I just knew it was his life-long dream to visit the far North Woods. He never did, but I like to think that my gift enabled the same vicarious experience that Service provides for me with lines like these:
"The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb…"
On mornings like today I think about my friend Mack, the man who created the trails. As he confronts the foe of cancer, much too far from his cabin, I run them in the bitter wind for him, because I can.
Because I must.