Necessary sadness

I love trees, but as one young tree climber said to me years ago "the problem with this place is too many big trees". Trees on Maryland's Eastern Shore are predominantly Oak. In 50 years an oak tree can reach a height of over 100 ft. Since we bought our place on 3¼ acres 16 years ago, we have lost approximately 18 - 20 trees. More than half as a result of hurricanes. The rest as a result of old age or climate conditions. And recently two out of fear of risk to life and property. All that being said, we still have an abundance of nice large trees on the property that provide shade and support wildlife.

 Over the past few years, I have been observing 3 in particular that have had an increase in limb die-off. This has been a source of stress for me because I know that eventually they will either have to be cut down, or they will fall down. I have experience with dead, rotten trees, and believe me, they are dangerous. Better to cut them down before they start falling down.

During the last hurricane, I made this post about our evacuation, partly due to the huge trees that could crush the house.

This spring, opportunity presented itself, and I seized it. The power company put our electric underground and my go-to tree man was looking for firewood. Three dying trees plus the two biggest threats to the house were selected. I was made an offer that I couldn't refuse.

The stump on the right is from the biggest.
Sometimes I imagined this tree as a sapling during the civil war.
It was 40% dead on top and becoming a hazard.

That's a huge tree!

This one was way to close to the house and right next to the bedrooms.
It was also cracking the driveway.

Like putting an old dog down. Sad.

On the other side of the house. Stump and brush left as evidence.
Although seemingly healthy, this one scared me the most during storms.

No more trees will be cut unless they die on their own. I'm done.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

The wild in them

And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolf like, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. - Jack London

 It's in them. I can still see it. Ever so faint but still there. Thousands of years of taking up residence with man hasn't snuffed it out completely. He is the older and braver of the two.   Not as athletic or mobile, but wise in his years. He knows what lies beyond in the darkness and is not afraid to lie on the cold earth at the edge and stare into the night. He has already accomplished his perimeter check, circling the property and giving warning barks to all creatures real or imagined. And now he stares into the night, sometimes for hours, until called inside.

He likes to act like "The General" that he is.

The younger, faster one requires constant exercising. She can be unbearable without it. He knows he can't keep up with her blazing speed. Her powerful teenage forelegs extending as far as she is able, she can cover terrain with remarkable ease. But as well as he knows his limitations, he also knows his strengths. And he knows putting weight in his ass is one of them. So he favors the tug-of-war. This too he could do for hours. When he gets a particularly good grip that cannot be denied, he takes great joy when the younger one tires and gives in. His grey muzzle smiling as he prances around the yard in canine victory laps. But like children on a playground, doggy playtime can be cruel. And it happens that the youngster will devise a wicked head snap and loose the grip of the rope from his mouth. It appears painful but he does not complain, only acts slightly humiliated, and knows that another time will come, tomorrow maybe, when he will smile and prance again in victory.

A dog has no concept of dirt and thus efforts by humans at separating the two become futile. Given the choice of lying on a clean slab of concrete or finely ground garden mulch, the dog will choose the mulch every time. On a cold day, the older one prefers the sun drenched locale by the house, a fine place to warm his joints and allow the bright rays to induce sleep. His eyelids grow heavy in the light, one can only guess what thoughts occupy his mind in this stage of contentment.

Having just run laps around the house, the youngster with her heart beating fast, seeks a cooler place. This quirky behavior contradicts her "tough-girl" act. She is ever alert, constantly watching the humans for the slightest suggestion of willingness to continue play time. Vigilant hope is her breed. Efforts to tire her out are themselves tiring.

But at the end of the day, when the deer have been chased from the property and the playful skirmishes are long forgotten, they are still best friends. Resigned to quiet inactivity, because the masters now demand it.

Old plane revived

I recently had a conversation with my son, Ben.

Me: I decided to finally try to get that plane flying.

Ben: You mean the one that's been moved 4 times and stored in the basement for 20 years?

Me: Um, yeah....that one.

I got interested in the hobby in the mid 80's. I bought a trainer kit, balsa and plywood die cuts that required a lot of fitting, sanding, gluing and patience. Build in progress, we moved to New Jersey a the time and the I finished the build there. But I never flew the plane or even ran the engine. For a while, it hung from son Tyler's ceiling. Most of the time it was in the basement collecting dust and getting knocked around a little.

This past summer I was considering selling it. Irma said "As much as we've moved that thing, you better fly it." So that was the start of a forgotten plane revived. The right wing covering got ripped so I took it off and will replace it.

Today I got the engine running. Without a manual I turned to youtube for help.

This afternoon I clamped it to a sawhorse and got it going.

 

Hopefully I won't crash it on the first flight!

Being a modest cyclist

I let my subscription to Mountain Bike Action expire.

The reality is that I couldn't relate. Despite the parade of riders in $200 spandex outfits, the issue they sent me featured reviews of 3 really nice mountain bikes...all of them priced at over $5000 dollars. 

Really?

I might as well have been reading Yachting magazine.

Living in a flat rural area, road biking is both popular and fun. I'm usually sharing the road with other bikers.

I have to admit, my level of gear envy sometimes increases when I pass "well dressed" biking types.

This is my typical winter biking apparel:

Decked out with 1980's sweat pants, worn running shoes, face mask and over-sized foam helmet. 

I think the sunglasses add a few cool points. Or at least make me harder to recognize.

The other day I was passed by this guy:

This shows the extremes of how people approach the sport.

Personally I would rather strap a plastic bag of packing peanuts to my head than be seen in one of these aero-helmets.

When I'm passed buy a group a sleek drafting racers, I'm this guy:

But despite the disparity of gear, he's having fun just like me.

In England the cyclists dress like this:

I'm actually envious of this chap. Nothing complements tweed like a pipe and goggles.

But the more I bike, the less I desire additional gear.

What really matters is having fun and staying safe.

If I need additional gear to achieve that, I'll buy it.

Until then, get used to the Coleman Cooler helmet, folks!

Mind games

Working from home with dogs can be challenging. The paranoid shepherd jumps up and runs squealing to the door every time I move at least 5 feet from my chair. The compulsive golden licks his paw and gives me a woeful gaze and a heavy whistling sigh. He lays in his bed, head to the side, facing away, eyes turned to meet me with a dejected emptiness. He lets out another sad moan. His message is clear....

"you're home all day and you don't pat me or play with me. You hate me. Please master, just let me outside so I can go eat some dirt. I'll be happy if you'll only let me eat some dirt."

 On the scientific scale of canine intelligence, shepherds are supposed to be #3 and golden retrievers #4. Clearly I was facing a full frontal guilt assault by one of the smartest creatures next to us humans.
What makes dogs our best friend is the fact that they are able to read our emotions so well. And Patton knows me, he knows how I feel guilty and he knows how to play my emotions.

So how did I respond to this mental challenge?

I went running!

 It was a beautiful afternoon and I don't get to run during the week anymore since the days got shorter.
A while back I started the Couch to 5K running plan. After completing the first 3 weeks I went off on my own tangent. Results have been mixed, I was keeping up with about 1.5 miles 2 times a week, but not making any progress. Today I re-inserted myself into week 5 of the program. I also followed some advice I recently read on how to deal with knee pain. I leaned slightly forward and shortened my stride. I didn't look as cool, but it was a great run without pain. My goal is to achieve and maintain a 5K run twice a week. If I can accomplish that with 56 year old knees, I'll be thrilled.

When I got home, I chuckered the dogs.

They were happy!

Sometimes it just takes a ride

After much preparation, we did make it through hurricane Sandy without any damage. I enjoy a day off from work as much as the next person, but when the government closed Monday and Tuesday I had to use my vacation days to cover it. Thanks, Sandy, not only did you devastate New York and Jersey, but you used up some of my vacation!

Saturday I spent the day removing the skylight covers from the roof and cleaning up leaves from the yard. It was a good cross training work out.

Of course there are still a lot of leaves to come down and with the addition of 8 inches of rain to green the trees up, the old oaks may be holding onto what they have until Christmas.

Today I was feeling at odds with the world, one of those moods between contempt and self pity that rears it's ugly head occasionally. I knew I needed to clear my head. And what better way to do it than a good bike ride. I've been more focused on running for the past few months, but my knees were still bothering me from the work yesterday. And a bike ride would be longer than a run. I needed longer. I geared up and took off.

The air was cool and brisk, but felt good as I cut through it with a strong effort.
The now harvested fields glowed in the late afternoon sun.

A soybean field up close displays the many small brown pods for harvest.
From a distance it puts on a warm earth tone, a color my wife wants to paint a wall.

The afternoon turned out to be just what I needed.
Maybe I'll even forget the political adds until after Tuesday!

Pray for the Best, Plan for the Worst

The news media are declaring Hurricane sandy to be a storm of historic and epic proportions. A disaster unlike any we have ever seen in our lifetime. I scoff at such predictions and suspect that the excessive hype is secretly promoted and paid for by the milk, bread, toilet paper and flashlight industries.

But ignoring a real possibility is foolish, so I'm planning for the worst and praying for the best.

Confidence is preparation. Everything else is beyond your control. -Richard Kline

I think this is the 4th or 5th Hurricane since we moved to Maryland's eastern shore in 1997.

Since then I bought a really big chain saw and have cut up no less than 12 trees. About half of those were downed by the various storms over the years. The others just died and had to be felled. Don't get me wrong, I love trees and hate to see them go. But there are still 3 within smashing distance of our house. These are always a source of worry. Although healthy, you never know what 10 inches of rain and 60-70 mph winds might do.

Aren't the fall colors beautiful? See that big tree next to the driveway?

I spent most of the day yesterday preparing for what I do have control over. Filled the cars with gas. Serviced the generator (yes we did buy it for Y2K, didn't need it for that but have used it many times since for power outages). Stocked up on food.

I even made skylight covers.

Not that they would stop a tree, but possibly prevent a broken skylight from falling branches.

Hauled these 2 things plus 8 - 40 lb bags of sand up a ladder.

Of course what does a dog care about all this?
Reilly just wants me to throw the chucker.

And I suppose ignorance really is bliss. Don't they look blissful?

So we are ready. I'll let you all know how we fare on the other end.
Before it gets really bad we do have an evacuation plan. Some friends invited us to their house, even the dogs. Not sure how their cat will like that.

Stay safe out there!