Sad Day

This will go down as one of the saddest days for my family in personal history.  My son and grandkids are in my thoughts as they try to navigate this rough road ahead.  I wish I could be there, but all things in good time.

We took a stroll (after our recent adventure, all parks are miniature strolls) at Charleston Falls.  My heart was not in it as much, but it helps take one out of oneself a little.


First Fall Chill

Not much to say today.  I’ve reached bad news overload; E keeps me abreast of the latest trump lunacies.  How do people tolerate such insanity?  We fear we won’t live to see our country restored to where we left off, before It the Evil Clown took us back to medieval times.

Always nagging at the back of my mind is my TN family’s sad predicament, and my current inability to help.  All I can do is wait it out.

Closer to home, I’m having one of my typical anxiety attacks over stupid tech stuff that I’m not savvy enough to reconfigure before I lose it.  I feel like a relic of a bygone century, and there’s no one to help!  Aagghh.

At any rate, there’s always a good microbrew, in this case Iron Line (OH) coal pusher porter, perfect for the first fall chill.




Fen in Fall

After Hocking Hills, the Fen was literally a stroll in the park, but it was nice to see it turning colors.

The Fen was one of the first wetlands I experienced when I moved here.  It looked like a barren apocalyptic graveyard where no life could exist, but over the seasons, we watched it spring into miraculous life and transition along with us.  It has matured into a whole new habitat since we started observing it.  Maybe it mirrors our own metamorphosis here.

YS Street Fair

Yesterday we strolled through the Yellow Springs annual street fair.  It was like a hot summer day, perfect for a fair, but very unseasonable.

When you enter, there are always a couple of adorable alpacas parked outside an alpaca clothing tent.  They make these cute, sad noises.  There was clothing, jewelry, arts, crafts, ethnic foods, plants, local educational and conservation orgs, and street musicians.  We couldn’t afford much, but we did get falafel and kibbeh at our usual friendly Lebanese booth, which always seems particularly popular.

I didn’t take my usual photos; I was all photoed out from the exhausting previous trek.  Here are: the early morning sky, a gingko tree covered with fruit, and the alpacas.


Hocking Hills Annual Pilgrimage Part 1

The only way to describe Hocking Hills and Old Man’s Cave is massive and ancient.  It puts one into one’s place and everything into proper perspective.

A silent ethereal forest of towering hemlocks, hundreds of years old, old stone and soaring metal footbridges, waterfalls and pools, makes you think you’re in the Hobbit Shire.  Climbing and tunneling through ancient caves and sandstone rock formations, you really feel how tiny you are in the bigger picture.  Centuries of rushing water have carved out what look like naturally flushing toilet bowls in the solid rock.  There are many fascinating species of ferns, lichens, fungi, and sphagnum mosses covering everything, and tenacious tangles of tree roots clinging to huge boulders above the forest floor.

There’s no way to capture the uniqueness of this place in amateur photography, but I’ve tried.  You can gauge the massive scale of everything by the tiny people.  We hiked all day, almost 10 miles, or so it felt.  It was an exhausting but purifying kind of journey.

This will be in three parts.  That’s after I eliminated many shots!  It took me three days just to process!  There is nowhere in this park that isn’t incredibly gorgeous.  I can’t do it justice.

The Waiting Game

One of the hardest things is having to wait patiently for just the right timing to make your move, knowing you’re needed elsewhere and can’t get there yet.  It takes a sort of faith that all the wheel notches will finally align, allowing the safe to be unlocked.  You can’t panic or rush things; they’ll happen in their own good time.  Hopefully those to whom time is of the essence will understand.

Meanwhile, back at the Almanac, it’s unseasonably warm and humid, just as it is in many places.  Record-breaking hurricanes and other climate-change effects are taking their toll all over the country.  Those with their heads in the sand will drown along with all the other victims of their stupidity.  But for now, we’re making the best of an unnatural situation.

Here are some roses, mums, herbs, and a very nice Hi-Wire (NC) bed of nails brown ale.

Here is a poem.


The hallowed lands so far behind
As fleeting dreams still linger
Like distant voices through the rain
Like grains of sand cast from my hands

I never thought I’d go this far
Without a star to cross the seas
So far from shores I’d left behind
Still far from shores I’ve yet to reach

I try to find the strength I need
To calm the doubts in my beliefs
With the will, I know my heart won’t break

And if I have strength then I’ve belief
If I have love my heart still beats
Here under stars
Far from home

The picture fades, the light recedes
The sound is lost in whispers
My recollections once clear and pure
Now distant lights that dim with time

I never thought I’d go this far
Without a star to cross the seas
So far from shores I’d left behind
Still far from shores I’ve yet to reach

VNV Nation