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| author | lxf <sng@luxagraf.net> | 2020-12-31 15:40:09 -0500 |
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| committer | lxf <sng@luxagraf.net> | 2020-12-31 15:40:09 -0500 |
| commit | 908696ae0af8463d3034d96e306b0ab8091045e0 (patch) | |
| tree | 4cf6102208dd033d6d5dce0997929fdcb41e5893 /published | |
| parent | c3b84f7147cf93ce7e500338bed4292384011bbc (diff) | |
rolled in latest changes
Diffstat (limited to 'published')
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2006-05-01-closing-time.txt | 45 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2019-10-09_bird-watching.txt | 45 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-03-04_high-water.txt | 63 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-03-11_distant-early-warning.txt | 42 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-03-18_pre-apocalyptic-driving-adventures.txt | 36 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-07-01_wouldnt-it-be-nice.txt | 68 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-07-08_windfall.txt | 54 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-07-15_eight.txt | 63 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-09-23_summer-teeth.txt | 38 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-10-01_light-is-clear-in-my-eyes.txt | 61 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-10-28_walking-north-carolina-woods.txt | 57 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-11-04_halloween.txt | 44 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | published/2020-12-02_learning-to-ride-bike.txt | 33 |
13 files changed, 630 insertions, 19 deletions
diff --git a/published/2006-05-01-closing-time.txt b/published/2006-05-01-closing-time.txt index 88690a3..d69dc60 100644 --- a/published/2006-05-01-closing-time.txt +++ b/published/2006-05-01-closing-time.txt @@ -1,30 +1,37 @@ ---- -template: single -point: 7.0586452366957175,98.53981016694692 -location: Koh Kradan,Trang,Thailand -image: 2008/thailandtrain.jpg -desc: This moment, on this train. This is the last time I'll post something from Southeast Asia for a while. Sadness -dek: Headed back to Europe: I started to write a bit of reminiscence, trying to remember the highlights of my time in Asia before I return to the west, but about halfway through I kept thinking of a popular Buddhist saying — be here now. Most of these dispatches are written in past tense, but this time I want to simply be here now. This moment, on this train. This is the last time I'll post something from Southeast Asia. -pub_date: 2006-05-01T00:14:23 -slug: closing-time -title: Closing Time ---- +The morning was a blur. The early morning boat ride in to the mainland was rough. Not the sea, which was choppy, but not to bad, but I was still suffering from an over celebration of ANZAC day the previous evening. Peter was the only Australian at Lost Paradise, but we wouldn't have wanted him to celebrate alone so we pitched in. What are friends for? -<span class="drop">A</span>fter spending the better part of the day running about Trang, from the customs house to immigration and then Tesco and other warehouse stores for Wally's supplies, I was dropped off near the train station. I had been feeling a bit drab, far too much celebration of ANZAC day the previous evening (which is an Australian holiday to remember a battle on the first world war and was technically only appropriate for Peter the only Australian at Lost Paradise, but we wouldn't have wanted him to celebrate alone). +<img src="images/2006/Thailand_Ko_Kradan__4_20-26_06_30_t5iCw14.jpg" id="image-2486" class="picwide" /> -I spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering around downtown Trang, a pleasant little provincial riverside town. The train left just before sunset, sliding smoothly, far more smoothly than an India train, out of the station, through the suburbs of Trang and into the countryside with its banana trees and coconut palms and tamarind trees and bamboo thickets and jungly undergrowth of vines, some of which, if I'm not mistake, were Kudzu. The sky was a dull grey overcast with some strikingly dramatic cloud formations on the eastern horizon. I was lucky and had the two-person berth to myself for the majority of the journey. I sat by the window and watched the scenery slide by thinking about Wally and the rest probably motoring past Ko Muk or perhaps already back on Kradan unloading the weeks supplies into the cycle cart (Ko Kradan bus service) or maybe already back at the restaurant lounging under the thatched roofs telling stories over cold Chang. Barbeque orders would be placed and Ngu would be grilling or tinkering about with the one remaining generator. The dogs would be prowling about begging for scraps, the puppies wrestling in the yard, Tang and Blondie still off at the beach, lying in the shade, bellies full of chicken carcasses and pork scraps begged off the tourists that had lunch on the beach. +I spent the better part of the day running errands around Trang with Wally and crew. After the customs house and immigration, we moved on to Tesco, and other warehouse stores for Wally's supplies. I stocked up on snacks for the train ride, and after lunch they dropped me off near the train station downtown. -Children in backyards leaned over the fence watching the train as it passed. I thought also of the fact that my time in Southeast Asia was nearly over. Four days in Bangkok to do a bit of last minute work, maybe buy some bootleg DVDs and then poof it disappears from me for now. But it's less the place I will miss that the people, both the locals I've met and the travelers. I'll miss you Southeast Asia, you've changed my whole outlook on the world and shown me things I never dreamed I'd see. +I spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering around downtown Trang, a pleasant little provincial riverside town. The train left just before sunset, sliding smoothly, far more smoothly than an India train, out of the station, through the suburbs of Trang and into the countryside with its banana trees and coconut palms and tamarind trees and bamboo thickets and jungly undergrowth of vines, some of which, if I'm not mistake, were Kudzu. + +<img src="images/2006/Thailand_Trang_4_26_06_03.jpg" id="image-2487" class="picwide" /> + +The sky was a dull grey overcast with some strikingly dramatic cloud formations on the eastern horizon. I was lucky and had the two-person berth to myself for the majority of the journey. I sat by the window and watched the scenery slide by thinking about Wally and the rest probably motoring past Ko Muk or perhaps already back on Kradan unloading the weeks supplies into the cycle cart, or maybe already back at the restaurant lounging under the thatched roofs telling stories over cold Chang. + +Barbeque orders would be placed and Ngu would be grilling or tinkering about with the one remaining generator. The dogs would be prowling for scraps, the puppies wrestling in the yard, Tang and Blondie still off at the beach, lying in the shade, bellies full of chicken carcasses and pork scraps begged off the tourists that had lunch on the beach. Life everywhere continues as it was without you. + +<div class="cluster"> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2006/Thailand_Trang_4_26_06_02.jpg" id="image-2488" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2006/Thailand_Trang_4_26_06_07.jpg" id="image-2489" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2006/Thailand_Trang_4_26_06_04_EMjnGk1.jpg" id="image-2491" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> + +Children in backyards leaned over the fence watching the train as it passed. My time in Southeast Asia is nearly over. Four days in Bangkok to do a bit of last minute work, maybe buy some bootleg DVDs, and then poof, it disappears from me for now. It's less the place I will miss than the people, both the locals I've met and the travelers. + +I'll miss you Southeast Asia, you've changed my whole outlook on the world and shown me things I never dreamed I'd see. Like the evening light now falling on the hillsides just north of Trang, a quiet, relaxed light that falls like one of Winslow Homer's washes over the green hills and white thunderheads turning them a golden orange against the distant blackness of a storm over the gulf of Thailand. Thailand in this light becomes a softer, subtler place, less dramatic and harsh than in the glare of the midday sun. I started to write a bit of reminiscence, try to remember the highlights of my time in this part of the world before I return to the west, but about halfway through I kept thinking of a popular Buddhist saying—be here now. Most of these dispatches are written in past tense, but this time I want to simply be here now. This moment, on this train. This is the last time I'll post something from Southeast Asia. There is no way I could sum anything up for you, no way I can convey what I've seen and done and even what I have written of is only about one tenth of what I've actually done. So I'm not going to try. -I know it's hard to do when you're at home and working and everything is the same shit happening over and over again, but it really is true, that bit about tomorrow… that bit about yesterday… one is gone forever and the other will never arrive. There is only now. But I'm not very good at this sort of thing; instead I'll leave you with some thoughts from others: - -<p class="quote">"To the intelligent man or woman, life appears infinitely mysterious. But the stupid have an answer for every question." – <cite>Edward Abbey</cite></p> +I know it's hard to do when you're at home and working and everything is the same shit happening over and over again, but it really is true, that bit about tomorrow... that bit about yesterday... one is gone forever and the other will never arrive. There is only now. But I'm not very good at this sort of thing; instead I'll leave you with some thoughts from others: -<p class="quote">"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter." – <cite>e.e. cummings</cite></p> +"To the intelligent man or woman, life appears infinitely mysterious. But the stupid have an answer for every question." – <cite>Edward Abbey</cite> -<p class="quote">"What do we live for if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?" – <cite>George Eliot</cite></p> +"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter." -- <cite>e.e. cummings</cite> +"What do we live for if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?" – <cite>George Eliot</cite> diff --git a/published/2019-10-09_bird-watching.txt b/published/2019-10-09_bird-watching.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b81b39 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2019-10-09_bird-watching.txt @@ -0,0 +1,45 @@ +Most mornings I am up early enough to hear the signature sounds of whippoorwills, sometimes even the cackling of an owl. It's not long before those birds quiet down though. By the time my coffee is ready the forest is transitioning from night sounds to dawn sounds. Song birds warble in the dogwoods. Red-bellied woodpeckers drum on oaks. Somewhere high over head a red-tailed hawk shrieks. + +We were house sitting for a few days once and the kids were complaining that, with the curtains closed, they could not tell when it was morning in the house. I asked them, "how do you know when it's morning in the bus?" And they said, "we hear the birds singing." Birds mean morning. + +Every morning somewhere between the golden light of sunrise and the starker white of midday, three Carolina Wren's stop by our campsite looking for food. Many birds move through the forest around us throughout the day, but these three come right into the campsite as if we're not even here. + +I sit at the table, writing. I don't move that much I suppose, but certainly the wrens are aware that I am here. The noise of my fingers typing on the keyboard is enough to keep squirrels away. Yet everyday these three wrens behave as if I don't exist. + +Carolina wrens are tiny brown and tan birds with a slightly downward curved bill. They're the sort of small brown bird that never stops moving. They flit and hop and bounce and chip-chip around beneath the table, even *on* the table sometimes, while I work. + +<img src="images/2019/2019-11-05_090518_misc-in-camp_QuIpHpY.jpg" id="image-2108" class="picfull" /> + +Periodically one stops moving and cocks its head to look at me, as if reassessing what sort of threat I represent. But inevitably curiosity is satisfied and it goes back to ignoring my existence, hopping around, once even perching on my foot to get a better view of the ground. One wren even got up on the table and hopped along picking at crumbs, coming right toward me. I thought it was going to land on my arm, but at the last minute it seemed to suddenly remember me and it flew off into the bushes. + +It's nearly the time of year when the permanent avian residents of the Georgia mountains begin to ban together. There aren't that many. Most species are off in Mexico or South America by now. Those that remain band together for the winter. You see flocks consisting of Carolina chickadees, tufted titmice, and Carolina wrens, sometimes joined by golden-crowned kinglets, downy woodpeckers, perhaps a nuthatch or two. They join up in Autumn and often, from what I saw back when we lived here, stick together for most of the winter. + +<img src="images/2019/birds_2015-05-24_095507.jpg" id="image-2109" class="picwide caption" /> + +But it's not quite cold enough for that yet. These are Carolina wrens, traveling alone, together. Their dark eyes watch me whenever I walk around. If I get too close they scurry away, flutter off under the bus or into the wheel well, but for the most part it feels like I am in their mid-morning snack spot and it's me who should be moving. + +These three were the first time I'd had much encounter with the avian world in a long time. Mockingbirds had ruled in Texas, and I was feeling bad about the summer tanager I'd hit and killed while driving out there. It seemed as if the avians were angry with me, understandably. I dreamed once that a goldfinch was pecking at my finger, biting me until I bled. + +After a few days of the wrens coming through I started to feel like perhaps I was forgiven for that bloody mishap with the tanager. Then one morning I stepped outside at dawn and there was a barred owl not more than ten feet away. + +<img src="images/2019/2019-09-15_062527_watson-mill.jpg" id="image-2094" class="picwide" /> + +I don't write about them much, but birds have dictated our destinations as much as anything else. If you were to overlay our route [through the Gulf coast in 2018](https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2018/01/almost-warm) with popular spring migration birding spots, our route might make more sense. We're not [Kenn Kaufman](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenn_Kaufman) by any means, but we've been known to be [on St. George Island in April](https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2018/04/migration), maybe [spend summer in the Great Lakes](https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2018/07/trees), and perhaps try for an [early spring in the Chiricauhua region](https://live.luxagraf.net/jrnl/2018/01/ghost-cochise). + +My kids have been bird watching since they could stand up. It wasn't something I forced on them, they'd never do it if I'd done that. You can't force things on people, especially kids. If you want to teach your kids something, don't talk about it, do it. Don't tell them what you're doing, just do it. They learn by osmosis and curiosity, not "teaching"[^1]. + +<img src="images/2019/2019-11-06_163952_misc-in-camp.jpg" id="image-2110" class="picwide" /> + +Our kids picked up the bird book that was sitting on the coffee table in our old house and started looking at the pictures before they could walk. There's a photo of one of them, still in diapers, the Sibley Guide to Birds spread out before her, thoughtfully tracing her finger down a page of warblers, trying to find one that looks like the bird in a photo a friend's mother had sent us (it was a goldfinch). + +<img src="images/2019/2019-01-24_024734_leica-test-watson-mill_HvRmOXH.jpg" id="image-2112" class="picwide" /> + +<img src="images/2019/2019-01-03_002829_sony-test-watson-mill.jpg" id="image-2113" class="picwide" /> + +Our kids know a lot about the natural world because it surrounds them every day and piques their curiosity. They wake up to the sound of birds singing. They point out the shrieks of the red-tailed hawk when it circles overhead in the morning. They note the chickadee and titmouse flock when it comes through not long after that. Every time they go for a walk when I'm working I get a full catalog of interesting birds I missed. Birding by proxy. + +It's not always birds of course. One evening the kids found a meadow vole under the bus, drinking from the tiny puddle of condensation that collects below the air conditioner. I imagine it's busy around that water at night. The vole apparently overstayed and got caught out in the open. The kids dug it some roots and piled them back in the shade, where it could eat, but still keep cool. We stepped in for dinner and when we came back out it had moved on. + +Later, after the kids were in bed, I sat out by the fire, listening as the evening sounds faded back to night sounds. The songbirds fell quiet. The woodpeckers stopped tapping. The whippoorwills started up. Later the deep voice of a great horned owl drifted up from somewhere down by the river below. I thought of the vole. Good luck out there friend. + +[^1]: At least not teaching the way we commonly do it in American schools. General strategies can often be conveyed well (aka, taught) but no one (kids or adults) learns when they aren't interested. And you can't force interest. diff --git a/published/2020-03-04_high-water.txt b/published/2020-03-04_high-water.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3fabcb2 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-03-04_high-water.txt @@ -0,0 +1,63 @@ +After a winter in Georgia, we were ready for some warmer climes. We managed to book up a month of beach time at some South Carolina State Parks. Everything came together well, weather, work, and bus repairs. Like we did nearly three years ago, we split the drive down into two days. This time we stopped off for a night at a tiny state park on the Edisto River. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1860.jpg" id="image-2326" class="picwide" /> + +This part of the country, and upriver of here, has out-rained even the pacific northwest so far this year, and it showed. The river was ten feet over flood stage. It was difficult to even tell where the river was, it looked more like a lake. Another three feet and the campground would have been underwater. There wasn't much land to explore, we settled for an early fire and some marshmallows. + +<div class="cluster"> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1855.jpg" id="image-2329" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1849.jpg" id="image-2328" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1856.jpg" id="image-2327" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> + +The next day we headed the rest of the way out to what I still think of as the [edge of the continent](/jrnl/2017/04/edge-continent). Edisto Island is remote, for the east coast anyway. It's true, Charleston is only an hour and half away, but somehow Edisto still feels like the edge of the world. + +Civilization falls away as you drive. The road winds through alternating stretches of muddy marshland and deep stands of gnarled oak trees, bearded with Spanish Moss. Chain stores and strip malls disappear, replaced by crumbling no-name gas stations, fish shacks, cinder block garages, old single story motels. + +<img src="images/2020/DSCF0173.jpg" id="image-2346" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSCF0194.jpg" id="image-2345" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSCF0164.jpg" id="image-2344" class="picwide" /> + +It's not some idyllic world out here of course. The land and people here are abused like they are everywhere. Environmental destruction and the deep, unsolvable poverty that follows it linger everywhere in the shadows. The ruin of modern systems is always more obvious out here at the leading edges, the places where the supposed benefits never quite reached, just inexhaustible desires. These are the places from which life was extracted to enable comfort in some other place. + +There's a divide. I notice it every time we come down here. You cross a high bridge over the Intercoastal waterway onto Edisto Island proper and everything after that is magically fine, derelict buildings hidden away, poverty pushed off the main highway to some backroad most of us will never take. + +Life here is different let's say. And we'll leave it at that. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-02_130659_edisto.jpg" id="image-2332" class="picwide" /> + +Humans are latecomers here anyway, newcomers to this world of sea and sand and muddy marsh. This is the time of year that other migrants are passing through. Every morning we get to wake to the *tea-kett-le, tea-kett-le* of Carolina wrens, the *chip chip chip* of cardinals, and the more elaborate songs of the warblers headed north to their summer homes. I can't think of a better way to wake up than lifting your head, looking out the window, and seeing a Carolina wren staring back at you. + +Our time at the beach here is starkly divided. I am a sitter. To me the beach is a place to come and watch the sea, the sky, the birds. For much of the rest of my family it's a place to hunt for treasures from previous worlds. While I relaxed, staring up at the blue veil of sky, occasionally given depth by a passing gull or brown pelican, Corrinne and the kids wandered up and down the shore finding fossil shark's teeth, bones, bits of black, fossilized turtle shells, and thoroughly modern seashells. + +<div class="cluster"> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-13_125328_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2347" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-11_111550_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2338" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1934.jpg" id="image-2342" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1950.jpg" id="image-2343" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1864.jpg" id="image-2341" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> + +The temperature always hovered on the edge of warm, usually tipping over by late afternoon.Most days you could find a small depression in the sand to stay out of the breeze and it was warm enough to relax in shorts. Sit up though and the temperature dropped considerably. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-01_151817_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2331" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-01_151756_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2330" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-08_141242_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2336" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-02_145520_edisto.jpg" id="image-2333" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-02_145734_edisto.jpg" id="image-2334" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-08_141323_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2348" class="picwide" /> + +I did a lot of staring at the sky. I'm not sure if it's the act of lying down and looking up, or the actual view of the blue sky, or warmth and light of the sun itself, or some combination of those things and more I haven't sussed out, but there is something wonderfully cathartic and healing about staring up at the sky. + +I did it every chance I got, which alas was not quite as much as the last time we were here. But things change, morph, I wouldn't want them to stay the same. If they stayed the same it never would have warmed up enough to coax me off my back and out into the water. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-13_125446_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2339" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-13_125715_edisto-beach.jpg" id="image-2340" class="picwide" /> + +The water was cold, biting cold when the wind hit you after you came up. But you have to get in. And not just when it's easy, not just when everyone is swimming. + +You have to get in even on the days when you don't want to. Even when it's so cold your teeth are chattering before you even get your shirt off. Those are the times when you have to reach down inside and find some way to get out there. The ocean pulls me in, it's part of an understanding I've reached with it, with myself. There are certain rituals that must be performed or the world stops working. And so you get in. When it's cold. When it's not. It doesn't matter. Just get in. diff --git a/published/2020-03-11_distant-early-warning.txt b/published/2020-03-11_distant-early-warning.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41027e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-03-11_distant-early-warning.txt @@ -0,0 +1,42 @@ +There is nothing like a good storm by the sea. The smell of salt on the wind, the slash and clatter of palms as the wind comes ashore. The muffled *thick thick think* of the first drops spitting on the sand. The lightning flashing far out at sea is always visible long before you hear any hint of a rumble. It blinks like Christmas lights on the horizon. + +The waves of wind begin to swing ashore, it's then that you can sense the life in the storm, the personalities, the intentions. Storms are alive too. They have a path to follow just like us. Just because something only lasts a few days, does not mean it doesn't have intentions. Just because you can't decipher the intentions doesn't mean they aren't there. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC02341.jpg" id="image-2356" class="picwide" /> + +Tonight I sat by the fire feeling the barometer drop, feeling the stir of wind, watching the whirl of embers as the fire died down and the wind came up. I could feel it coming, I could sense its presence. + +This storm comes from the southwest, a mix a southern and western personalities, a storm we all know in this part of the world. I never worry about a storm unless it comes from the north. Storms from the north aren't more dangerous exactly, but they're chaotic and unpredictable. You never know what a north wind will bring. Though around here the ones you really have to watch out for are the east and southeast winds. But we're months from those. + +This one we watched arrive. Storm clouds sweeping up from the southwest all day. One or two at first, floating lazily along. Then more, as if they were forming up around some kind of a plan. Whatever the plan was, it didn't involve Edisto. Despite spitting rain a little during the night it was back to sunshine the next day. + +I love a good storm, but not when I have to drive. That morning we headed down the coast a couple hours to Hunting Island State Park.The drive was sunny, fortunately. Uneventful. Beaufort proved to be a charming little coastal southern town. Or it looked that way anyway. By the time we drove through, the rest of the country was starting to lock down over the coronavirus. South Carolina remained in a state of blissful ignorance, but having watched the virus spread via stories of friends and family on the west coast, I wasn't about to head out and wander the streets. + +I'd just as soon strangers always keep a six foot distance from me. But South Carolina wasn't about to make rules regarding that or anything else. South Carolina is the south's "live free or die" state. There still aren't helmet laws here, which I think is great actually. But a virus is not a motorcycle. A virus is not something you choose to do. A virus really has nothing to do with "rights". A virus is a good reminder that rights are a thing conferred by communities of people to members of those communities. There are no "natural" rights. + +It's also important to dig too, because behind all the talk of rights, usually you find someone making money. As one of the camp hosts put to it when I asked if he thought the South Carolina State Parks would close, "These greedy bastards? Never." And he was right. The parks down there remained essentially open through April 12. + +So we missed Beaufort because the virus-exposure-to-fun ratio did not work out in its favor. We did get to spend a few days on Hunting Island though. By a stroke of pure luck we had the nicest campsite in the campground, which was good because otherwise it was packed in and crowded, as beach campgrounds tend to be. The best I can say for it was that the water was walking distance away. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1992.jpg" id="image-2359" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-16_153134_hunting-island.jpg" id="image-2354" class="picwide" /> + +The kids spent all day every day out on the sand. We even made in the water a couple times despite the cold. As you do. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2009.jpg" id="image-2360" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_1989.jpg" id="image-2358" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC02342.jpg" id="image-2357" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-15_151306_hunting-island.jpg" id="image-2350" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-15_145915_hunting-island.jpg" id="image-2349" class="picwide" /> + +The beach here was not nearly as forthcoming with treasures. There were shells, and a lot of jellyfish, but little of the fossils and other things we'd been finding in Edisto. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-16_151554_hunting-island.jpg" id="image-2352" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-16_150934_hunting-island.jpg" id="image-2351" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-16_153017_hunting-island.jpg" id="image-2353" class="picwide" /> + +And then our options began to fade. North Carolina shut down its parks, which killed our next plan, which was head to the Outer Banks for a few months. Then Florida shut down its state parks and we were starting to feel the squeeze. Competition for what few camping spots remained became much more intense. We full timers may fly under the radar for most people, but there are far more of us than you know. Take away public camping and the options get thin quickly. We decided it was time to get out of South Carolina. + +At the time most people were not taking the virus very seriously. Here's the thing. Maybe you can get Covid-19 and be fine. But what if you can't? Do you really want to find out right now when there's no treatment and hospitals are crowded? When we don't even really understand what the virus does, [especially any long term effects](https://mobile.twitter.com/lilienfeld1/status/1251335135909122049)? Just because you survive it does not mean you go back to normal. Ask anyone who lives with Lyme, RSV, chronic fatigue syndrome, or any of the other virus-borne diseases with long term consequences. Viruses are nothing new, sickness and death are nothing new, but that doesn't mean we should run full speed toward them without a care. + +We decided to take steps we felt would best help us avoid coming in contact with SARS-CoV-2. Unfortunately that meant changing our plans. But it's hardly the first time we've had to change plans. These things happen. Traveling around in RV isn't a right you know, it's a privilege that we've enjoyed, but right now it isn't possible. A big part of travel is waiting, so that's what we're doing right now, just like everyone else. diff --git a/published/2020-03-18_pre-apocalyptic-driving-adventures.txt b/published/2020-03-18_pre-apocalyptic-driving-adventures.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..53b52e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-03-18_pre-apocalyptic-driving-adventures.txt @@ -0,0 +1,36 @@ +There are days that are good for driving and days that are not. I prefer Wednesdays. This was a Thursday. Close enough. I took the day off work and we hit the road, back to Athens. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-03-15_101749_hunting-island.jpg" id="image-2361" class="picwide" /> + +We didn't want to go. But to avoid a pandemic you have to be willing to sacrifice. And where we were there were no sacrifices being made. There is a sense of entitlement that runs deep in this country. I can't figure it out, but I see it all around me -- this idea that you can get everything you want out of life without compromise or concession. It's annoying when you're talking about politics or economics, but it's disastrous when it comes to community health. + +Staying six feet away from other people is socially awkward, but if that's all it takes to stop a pandemic, that's not a big deal for a few months. People spent *years* avoiding London and Paris during the plague. If all we need to do is stay six feet apart, and remain at home for a few months, we're getting off light. Unfortunately, even that wasn't happening in the campground. Rather the opposite in fact. + +We've already had a [bout of bad illness in the bus](/jrnl/2018/01/escaping-california) and let's just say it's not an ideal place to be ill. If one person gets something, everyone gets it, there's no way around that. We were not interested in dealing with that *and* having South Carolina State Parks close on us. + +Our reservation at Hunting Island was up. We'd planned to go back to Edisto for a couple more weeks, but the uncertainty regarding public lands -- would state parks in SC stay open? Would we be safe in them? Would groceries continue to make it to a small island at the edge of the world? Would the residents of that island mind our presence if things got real bad? -- made it an easy decision. We decided to head for some private land. + +Fortunately we had a friend back in Athens with a place we could stay for a while, so we jumped on it. We just had to make the four hour drive back. No big deal. + +<img src="images/2020/DSCF0074.jpg" id="image-2363" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSCF0065.jpg" id="image-2362" class="picwide" /> + +It started inauspiciously, as stressful drives inevitably do. I was dumping the tank when I noticed the driver's rear tire was low. There's two wheels in the back, so I wasn't overly worried, but it wasn't a great way to start. Still, it was only a couple hundred miles, what could possibly go wrong? + +Nothing for the first 70 or so miles. I even managed to get the rear tire filled up at a truck stop. All my tires in fact. No charge. And the woman stayed well away from me while doing it. Perfect. For minute I thought, hey, maybe this will all work out. + +Forty miles later the engine sputtered. At first I thought maybe my foot had let up off the gas pedal by accident. My knee had been swollen and driving was painful, so it wasn't out of the question. But no. Ten minutes later, it happened again. This time it was worse. I pulled over. Naturally it was the only stretch of the drive with no cell service. + +I knew from the way it behaved that the problem was gas, specifically not enough of it getting to the engine. I had a quick look and saw air bubbling into the fuel filter. Not good. I knew there was a little leak in the filling hose at the rear of the gas tank. I decided to start there, I got out old trusty -- the rigged up combo of small hose clamps that, along with some aluminum foil and header tape, once let us limp along with a cracked exhaust manifold -- and put it to new use on the rear of the gas tank. It stopped the leaking gas (a task I'd had on my list for the following weekend anyway), and for about ten miles I was pretty happy with myself. + +Then it happened again. Damnit. Stopped again. Now Corrinne wasn't just looking at me with that look that said, *really? today*, she actually said, "Really? Today?" I didn't say anything. I opened up the doghouse again. There were still bubbles leaking up in the fuel filter, so I knew the problem was somewhere between that and the gas tank. About 18 feet of fuel line and one pump. I put on my headlamp, crawled under the bus, inhaled unholy amounts of grass pollen, and slowly worked my way up the fuel line to the pump. No leaks. I stared at the fuel pump. The very [first thing I ever replaced in the bus](/jrnl/2016/06/engine). It's probably the fuel pump I thought as I lay there in the pollen. + +Under ordinary circumstances I'd just hop in the car, drive to the nearest parts shop, get a new fuel pump and install it. But that would mean all kinds of potential exposure of me and the family to coronavirus. That would defeat the purpose of this drive, which was to get us away from people, not closer to them. + +I considered the problem for a bit, lying there, staring up at the engine. If there's extra air coming in, maybe if I tightened up the carburetor to cut the air coming in that way it would balance out? At least enough to let me limp back to Athens. I crawled out and did it. It didn't help much -- the real problem was not enough fuel, not too much air -- but it helped enough that it got us back on the road, limping along. + +After experimenting some I figured out how to accelerate in such a way that it would not stutter much and I could get up to about 50 miles an hour. It took a while, but I limped into Augusta. I decided to skip the interstate and drove through on surface streets. It was slow going, but the bus didn't stutter as much at lower speeds, and eventually we got out of the city and back onto the highway to Athens. + +<img src="images/2020/DSCF0107.jpg" id="image-2364" class="picwide" /> + +In the end it took an extra three hours, but we made it to the old farmhouse turned schoolhouse where we've been staying ever since. I was tired, but grateful to have made it. I squared the bus away, and made dinner. We put the kids to bed, and I went online and ordered a fuel pump from Rock Auto. Problem solved, no one sick. diff --git a/published/2020-07-01_wouldnt-it-be-nice.txt b/published/2020-07-01_wouldnt-it-be-nice.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d955164 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-07-01_wouldnt-it-be-nice.txt @@ -0,0 +1,68 @@ +Perhaps the strangest thing for us about these times is the number of people who have said to us something along the lines of, "well, you had three years to prepare for this, huh?" Or "not much of a change for you, eh?" + +I've had plenty of time to meditate on these statements, but I am still puzzled about what people mean by them. + +Let's be clear. There's nothing about living in an RV that prepares you for illness, nationwide shutdowns, supply chain disruptions, or anything else we've all dealt with in the past six months. If anything, living in an RV makes you much more vulnerable to these things[^1]. Where are you going to camp when public lands close (which has [happened to us twice now](/jrnl/2018/01/eastbound-down))? + +<img src="images/original/2018/2018-01-22_145014_texas-driving.jpg" id="image-1070" class="picwide caption" /> + +When people say these things I think maybe they're referring to the fact that I've always worked remotely, and we homeschool our children, but that was true long before we started living in an RV. The other thing I've considered is that, historically, people who are willing to leave at the drop of a hat, tend to survive upheaval better than those who are dug in, but I don't think that's what the comments above are getting at. + +What I think people are referring to is the very mistaken idea that there's something self-sufficient about living in an RV. There isn't. Look, I love living in the bus, but even I will admit that the self-sufficient notion is mostly fantasy. + +There's plenty about living in an RV that makes you self-reliant, which is well worth being, and will help you all the time, not just in these peculiar times, but self-reliant is a far cry from self-sufficient. Self-reliance means you know what to get at the hardware store, self-sufficient means you never needed to go the hardware store in the first place. + +It's an interesting notion, self-sufficient. When I looked it up in the Webster's 1913 dictionary (the one true dictionary) nearly all the example usage was negative, bordering on pejorative. Self-sufficient was next to words like "haughty", "overbearing", and "overweening confidence in one's own abilities." + +At first glance I thought, well, that does describe luxagraf fairly accurately, maybe we *are* self-sufficient. But whatever it used to mean, for most of us today it means roughly, *sufficient for one's self without external aid*. Which is to say, no one anywhere on earth is 100 percent self-sufficient. + +We think self-sufficient is a singular thing when in fact it's a spectrum on which we all live, where at one end you have the floating chaise-lounge bound people in the movie Wall-E and at the other you have children raised by wolves. That there are more people at the Wall-E end of the spectrum right now seems indisputable, and any effort you can make to slide yourself down toward the wolf children is worth making in my opinion. + +But just because you can get a month's worth of groceries at Costco does not mean you're self-sufficient for a month. It means you can plan ahead, that's all. Similarly, if you think living in an RV is going to make you completely self-sufficient you are in for a learning experience. I know this because that's how I envisioned living in an RV, and I have personally learned the hard way how wrong that vision was. + +The easiest example of this is solar power. I need about three minutes of conversation to discover whether the person I'm talking to has ever actually lived entirely off solar power. Which is to say that, while I love solar power, it does not make you self-sufficient. Having solar slides you down the spectrum a bit closer to the wolf kids, but honestly the lifestyle changes you have to make to live with limited solar power do a lot more for your self-sufficiency than the actual solar panels (which don't last forever, and have to be made in a clean room -- got one of those in your RV?). + +<img src="images/2017/2017-10-02_185729_carson-city-washoe-lake.jpg" id="image-903" class="picwide caption" /> + +Typically people hear solar power, and think, oh cool, you're self-sufficient for energy. And sure, we can run our freezer, lights, and charge all our devices with nothing more than the sun. That *is* pretty cool. In fact there are times when I pinch myself because it still seems so science fiction to me. Solar is awesome. When it works. But sometimes the sun [doesn't come out for five or six days](/jrnl/2017/10/pacific), or we're camped in a deep valley with only a few hours of sun a day, or we're [camped under trees](/2018/07/trees), or a fuse blows, or a wire frays, or the [alternator goes out and you don't realize it until it's too late and your batteries are dead because you never installed the isolator](/jrnl/2017/10/through). These are not hypothetical scenarios. All of these things have happened to us. + +And you know how we have saved ourselves every single time solar power has let us down? By connecting to the power grid. By admitting that we're not self-sufficient and using the available shared resources of our times. + +Want another example? Water. We can carry just under 80 gallons. We can stretch that to about six days if we don't shower much. That's actually crazy impressive. The [average American uses 80-100 gallons of water](https://www.usgs.gov/special-topic/water-science-school/science/water-qa-how-much-water-do-i-use-home-each-day?qt-science_center_objects=0#qt-science_center_objects) *every day*[^2]. But it doesn't make us self-sufficient at all. Not even close. If we happen to be camped near water then sure, we can filter and boil and get by pretty much indefinitely, but I can only think of a handful of times in three years on the road when this would have been possible. + +Then there's food. Food is the best case scenario. We can easily store two weeks worth of food. I believe we could probably go about a month, though it might be a little grim and vegetable-less by the end. I'm super interested in trying to grow some veggies in the bus[^3], but so far we have not tried this. + +<img src="/images/2018/2018-08-26_190930_pawnee-grassland.jpg" id="image-1675" class="picwide caption" /> + + +The single biggest limitation on our self-sufficiency is waste. I'd guess this is true for all RVers, but I do know that five people on a single black tank is somewhat extreme, even by RV standards. Under normal circumstances we can go about three days without dumping the tank. If we're camped somewhere that it's okay to dump grey water (AKA, dish and washing water), we can stretch our tank to six days. Six days. That's the hard limit. Anything beyond that, and you are full of shit. + +So for everyone thinking, damn, those RVers were really ready for this lockdown, yeah, not so much. If it seemed that way it's simply because full time RVers started abiding by the rules later and stopped abiding by them sooner. And I think in most cases they did that not because they didn't think the virus was a problem, but because really they had no choice. And that's not were you want to be. + +This is actually something I spend a good bit of time thinking about though. I am with you people who think RVs are self-sufficient. I *wish* there were a way to make an RV more self-sufficient. But I've yet to come up with a way to do that without going to extremes that are impractical. We could, for example, put out tarps and harvest rain water when it rains, and dew when it's damp, but that's way more hassle than it's worth when you're going to have to dump the tanks anyway. And this is the core of why an RV will never be very far to the self-sufficient end of the spectrum. + +If you want self-sufficiency in travel, look to boats. The self-sufficiency of boats was born out the best of mothers: necessity. + +Boats are more self-sufficient because they have no choice. + +So long as you are always just a few miles from the grocery and hardware stores (like RVers) you're never going to apply the same kind of evolutionary pressure and so you're never going to get the same level of self-sufficiency in the outcome. + +Every smart thing in the bus was taken from reading books on sailing. Sailors know how to store food and stretch water because they have no choice. + +There's a side effect of this that's worth thinking about though no matter how you live. Without that pressure, you also don't generate the kind of community that sailors have, and in the end, even with social distancing, that community is what I've seen sailors turning to more than their own individual skills. The collective sufficiency trumps self-sufficiency every time. + +But you have to have that collective sufficiency, and I'd argue that the dynamics of sailing are what created it. Take a group of people, select for self-reliance out of the gate, because you have to have some degree of self-confidence and self-reliance to even begin to want to live on a boat, and then throw those people together and stir the pot for a hundred-odd years. What you'll get is a tight-knit community of like-minded individuals who know the value of working together because they know the hardship of going it alone. + +That last bit is the key. The hardship of going it alone. When the going gets tough, most RVers go home. Most people with houses lock the door behind them and hole up. That's not to say we haven't met great people on the road, or that communities don't come together, we have and they do, but so long as there's a fall back plan to fall back on, we all do. + +If there is no backup plan and everyone around you is used to improvising, solutions will be found. If everyone around you has a fall back plan, no solutions will be found. + +In the end this is really neither here nor there, except to say that no, living in an RV does not make you much more self-sufficient than living in a house. Buy a few solar panels, get a water holding tank and composting toilet, and you'll be every bit as self-sufficient as we are. Throw in a garden, five years practice in the garden, and you'll be well ahead of us. + +Don't get me wrong, I love living in an RV. It's more fun, puts a lot more adventure in your life, makes you feel more alive, makes you learn to rely on yourself, and host of other things that make it my favorite way to live of the ways I've tried so far. Don't let me put you off it if you're thinking of trying. + +This is really just to say that, no, we were no more prepared for this very interesting year than you were. + +[^1]: Living on a boat puts you in a better place because you have access to a much more self-reliant, better connected community (few, if any RVs have radios. Every ocean-going vessel has a way to communicate, which is a big part of it I think). You might also be able to harvest water if you have a desalinizer, but those are fantastically expensive (worth it in my opinion, but still expense). And seafood is easier to catch than land food. But yeah, self-sufficient RVs? Not a thing. +[^2]: The largest single use of water in the average household is flushing the toilet. Every day we fill a bowl with clean, pure, drinkable water, and then we literally take a crap in it. The is to me, probably the most puzzling, bizarre behavior in the modern western world. +[^3]: There's an old guide to growing veggies on a boat called *Sailing the Farm* that got me thinking about how we could grow food in 26 feet. Crazy as that sounds, people have some clever ideas out there on the internet. And no, it wouldn't make us self-sufficient, but it would move us a little closer to those wolf children. diff --git a/published/2020-07-08_windfall.txt b/published/2020-07-08_windfall.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcc2b7c --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-07-08_windfall.txt @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ +The change from living on the road to living in a house is more difficult than the reverse. Or perhaps more painful is the better way to put it. It was difficult to get rid of all of our stuff, [surprisingly difficult](/jrnl/2016/05/root-down), but buying new stuff is downright painful. + +In order to avoid the financial pain, but also the more nebulous, soul-sucking pain of consumer culture that eats at us all, and since most stores were closed anyway, we ended up essentially camping in the house. This was not so much a conscious decision, as a thing that happened. Camping is what we know. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-08-12_141449_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2395" class="picwide caption" /> + +We did have a few items in a storage unit that we brought out here. Our storage unit provided an interesting lesson (again) in how bad I am at estimating what my future self will want. I saved all the wrong things (again). Five boxes of books? Could not get rid of those fast enough[^1]. But damn I wish I had kept more of my tools. I wish I had my saws, my benches, my shelves, my shovels and rakes. [Tools](/jrnl/2015/12/tools). Always save tools. + +Thankfully I did keep my desk. We also kept a dining table. No chairs though. No problem. We pulled up our camp chairs for the first couple weeks. Eventually we found some cheap chairs at a local antique store. To date, that and a bunk bed for the kids, are the only pieces of furniture we've purchased. The previous tenant left a bed frame, we bought a new mattress. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2459.jpg" id="image-2399" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-08-14_130959_a7r4-test.jpg" id="image-2396" class="picwide caption" /> + +For the most part though, even months later, we are camping in a house. + +We try to spend most of our time outdoors anyway. Early on in the spring this worked great, but as the summer wore on, without much water to swim in, the heat drove us in. + +<div class="cluster"> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-03_133106_water-slide.jpg" id="image-2394" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2832.jpg" id="image-2402" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2838.jpg" id="image-2403" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/2020-06-13_161120_mcphail-yard-misc.jpg" id="image-2392" class="cluster picwide caption" /> +</div> + +While we did buy some furniture, there were certain things we just did not want to spend money on. Like a washing machine. What an insanely boring thing to spend money on. No one needs a washing machine. What we all need are clean clothes. + +I assumed Corrinne would not stand for this line of thinking, so I said we'd get a washing machine off Craigslist. To get us by until that happened, I bought a hand washing plunger and a couple of five gallon buckets. The house came with, as any house dating from the 19th century should, a clothes line. + +If you've followed luxagraf for long you probably know where this story is headed. Yes, six month later, we're still hand washing all our clothes. In a bucket, with a plunger. It sounds crazy, but the things is... we like it better. Our clothes get just as clean, very little money was spent, and, as a nice added bonus we get healthier because we've built a little exercise into our day. At this point, if I were going to buy anything, it'd be a clothes dryer. + +<div class="cluster"> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2436_iIkoaQQ.jpg" id="image-2398" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2483.jpg" id="image-2401" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +</div> + +I think this little fringe benefit, of exercise, is a bigger deal than it seems at first glance. Maybe it's just me, but I really dislike "working out". I don't dislike the effort or process, actually, truth be told I love lifting weights, but the whole idea of "exercise" bothers me. That I should stop my life and go to a gym or go do *something* other than just daily living, feels fundamentally unnecessary to me. It feels like a symptom of much deeper problem. Why does my daily life not provide enough physical exertion to keep me healthy? Doesn't that seem odd? + +There are certain habits and customs of modern life that only seem sane because we've been so deeply indoctrinated into them. I believe this is one of those. The idea that you should stop your actual life and "exercise" says a lot about our lives. Life has become so physically easy for most of us these days that we become unhealthy living this way. If this is true, and most evidence suggests it is, I posit there is something seriously wrong with our lives, and the effects probably go far beyond needing to exercise. + +I think this is a sign that life is not supposed to be physically easy, that there needs to be struggle and even suffering to be a fully realized, healthy human being, but never mind that right now. Let's just say you hate the idea of working out, and want to build more exercise into your life: that's quite simple. + +The more time I spent thinking about this, and yes, I often think about it while plunging the day's laundry, the more I thought hmm, what if I built more of these little workouts into my day? What if you used a hand crank blender instead of a Vitamix, what if you used a reel push mower instead of riding mower? What if you used a plunger and a bucket to do laundry? It's really just extends a basic life philosophy I established years ago when I was living in New York: when there's an option, take the stairs. Walk slowly if you want, but take the long way. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2476.jpg" id="image-2400" class="picwide" /> + +And I have good news: you can do this too if you want. It's simple really. Look around your life for machines, and then figure out what people did before there were machines to do it for them. In this spirit I bought a push reel mower and a hand crank coffee grinder. And I know it sounds silly. But you know what, it works. + +The best thing is that it actually makes life more fun. The kids get involved, doing laundry becomes a little thing you do everyday rather than an anonymous task that has to get done. And I like that. I don't think we're here to get things done, I think we're here to do things. + +[^1]: Not that books don't have value. But I find that making notes, writing down passages that grab me, and other methods of extracting information from books is sufficient that there's rarely a need to keep the actual book around. I've since gotten rid of most of them. There are a few I keep for their rarity, or because I frequently refer to or re-read them. diff --git a/published/2020-07-15_eight.txt b/published/2020-07-15_eight.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4181d9a --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-07-15_eight.txt @@ -0,0 +1,63 @@ +Happy birthday girls. I can't believe it's been only eight years since you arrived. It feels like you have always been here, like we have all always been here. I can't remember what I did without you, but it couldn't have been much fun. + +I know we weren't able to celebrate your birthday where or how we'd intended this year. But I also know you've already learned that the world is always turning, and you know how to roll with it. + +One thing that doesn't change though is the waking up before dawn. As per birthday request we ate crepes for breakfast, and as per usual, we ate in the early morning twilight. + +<div class="cluster"> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3001.jpg" id="image-2426" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_2990.jpg" id="image-2425" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_052514_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2410" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-10_210043_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2404" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> + +We skipped the balloons this year. As a birder I've always had hesitations about balloons, an alarming amount of which end up in seabird stomachs. This year we decided to retire that tradition. + +<div class="cluster"> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_060538_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2414" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3003.jpg" id="image-2427" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3010.jpg" id="image-2428" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_073914_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2422" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_072231_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2419" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> + +My favorite part of their birthdays, especially as they get older and more thoughtful, is watching them give each other gifts + +<div class="cluster"> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_062224_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2415" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_062255_lo-8th-birthday_5LMt1x1.jpg" id="image-2418" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_072619_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2420" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> + +Then there's this boy who somehow has certain relatives convinced that he too should get some gifts on his sister's birthday. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_052552_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2411" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_052623_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2412" class="picwide" /> + +Our original plan for the year was to spend a few months exploring the Carolina coasts, then cross the Allegheny Mountains, and head across Ohio, up the thumb of Michigan and back to the Great Lakes. Part of the motivation behind this was that the girls really wanted to spend their birthday at Lake Superior again. + +Obviously that didn't happen. Instead we are here, deep in the Carolina pine forests, making the best of it again. Mostly I am fine with this, but on their birthday, I did feel like I had failed them. I felt it even more so when I went to add the related entries to the bottom of this post and I saw the last four years: train rides, nearly private lakes, white sand beaches, even the swimming pool in Texas looks pretty appealing in the stifling summer heat of South Carolina. But it is what it is, and I don't mean to imply we have a hard life or anything like that. It's just harder to let go of some plans than others. + +On the bright side, we had an oven to bake an actual cake in. We still [love our waffle cake](/essay/waffle-world), but sometimes you need to change it up. Unfortunately, the kids weren't willing to wait for the cake the cool, so the frosting got runny and the cake split on us, something you don't have the worry about with waffle cake. No one cared but me. + +<div class="cluster"> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_032911_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2407" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_032831_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2406" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3031.jpg" id="image-2429" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3066.jpg" id="image-2432" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_042557_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2408" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_042848_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2409" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3045.jpg" id="image-2431" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3032.jpg" id="image-2430" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_153309_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2424" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-10_214322_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2405" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-11_073856_lo-8th-birthday.jpg" id="image-2421" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> diff --git a/published/2020-09-23_summer-teeth.txt b/published/2020-09-23_summer-teeth.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df550db --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-09-23_summer-teeth.txt @@ -0,0 +1,38 @@ +I am so far behind telling these stories I am giving up and skipping a few things in the interest of catching up. + +I spent most of the summer unable to write. Or unable to write what I wanted to write. Unwilling perhaps? I'm not sure, all I know is I didn't do anything I had planned to do when we got here. Like most people I imagine, I was in a bit of a funk most of the summer. + +Opportunities were all around, but I just sat back and listened to the whooshing sound they made as they flew past me. + +Despite having a chance to work on the bus without deadline or the inconvenience of living in it while tearing it up, I did absolutely nothing. I didn't even wash it. I didn't even go in it for months. The coronavirus situation provided me with a nice excuse to be lazy. If the world's shut down anyway, what's the point of doing anything? + +Those bigger, longer writing projects [I said I was going to work on](/jrnl/2020/06/hands-on-the-wheel)? Nah, didn't touch them. I squandered months. The most I managed to do was help Corrinne plant a few things in a small garden plot. But by mid summer I'd lost interest in that too. Corrinne kept at it though. We managed to get a good tomato harvest at least, along with one lonely, but pretty delicious, watermelon. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-08-07_175620_watermelon-yard.jpg" id="image-2434" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-08-07_175936_watermelon-yard.jpg" id="image-2435" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-08-07_180059_watermelon-yard.jpg" id="image-2436" class="picwide" /> + +It was a strange summer. I think we were all longing for some beach time, some wide open stretches of sand and water instead of lawns and humidity. But even if there had been beaches open to go to, I'm not sure I'd have made the effort. Something in me was deeply in retrograde this summer. I couldn't even bring myself to post things here. Normally I write things for luxagraf like I breathe, without thinking about it. Not this summer. + +Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the transit of the stars, maybe it was just me. Whatever the case, I did finally snap out of it and start doing the work that needs to be done (more on that later). But for those few months I, we, maybe the whole world to some degree, moved like a somnambulist. + +That's not to say we just lay around in daze. We got out and picked wild berries growing down the road. The kids rode their bikes, built wooden weapons, and explored the world around them as they always do. From their point of view, this summer was undoubtedly different, maybe a little boring, but they still had fun. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-08-29_152513_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2438" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3509.jpg" id="image-2444" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-06_081424_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2440" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-03_121556_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2439" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-06_131337_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2441" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-08-29_100516_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2437" class="picwide caption" /> + + +And lest you think I am so self-aware, let me be clear: I didn't notice any of this as it happened. It wasn't until the heat broke one day in early September that I suddenly sat up and thought wait, what the hell just happened? How is it September? Why am I not doing anything? + +I don't know for sure what it was that snapped me out of it, but I distinctly remember sitting on the porch, watching the kids reading in the hammock, and suddenly thinking *what am I waiting for? Whatever it is, clearly it isn't coming. I need to get going, now*. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-06_090647_around-house.jpg" id="image-2443" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-07_151640_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2442" class="picwide" /> + +So I did. There is really no magic to writing. It's like anything else you want to do, at some point you have to force yourself to sit in the chair and do it. Even when you don't want to. Especially when you don't want to. I forced myself into the chair and got to work. That effort cascaded. Start one project and it's easier to start another. And another. + +In some ways, though I look back on it mostly in disgust with myself for falling into a trap of my own thinking, my own lack of will, perhaps my summer malaise was necessary. Perhaps I needed to get the bottom of the barrel I'd been wallowing in for a while. Perhaps you never wake up until you have an uncomfortable collision with the ground beneath you. diff --git a/published/2020-10-01_light-is-clear-in-my-eyes.txt b/published/2020-10-01_light-is-clear-in-my-eyes.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d95e47 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-10-01_light-is-clear-in-my-eyes.txt @@ -0,0 +1,61 @@ +Summer heat never bothers me. It's the humidity. The irony is that I moved back here two decades ago because I loved the humidity. I wanted to sweat, I wanted to suffer that overbearing presence of the world, air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Sometimes I still do. I'll take a humid night in New Orleans over a cool one in Chicago any time. But increasingly I find myself itching for that first day when the humidity breaks and you can feel Autumn in the air. + +You can see it too. There is a quality of light in dry air that is cleaner, crisper, more revealing. The world sparkles more, feels more brilliantly alive. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-06_090549_around-house.jpg" id="image-2459" class="picwide" /> + +I've come to think lately that it's not Autumn that I was wanting, but the dry western air of my youth. That dryness is calling me back home. Technically speaking, I grew up by the beach, the air was rarely dry like the desert. Still, it was never as humid like it is here. + +I miss the desert. But I miss the balance between extremes even more. I miss the damp foggy mornings that give way to warm, but crisp clear afternoons. Around here the damn foggy mornings give way to... damp foggy afternoons. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC_4020.jpg" id="image-2447" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3966.jpg" id="image-2449" class="picwide" /> + +At least it's cool and we can get outside again. We'd gone soft over the summer. We lived inside. Cheated the heat. Lured into the air conditioned nightmare. It's hard to escape it without some serious effort of will. It also helps to have something worth going outside for -- white sand, red rock, cool mountain forests, waves, tacos, something. + +The minute the humidity broke though we went back out. The hammock went up, the camp chairs moved back by the fire pit, the rope swing got pulled out of the branches where it had hung, unused through the summer heat. Life is good again. + +<div class="cluster"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_38772.jpg" id="image-2445" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3984_ZlWmumM.jpg" id="image-2448" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3838.jpg" id="image-2450" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/2020-07-19_094945_watermelon-yard.jpg" id="image-2433" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/P1000200.jpg" id="image-2446" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_3475_TW8Lf1M.jpg" id="image-2452" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_4038.jpg" id="image-2460" class="cluster picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-19_152103_misc-mcphail.jpg" id="image-2456" class="cluster picwide" /> +</div> + +I've said for years living indoors was killing us. All of us that is. This year, for the first time, I've seen quite few other people saying the same, albeit for different reasons. Stale, recycled building air is especially bad if you're trying to stop the spread of a virus, but it's bad for a host of other reasons too. Long after this virus is a distant memory, spending all your time indoors will still be bad for you. Get outside more if you can. Spend a little time every day under the open sky and you'll feel better. No roof but stars. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC03249.jpg" id="image-2463" class="picwide" /> + +With the heat gone I finally got to work cleaning and fixing up a few things on the bus. I replaced the exhaust manifold gaskets, flushed the radiator, bled the brakes, replaced the starter relay (again), and cleaned up some wiring. There's a considerable amount of exhaust leaking though and I think I am going to take it in to get that looked at. I have neither the tools nor skills to redo all the exhaust pipes and joints. I did finally get started washing and waxing it though. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-09-27_045554_around_house.jpg" id="image-2455" class="picwide caption" /> + +I also started on some interior work. I installed a new MPPT solar controller that is a thousand times better and cheaper than the PWM controller we had previously. It's amazing how much the price of solar components have come down in the past five years. Even LiPO batteries are about half the price they were two years ago. + +Next I tore out an entire wall, taking out the couch, and pulling down my custom made cabinet. I also removed a good portion of the ceiling. I did all that primarily so I could fix a water leak where the wires from the solar panel came in. I added a proper cable entry cover to stop the water leak. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC03244.jpg" id="image-2462" class="picwide" /> + +I decided not to drill for the cover, opting instead for some high strength polyurethane adhesive. It makes me a little nervous, but I thought this made a good test since if it fails, the wires will keep the cover from flying off. It definitely solved the leak anyway, how it holds up over the years remains to be seen. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC03243.jpg" id="image-2461" class="picwide caption" /> + +I figured as long as the wall was torn up I might as well make a few improvements as well. I installed some heavier wire coming down from solar setup so we can add a couple more panels down the road if we want. I also ran some coaxial cable up to the roof for a Wi-Fi antenna. The I added a shunt to the batteries and ran some wired up through the wall so we can monitor the battery state without Bluetooth (which is handy, but will inevitably fail). + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-17_134042_self-portraits.jpg" id="image-2453" class="picwide" /> + +Since I was tearing up the ceiling I also decided to test how my initial ceiling panel installation strategy worked. I deliberately left some strategic gaps (which are covered by the metal strips you see in the photos) so I could remove the tongue and groove panels without removing all of them. I'm happy to say this did work, perfectly in fact. I was able to easily pull out a couple panels over the stove to fix the ground wire on the light there, which had been flickering annoyingly for years now. + +After a summer in which I was unable to do much of anything, working on things again felt good. When we were on the road I tended to work in small bursts when time and circumstances permitted (or at the side of the road when circumstances required). Now though I can get a little bit done everyday, which gives me a sense of slow steady progress that I rather prefer to the burst and then nothing workflow. + +I find this interesting because I was once a fan of the extremes of things: everything and then nothing at all. I still see the merit in this for some things, but the danger is that time spent doing nothing at all comes the vastly outweigh the time spent in intense bursts of work. Everything or nothing too often turns out to be nothing at all. + +I've come to appreciate that steady, little-bit-every-day approach. The secret is to never take a day off whatever it is, make it a habit. Do something every day. It doesn't matter how much, just do something. Sometimes it's hard to tell you're making any progress, but if you just force yourself to sit in the chair and do the work anyway, then one day you look back and realize how far you've come. diff --git a/published/2020-10-28_walking-north-carolina-woods.txt b/published/2020-10-28_walking-north-carolina-woods.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e69ffa1 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-10-28_walking-north-carolina-woods.txt @@ -0,0 +1,57 @@ +I started traveling with my feet, walking out the front door as a kid to go exploring. There was a tract of vacant land not far from my house I would walk to in the early days. It had a cluster of Eucalyptus trees that offered shade in the summer, and from mid way up, a view of the sea. + +I started going farther and farther afield as I got older, until I was sneaking off to catch the southbound PCH bus, carefully horded change heavy in my pocket, often ending up twenty or more miles from home at the age of twelve[^1]. + +Later I spent a lot of time on the trails of the Sierra Nevada, the White Mountains, the Trinity Alps, the Arizona desert, the western slope of Colorado, and the canyon lands of Utah. And then one day, I stopped walking around. + +It wasn't a conscious decision, stopping. I just didn't make the time for walking anymore. What you don't make time for, doesn't happen. And it didn't for over a decade, until I decided it was time to plan a walk. It just popped into my head one day, *you should go for a walk*. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_125807_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2464" class="picwide" /> + +So I pulled up a map and plotted a trip to the mountain trails of North Carolina, a place called Shining Rock Wilderness. I'd intended to go alone, but my kids got wind of my plan and wanted in. It took some scrambling to find enough gear for us all, but I managed. I'm glad I did, walking with my kids made it better in every way. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-22_093539_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2482" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_132310_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2465" class="picwide" /> + +It wasn't a long walk, but it was our kind of walk. We followed a river side trail a few miles up a thickly forested valley, under a canopy of yellow birch, oak, and beach, with buckeye and tulip poplar beneath. The forest was decked out in autumn colors. Red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves rained down with every shuddering breeze. + +We set up camp in the fading light the first evening, and there we stayed. We played by the river, exploring upstream the first morning to see where another river cut in and the valley opened up some. Mainly though we spent our time in our little neighborhood of river valley. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-21_103349_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2479" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-21_093148_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2477" class="picwide" /> + +It was a fine river, babbling calmly in some places, but turning to a tumbling cataract in others. It had the perfect clarity of western rivers. Even in pools six feet deep, we could see the rocky, leaf-strewn bottom below. In the shallows thin ribbons of clear water slid over the black granite rocks, shimmering like heat waves on a desert horizon. You wanted to lay down and drink it right off the rocks. + +We didn't of course, but there is something tremendously calming about laying down by the water. It was cold, but not unbearable. We tossed our clothes on the rocks and went swimming one afternoon, laying afterward on the black granite shore, letting the warmth of the afternoon sun on the rocks chase away the chill. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_171455_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2467" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_171957_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2468" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_172009_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2469" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_155851_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2466" class="picwide" /> + +In the evenings we would cook dinner down by the river on our tiny stove. We made all our own food in the dehydrator ahead of time and rehydrated it in camp. Mac and cheese, a chicken curry we named Shiny Rock Curry. Rehydrated canned chicken is better than it sounds. And everything is better when you eat it in the wild, next to a river. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-21_085528_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2476" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_172051_backpacking-shining-rock_BJp4SQV.jpg" id="image-2471" class="picwide" /> + +Every night after dinner we walked a little way up the river and stashed our bear canister well away from the tent. On the way back we'd lie down on our backs and watch the pink sunset through the yellow leaves of the trees. Then the bats would dart overhead, silhouetted against the twilight sky. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_190151_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2473" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-20_190354_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2474" class="picwide" /> + +The kids didn't seem to mind the deep darkness of the forest at night. Although, for once I didn't encounter any resistance to going to bed. They may not have been afraid of the dark forest, but they weren't terribly eager to remain out in it either. A campfire would likely have helped, but sadly, there are no fires allowed in the Shiny Rock Wilderness right now. + +One night I got up in the early morning darkness and unzipped the tent to a panorama of stars, with Orion perfectly framed in the one treeless spot of sky. It was cold, but I sat out on a log, watching the clouds drift past the glow of the moon, hidden somewhere behind the ridge. I couldn't help wondering how many problems might be solved if we all had a chance to more regularly see the stars. It's hard to take yourself too seriously when the stars are always there to remind you what's real and what's theatre. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-21_073838_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2475" class="picwide" /> + +Early mornings on the river are magical. Get up when the light of the world is still soft and gray and stand and listen to the water. There is nothing better than morning twilight beside a river. + +We were up early every morning. The kids would play on the rocks while I made coffee in the close company of a trio of rock wrens that were our only real visitors the whole trip. They seemed genuinely curious about what we were doing. They studied us with cocked heads, watching as we ate our breakfast burritos. They left when I made hot chocolate, though even later, when we were racing leaf boats in the eddies, I heard them chattering somewhere in the thicket of mountain laurel across the river. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-22_075925_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2480" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-21_094849_backpacking-shining-rock.jpg" id="image-2478" class="picwide" /> + +The last morning we packed up our gear and headed home. None of us wanted to though. I was kicking myself for not taking more time off, I had plenty to spare. I just hadn't anticipated how much we would all want to stay. The kids spent much of the hike back plotting ways to come back, times to come back, what would it be like in spring? Was it hot in summer? As I listened to them talk about it I found myself wondering how long it would be before they were counting their change and looking up bus schedules. + +[^1]: Kids don't do this any more. I'm not sure I'd want mine to, but it was a different time. And my parents were never, so far as I know, aware that I did this. The bus riding was mostly done in the company of a friend or two, mutual support was needed to travel far at that age. diff --git a/published/2020-11-04_halloween.txt b/published/2020-11-04_halloween.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..34263c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-11-04_halloween.txt @@ -0,0 +1,44 @@ +Our kids look forward to Halloween the way I used to look forward to Christmas. They'll sit around in May plotting different things they can be for next Halloween. Then they'll ask *when is Halloween?* the way some kids ask *are we there yet?* + +It's fun for Corrinne and I to listen to all their costume ideas. In the course of a year we hear dozens of plans tossed around. I encouraged the more outlandish ones, though those tend to be abandoned the fastest. I've always wanted to see if Corrinne could figure out a way to make some of their more creative ideas into costumes, like "a haunted pine tree" or a siren. + +<div class="cluster"> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_142442_halloween.jpg" id="image-2501" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_142603_halloween.jpg" id="image-2505" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_142538_halloween_ouHhM2u.jpg" id="image-2504" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_142347_halloween.jpg" id="image-2500" class="cluster picwide" /> +<span class="row-2"> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_4063.jpg" id="image-2512" class="cluster pic66" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_4095.jpg" id="image-2513" class="cluster pic66" /> +</span> +</div> + +This year costumes that are also pajamas were all the rage. I support this rage because costumes should be worn for at least the next six months, ideally much longer. Our kids are still playing with the fairy wings they [wore for Halloween when we were in Patrick's Point](/jrnl/2017/11/halloween-and-big-trees) three years ago. + +Elliott somehow found out about these pajama costumes and discovered one that was a flying squirrel. But then his sister chose to be a rock star (specifically, [Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs](https://karenomusic.com/biography), because Lilah's imagination is always very detailed and precise), so he decided to be a rock star flying squirrel. Then the same thing happened to our erstwhile leopard, who became a rock star leopard. + +The funny thing about this is our kids really have no idea what a rock star is, not that such things matter. They just want to get dressed up, eat candy, and dance around all night. Are there even rock stars anymore? I have a hard time picturing Keith Richards or Mick Jagger getting away with their antics in today's world. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_142616_halloween.jpg" id="image-2506" class="picwide caption" /> + +We skipped the trick-or-treating this year, as I imagine most people did. For us there wasn't really anywhere to go anyway. Our nearest neighbors are cows, which are notorious for only having tootsie rolls, good and plenty, and other candy no one wants. + +We played it safe and celebrated by having a Halloween candy scavenger hunt and decorating some sugar cookies. The scavenger hunt was all Corrinne's doing, I lack that sort of festive creativity. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_142338_halloween.jpg" id="image-2499" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_150303_halloween.jpg" id="image-2508" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_131251_halloween_Gn6Bkkp.jpg" id="image-2498" class="picwide" /> + +Black frosting turns out to be tough, we settled for gray. Otherwise though the kids made out like bandits with cookies *and* plenty of candy squirreled away for the rest of the week. + +I always try to get them to eat all their candy on Halloween. I am a big believer in the binge -- just get it over with. Somehow they never fall for this. They have rather remarkable restraint in that way. Elliott always tells me he can't eat anymore or he'll get a stomach ache. No way I was smart enough to let that stop me when I was his age. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_144011_halloween.jpg" id="image-2507" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_151650_halloween.jpg" id="image-2510" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-10-31_153344_halloween.jpg" id="image-2511" class="picwide" /> + +One change from bus life, we have an oven so we got to roast our pumpkins seeds this year. It got me thinking, *hey now, I could fix the oven in the bus while we're sitting around here.* + +I'm not entirely sure I want to fix it though. Somehow it feels like abandoning our [waffling ways](/essay/waffle-world). Then again, there are things you can't waffle. Like pumpkin seeds. But is that worth the trouble? I don't know. I'm still mulling it over. Maybe by next Halloween we'll have it sorted out. You don't want to rush into these things after all. diff --git a/published/2020-12-02_learning-to-ride-bike.txt b/published/2020-12-02_learning-to-ride-bike.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b08d4be --- /dev/null +++ b/published/2020-12-02_learning-to-ride-bike.txt @@ -0,0 +1,33 @@ +We gave Elliott a bike for [his birthday last year](/jrnl/2019/12/birthday-beach), but I've been slow in teaching him how to ride. When we got back from our [walk in the woods](/jrnl/2020/10/walking-north-carolina-woods), I made it a point to give him a chance to practice every day. + +The road in front of our house sees four or five cars a day at most. It's generally a safe place to ride. We'd make a couple trips back and forth, up and down the hill with me running along beside him, holding on to the back of his seat. We'd do this two or three times before my back started to hurt and he'd want to go back to his scooter. He was faster on the scooter and he didn't have dad loping along behind him the whole time. I'd sit at the side of the road and watch the kids, the girls on bike Elliott on his scooter. The only condition was that we had to do the two laps on the bike. + +After doing this for a few weeks, my fingers getting ever lighter in their grip, he had it down. I'd let go for extended distances and he was riding his bike. He just didn't know it yet. He was cruising along in that blissful space where he had no idea that he could fail. In his mind, no matter what happened, I was there to catch him so he could relax and be free. + +One evening his sister noticed me letting go. She squealed in excitement and started to say something, but I managed to keep her quiet. I knew she'd tell him that night though -- they're very loyal to each other -- but I didn't want him to discover it while he was doing it. It's better to find out after the fact I think, to have that realization of not only can I do this, I already did it. + +<img src="images/2020/2020-11-07_152651-1_elliott-riding-bike.jpg" id="image-2528" class="picwide" /> + +The next day he asked me if it was true and I said yes. He smiled and got on his bike and asked me for a push and he was off riding. For a couple days I needed me to give him a little push to get him started, but then one day I went to do that and he said no, "I don't need any help." And there you go. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC03440.jpg" id="image-2536" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-11-20_155057_leica-bw_Ynl1LD6.jpg" id="image-2534" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-11-15_140612-1_elliott-riding-bike.jpg" id="image-2529" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-11-15_141351-3_elliott-riding-bike.jpg" id="image-2530" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/2020-11-20_154630-7_leica-bw.jpg" id="image-2532" class="picwide" /> + +--- + +If you know me or Corrinne it should come as no great surprise that our kids love to read. People often ask what we do out here in the woods all day, well, one answer would be: we read. These days nothing goes unread -- packaging, labels, fine print, everything gets read. + +<img src="images/2020/DSC_4539.jpg" id="image-2545" class="picwide" /> +<img src="images/2020/DSC_38772.jpg" id="image-2445" class="picwide" /> + + +This got me thinking about parenting. I've always said, half jokingly, that all you really need to teach your kids is basic human kindness and how to read. The rest is information and experience they can seek out for themselves using those tools. Be kind and read the signs is the modus operandi of life. + +I've since added cooking, spreadsheet formulas, compound interest, and edge cases in American tax code to my basic human curriculum, but I haven't changed my overall approach, which has always been that the main job of being a parent is to keep your kids alive and stay out of their way as much as possible. + +I've tried to do that, though sometimes it is hard. Mistakes have been made. One of my daughters is still getting over a fear of boats because I thought she'd be fine sitting on the floor of a canoe for a short paddle. She was not. She's coming around though. This spring we'll try again. + +Sometimes you have to hold onto the seat. No one just rides a bike. No one just reads. But I remain convinced that you should let go as soon as you can, probably sooner than you think you should. |