Alone On The Hill

Alone on the hill



one room

four walls



the hopes and dreams

of children

suspended in time,



a haven from chores

a sanctuary for dreamers

and yet



it holds a future that offers only the past.

Nesting

There are two Swallow nests tucked beneath the canopy of our neighbor's boat lift.  It is a ritual that occurs annually.  Soon after the dock is place in the water and the canopy erected over the lift  the little birds move in and set up house keeping.

Swallow's nests are light on square footage.   With four children per family space was at a premium.  It is surprising that one or more of the little fellas didn't get pushed out of the nest and end up in the lake, especially in the frenzy of feeding time.

It took several attempts but I was finally able to get a few pictures of the fledgling flyers.

And the next day.....  they were gone.

Those darn teens, always in a hurry to leave the nest.

Details

It is not always best to paint with a broad brush.
Life is in the details.

No Scrap Pile For The Old And Weary

It sits proudly in a show room
all shining chrome and polished bumpers,
A tribute to another era,
another time,
its life story sewn into the folds of fabric that cover its worn seats.
It is as it should be,
loved for its imperfection,
respected for a life well lived,
displayed with pride,
No scrap pile for the old and weary.

An Ordinary Day

Life at the cottage is lived at such a leisurely pace that when I hit a week like the one currently underway I feel the desire to dig a deep hole and crawl into it.

It began on Sunday when we packed our bags for Michigan.  It continued yesterday with a trip to Pittsburgh for a baseball game.  It won't end until Friday evening after celebrating a 94th birthday and passing the day visiting long term care health facilities with my sister.  It may not sound like a lot to you but for me, the schedule is brutal.

I didn't realize how very much my life has changed until recently.  Every morning I awaken to the sound of bird song.  I sip my first cup of coffee in solitude on the porch facing the lake and watch as the inhabitants of our little cove come to life.  My companions are squirrels, geese, chipmunks, wild turkeys, groundhogs, an occasional white tail, and Henrietta, our resident blue heron.   The hours are passed checking the progress of the peppers and tomatoes sprouting in my garden, pulling an errant weed, monitoring the eggs in the wren's nest that is tucked neatly into the hanging basket on the front porch and observing the humming birds that flit in and out all day to quench their thirst.   It seems I am no longer equipped to deal with the hustle and bustle of going and doing day in and day out.

This shift in life style began four years ago with retirement and was consummated the day we signed the papers for the little red cottage.  Who could have imagined that 900 square feet on a quiet fishing lake one half mile down a country lane in rural Pennsylvania would bring such peace and contentment to my life?

Recently a friend loaned me a copy of "The Gift of an Ordinary Day" authored by Katrina Kenison.  Within its pages I found myself.  And a reminder that what truly matters is the ordinary.  The voice of a friend; the feel of moist earth on my fingertips; the companionship of the one I love; a walk with the dog; the smell of dinner cooking in the oven; the honking of the geese feeding along the shore.

My days of going and doing for the sake of being busy are behind me.  I have embraced life in a 60 year old cottage on a quiet lake with barely room enough to turn around.  I have discovered the gift of an ordinary day, which is that it isn't ordinary at all.  It is extraordinary.

Unscheduled Travel

Earlier in the week we made a previously unscheduled trip to Michigan.  Since we had the time and would be passing through Detroit on our way to Flint a stop in Deerborn at the Greenfield Village and Henry Ford Museum seemed to be in order.  When The Kid scored a "great" overnight rate at the hotel below on Hotwire.com the deal was sealed.



We got an early start and were pleased to find that our hotel was mere minutes from our destination.

We began our day strolling the streets of Greenfield Village which is like stepping back in time to the early 1900s.

 

We opted to hop on the steam locomotive to get an overview of the park.  Word of advice: when riding a steam locomotive do not wear white shorts and do not sit in the front car.  We soon found ourselves covered in coal dust and ash and made a quick dash for the last car at the first whistle stop.  Coal dust and ash do not look good on white shorts.



We spent only the morning hours at Greenfield Village but I would highly recommend allowing an entire day to tour this quaint historical town.



As it turned out our plan was a good one.  Storm clouds began to gather while we were enjoying a tasty lunch at the local tavern and we were grateful to be heading indoors for an afternoon at the museum.







Planes, trains and automobiles were on the agenda.



As was the Titanic exhibit that did not allow photography.  The Kid's interest level for the Titanic exhibit was not high but in the end we both agreed it was time well spent.



And on one final note (pun intended), I'll leave you with this.



And now you can join me in singing...

If I were an Oscar Mayer wiener,
That is what I'd truly like to be,e,e.
And if I were an Oscar Mayer wiener,
Everyone would be in love with me.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Whether rowing with the current or against, remember to keep your oars moving.

Rescue At Sea

"Come quick the boat flipped over."



Those words, spoken by a panicked nine-year old, had me moving towards the lake at warp speed.  What I saw when I got there was the tiny Sail Fish floating mast down in rough water.  Her captain bobbing up and down in the chop working in vain to right her.  Grandma had waded in waist deep, her shouts of instruction indistinguishable, gobbled up by the blowing wind.

A pleasant afternoon sail on the lake with Grandpa had turned frightening for the nine year old when a gust of wind grabbed the little boat, gave it a toss leaving it belly up in the water; her mast lodged in the mud; her crew rendered helpless.  Our heroine managed to get herself to shore while the captain remained steadfastly with his vessel.

Grandma, The Kid and I scrambled  to launch our old floater and raced to the rescue.  Our boat was masterfully manuevered to avoid striking the disabled craft and The Kid plunged into the chop.  It didn't take long to determine that the team in the water could not summon enough leverage to right the little sail boat.  The reinforcements were called to action.  I piloted the rescue vessel while Grandma attempted to grab the tow line.  Steering was difficult due to gusty winds and the fact that there were now two men in the water from whom to steer clear.  Once the tow line was secured we slowly made our way to shallow water eventually releasing the mast from its muddy resting place.  Soon the little Sun Fish was righted and moved to the safety of the shore.  It was quite another thing piloting the rescue vessel back to the dock.  I admit that in the face of those gale force winds more than one attempt was needed to bring her safely to rest along side the dock.

It was a rescue at sea that was Coast Guard worthy even if it took place a mere 50 yards off shore in a light chop and 15 mph winds.   But if I told you all of that in the beginning it would have spoiled the story wouldn't it?

In Case You Wanted To Know

In case you wanted to know:

• The Beach Boys' concert last night was fabulous.
• It is their 50th Anniversary Tour.
• It is the first time in a very long time that they have all been together.  Something like 30 years. (Minus the two members of the band who have passed away.)
• It was a thrill and an honor to see Brian Wilson on stage performing again.  He has battled many demons.
• They played for almost 3 hours.
• They sang roughly 35 songs.  (But who's counting?  The lady sitting beside The Kid, that's who.)
• These men are pushing 70.  How is it possible?
• They sang them all.
• I sang them all.  (They sound much better than I.)
• Favorite moment:  Brian Wilson singing Surfer Girl.  (My personal favorite BB song.) 
• We were quite surprised at the diversity of the audience.  Many twenty somethings mixed in with the senior set.
• The concert did not end until 11:30 PM.
• We arrived home at roughly 2:00 AM.
• Wish I could do it again tonight.
• We had "Fun, Fun, Fun" til the BB's exited the stage.

It you are a Beach Boy fan and they are appearing in a venue near you it is a must see concert.  Don't want to go alone?  Call me.

In Concert

If everybody had an ocean
Across the U. S. A.
Then everybody'd be surfin'
Like Californi-a
You'd seem 'em wearing their baggies
Huarache sandals too
A bushy bushy blonde hairdo
Surfin' U. S. A.


Going to see the Beach Boys in concert tonight.  


I have watched you on the shore
Standing by the ocean's roar
Do you love me, do you surfer girl.


I'm excited.  Can't you tell?


Off the Florida Keys
There's a place calle Kokomo
That's where you wanna go to get away from it all
Bodies in the sand
Tropical drink melting in your hand
We'll be falling love
To the rhythmof a steel drum band
Down in Kokomo


Counting down the hours.


Wouldn't it be nice if we were older
Then we wouldn't have to wait so long
And wouldn't it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong


You can bet I'll be singing right along with the band.


I may not always love you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
I'll make you so sure about it
God only knows what I'd be without you


And She'll have Fun Fun Fun til her daddy takes her t-bird away.


Or until The Kid takes me home.


(Wish you were here Audrey.)

Love Birds

It was gray and dreary outside, drizzling rain.  I needed a photo for my 365 project.  I didn't have an idea in mind when I left the house but found myself moving in the direction of the lake.  There are two swallows' nests nestled in the cover of my neighbor's boat lift.  Perhaps I would find my image there.

A flock of geese were floating just off shore enjoying the summer shower.  It was then that I noticed the pair, separated from the rest of the flock, lagging behind the crowd.  Staying close.  Sharing secrets.  Each aware only of the other.

The beauty of a 365 Project is my self imposed rule to shoot one photograph every day.  Had I not needed an image for today I would have stayed warm and dry indoors and missed this pair of love birds.

Reflections

Reflections are not unlike memories.  The sharp edges of pain and loss soften and blur, then blend seamlessly into the tapestry of muted colors.  The good and the not so good meld together forming the ever changing patterns of our lives that are especially beautiful to contemplate in the fading light of day.

Morning Paddle

One morning this past week I ventured out in the kayak.  I had high hopes of spotting wild life along the lake shore.  Apparently I needed to be on the water at a much earlier hour instead of sipping coffee  for even a chance at that possibility.

It was a pleasant morning none-the-less and I did spot this little guy munching on an acorn.



He tolerated my intrusion for several minutes before taking off in a huff.



He must be a distant relative of mine.  He's camera shy.



Fallen trees and those with exposed roots were plentiful.  This image inspires me to return for a do-over in the golden light of sunset.  Imagine how much more interesting it would be aglow in the light of the setting sun.



For some reason I am always surprised to stumble upon Mallards on the lake.



I have grown to appreciate the quiet calm of the kayak.  Sitting low in the water, paddling in and out of shallow lagoons with only the sound of the birds overhead has become my idea of a good time.

Or maybe I'm just getting old.

Soon Isn't Soon Enough

If I sit as still as possible, cease breathing and hold my tongue in my cheek in just the right spot my computer will run.  Let's see if I can actually complete a post.

The bathroom saga continues.  We have a working shower now, but no sink or toilet.  You read that correctly.  Once the tear out began for the installation of the shower we knew things had to be taken a step farther.  You can interpret that as gut the bathroom.  The gaping hole in the floor tile where the former shower protruded into the room and the inability to match the the 40 year old paneling left us little choice in the matter.  The decision was a good one.  Underneath the sunny yellow walls things were not as they should be.

Currently we have up to code insulation and sturdy green board on the walls, but little else. No sink.  No toilet.  The Little Red Cottage is a one bathroom deal.  There is no second bath to shoulder the load.  (Pun not intended.)  However our neighbors two doors down had the foresight to plan a trip this week and we are wearing a path to their back door and their first floor powder room.

The contractor is golfing this morning (it's all about priorities), but assures us he will return soon to complete the work.

Soon isn't soon enough.

Dead In The Water

My aging Mac is ailing. A new power cord has been ordered and hopefully will remedy the problem, at least for the short term. Until it arrives, posting will be either spotty or nonexistent.

Hazardous Duty

I recently encountered one of the hazards of country living, a spider bite.  At least I think that's what got me.

We have been diligently working at removing some old shrubs from around the cottage.  At the end of the first day of work I noticed a little bump on my cheek.  The little bump has evolved into a volcano the size of Mt. Vesuvius and occasionally erupts oozing disgusting viscous matter.

Makeup is of no use.  It barely conceals the offensive blight on my face and probably doesn't promote optimal healing.

The thing is so bad that one of my walking buddies found it necessary to don sunglasses in order to ward off the red glare radiating from my face.

It aint easy living in the country.

Alternate Routes

If your mind and your heart are open to it, there is always a way to cross the river.

You may end up in a place different from where you thought you were going but more often than not it is far more beautiful.

Rally On The RIver

When the flyer announcing the event showed up in my in-box all of those weeks ago I was all in.  An 8.5 mile kayak trip down the upper Shenango River in early June sounded like an adventure to me.  At the time I was whiling away the hours in the warmth of the Florida sun and the thought that the weather could be anything but perfect never crossed my mind.  However upon awakening on Sunday morning and discovering that the high for the day was expected to "maybe" touch the 64 degree mark and that the chance of rain was 70%, I was quite tempted to pull the covers over my head and let the day begin without me.  But the little in voice in my head was on continuous replay informing me that this was not an option.

Our neighbors and friends here in the north country are of sturdy stock.  They are kayakers, bikers, hikers and snow skiers.  Unlike myself they have not spent the last fifteen years softening up like a stick of butter forgotten in the Florida sun.   I knew that I would never hear the end of it if I permitted a little cool weather and a few raindrops to keep me off of the river.  It was with that thought in mind that I crawled out of bed, bundled myself in layers of warm fleece and donned my borrowed rain gear.  I kissed The Kid good-bye and headed out the door to keep my date with destiny.  (Notice that he is NOT in the photo.  Where has his sense of adventure gone?)



On this morning their were five.  Five hearty adventurers ready to take on the river.  We didn't waste any time and soon the kayaks were loaded into the back of the truck and we were off.



Apparently I was gravely mistaken in my belief that we five would be the only ones crazy enough to venture out on this day.



When we arrived, the launch site at the base of Pymatuning dam was littered with all manner of floating vessels.



Brightly colored kayaks and canoes were accompanied by paddlers with happy faces.  The mood was light, the air filled with a sense of excitement.






Rally on the River was sponsored by the Shenango River Watchers, a not for profit organization formed to clean up the river making it navigable for class 1 vessels with the hope of promoting tourism to the area.  Their efforts were rewarded on Sunday as many of the participants were from out of town.






I had hoped to take my camera along for the ride in order to document the day.  But the threat of rain and the fear that it wouldn't survive another water disaster forced me to send it home with The Kid.



He had ideas of his own and much to our surprise we found him perched high on the Jamestown bridge snapping away in true paparazzi fashion as rounded the bend in the river.



The 8.5 mile course was easily navigated.  I got sideways once or twice and grounded in shallow water but fortunately never had to leave the safety of my kayak.  Others were not quite as fortunate.  One older couple capsized their inflatable canoe after getting hung up on some rocks as did a couple of other canoers.

The log jam of paddlers seemed to invite trouble so we five attempted to separate ourselves from the crowd and for the most part enjoyed a peaceful float down the river.   Intermittent light showers were all the rain we encountered and the temperature remained quite pleasant.



We even had a personal historical commentator along on the trip.  Tom grew up in this area and as a young boy spent many hours fishing and exploring the Jamestown portion of the river.  He pointed out various "historical" sites on the route and always had an interesting tale or two to share from his youth.

The only fly in the ointment for me was the surprise of pulling out my bottle of water to quench my thirst only to find I had grabbed a bottle of white vinegar instead.



All in all it was a great day on the river.  One I'm ready to repeat any time.
Rain or shine.

70% Chance of Rain

After three days of gray skies and much needed rain I needed a patch of blue in my day.

This morning I am participating in a kayaking adventure.  Five of us are heading down the Upper Shenango River on an 8.5 mile float trip.  Rain or shine.  I'm afraid it's rain for us. I had planned to take my camera along for the ride in order to document the morning, mostly because I don't think anyone is going to believe I did this without proof.  However the 70% chance of rain in the forecast has caused me to rethink this strategy.  

I had invited "Little Sis" to paddle along with me but she has opted to stay warm and dry.  I called her a wuss but something tells me she has the better idea.

Enjoy your Sunday.

Wrong

Looks like I was wrong about summer.  Temperatures in the mid-40s this morning....brrrrrrrr.

Summer Has Arrived

The squirrels are playing tag in the yard.  The great blue heron is on the hunt for it's morning meal and the geese are floating peacefully (and quietly) in the cove.  The grass is the fresh green of new growth shaded by trees bearing a full complement of thick green leaves.   The garden has been planted.  Flower pots filled with pink and white and red geraniums.  A gentle rain is falling.  The sound of it pattering on the roof is the only thing competing with the morning bird song.

Summer has arrived.