On Deck

We actually managed to complete a project or two at home this summer in addition to all the tasks completed in Biscuit Hollow. As promised, new deck boards were put on and repairs were made.

Herb and Iris: Note the new deck furniture your contributions helped purchase. Thank you!

Fish Shelter

They tell me I need a shelter for the fish. I guess to hide from the Kingfisher? So being fiscally frugal (cheap), I used an old chimney block and stuffed it full of larch branches. I used the chimney block thinking it would hold the branches under water. Between the weight of the block and all the branches, I could only manage dragging it into the water. Once in the water however, it would only stay partially submerged. I had to find some rocks from the shoreline for additional weight.

Incidentally, the water was still sufficiently warm to swim on this 80 degree plus September 21 Friday.

Football Season

On a sunny fall Saturday morning, the football stadium is a pretty good place to be. Especially if Jeff is playing. Jeff (#22) decided to play JV football this year after a several year hiatus from the game. He got a late start on the season and lacks the experience of the other sophomore players on the team. But being a good athlete and an intelligent one, he knows his role and plays it well, starting on defense as a safety or cornerback, the kick return team, and backup wingback on offense.

The team is 2 - 2 on the season, and this is a game that went in the L column, thus the long faces.



Baseball update: Sunday's game also went in the L column, but Jeff played well, batted .667, 2 hits (1 triple), 1 RBI, 1 run, and made a 1-6 double play (that would be pitcher to Jeff at shortstop tagging the runner and a force at second, by himself).

Wildflowers

When we seeded the area around the pond, we added some perrenial wildflower seed mix around the perimeter. It was a very dry summer and while the flowers are not as prolific as I had hoped, they do add color. I am glad we made the extra effort. Here's a sampling:

Roses

Mom loved her roses. I think. It seems that was our fall back gift when we couldn't think of a kitchen gadget on a gift giving occassion. She carefully planted them and cared for them and they flourished. Some of them are still alive, despite my best efforts at neglectfulness. Mom is now home from the hospital (or will be this afternoon) following her knee replacement surgery, so these roses are for her.

After all, they are her rose bushes.

I sure wish I could pick some and present them in person.

Worlds Apart

“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.” Thus begins the classic “A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens. Or is it “You say potato, I say patato”? Either way, in a similar dichotomy, let me describe two different worlds.

I can wake up in our quiet village of Painted Post and sit on my porch or deck and watch the world wake up. First the newspaper carrier, trudging sleepily through the predawn light, thudding newspapers on to porches up and down the street. The newspaper brings news of crime, feuding politicians, and, the obituaries. The ear splitting whine of the distant street sweeper graciously avoids our neighborhood, this day. Pajama clad neighbors begin to drag garbage cans to the curb. The dog walkers stroll by, coffee cup in one hand, doggie bag in the other, if we are lucky. The garbage truck soon clangs and bangs and beeps as it backs down the one-way Olive Street. A purposeless factory whistle sounds. Now it’s daylight. The diverted interstate traffic, under construction for the last two years, clogs the village’s main thoroughfare a half block away. Drivers honk their horns at the striking workers at the Dresser Rand factory a few hundred feet away, the strikers shouting back. Squirrels drop acorns, clunking on to the car parked in the street. Workers and school children step hurriedly down the sidewalk, anxious to get to their appointed morning destination by the deadline.

Time for me to do the same.

OR

In Biscuit Hollow, I can sit on top of Mount Laurel next to the big pines and watch the world wake up.

The valley, dense with fog, blanketing the distant sounds of civilization.

The wind faintly whispering in the pines, interrupted by the songs of chickadees and finches in the trees all around me. Squirrels dropping acorns and pine cones to gather later for the winter munchies. The screech of a red tail hawk high over head where the blue sky nestles the morning sun, yet unseen through the white.

Occasionally, sunbeams accentuated by the fog reach their fingers through the trees, promising a warm, bright day ahead.

The fog lifts slowly, climbing the valley sides, revealing glimpses of bright sun, clear sky, and colors. The colors of fall, just beginning. Today is the first official day of fall. The plentiful blanket of yellow golden rod. The trees tinged with yellows and ambers and reds, mixing with the green of the meadows and trees yet untouched by the Masters paintbrush.

The sky is clear now, yet the valley below remains filled with a pillow of white.

A flock of turkey cross the field across the valley, breakfasting along the way.

Time for me to do the same.

Strangely enough, there are actually people that prefer the former to the latter. Go figure.

Bachelor Party

I spent most of the weekend building some tree stands for deer season that starts in a month. Saturday afternoon I went out scouting for potential sites and came back to the house about 6 PM. These fellows were having a bachelor party right across the road from the house and hadn't bothered to invite me! Maybe I'll just sit on the front porch.

Traditions

For a long, long time, there has been a white birch bordered flower bed in the front yard in Biscuit Hollow. The birch has to be replaced every couple of years because it rots so quickly, but it’s a tradition. Dad would cut new poles and Mom would plant the flowers. Some things bear repeating. This was this year’s effort. We (Jann) went with some perennials as well as annuals. It’s a good thing I took a picture yesterday because we were supposed to get a frost last night. Who knows what it will look like next weekend.

Baseball vs. Lacrosse

The sports of baseball and lacrosse have a love/hate relationship. They love to hate each other. They trade barbs and criticisms of each other. Lacrosse players have tee shirts that say things like “Men play lacrosse, boys play baseball” and “A day without lacrosse is (as boring) like 999 innings of baseball”. Despite that, Jeff secretly loves baseball and he wears his love for his Boston Red Sox on his sleeve. He just hasn’t been able to play baseball since tee ball age because both sports are in the spring. That didn’t stop him this fall. He came out of the closet and is playing Babe Ruth fall league baseball and is having a blast. These are some pictures from this morning’s game.

Exploration

I haven’t had time to do much exploring on the four-wheelers. That’s sad considering we are sitting across the road from about 5,000 acres of mountains and woods and trails to discover. After I finished the brush hogging project, I did treat myself to a ride down the high road on Mount Laurel, into PA, stopped and checked out the big rocks, and on down to the top of the hill/plateau across the road from Grandpa and Grandma Morehouse’s old place. This is part of the old Grubb farm. There is a very nice log cabin there overlooking the valleys on either side, built several years ago. I intended to visit with my neighbors there but no one was around.


Then I rode down their winding access road through the now overgrown old fields and pastures into Wood Hollow to the old Grubb place. I saw quite a few deer, but nothing that compared to the wintering herd of over a hundred deer that Lynn and I saw late one winter while on a hike there when we were kids.

Traveling back up Wood Hollow, I followed a trail up the other side of the valley a half mile or so and discovered another “camp” that I had heard about but never seen. Beautiful.

I traveled past the “camp” to the top of the next mountain, elevation 2180’, climbed back down to the upper end of Wood Hollow which would be just across the PA line from our property, what we call the bowl, and followed some nicely groomed trails back home. I must do it more.

Murder in Biscuit Hollow?

Note the beach ball in the water and the tiki lamp on the dock. The beach ball is tethered to a rock on a long nylon cord and floats and dances around the pond in the wind and is intended to keep the geese away. The experts gave it a low level of success prognosis. It seems to have worked in our case. The tiki lamp is to keep the mosquitos away when we are over there in the evenings. I have been leaving it there for the summer, planning on taking it down sometime this fall.

Saturday afternoon I went over to the pond to, well, cool off. As I climbed the pond dike on the fourwheeler and the tiki lamp came in to view, I noticed that a large bird was perched atop. I hesitated, thinking about stopping to take a picture, and I quickly recognized it as a beautiful belted kingfisher. In that second, my eyes narrowed, as I focused on the size of that huge beak; the beak seemingly growing in size with every instant that passed. Forget the picture. Save the fish! I gunned the fourwheeler over the top of the dike and scared that vicious monster away before he could murder any more of our fish. After a couple of laps around the pond, he left the valley. I got the impression he was looking over his shoulder the whole way. I took the tiki lamp down.

Come and Sit a Spell

The front porch in Biscuit Hollow has been neglected for quite some time. So we spruced it up a bit.

Fungus Amoung Us

The famous naturalist John Muir said that "in every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks." Yeah, well I think Dad said the same thing because I learned it well. Observe the little things.

Well this wasn't so little. A gigantic puffball (literal name) in our yard in Biscuit Hollow. I set a softball next to it in the next picture so you could get a size reference. The split had just developed the morning of the picture. We chose to leave it and see how big it grows rather than eat it for supper.

I think this next one is a shelf fungus. I found it last August growing on a big old stump next to a trail. A couple of weeks ago, I found the stump had been tipped out in to the trail by a bear.

This shelf lichen can be found quite often. Remember when Aunt Anna used to harvest them when they were white and draw fantastic pictures on them?