6 files changed, 194 insertions, 7 deletions
diff --git a/published/2020-11-21_invitation.txt b/published/2020-11-21_invitation.txt
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+**TL;DR**: I started a club in the form of an email newsletter. I call it *Friends of a Long Year*. We meet once a month, digitally, in your email. If you'd like to join, drop your email address in the box below. If you'd like to know why you might want to join, and where the name comes from, read on.
+
+<iframe target='_parent' style="border:none; background:white; width:100%;" title="embedded form for subscribing the the Friends of a Long Year newsletter" src="/newsletter/friends/subscribe"></iframe>
+
+Late last year I got it into my head that I should start a club, a good old fashioned club, like the Elks or the Masons. 
+
+But then, we travel, how the heck would that work, traveling while trying to have a club that has meetings? Hmmm. Well, then, a digital club. But what does that look like? And what is a club really? Why would you join one? 
+
+There's actually [a really good book][1] about this, but I think it boils down to getting together with people and talking, building a community, usually around a common interest or theme. A good club is a way of bringing together people from all walks of life who have some thing in common.
+
+[1]: https://bookshop.org/books/bowling-alone-the-collapse-and-revival-of-american-community-9781982130848/9781982130848
+
+Around the same time I was thinking that I should start a club, I pitched (but later abandoned) an article about the email culture of the early 2000s, what now looks like the golden age of email. Perhaps you remember that time? The days when you would email friends just to say hello, just because frictionless simplicity of email was still new and exciting. 
+
+I distinctly remember the emails my friend Mike used to send. He was traveling around Southeast Asia in those days. He didn't *blog* about 13 Things You Have to Do in Thailand or some bullshit. He emailed us. Like we were people, not *readers* or *supporters*. He didn't write to an audience, he wrote to *us*, his friends, his club if you will. He wrote about the things he did, riding elephants, walking on beaches, visiting ruins. They were little things these emails, but they were great. I looked forward to those emails more than I look forward to anything on the internet of today.
+
+This is all I want to do with this club, to bring a little bit of joy back to your inbox. 
+
+So this club is an email newsletter in the spirit of Mike's emails[^1]. I call it *Friends of a Long Year*.
+
+I know what you're thinking, that's not much of a club there Scott, that's just you email us. And, well... that's true. I do have some additional plans. More things to build, which takes time. But as they say, you have to start. You have to overcome the inertia. First email. Then the world.
+
+Now, that name. What is *with* that name?
+
+The name comes from Mary Hunter Austin, and we need to say some things about Austin because I think she might be the sort of beacon we need just now. Certainly she will be the guiding beacon of this newsletter.
+
+Mary Hunter Austin was an explorer, botanist, desert rat, author, mystic, misfit. She was also far ahead of, and out of step with, her time. All qualities we could use more of just now.
+
+Austin lived in, explored, and wrote about the Mojave desert of Nevada and California at the turn of the 20th century. What makes her writing special is that she saw things other people did not. At a time when most people saw the Mojave desert as a wasteland to be mined, Austin saw a thing of raw, majestic beauty. 
+
+Most people in her day hurried across the desert to the central valley of California to farm. Mary Austin stayed behind to wander the desert. She dug down, got to know the sand. She wrote about the sand. She wrote about dry, cracked, brutal expanses of sand. She wrote about the hills rising out of the desert heat, about the mountains above the hills. She wrote about the natives calling this strange place home. She wrote about the immigrants trying to make it home. 
+
+She saw what no one else around seemed to notice because she paid careful attention to details. She did not hurry through. She did not gloss over.
+
+These are qualities we need more of. We need more adventurers, explorers, more curiosity, more DIYers, more attention to details, more mystics, more misfits digging in the sand.
+
+I think it's possible Austin and friends founded our club. Austin's collection of short stories, <cite>Lost Borders</cite>, is dedicated "to Marion Burke and the Friends of a Long Year." 
+
+It's a mysterious dedication. Who were the friends of a long year? What were the friends of a long year? When were the friends of a long year? I like to think it was some kind of club. Some kind of gathering of explorers out in the wilds of the desert.
+
+So I decided the *Friends of a Long Year* is the club we will build, or perhaps rebuild. In the spirit of Mary Austin. And Mike's emails.
+
+I don't know exactly what it will be, or where it will go, but it will be done in the spirit of the emails we used to send back in the early 2000s, it will strive to bring joy to your inbox. It will be about things Mary Austin would have enjoyed talking about: deserts, mountains, trees, oceans, misfits, mystics, and marvels of the mundane. If you'd like to join *Friends of a Long Year*, you can do so right here:
+
+<iframe target='_parent' style="border:none; background:white; width:100%;" title="embedded form for subscribing the the Friends of a Long Year newsletter" src="/newsletter/friends/subscribe"></iframe>
+
+Two things to note: First, I [built my own mailing list software](). This was an adventure (natch) and took a lot longer than I expected, but it was worth it. I looked around for some existing software that respected your privacy, the way email did in the early 2000s, but found nothing. So I made my own. There are no tracking codes, no pixels, no sneaky links, nothing. It's just an email. I will have no idea if you read them or not. 
+
+The only way I will even know you got the email is if you hit reply, and I encourage you to do so. It's set up in such a way that you are only replying to me. There's no way to accidentally reply to the whole list -- we all have a painful story about that happening. Don't worry, that can't happen here, no one else will ever see your response. And I encourage you to respond, that's the point after all. 
+
+[^1]: I don't think I've ever given my friend Mike the credit he deserves for propelling me on the trajectory that my life has been on since 2005. But he does deserve credit. And some of it goes to those emails.
diff --git a/published/2021-02-18_oak-grove.txt b/published/2021-02-18_oak-grove.txt
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+The [creek](https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2021/01/down-by-the-creek) is our favorite spot in the woods. But the creek is a mile walk from our house. On days when there isn't time to get down there we have another spot. A grove of huge, old oak trees that serves as our closer to home hangout for exploring, playing, and relaxing.
+
+It is quiet and still in here among the trees. Quiet enough that when a pine cone falls, clattering down through pine boughs, there's a distinctive soft crunch when it lands on the leaves and needles of the forest floor. 
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-03_163636_oak-grove.jpg" id="image-2592" class="cluster picwide" />
+    <span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-03_163821_oak-grove_jOix3Wi.jpg" id="image-2594" class="cluster pic66" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-03_164013_oak-grove.jpg" id="image-2595" class="cluster pic66" />
+    </span>
+</div>
+
+It's never silent in the forest, but it is almost always still and quiet. Sitting here it's hard to believe there is anywhere else in the world. Everywhere else feels too distant to be real. All that seems real is this log, the stillness of this winter afternoon, and the birds singing as they flutter from tree to tree.
+
+A few trees away, a nuthatch calls. Then there's a chickadee dee dee dee. And another. Farther off a crow cries, closely followed by the shrieking of a red-tailed hawk. In front of me an ant picks its way through the layered humus. 
+
+The soft crunch of leaves muted by matted pine needles tells me Elliott is trying to sneak up behind me again. It is impossible to walk silently though, there are too many curled dried leaves waiting to announce your footsteps.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_4965.jpg" id="image-2599" class="picwide" />
+    <span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_4912.jpg" id="image-2597" class="cluster pic66" />
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_4984.jpg" id="image-2601" class="cluster pic66" />
+    </span>
+</div>
+
+These oaks once shaded something. Perhaps a small barn. A shed for tractors perhaps. There are the remains of a few small buildings, some rusted farm equipment, and my favorite kind of country trailer -- the bed of a pickup rigged up with a chain harness. 
+
+There's a good bit of rusty barbed wire lying around too. After warning the kids to watch out for the barbed wire, naturally I was the one to finally end up cutting myself on it. I was trying to trace it through the undergrowth -- my guess is this was some kind of paddock area at one point, hogs would have loved it back here -- when my foot found a piece just barely beneath the surface. It gave me a chance to explain tetanus.
+
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-03_164718_oak-grove.jpg" id="image-2596" class="picwide" />
+
+We leave education largely up to the kids. Corrinne is a literacy specialist, so she taught them to read. But mostly we let them follow their curiosity, rather than trying to force them to "study" something. 
+
+When they want to learn something we help them with any materials or tools they might need, but mostly we let them explore the world on their own, at their own pace. They like to load up their backpacks with notebooks and magnifying glasses and plant presses and other tools and bring them out here to see what they can discover.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+    <span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_4993.jpg" id="image-2602" class="cluster pic66" />
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_5003.jpg" id="image-2603" class="cluster pic66" />
+    </span>
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-03_153659_oak-grove_Iekxzb1.jpg" id="image-2591" class="picwide" />
+
+</div>
+
+Just as often though they just run around playing in the woods. Like kids do. Like kids used to anyway. Now more than ever we feel incredibly lucky and fortunate to be able to get outside and enjoy the world.
diff --git a/published/2021-03-24_springsville.txt b/published/2021-03-24_springsville.txt
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/published/2021-03-24_springsville.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,39 @@
+Spring arrives in stages. First there are the warmer days. February sunshine brings a welcome change from the chill of January. Still nothing really changes in the land. Everything is bare, stark, skeletal.
+
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-10_111534_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2604" class="picwide" />
+
+Then the first daffodils come. Spots of green and yellow standing out in a sea of brown leaves and pine needles trampled since last fall. A week passes, the daffodils enjoy their time in the spotlight. 
+
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-10_112140_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2605" class="picwide" />
+
+And then without any more fanfare, one day we're walking up the road to visit the cows and the ground is a riot of color. Flowers are everywhere. Blue, purple, white, red, yellow. Tiny flowers, huge flowers. 
+
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-21_160217_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2606" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-21_160443_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2607" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-10_112105_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2611" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-09_101419-1_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2610" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-09_101341_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2609" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-09_100539_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2608" class="picwide" />
+<div class="cluster">
+    <span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_5585.jpg" id="image-2615" class="cluster pic66" />
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_5477.jpg" id="image-2614" class="cluster pic66 caption" />
+    </span>
+</div>
+
+We celebrate the spring equinox the way most people do easter, with dyed eggs, chocolate treats, egg hunts, and detailed pre-planned fruit plate sculptures of a bunny. The usual stuff. 
+
+<img src="images/2021/DSC_5459.jpg" id="image-2613" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-20_073853_spring-flowers_u9tjrlO.jpg" id="image-2618" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-20_071628-1_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2616" class="picwide" />
+
+Like everything, spring in the south has one near fatal flaw: pollen. 
+
+Pollen comes like the flowers do, one at time, cycling through oak, pecan, grass, and so on. The one that was new to us this year was one I'd seen once before, briefly, in the [Okefenokee Swamp](https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2010/03/so-far-i-have-not-found-science): the pines. Living in the middle of a several hundred acre circle of near monocultural pines... well, let's just say there was quite a bit of pine pollen. 
+
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-22_101329_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2619" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-03-22_101429_spring-flowers.jpg" id="image-2620" class="picwide" />
+
+One day the wind kicked up and started sending it all up in great clouds. We looked out the kitchen window and couldn't see past the second row of trees. The forest was a yellow-green fog with great clouds of pollen billowing off the tops of the trees. Thankfully, none of us are allergic to pine pollen, but this much of anything in the air makes life miserable. We hid indoors for a few days, but eventually the rains came and knocked it down and washed it off. 
+
+There were couple of nice days to get outside and play, but then the next round started. Oaks, then pecans. For most of March, that's just how it goes down here.
diff --git a/published/2021-05-23_may-days.txt b/published/2021-05-23_may-days.txt
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+Things have been pretty quiet in the woods lately. We've watched the world wake up from winter, turn green, [pollen-saturated](https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2021/03/springsville), and lately we've been getting an early taste of the summer heat and humidity that's still to come. 
+
+Most of May though the weather was pretty near perfect -- 75 and sunny. The kids have had a blast watching all the birds' nests come to life. So far we've seen three Phoebe chicks hatch and make it out of the nest on our front porch. 
+
+<img src="images/2021/2016-05-18-1555524_may-days.jpg" id="image-2630" class="picwide" />
+
+Currently we're watching some Carolina Wren chicks in what might be the strangest nest location ever. One of my work projects for the spring was testing full size grills. One day five showed up at once. That was a bit overwhelming so two of them got stacked on the porch and covered with a tarp. A couple days later we had a windy storm blow through. The tarp got twisted up and made a little covered space that a pair of Carolina Wrens decided was a perfect spot for a nest. 
+
+<img src="images/2021/2016-05-18-1555523_may-days.jpg" id="image-2631" class="picwide" />
+
+So now every time we step out the door one of the adult wrens goes flashing by our heads, giving us an uncomfortably close view of their long, needle-like beak. A wren streaking by inches from your face first thing in the morning will wake you up better than a cup coffee.
+
+Spring is always the best time to get some work done in the bus. The temps are nice, the full force of summer humidity hasn't arrived yet, and the fire ants are still underground, making it the perfect time to crawl under and work on your exhaust system. 
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<img src="images/2021/2021-04-30_142155_may-days.jpg" id="image-2625" class="cluster picwide" />
+    <span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2021/2021-05-03-140420_may-days.jpg" id="image-2627" class="cluster pic66 caption" />
+<img src="images/2021/2021-05-03-140419_may-days.jpg" id="image-2626" class="cluster pic66" />
+    </span>
+</div>
+
+I've been tackling some little projects inside the bus too. I got the walls back together with new wires so we can add some solar panels down the road. I also put in a fancy new charge controller that has a phone app I can use to monitor everything (also have a wired backup monitor because I distrust technology). To give you some idea of how dramatically solar components are dropping in price, this new fancy unit was about 30 percent less expensive than the bare bones unit we bought in 2017.
+
+One day I decided to finally tackle the passenger windshield wiper motor, which has never worked. I pulled it out, took it apart and quickly realized the motor was so rusted the magnet was fused to the coil. I managed to track down a similar unit though, which is on order. While I was in there I figured I might as well clean out the area behind the glove box. In vintage RV repair that's the equivalent of saying, "hmm, wonder what would happen to this sweater if I pull on this dangling thread?" It's how you go from this:
+
+<img src="images/2021/2016-03-25_155523_may-days.jpg" id="image-2624" class="picwide" />
+
+To this:
+
+
+To this:
+
+<img src="images/2021/2021-06-03-140419_may-days.jpg" id="image-2629" class="picwide" />
+
+It's for the best, but it still makes me laugh every time. Every single project in the bus goes so far beyond the initial scope I think it will have. But, as a fellow Travco owner said of that picture of me under the bus, "better there than on the side of the road." Very true. I'd rather be doing all this while we're not living in it, while the weather is nice, there's no rush, and the rest of my family isn't hot, tired, bored, and waiting on me to make everything work again.
+
+As you can see from those images there was a water leak that destroyed the subfloor and was feeding the rust on the metal, which is in pretty bad shape. I found and fixed the leak that caused the problem (seal on the back of the headlight). I'll reinforce the seat platform area with some steel bars, then add some well-sealed plywood on top of that (I'd like to have a conversation with whoever thought OSB was a good choice for Travco flooring). Eventually it'll all get put back together better than it was, and that'll be one less thing I ever have to worry about. Hey, maybe I'll even replace the wiper motor and get that working too.
+
+At some point, after I pull the radiator (pinhole leak from the extension tube needs to be patched), replace the starter, and get her running smoothly again, I'm going to tackle the kitchen. My plan is to put in a new counter top, but somehow I suspect I'll have a photo of the kitchen gutted to the bare walls to post before too long.
+
+Otherwise we haven't done anything too exciting lately, but it's hard to complain about much out here. At least once a day I'll be outside doing something and all the sudden I'll stop and listen... there's never any sounds other than birds signing and the wind in the pines. It's difficult to convey the peace of mind this gives you. It's like the opposite of that subtle background stress you get living in a city. If it weren't for the humidity and insects I'd think we were still [camped up at Junction Creek](https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2017/07/junction-creek), but without the crowds.
+
+
+Education is one of those topics that come up constantly when people are contemplating a wanderer lifestyle with their kids. I get it. We've been trained for a hundred years to believe that a particular curriculum is needed in order to learn the things necessary to succeed in life. But I think as adults we slowly realize that the important knowledge that we have earned wasn't learned in a classroom with thirty other kids. We also learn that success has many measures.
+
+Remember that we are adults with a lifetime of lessons learned. We're also learning new things all the time, so long as we don't fall into the "can't teach an old dog new tricks" fallacy. My kids and I learned to scuba dive a few months ago. We've been down about twenty-five times since. We've learned about atmospheric pressure, we've learned new things about different fish and corals, we've learned about buoyancy—the list goes on.
+
+My point is simply that if you are worried about educating your kids, don't. Whether you call it worldschooling, unschooling, homeschooling, or don't give it a name at all, you will all keep learning.
diff --git a/published/2021-11-25_back-to-the-life.txt b/published/2021-11-25_back-to-the-life.txt
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+I forgot. I forgot the Pleiades. I forgot how bright Venus could be on a clear, cold night. I forgot how nice it is to step out into the night to take a leak and stare up at the stars while you do. 
+
+<img src="images/2021/2021-11-25_181415_night.jpg" id="image-2654" class="picwide" />
+
+I forgot how waking up in the morning and stepping outside first thing completely rearranges the way you see the rest of the day, completely changes how you approach that day. Not in any way you can put your finger on, not in a profound way perhaps, a quiet way, a quiet, *oh, damn it's cold out today, and that's something I have to deal with as I make breakfast and get going* kind of way. 
+
+I had forgotten all these things because when you are not living something you forget it. It no longer imprints on you and something else takes its place and you forget. Or maybe that's just me, maybe I am just forgetful. Not particularly smart and somewhat infantile in my inability to remember things when I stop doing them for a while.
+
+Whatever the case, I am excited to be doing them again. I am excited to see the Pleiades when I step outside at night. I am excited to head outside first thing in the morning and feel the cold. I am excited to be back. Let's do this thing. Again.
diff --git a/published/dear-internet-commenter.txt b/published/dear-internet-commenter.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index a2e2ca2..0000000
--- a/published/dear-internet-commenter.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,7 +0,0 @@
-We are fellow denizens of an especially lovely planet full of wonder and beauty. Okay, it's true. It's also full of ugliness and horror. But let's focus on the positive for a minute.
-
-That the good news. The bad news is that even in the best case scenarios we only get to ride this lovely planet around our sun some seventy-five or so times. That's assuming we're well fed, clothed, sheltered and in good health. Most people of the world are none of those things. Some of us are, which is incredibly fortunate for us. 
-
-I say this mainly to offer some perspective on why I have elected not to engage in a conversation with you. It's nothing against you specifically, but here's the thing: most likely you disagreed with something I wrote and want to express that. I understand that desire. But remember, my thoughts and opinions don't have to match yours. Yours are equally valid. And not only do these topics not really matter in the grand scheme of things, I don't matter in the grand scheme of your existence and there's nothing to gain by pretending otherwise.
-
-This doesn't mean we shouldn't care about each others' opinions, it just means that, given the constraints of our existence here on earth (it's very time limited), we probably both have better things we could be doing -- walking in the sunshine, playing with our kids, watching the sunset from a mountain top, making coffee by a fire just before sunrise, eating tacos, or what have you. There are a lot of amazing things to do out there. Arguing on the internet is not one them.