Arctic Dogwalk

It's 10 degrees, 30 degrees below average for mid-February, and snowing outside. Time for a dog walk on the hiking trail. Well, why not? I've learned to dress in layers to keep warm. Gabbie and Tess, our two old english sheepdogs are ready to be outside in any weather. Off we go.

The snow is fine and powdery. It always seems to energize the dogs. Tess immediately starts running around, powder flying in the wind, like she has never seen snow before. The snow crunches underfoot. It is otherwise quiet. Is that because snow dampens noise or because people-activity slows in bad weather?

I stop at the footbridge for a photo of the dogs, fumbling with cold fingers to set it up. Gabbie decides to lie down in a "let me know when you are done" mood. Click, click. We cross over the foot bridge to the east side where the new trail is.



It may be cold, but it does not feel that way as we walk. Something about snow in the woods is just magical. A bird flits from a leafless spice bush. A chipmunk scurries around and under a log. The dogs stop to investigate. A woodpecker taps out morse code on a lifeless tree branch in the canopy overhead. Rabbit tracks cross the trail. There is the faintest whiff of a skunk.

On top of the ridge, the vista through the woods down the valley toward the water falls is fantastic. I try to capture it with my phone camera. Can't reproduce the beauty in a photographic image. We walk down off the ridge towards the bridge. Play time erupts. Both dogs are in a full fledged run-around, snow and leaves flying, complete with ankle-biting, and butt-in-the-air play mode. They fly, skidding as they go, across the snow-covered bridge and back. Surely one of them will fall into the creek.

Composure sets in, and we venture to the waterfall. It is frozen in a static icy array. Gabbie ambles off to make a solid waste deposit. Then we trudge up the hill and back to the house. I stop to pick up some firewood. Tess is running around yet again in huge circles - one last activity outburst for the road, as it were. Then back to home base.

Winter can be miserable and inconvenient at times. But on this day, all is well in a wintry Bittersweet Woods.

Smoky Mountain 7 Hike

The friendly lady ranger at Cades Cove in Great Smoky Mountain National Park (GSMNP) gave me a curious look as I explained our planned backpack trip itinerary. Our first day included hiking from Newfound Gap to Clingman’s Dome –an altitude gain of about 1600 feet. She glanced at another ranger who raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Observing that our hikers were old enough to know about Bob and Ray, rotary dial phones, and computer punch cards may have influenced her reaction. “Are you aware, sir, that the trail from Newfound Gap climbs just about nonstop uphill for the first seven miles?,” she asked politely. Well, yes we were, at least on paper. Visions of collapsed, wheezing hikers along the trail needing medevac transport flashed through my mind. We changed the subject. She mentioned proudly that she had hiked the same route recently, but without that first segment to Clingman’s.


View from Clingman's Dome with Pigeon Forge in the distance

Thus began our backpack adventure. Thanks, Andy S for arranging this trip. The Smoky Mountain 7 were mostly retired hikers, all members of the Buckeye Trail Association in Ohio. The trip was great. The weather was fantastic. John R often says rain accompanies him on any hike he has planned – not this time. The trails and scenery exceeded my expectations. Here are a few observations and episodes, in no particular order.


Smoky Mountain 7 at Derrick Knob Shelter. Do I hear banjos playing?

We wisely decided to nix the planned first segment and drive to Clingman’s Dome area, then hike downhill to the first shelter. Smart, huh? It took several hours of hiker dude denial to realize that we probably shouldn’t try the uphill hike.

The shelters were in excellent condition with extended areas under roof for cooking and protection from the weather. I did not see or hear a single rodent. All but one shelter had a privy. The Derrick Knob shelter privy consisted of a shovel and sign with arrow pointing down a hill that said “toilet area -->.” The hiker-with-shovel pose quickly became a photo favorite.

Weather is always an issue when hiking. The first night was cold – the Cades Cove rangers had warned us that the forecast for the shelters above 5,000’ was 27. OMG - 27?? I had figured lows in the 40s based on forecasts for area towns. That is why I always bring extra clothing just to provide a margin of safety in case of unplanned cold or rain. It was already in the 40’s as we hiked, which explains the odd sensation of seeing our breath hiking along the trail in September. We had no fire that evening; conversation slowly faded as the temperature dropped. By 9:00 most hikers had retreated to their sleeping bags. Temperatures were more normal after that first night.


"Smoke" in the valley

Hiking awakens the senses. There was the pleasant scent of pine needles and crisp, invigorating mountain air. For the visual senses, there were constantly changing views and hues - the forest, distant ridges, hillsides, the sky, clouds nestling in the valleys, and a few wildflowers. The view from Rockytop mountain, partially in the clouds at the time was beautiful. I didn’t want to leave that spot. The last day hike along Anthony Creek was outstanding – a gorge with huge trees with the comforting sound of the rushing water. For auditory senses, there was the frequent sound of dropping acorns and buckeyes – most noticeable as a loud clang on the shelter tin roofs.


View from Rocky Top

Those buckeyes made us feel at home, since we are from Ohio, the buckeye state. There were buckeye trees everywhere, even an area along the trail labeled as Buckeye Gap. Never mind that they were likely a different tree from the Ohio buckeye variety.


View at Newfound Gap

I was surprised how many people were in the park, even during the week in September. Parking lots at popular spots such as Newfound Gap and Clingman’s dome were full. Many people asked about our backpacking gear, itinerary, where we were from, and much more. Maybe we looked and acted strange or (the optimist view) perhaps they envied our adventuresome spirit. Probably it was some of each.

At the end of our hike a nice looking lady dismounted from a Harley that just pulled up in the parking lot. She excitedly wanted to know where had we been, did we actually sleep outside, what did we eat, where did we go to the bathroom (no, she didn’t ask that). I was basking in all of the attention until remembered how bad I smelled, and withdrew a few paces. Upon hearing our answers about camping out, she said emphatically, “Oh, I could never do that.” Her husband kept his distance from us.

We also saw many hikers. A family – father, son, daughter came into camp about 7:00 the first night at Double Springs Gap shelter. They had been hiking in the smokies for many years. So had their wife/mother who was now deceased. Their mission was a unique one – to sprinkle her ashes on Mount LeConte. The LeConte shelter was closed due to bear activity; we don’t know if they were able to complete their mission.

We met several serious hikers, often solo. By serious hiker I mean anyone who can hike twice as far as I can in half the time – and probably with less gear. At Derrick Knob shelter a young guy passed through later in the day on his way Spence Field shelter. About 3 am I arose for bladder relief therapy. I noticed a shadowy figure in a sleeping bag lying on a bench seat. Must have been a really late arrival. At daybreak, the shadowy figure emerged like a moth from a cocoon. It was the same cheerful guy who went to Spence Field shelter. He was alone at Spence Field and let his imagination get the best of him. That shelter had been closed recently because of bear trouble. An entry in the shelter log graphically described a bear incursion into the shelter. He couldn’t sleep and every sound frightened him. He decided to return to our shelter, hiking 7+ miles in the dark.


Self explanatory warning at Spence Field Shelter


Spence Field Shelter Log entries - complete with morbid sense of humor from 9/20 entry writer.

Then on the morning of our last day out, a super serious hiker strode into camp, looking for water. We learned that he was hiking the AT for the entire length of the GSMNP – and back – in 3 days! That is a total of about 144 miles. Wow. He was not a youth – probably late 50s. We figured he had to be hiking about 18 hours a day to cover that distance. At that rate, he could hike the entire distance of our modest 4 day trip before lunch.

On the last day, we met an amiable backpacker who ran a guide service in Glacier National Park. This was a short vacation visit to GSMNP, on his way to NC, to reconnect with the Smokies he had visited 30+ years ago. As we talked, John R nonchalantly blurted out, “there’s a bear.” I thought he was joking. But I turned around quickly enough to see a good sized black bear amble across the road 50 yards from us. We observed him/her nosing around in the brush above the road. After 35 years of being cautious about bears in the backcountry – I finally saw a real bear. And it was not invading my tent or shelter. Cool.

CW provided entertainment in the evenings with his Readers Digest clippings. The first two sessions were quizzes about definitions of obscure words – such as peckish and lugubrious. The last session was on weather terminology. These were fun, especially when smart aleck side comments were thrown into the mix.

CW is also an excellent writer, religiously keeping a trail journal so he can record trip impressions on his blog/website: cwspencer.com. We often tossed out ideas for inclusion in his journal or blog – such as his arachnophobia. He sat next to the fire on the last night working out the intro to his blog about our trip. He wrote in between nervous glances out into the possibly bear infested darkness every time there was a sound.


CW is ready for a bear incursion

Bob S had a great hike. On previous trips, his health challenges yanked him off the trail before we finished. I was proud of his effort and persistence. Besides he tells entertaining stories, some of which might even be true. Good job, Bob. I applaud him for his decades of involvement in Boy Scouts. Time to retire, Bob, so you can hike some more.

The National Park Service (NPS) and Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) staff we met were all helpful and informative. NPS staffer Christine Hoyer helped us change our shelter reservation for the last night when we saw her at Double Springs Gap. An ATC trail crew was working on a section doing a couple of reroutes around degraded existing trail. They did an excellent job on trail building. I stopped and closely inspected their work and was surprised to learn all of their work was done with a mattock and crosscut hand saw. The new trail was so well graded and groomed I assumed they must have used power equipment. The crew were all friendly and politely listened to our trail building and hiking stories along the Buckeye Trail in Ohio. We saw an ATC ridgerunner the last day. I did not know such trail helpers existed.

As Bob Hope used to say, thanks for the memories. I’m rested up and ready for another trip.

Fall wildflowers

We usually think of wildflowers in the spring. But there are some that bloom in the fall. Goldenrod is the iconic flower of fall, often covering roadside areas and fields. Ironweed is another more visible flower, though rarely seen close up, seen in pasture fields starting August. Here are both together:

Goldenrod and Ironweed


Ironweed is often considered just another nuisance weed. They often fill entire pasture areas, creating a swath of purple. Near our home we have a single plant that seems totally misplaced, deep in the woods and far from open fields. It may be a survivor from decades past when the area was a farm. I always watch carefully for it, expecting that any year it will disappear. But it persists. And it is next to our trail, so we can see the flowers up close.


Lone ironweed along the trail


Then there is a lesser known wildflower, white snake root. It is usually seen in wooded areas and is often quite prolific, sometimes covering several acres in open wooded areas.


White snakeroot

My favorite is great blue lobelia. It is much rarer, usually seen in deep woods along streams. We found a cluster of these along a stream on our property after clearing brush for a hiking path. They are beautiful plants with an almost indigo blue flower.


Great blue lobelia plants


Great blue lobelia flowers close up

Keep watching for other natural indicators of fall. They are all around us. If you have fall favorites or questions, let me know or add a comment to this post.

Grandchildren's visit

It is an almost annual event. Our Amy and Gregg's children summer visit to Nana and Pap's house for a week or so from their home near Cincinnati. They love it here; it has always been their hangout. They can run through the woods, play in the basement, work on projects, and Nana usually takes them shopping.

What's in it for us? We get to enjoy being with them. There are usually activities and projects we have planned for them, and they have their list of things to do. Their visits are fun and gratifying. It is also tiring and occasionally stressful if there are youthful behavior "issues" or sibling arguments. But each time, there are moments that they and we will always remember.


At the American Queen at the Ohio River Landing

Their dogs are part of the visitation package. Maggie (labradoodle) and Zoe (American Mastiff) take up residence with our two old english sheepdogs, Gabbie and Tess. They behaved well together. Nearly 10 days together improved the pack dynamics which had a few rough edges in past visits. It was great to see them romping through the woods together.


Catrina with Zoe and Maggie


Illegal parking - community service for Zoe


Maggie was here.....doing her puppy thing.

This year the fun included endless swimming and games in the pool. We watched several favorite movies, including Second Hand Lions, Sea Biscuit, Secret Garden, and the Narnia Chronicles. Connor and Pap played tennis (including a 6-1 rout by Connor) and a little golf. Pap managed to dodge the retail activity, but Nana treated the youths to two or more shopping trips.


Emily and Catrina show off their wardrobe additions.

We also perform an important grandparenting function - what I call coaching. We encourage, suggest, and even scold when necessary on topics such as values, faith, behavior, family time, wise use of money, the dangers of drugs and alcohol, and more. The challenge is to be stealthy about planting seeds on these topics, so we get the point across without being too "preachy" about it.

We always eat dinner together which also means they are eating with each other. The latter often is not possible with their activities and schedules at home. One dinnertime tradition is that each of us tells their favorite activity of the day. The kids mention one good thing that they observed about each other that day. The youths ("utes," if you have seen My Cousin Vinny) helped plan dinner menus. We enjoyed a Hawaiian night and an Italian night.


Nana and the "utes" grilling on Hawaii Night

Suddenly, after the anticipation and excitement of their being here......they are gone. The house is eerily quiet. It is bittersweet - sad goodbyes mingled with relief that we can get back to our normal routines.

It was a success complete with fond memories. Connor and Nana finished their coffee table project Emily grew noticeably in her ability to go with the flow with her siblings. Catrina's swimming skills improved markedly. All three were much more patient with each other. And their Mom and Dad enjoyed their Hilton Head vacation.


Connor, Emily,Catrina, and Nana with the finished table project.

The Wind

July 1, 2013. One year plus one day after the derechio, a devastating storm system which knocked out power for days to millions of people from Indiana to Maryland. It was a warm humid evening. There were a few green dots on weather radar but nothing to warrant concern - no watches or warnings. Yet the sky darkened, a breeze kicked up, and soon there was a heavy rain shower. The rain intensified; water soon overflowed the downspout. Thunder rolled, putting the dogs on edge.

I looked at the phone app radar and saw the culprit: the ugly red signature of a strong but very localized thunderstorm. The TV radar showed only a small green speck. Soon the wind was gusting wildly, whipping leafy tree tops back and forth. This usually means trouble. I saw the rain blow sideways, literally - first one way, then the other. The house shook. I briefly thought of moving all of us to the basement. Then the winds abated, and the storm moved on.

I walked outside with the dogs to look for obvious signs of damage. I saw only one large branch protruding from a hemlock tree. But the "branch" was the end of a one foot diameter cherry tree that fell from the woods into the hemlock. There was more bad news as we surveyed the nearby woods the next day - three areas where large trees fell. One clearing with planting area was an impenetrable jumble of twisted tree trunks and leaves. Three large trees had toppled into one another.

Our chainsaws would be busy for the next week. As we cautiously walked the dogs around this tree mess, a brown mass caught my attention. A closer look revealed a sizable hive of honeybees in a ruptured tree trunk. We called Todd, an MD who keeps bees, and Mike, the county bee inspector, to check the hive and attempt to remove them. Mike arrives first and animatedly educates us bee novices as he dons the white suit and gathers gear to inspect the hive. Bees are critical to our national food supply as they pollinate fruit-bearing plants and trees. He approaches the hive in his white bee suit and exclaims "Hello, girls!" Most bees are female, we learn. He is definitely in his element.

Soon Todd arrives. Together they examine the remains of the hive like crime scene investigators. Most of the honey is gone, "robbed out" by other bees in the area in two days since the tree fell. They look for the queen but do not find it. With the queen, they could easily move the bees into boxes for a win/win/win outcome. The bees survive, the bee guys add to their working bee population, and we are relieved of the swirling mass of anxious bees. Todd finally manages to move most of the survivor bees with a queen bee from his own bees. Mike collects the empty honey comb for wax. We are pleased to be rid of the bees, so we can start cleaning up the fallen trees.

It was another encounter with mother nature in Bittersweet Woods.

There's a snake in your mailbox

We have our share of snakes in Bittersweet Woods. Most are friendly; several are regulars. There is the milk snake that lives in the brick enclosure behind our newspaper box. A couple of summers ago, we found this note by the porch:

There was this photo captured by the mail delivery person who was concerned that the said reptile might be a copperhead. We were greatly relieved when my son-in-law Gregg correctly identified it as a milksnake.

Occasionally we find evidence that it still resides in the same place - snakeskin sheds, comments from our housesitter ("it was looking out at me from the mailbox"). One day this summer, I glanced at the patio and there it was crawling underneath the gas grill. I went out for a photo shoot. But that guy was not happy. It abruptly coiled up and was all business when it saw me. I quickly stepped back and gave it some room.

Then there is our resident black rat snake. It is about 4 feet long and occasionally appears out of nowhere, usually spread out languidly in the grass or staring at us when we open a storage shed where it sometimes hangs out. It is so laid back - I never have seen it get agitated in our presence. "Blackie" and I usually have a nice chat; I do most of the talking. It looks at me blankly, as if to say "really!" to anything I say.

Blackie recently appeared on our pool deck one morning. It's long black form was draped along the deck against the house. I thought it was a branch or something else - until it moved. Timing was not good. Family members had just arrived for a swim, including Joe, Judy, along with Luke and Johanna and their four kids. I thought they might freak out and was envisioning having to pick up and relocate Blackie.

I kneeled down and explained the situation to it: "Blackie, you really need to get off this deck. Humanoids - some youthful - are here; they may frighten you. And neither of us wants the stress of my having to move you out of the way. I mean, you and I are friends, but picking up snakes is stressful for me. You wouldn't like it either. So, you need to get your black rat butt out of here, OK?" Blank stare. I hoped the message got through.

I took a picture then went to greet the guests. I explained the snake presence. Fortunately, they were excited to see it and not at all skittish about having a snake around. They rushed out to the deck for a sighting. Blackie had moved on from the deck into the mulch. It was the best outcome. They were able to see it, and it kept moving and was soon out of sight.

We'll see Blackie around again, along with other critters, pets, and people in Bittersweet Woods.

The Fledgling

It is a sunny, clear afternoon in early June. There is definite bird activity in the magnolia near our back patio. As I walk back from the woods, two robins in obvious distress chatter and flit from branch to branch above me. A few white patches of bird excrement on the patio prompt me to move out of range. Wonder what their problem is.

A few minutes later in the house, a small dark figure on the patio catches my attention. I look closer to see it is a fledgling bird lying motionless under the magnolia tree. Oh! - synapses slowly fire and connect the proverbial dots - that must have been what the birds were fussing about. Darn, I can feel the bird parents' anguish over the apparent loss of the fledgling lying on the bare pavement.

I tell Suzanne about the mini-drama of nature unfolding with the birds. We observe a few bird deaths from time to time - sometimes from confused fliers who crash into one particular window, apparently thinking it is open space. A few minutes later, I look out, and the patio is empty. The fledgling thought dead is alive and gone. I survey the bushes and yard; can't see it anywhere. Good news. The fledgling lives. The parents are still around but quiet now.

Half an hour later, the drama takes a different turn. We see a kitten walk by the patio door past where the fledgling was observed. Suzanne says "look at that cute little kitty." Then we look at each other and exclaim together: "the bird!" I rush outside and shoo away the kitten. We never saw the kitten or the little bird again.

Another little drama plays out in Bittersweet Woods, with a presumed happy ending.

It smells like summer

Most seasons lack characteristic smells in Bittersweet Woods. But in mid May and early June, pleasant fragrances waft over sections of the trail. It always comes as an unexpected surprise, though it is predictable each year. Coincidentally, two of the scents all come from blooms on invasive plants.

In late may, I notice the subtle odor of rose blooms from multifloral rose bushes. They are thick in parts of the woods. Each year we dig out or pull up hundreds of these plants. Multiflora rose is a quick-spreading invasive plant introduced in the 1930's with good intentions as a natural pasture fence. They have since become an invasive nightmare in eastern US pastures, woods, and trails. But the scent is wonderful when the flowers bloom.


Next in late May is the unsmistakable smell of honeysucklebblooms. These are those pleasant fragrances to me. They bring back pleasant memories of years past hiking in the woods. If you pinch the base of the bloom, you can force out a drip of the nectar and place it on your tongue. It is awesome - I use that overused word
for things that truly inspire awe to me.


The last fragrance was a newly discovered one for me. Yesterday I kept noticing a jasmine-like fragrance. I also saw some spent blooms from privet bushes along the trail. But I did not connect the two. Until...I smelled one of the flowers. A very pleasant and distinctive scent. Privet is considered invasive, I guess. But in our woods, they are in shaded areas and do not spread much.

There are other smells of the seasons, for sure. But these stand out to me in Bittersweet Woods. They signal that the "lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer" (Nat King Cole song from 1963 release) have arrived. Enjoy each day while you can.

Snowfall

We hadn't seen a decent snowfall for 2 years. The forecast called for 2-4 inches of snow. That often is a false alarm. My expectations were low and my emotions were mixed. Bittersweet Woods are beautiful when there is snow. But we have a large driveway to shovel.

We awoke on Saturday about 5 am as is our custom. It was white outside. Daylight revealed an incredible filigreed wonderland. The snow was wet but it stuck to every single tiny branch of trees and bushes.



The dogs loved it, Tess especially, and they romped around in the new snow. The snow made it easier for the dogs to see wildlife. Tess took off after deer several times while the snow was on the ground. Gabbie stays behind and observes, the scolds Tess when she inevitably returns to the hike.


Thankfully our neighbor Dan plowed our driveway. A week later, most of the snow is predictably, in our latitude, melted. But the north-facing hills still have the blanket of white, a beautiful reminder of nature at work in Bittersweet Woods.

Derecho

June 30 was a Friday. It was warm but there was no rain locally on the radar at 5:00. There was a little red section on radar NE of Columbus. No problem; we need the rain but that storm will dissipate, as most such storms do as they move east and lose energy. Anyway, it would not arrive here until late evening.

I returned from picking up take-out food about 6:00 and noticed the sky was really black. I looked up weather radar on my phone while sitting at a traffic light. Wow! That tiny red spot seen earlier was here already; now a giant swath of red and orange sweeping towards us. Another glance to the west, and I could see sheets of rain moving fast. Suddenly the storm hit - huge gusts of wind, mainly. I could not see for the dust. Trees bent 90 degrees from wind. Trash cans were airborne. At Greene St. and Colegate Drive a traffic light is out already. We shouldn't have to worry about power at home; it almost never goes out.

I turn onto Glendale Road and head out the ridge. Will I make it home? The van lurches from wind gusts. Trees fall into the road; then just as quickly blow across to the other side. A tree trunk lands in my lane. Gingerly I inch the van forward, and it clunks over and past the trunk. Traffic slowly meanders into and out of lanes dodging around obstacles and other vehicles trying to get through.

I made it home; branches, leaves, and grit littered the streets. But there were no large trees down, thankfully. We sat down to eat the takeout burgers I so bravely carried home through the storm. Suddenly there was a loud crack and....no power. No problem; it would be back soon as in the past. The rain stopped - for all the wind, there was almost no rain.

It was quiet with no power - no TV blathering, air conditioner silent. An occasional vehicle passed out on Glendale Road. I decided to locate the handcrank radio that I had bought a few years ago - and had not really needed since then. We did have a cell phone signal, so could access the internet on mobile devices. But there was nothing as yet on local news or emergency web sites telling us what was happening. Two hours later it was getting dark.

We deployed lanterns, candles, and flashlights. Heck, I decided to dig out the headlamps I use when camping. They are so convenient because their light is there all the time and it is hands-free. I also retrieved the camp stove; we may need it for coffee and cooking. We try not to think about the food at risk in two full refrigerator-freezers.

We retreat to the basement where it is several degrees cooler. Suz works Sudoku puzzles. I read a little by lantern light and occasionally glance at the internet. The dogs look at us strangely. They know things are not right. Time for bed; no fan and no breeze means it's warm and humid. Fitful sleep gradually sets in.


Early morning. Internet news indicates almost no one in a several-state area has power. I decide to drive around town. It is eerily quiet in the dawn twilight. No one has power. Traffic lights are dark. Drivers mostly realize that all intersections become 4-way stop streets with no traffic control devices.

I notice that gas stations are dark, too, yet cars are waiting at all open pumps, hoping the power comes back soon. There were no functioning gas stations within 50 miles because of the power outage.

We work outside cleaning up the lone large branch that fell in the woods and doing our normal yard work. There is no respite from the heat. Gabbie and Tess are noticeably uncomfortable in the heat. We decide to fill up the black tub with water. The dogs climb in the water to cool off. Suz and I douse ourselves with water from the hose and sit on the patio.

Later we enjoy leftovers from a still cool fridge and read before turning in. Only WMOA radio has updates on what has been a major event for millions of people in several states. We cringe at official statements from AEP that power restoration is days away.

Sunday we attend mass at St. Mary church. With the warm weather and no power, mass is over in 30 minutes. On the way home we discover that ice is available and stuff several bags into the refrigerator and freezer compartments.

Later I decide to golf. Why not? Turns out the country club has power now. When I return - could it be?....I hear the AC running. Power is back. Wow. What a relief. But we can't help thinking about how many others still have no power.

I realize how much we take for granted when power is on - so many electronic devices, the fixation with on-line access, emails, and other "stuff." We had a chance, for a day or two, to try other things like reading, talking, and doing nothing. Perhaps we can learn something about the experience.

Theme Park Adventure

We planned our Orlando trip a year ago - for our grandchildren, you would suppose. You would be wrong. The adults became tired of the youths' apathy when each year we asked the loaded question: you'd like to go see Mickey, WOULDN'T YOU? The years were slipping away. Someone needed to take a leadership role. Nana and Pap rose to the occasion.

We reserved two condo units at Marriott's Cypress Harbour. June 9 finally arrived. After an all night drive, we arrive comatose but revved up for a fun week. We picked up Todd at the airport that evening. The first day we attended church, then did little else except sit by the pool and ride paddle boats.

Then we hit the parks. One group went during the day; others used the previous group's tickets to return later in the day. My first outing was an evening shift to Magic Kingdom, with Gregg, Emily, and Katrina. The place was packed. We hoped to see the electric parade and the finale. Despite the crowd, the place is still magic. The castle was a spell binding presence, bathed in alternating colors.



The parade started, but we couldn't move, or even get decent view. The girls were troopers - no whining. We caught a glimpse of the parade floats.





When the parade ended, we threaded our way to the Haunted House. Sitting down was a welcome break; theme park visitors realize that most of the "experience" is walking and waiting in line. On the way back to the park entrance, the fireworks started. Then we realized from announcements that the laser light show was next. I had heard about it but did not see it in any literature. We watched from the train station; the girls were tired but patiently allowed the adults to watch the spectacular laser light show.

Then the real fun began; going home. Long lines to leave, wait for the boat ride to the parking area, then wait for a tram, then finally the short drive home. Arrive at condo around 12:25 am and do a fast fade.

In between park visits, we lounged by the pool, shopped at numerous retail venues, and at times kept busy doing nothing. Connor, Todd, and Dave played tennis. Late afternoon showers helped break the heat.



Next park stop: Epcot. Connor, Suz, and I set out early in the morning. First stop: Space Mission ride. Since our last visit, they have added a "less intense" ride experience. I did that first. Then Connor shamed me into doing the more intense Space Mission version. It was intense; I was within milliseconds of blacking out (really) on the takeoff run. After that ride, we roamed around the international section and enjoyed a beautiful day.

Last park visit was Animal Kingdom. None of us had been there before. There was lots of variety. I passed on the Mount Everest rollercoaster ride. We liked the river raft ride, but it was too short. The silverback gorillas were majestic; really up close views. Then there was the very large dino photo opportunity.



Time is growing short. The trip home back to Bittersweet Woods and reality will soon intrude on our pleasant break. Time for the obligatory resort portrait. This one was quite good, actually.


Good memories until the next visit.

My Friends Are Back

Summer is here, even if it is only mid-May. All of my summer friends are back, and there are a few new ones. Here are some of them.

Warm weather, a so-called fair weather friend, is great. May is usually warm but not oppressive.

The days are longer. The bad news is that in just a few weeks after the summer solstice, days start getting shorter.

Flowers and trees are in bloom. With warmer than normal temperatures, some wildflowers seem to be more prolific than usual. Examples include blue eyed grass with their striking blue indigo color and star of david. Marble sized apples and peaches dot the dwarf fruit trees. Should be a good crop this year - first ever for the new peach trees.

Blue-eyed grass

Star of David

Our woods is now in full vegetation mode. The trail is now a green corridor, masking much of the open vistas of the leafless winter months.

Wooded canopy along the trail

Birds are singing. Their early morning serenades give the new day a hopeful start. I especially enjoy the fluted melodies of the wood thrush. Rufus sided towhees with their black capes flit in the underbrush as we amble along the trail. I marvel at the improvised choruses of the mockingbird. Hearing the plaintive bleat of nighthawks just before daybreak is a sure sign of summer for me. A flycatcher nest, hiding in plain sight on the downspout of our house, is full of young about to fledge. Didn't see them until a few days ago.

Cicadas are starting to buzz. We see several abandoned larval shells from which the cicadas emerge each year. Hearing them reminded me that the 17 year cicada for our area will return in 2016. I tell Suz, who has a phobia about buzzing insects, about this. "I'll be leaving town then," she said resolutely.

Our snake buddies are around; they've never really left. Blackie, our resident black rat snake, hangs out in a plastic storage unit with flower pots. All 5 feet of it was draped across the trail the other day when Suz and the dogs walked by the wood pile. She also observed our garter snake by the patio; it even posed for a photo. A black racer appeared in the mulch near the driveway.

And, a baby black racer appeared in the garage. It was about the size of a large earthworm, squirming mightily as I rescued it from certain demise when our car pulled out. I noted the bright colored pattern of the snake but at the time had no idea what it was. The colors reminded me vaguely of a copperhead. I looked on the internet for "baby copperhead." This snake's picture appeared, labeled as a baby copperhead. That was ominous. If there was one baby, there would likely be more. Could one get into the house or be venomous enough to hurt or kill our dogs. But I noted the shape of the head. It did not look like a viper-shape. But what did I know? Not to worry; the picture was mislabled. On a suggestion from Suz, I looked up a photo of a black racer. It was an exact replica of the one we saw. Whew!

Black racer hiding in plain sight near driveway

Baby black snake

In three weeks, we'll be in Orlando for a family vacation. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Today, we'll enjoy May and it's charms in Bittersweet Woods.

Hawaii

We just returned from Hawaii. We've been there before, but each time it continues to amaze. We spent a week on Maui and the second week on the Big Island.

I like the pleasant weather, scenery, microclimates, and the culture of native Hawaiians. The microclimates are unexpected for first time visitors and are fascinating each time I visit. There is the ocean, mountains, arid scrub, rain forest, open plains, and vast stretches of old lava flows on the Big Island. Weather can be totally different in each microclimate area, even within a half hour drive.

Here were the high points of this trip:

Relaxation: Suz and I are able to relax. We can enjoy walks, sitting by the ocean, staring out at the incredible scenery and, for minutes at a time, do nothing. This is a nice break from the often continuous activity at home.

Hearing native Hawaiian Veni explain the culture, history, and values of native Hawaiians. Their culture respects the environment, family, and fellow human beings. It is so refreshing to hear; why can't we live this way now? Their outlook is reflected in the greeting "Aloha." In Hawaiian, Aloha means affection, peace, compassion, and mercy.

Preparing for luau.

Being in and near the ocean. I learned how to stand-up paddle board, snorkeled, and kayaked every day.

Sea turtle taking a break on beach


Seeing Todd's reaction to the scenery, especially on the Big Island which he had not seen before.

Akaka Falls - 442 foot high falls on Big Island.

Helicopter Tour with Paradise Helicopter Tours of volcano area near Hilo on Big Island


Learning about Kona coffee at Heavenly Hill Coffee Farm. It was fascinating to learn how coffee is grown, processed, and marketed. Kona coffee's milder taste is gaining in popularity.

Attending mass at local churches, Maria Lanakila in Lahaina on Maui and St. Michael's church in Kailua on the Big Island. Maria Lanakila means "Victorious Mary" in Hawaiian. During mass I glanced out the window to see the sun breaking through the shrouded West Maui mountains. It was almost a heavenly experience. St. Michael's Church has no church building now. It was damaged in a 6.7 earthquake in 2006 and was razed in 2010. They meet in a large tent. What a lively group. A new church will be built when funds are raised.

St. Michael's Church - a reminder that church is the people, not the building.


Enjoying Hawaiian and reggae music on KWXX, the "feel good" station in Hilo. I now listen on line at home.

Going home. Even in such an amazing setting, it is good to get home to our own little patch of heaven in Bittersweet Woods.

Backpacking at Mohican

My grandson Connor and I had completed an overnight backpack last November. I picked Mohican State Park because of the area's reputation for scenery. It also had unique "park and pack" system of sites. They offer a backpacking experience but with parking close by, so the hike to the site is no more than a mile or two. Then we day hike - without packs. This plan works for Connor, who likes camping more than hiking and for Connor's Dad, Gregg who favors the hiking more than the camping.

The week before, I gathered my own equipment, plus extra gear (and a few food items) that Connor and Gregg did not have. Early Friday, I'm on the road to the camping area. The drive takes me through Amish country in Tuscarawus and Holmes counties in Ohio. I had not been there in decades. It is beautiful on this sunny, mild morning. There horse drawn buggies, nicely decorated buildings, and bustling activity.

I drive through nearby Loudenville and head into the park. Loudenville is a pretty town - even has a McDonalds. I won't mention that to the campers just yet, so I can preserve some measure of a wilderness experience. Campsite 3 had plenty of parking, and looks like a good place to start. I wait at our designated rendezvous location but without cell service don't know where they are. They arrive ready to hike.

We decide to do a hike first before setting up camp since there is time, and the day is sunny. We hike the upper end of the Clear Fork gorge, starting from the covered bridge towards two waterfalls and the dam. It is a beautiful hike. Along the way, we recall humorous vacation adventures. The falls and views from the dam are impressive.

Gregg stands under Big Lyons Falls; Connor is above the falls - out of sight.

Dave and Connor at the dam.


Connor loves the steep hills and scrambles to the top of the falls. We return to the covered bridge on the gorge trail. The sun is hot; many wildflowers carpet the low areas around the creek.

Virginia Blue Bells

At the camp site parking lot, we sort gear, pack up, and hike to Camp site 3. The trail even featurs a new hiking experience for them - a shoes-off stream crossing of Pine Creek just before arriving at the campsite. It is a perfect site - flat, with a fire ring, several good tent sites, stone tables that someone built, and proximity to Pine Creek for water.

We set up camp and gather fire wood. Incredibly, no major camp item has been forgotten - or malfunctions. Connor tends the fire and cranks up the camp stoves. It is a relaxing time. We devour our respective camp food preparations. Then we gather more firewood, and relax around the fire talking about family, camp gear, and Connor's school activities. We turn in shortly after dark. The stars are brightly shining; Pine Creek gurgles in the distance.

The next morning dawns gray and cool. Connor revives the campfire which is burning brightly as I emerge from my tent. We are planning a base camp, so there is no rush to pack up stuff. I like that. Oatmeal tastes good as we fortify ourselves for the day's hiking. The plan is hike the gorge trail, then check our other trails or points of interest. As we leave camp, a few rain drops are falling....hmmmmm.

We hike the gorge trail. The rain becomes less intermittent, more steady. A shelter at trail's end gives us a break for a snack and review of plans. We decide to hike to Gregg's car, since it is closer - instead of returning to my car along the gorge trail. The rain has stopped. I decide to play the McDonalds card. We stop for lunch but mainly for the wi-fi, so we can check the weather forecast.

I'm not a McDonalds regular, and decide to order a Happy Meal because it has smaller portions and apple slices. I disclose my cluelessness about Happy Meals. When asked what kind of Happy Meal, I respond, "the one with apple slices." Connor becomes hysterical - all Happy Meals have apple slices, it turns out.

The weather radar sounds the death knell for our trip. A huge green blob of rain looms for two states to the west, assuring us of rain the rest of the day and through the night. We finish our McDonalds, return to camp, pack up and head home. I am bummed out - had been looking forward to another pleasant night around camp and had no idea the weather would be that bad.

But I'm grateful for the good experience. Connor had become a mostly self sufficient backpacker. Seeing the excitement he displayed at climbing the hills and tending the fire was a high point for me. Gregg seemed to enjoy himself despite a self professed discomfort with tent camping.

We're planning a trip for Emily and Catrina - a more toned down car camping - but still getting them experience in the out of doors. That's what counts.