Random Car Memories

A Boy Scout camping trip to Kerr Lake, me and Dad sleeping in the reclining seats of the car because the tent got flooded, a blue 1974 Austin Marina which sounds cool and exotic and British, and while it was actually British, it was a P.O.S. that would not go over 45 mph and the EGR warning light stayed on all the time, and I don't think we ever did figure out what EGR meant.

Me and Mom running around the car to switch seats at a stop sign with a couple cars behind us, because I was just learning how to drive and it was a 1977 Chevy Nova with a three-speed manual and the stop sign was at the top of a hill (the one at Albemarle and Hobbs) and I was scared I was going to roll back into the car behind me.

My first car, a 1977 Datsun B210 Honeybee, which is just as cool as it sounds, and which was bright yellow (of course!) and which got handed down to my older sister (how does that work?) and which I later found out she drove on the beach in Florida, but Mom and Dad didn't know she was in Florida, and then it broke down on the beach and I think I need to talk to Sis to find out the rest of the story.

Mom looking cute next to my Honda.

My second car, a 1978 Honda Civic hatchback, which actually is probably my favorite car I've ever owned, and although it was pretty sluggish off the line, could corner like a demon and could handle snowy roads like nobody's business, and even if you drove off into a snow drift, as long as you had a couple of big guys riding with you, you could pretty much lift it out of the snow drift back onto the road if, for example, you were in Boone visiting friends and doing stupid shit.

My best friend's 1976 Trans Am with a big bird on the hood and a 455 under, absolutely the coolest car ever made.

Dad's 1977 F150 Balloon
Chase Vehicle, a story of it's own

My parent's 1969 Plymouth Satellite station wagon, a battleship of a car, with a back seat and a "way-back" (the cargo area behind the back seat) with a chrome roof rack which you would never need because you could carry an entire living room suite inside, the car we drove on beach vacations and visits to Grandma, Rhonda and I riding in the "way-back" making sure none of the other's stuff crossed the invisible line down the middle.

My Dad's 1977 Datsun F10 two-door station wagon, which was probably HIS favorite car ever, but which several noted Auto magazines have identified as one of the ugliest cars ever (2nd to the AMC Pacer), yellow with a vinyl wood grain decal down each side, and which he let me drive to school on the first day I had my license, and man I thought I was cool! but then the pretty girl from Band wouldn't go out to lunch with me so I went by myself, isn't that sad?

Chronicle of the Hunt 2014

[Because "chronicle" sounds more impressive than "story"]

When people ask what kind of shooting stick I use, I'm always a bit embarrassed to admit it's a 20-gauge single shot. Most people hunt deer with a high-powered rifle, which gives them probably three times the range. A good friend jokes that I should get a gun that will shoot further than I can spit. But today I put another deer on the ground, my third. It was a big doe (in my eyes, anyway) and fulfills my goal of getting one deer each year. It will be enough for plenty of green bean casseroles, chili soups and home-made pizzas.

My choice was largely driven by economics and simplicity. Even new, it's a sub-$150 gun (mine was less, from a pawn shop). I've got one shot, I want it to count, and I won't pull the trigger if I'm in doubt. I also love that I can break it open, making it obviously safe, no fiddling or searching for a safety button. Perfect for a newbie like me. Yes, it's got limited range, but my hunting grounds are thickly wooded. I've also come to learn how stand placement can make a big difference. I've gotten comfortable with it; holding, aiming and firing are natural, automatic. All that being said, I am not prepared to rule out graduating to something more substantial at some point.

A Visit to Greensboro or All the News that's not on Facebook

Kate and I took an early October trip to the Greensboro area, staying at Hagan-Stone, a little gem of a park and campground near Pleasant Garden. The leaves had the lightest dusting of Autumn. Fleece jackets and fuzzy sweaters added to a feeling of pleasant melancholy.

We had come mostly to visit my Mom, Dad and sister and her family, but also for a short get-a-away and some hiking through the park.

Mom and Dad are well into their elder years, but the kind of elder years we'd all be so lucky to have, with a nice home, places to go and good friends to see. Yet there is the tension between gratefulness for what you have and grief over what's been lost.

We treasure our time together, as well as our weekly phone conversations, realizing that our allotment of minutes for chatting and visiting is not as inifinite as it once seemed. We are all aware of that, and are wise enough to relish and savor them.

Sister married a sweet man, who also became a loving and involved father. Two of their brood have fledged, and we heard news of their adventures. We let all the "dog cousins" loose in the backyard, and they romped around joyously, then we sat down to break bread and reminisce. We see them far too infrequently, Kate and I caught up in our daily "priorities" which we so often get completely wrong.

Kate and I enjoyed our strolls through Hagan-Stone Park, the old farm ponds glassy in the morning, reflecting the traces of fall. There were brief moments of magic when all felt right and time seemed to stop. We posted pictures on Facebook showing the grand time we had.

But the Facebook posts did not include details of how our hiking stride has slowed, miles covered are fewer, and sore joints more common. We left out anxiety about the fragility of aging parents. We failed to report about the stresses of our jobs, that we were so happy to escape for a brief time.

We each have our share of daily struggles. Some share those freely with friends and Facebook, others hold theirs close. Mine include frequent spells of back soreness and tightness, plus a general sense that my life somehow doesn't measure up, combined with the expectation that lightening will strike at any moment. I am probably a classic candidate for at least a glass of wine each evening, if not something a bit stronger.

We also each meet with tragedy sooner or later. Some of us bear more than others. Likely most of you have borne more than me, and I'm not sure what grace or good fortune accounts for that. It's oft been said that God won't give us more than we can bear, but I wonder if those who experience violence, starvation and torture would agree.

There's a balance, isn't there, between soaking up the pleasures of the moment and acknowledging the grief we feel over opportunity lost, injuries and injustices, both received and given.

But instead of wine, I drink up forest strolls with Kate, conversations with Mom and Dad, visits with my dear sister and her sweet family, and relaxing in the camper on a sunny fall afternoon, the stresses of the world forgotten if only for a moment.

Stocking an RV so it's Always Ready for a Quick Getaway

If you are pondering the purchase of an RV, you may be wondering how much you will use it. My wife and I bought a used travel trailer a year ago. We've found that a key to getting maximum use is being able to "get out of town" in a hurry. We have developed a system where we can be fully packed and hooked up in well under two hours. There are five major components to that system:

TRAILER STAYS FULLY STOCKED
Cooking and eating utencils, bedding, and clothing for a two-night trip. We also have it stocked with things like warm hats, tweezers, bandaids, a selection of DVDs, device chargers, batteries, etc. We have all the supplies we need for camping in all seasons, including swimsuits for summer and winter coats for cold weather.

CAMPING RESERVATIONS MADE WELL IN ADVANCE
Many campgrounds and park systems have an on-line reservation systems. Soon after we return from a trip, we begin thinking about possibilities for our next adventure. Reservations are normally made several weeks in advance.

FOOD BASKETS PRE-PACKED WITH STAPLES
We keep two crates in the house, pre-packed with food and toiletry staples that we can grab and go. We keep them stocked with spices, cans of soup, pancake mix & syrup, cooking oil, brownie mix, etc.

CAMPER IS CLEANED AND "RESET" AT THE END OF EACH TRIP
Towels and sheets laundered, bed made, bathroom cleaned, floor swept. An added benefit is that the camper is ready in case of a power failure (hook up to generator and have all comforts of home) or if we need to evacuate.

A MASTER LIST OF ADDITIONAL ITEMS WE NEED TO PACK
Space heater, wife's special pillow, inflatable kayak. Grabbing those additional items is quick and easy. The master list also includes refrigerated items such as milk, butter, eggs, mayo, sandwich meat, and perishable "staples" such as potatoes and onions.

Develop your own system for making a quick get-away to get maximum use of your RV.

My "Quite Fantastic" Mother

Few people would disagree that Mom's in general are pretty damn cool. I've known quite a few good ones, including my sister, mother-in-law, a dear neighbor when we lived in Raleigh, and a sweet woman named Jane who, in addition to raising two great sons of her own, did quite a bit of mothering to me during those stressful teen years.

My own mom deserves very high praise as well. On Mother's Day there are quite a few "Best Mom in the World" accolades given via greeting card, coffee mug and Facebook post. Since it seems that title has already been assigned, mine will have to settle for the "Quite Fantastic Mother" award. Below I've listed a few of the items from her nomination form.

She gave me great freedom to explore. I explored the woods and creeks near my home, and went on great sledding adventures with friends. I traveled miles from home on my 10-speed. If she ever worried about me, she hid it well.

She bought me books.

She cooked dinner for us each night, a real sit down meal with meat and veggies. And by "each night" I mean:  every. single. night. Bonus points.

She bought me comic books. Bonus points.

The love she gave me was deep, gentle and constant. It filled me with a peace and confidence that even today helps me navigate this troubled world.

I spent some time seeing doctors in hospitals as a child. She turned situations that could have been filled with boredom, pain and fear into a semi-pleasant experience. That feat probably deserves a medal of its own.

A couple of times during my late teens and early twenties she bought me round-trip plane tickets to Boston. It might be an exaggeration to say those trips saved my life. In any case, they were trips that took me to a place of profound love and acceptance that deeply shifted my perspective on life. AND I got to see the Boston Aquarium.

She carried crates of toys back and forth between me and my best friend's house, mostly without complaint (well, there was the one time she got just a tiny bit upset because they wouldn't fit in the back of the Pinto, but we can blame that on Dad for buying a Pinto [Dad, what were you thinking?]).

She bought my sister a pony. And by "pony" I mean an actual real live pony. Triple bonus points.

She decorated my room in red, white and blue wallpaper that I picked out myself. Quadruple bonus points.

Every once in a while she bought me Fruit Loops. Awesome!

She never once complained about the loud rock music emanating from my bedroom.

She sewed patches on the knees of my Toughskins.

Probably should have just started with the Toughskins thing and stopped there, because that's obviously all the qualifications she needs. Definitely a Quite Fantastic mother.

Caring for a forest

In February of 2002, after a two year search, Kate and I became part owners (along with a bank) of a small parcel of forest in Piedmont North Carolina.

The day we took possession was exciting, but also a bit strange. My own landownership experience had been limited to the quarter acre suburban lot. Like Native Americans negotiating with the European settlers, we wondered how a forest could be owned. Did our deed include the turtles? The water flowing through? Even now I sometimes get boggled by it's relative vastness. Regardless, our aim was to take care of the property so it would be in decent shape for whoever came along after.

You might think a forest wouldn't need much care. You might think nature, with her grand design and methods, would just as soon not be tinkered with. There is evidence, however, that humans have been interacting with and influencing the North American landscape for millennia. The "natural state" of a forest is actually dependent upon thoughtful human manipulation. It's almost like humans were meant to interact with the natural world.

These are the things we have done so far to care for the little parcel on which we live.

We took a walk - Being longtime trail hikers, we began to explore the property on foot, using the existing network of logging roads. We became more familiar with the features, topography, trees, plants and animals. Four-wheelers are nice, and I covet one deeply, but a walking pace is the right pace for careful observation.

We built a bridge - The property is dissected by a stream which, during heavy rains is un-crossable. A footbridge provided safe and convenient access to the entire property at all times.

We built another bridge - Our first bridge, an elegant structure made from pine logs and branches, eventually began to rot away. Footbridge 2.0 is made of treated lumber and has lasted well.

We built a couple trails - We began to create footpaths to places the logging roads did not reach. These paths gave us access to interesting features such as an old spring house, wildflower communities, and small waterfalls on the stream. Here's how we do it:  Building a Path Through the Forest

We took a few more hikes.

We got advice from smart people - Natural resource professionals from government agencies are a tremendously valuable resource. They even wrote us a detailed plan that spells out management tasks. We also sought advice from other landowners and private consultants.

We cut down some trees - Like carrot seedlings, pine trees need to be thinned. It benefits the trees, the wildlife, and other native plants. We hired a crew to do this tough work (a Forest Service program covered part of the expense). In some areas we had so many pine trees that they were only four feet apart, spacing which would have severely limited their future growth and health.

We cut down some more trees - We missed a few the first time.

We started a fire - Fire is tremendously beneficial to the loblolly pine forest ecosystem (and for some other forest types as well). It opens up the understory which otherwise can grow thick with sweetgums and non-native invasive plants. It encourages the growth of wildflowers and reduces the risk of a damaging wildfire. It's also fun as hell to watch! As with the thinning, we got financial help from the Forest Service.

We hiked some more.

We started another fire - You can burn as often as every three years, but it's kind of a production and you have to get professional help, so we've only done it twice.

We invited friends and family over to hike, hunt and explore - Sharing the property with others is one of the things we love most.

We cut down a bunch more trees - This time I actually thinned about 5 acres by myself with a chainsaw, a little at a time, over the winter. Later, I took a nap.

We built a couple more trails - Including logging roads, firebreaks and footpaths, we now have about 3 miles of trails.

We harvested firewood and deer - The amount we harvest actually has very little impact one way or the other on the overall health of our forest. Yet, the fact that some small portion of our subsistence comes from this forest connects us to it all the more intimately.

We kept on hiking - We observed the changes through the seasons and from year to year. We continued to learn more about the unique features of the property. We watched the wildflowers bloom and the deer run and the trees grow.

We took a few pictures - I almost never go for a walk without my camera. I have an extensive (if informal) years-long pictorial record of plant species, seasonal changes, forest growth, and more.

We sprayed a LOT of that supposedly nasty chemical that's poisoning the earth - Even if that were true (it's not), it is vitally important to control brush and weeds along the trails which can harbor disease carrying ticks, and annoying chiggers. Poison ivy is also a real nuisance. All my spraying is done with a backpack sprayer, which allows me to make very targeted applications, removing unwanted plants and conserving desirable ones such as native wildflowers and ferns.

We killed exotic invasive plants - We have done battle with ligustrum, kudzu, ailanthus, and paulownia, any of which can overtake an area, completely displacing native vegetation and destroying animal habitat. Cutting them back is next to useless. Herbicide treatment is essential.

We took lots and lots more hikes.

What's next?

There is a myth or misconception that forests can achieve some "natural state" if only we would leave them alone. In fact, however, forests are ever changing and we will continue to manage ours. In the next year or so we hope to thin again, cutting the weaker trees and leaving the strong ones to grow (this time the harvested trees will go to a paper mill). I hope we have a few more burns in our future. And in another couple decades we may clearcut a few acres.

Clearcuts have an image problem, largely I think due to unbridled and unsustainable logging of old growth forests in decades past (and no doubt still occurring in certain parts of the world). But I've come to believe they have a role to play. Across any given landscape, we need mature forests, young ones, clearings, and everything between. Different plants and animals prefer different habitats, so having diversity across the landscape is crucial. A final harvest also provides the opportunity to grow a new forest.

We do love this little patch of woods. Yes, one day many of the existing trees will become toilet paper and 2x4's. But our hope is that the land will produce fresh air, clean water and wildlife habitat for centuries to come, as well as paths for people to drink it all in.

NOTES:
1.  Here are the natural resource agencies that can assist forest landowners. I should have included the actual links to their websites, but you can use that Google thing...

• NC Forest Service
• NC Wildlife Resources Commission
• Soil and Water Conservation District
• USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service
• NC Cooperative Extension

2. My knowledge is really limited to forests in Piedmont North Carolina in the USA, and I would not claim to know whether any of this applies to forests in other locations.

The Dreadful Day Pepper Ran Away (Spoiler: We Found Him!)

Late one Saturday afternoon, Pepper ran away.

We had rescued Pepper from the Warren County Animal Ark just two weeks before. He is an exceptionally sweet mutt, about 25 pounds, with some Schipperke lineage according to the shelter and vet.

We had just stepped outside for an evening stroll and noticed a deer in the front yard. Pepper was excited, naturally. Frustrated by the leash, he began to make vertical leaps, spinning in the air like a gymnast. Adorable and amazing!

What we didn't realize (and which we would chastise ourselves about for hours later) is that his leash was attached to the ring holding his tags, instead of the leash attachment point on the collar. The thin wire pulled open from the force of his leaps. Pepper was off.

Pepper took off like a rocket down our long driveway toward the deer. The deer dodged into the woods, but Pepper continued up the driveway toward the road, having caught some scent or trail. I followed at a full run, but knew I had little hope of catching up.

We searched until dark, our spirits falling by the minute. I drove the neighborhood while Kate walked the trails through the woods. That evening, Kate strolled through the yard every hour or so calling his name. I left some lights on after we went to bed, hoping they would be a beacon for the lost pup. Neither of us slept well, and I got up a few times to peak out the front door.

The next morning, Pepper was still AWOL.

Kate and I were dejected. We of course rehashed all the things we should have done to keep from losing him in the first place. We cried. I chastised myself for crying over a silly lost dog, when others in the world face illness, violence, hunger, abuse. We cried some more. I wondered if he had decided that life as a house dog just wasn't his thing. I wondered why he had left us, if maybe he didn't really love us. We had tried so hard to do something good, rescuing a dog from possible death to give him a loving home and good care. We ached over what tragedy may have befallen him, alone to face coyotes, cars, big stray dogs.

We did all the things you're supposed to do when you lose a dog. I e-mailed the neighbors. We posted flyers. We searched some more. We made plans to check with the local shelters in the days to come. It felt cold and mechanical, as we were nearly drained of hope.

I told myself that there were a million other dogs that needed homes, and we would adopt and love another. I still felt hollow.

And then we found him.

Daisy and I were walking a distant trail on the property, which seemed a long shot since he had run fast and far in the opposite direction. But we hadn't searched there yet, it felt like I was maybe doing something useful, and it passed the time. I had been calling his name and whistling every couple of minutes, but not with much enthusiasm. Kate was driving the neighborhood.

He was practically next to me before I even saw him, wet from an evening in the rain. He was clearly ecstatic to have found us, and my heart melted.

I grabbed him by the scruff, and dragons could not have torn him away. I quickly secured him with a leash, although I think he would have gladly followed me home without it.

I called Kate, got the answering machine, screamed and sang the news, elated.

There are many joys far greater than finding a lost dog. There are far worse tragedies than losing one. There are untold numbers of dogs who live in shelters, on chains, on the streets, hungry or beaten. And that tragic fact pales when considering that there are 842 million hungry people in the world. We live in an age when so many lives are affected by war, violence, illness, and it is staggeringly mind numbing. Our best efforts to do good fall tragically short, or are met with complete failure.

Yet these are the things we can do; give a couple of dogs a good home, lend a hand to a neighbor, offer a shoulder to a grieving friend, join a group that fights for justice. These are the things we can do. And one day, I believe we will find that, in spite of the seeming futility of our efforts, it all made a difference.

 

See what I did there? I got another pet picture posted on the internet.

Family Farm

I had the good fortune of not only of finding a wonderful mate, but of marrying into an amazing Iowa farm family. Our visits home are far too infrequent, but thoroughly enjoyed when the time comes.

The countryside is gorgeous. Yes, there are wide plains blanketed with corn and beans, but there are also rolling hills and valleys. And there are rivers, broad majestic rivers, beautiful and terrible rivers that alternately nourish fields and terrorize riverside towns.

In winter you might, at first glance, use the word "bleak" to describe the landscape. But a second look reveals a hundred shades of tan and brown and gold which paint intricate textures across the terrain. The often brutal cold reminds you of the awesome power of women and men to adapt and even thrive in almost any conditions.

The house, with a mid-1800's vintage, was built of massive stones which lend it both majesty and warmth. It has been lovingly looked after for the 40 or so years her family has been charged with its care, and they have worked to preserve it's beauty and rich history.

The kitchen is the point of entry and, like few homes I've known, the soul of not only the house, but of the family. Remodeled years ago, it now has a soft patina of wear from the making of ten-thousand meals. Kate's mom works in the kitchen with the grace of a ballerina on stage, practiced hands moving with precision and efficiency, measuring by intuition.

Sunday gatherings are common, where the meals are epic, and family drives in from afar just for Grandma's cooking. Card games are frequent and boisterous, followed by long conversations about weather and jobs, triumphs and struggles.

The home and farm are thoroughly infused with the irreverent and loving spirit of Kate's dad, the traces of his laughter dimmed by the years since his passing, but nonetheless still echoing in the family kitchen, from the walls of his shop, and amongst the trees in the field borders.

Her brother now tends the cows, fields and timber, scraping what living he can from toil and soil. It's tough work for a much younger man. As is the case with so many of those who supply our tables, he is deeply driven by a love of hard work and the land. A ragtag fleet of aging tractors and pickups proves that gold is not his reward, aside from the color of sky at sunrise, or the fields in October.

We have traveled countless miles on many trips from here to there, driven by love and longing. And love we find there, in abundance, from a family that works hard, laughs loud and gives with grace, in a home that offers sturdy shelter, sweet refuge.

All the Bluebird News from Mom and Dad

I had a nice chat with Mom and Dad today. I normally take a walk on my lunch break, and about once a week I give them a call as I'm strolling. It's a habit I copied from my wife, whose family is much further away, and yet she's managed to stay closely connected through weekly calls. Today I got news about bluebirds.

A short time ago, after having lived in the same house for over forty years, a house for which Dad drew the blueprints and stopped by after work during construction to add more nails to the framing, they moved. Dad had talked about moving for years, but it was a bit of a surprise when they actually did.

They only moved a couple miles, to a house of the same vintage, and an almost identical floor plan. It sounds a bit silly on the surface, but actually was pure genius. Dad practically gutted it before they moved in, tweaking and remodeling, adding an office and a breakfast nook and closet shelves. In the old house, Dad's office was on the second floor and now they have a single story. They got the house they had loved for forty plus years but with all the minor annoyances ironed out.

The breakfast nook has a large window that looks out on the backyard. It's the best part of the house, another of my Dad's great ideas, and the spot where I suspect they spend the most time. Through the window they have a clear view of the bluebird box.

They hung the box a year or two ago, but this is the first year a family moved in. Mom and Dad are both great lovers of nature, a trait I am grateful they passed down to me. And when I called today, I got a detailed report on the bluebird antics.

They are enjoying a second nesting, which is not uncommon. The parents stay busy finding food and bringing it home to a hungry and growing brood. They are, regrettably, having a terrible time with non-native house sparrows, which relentlessly harass bluebirds (more information here: North American Bluebird Society factsheet.

Of course, I normally also get a report on Mom's painting, Dad's latest interesting read, and visits with friends. But today, for the better part of forty minutes, I heard all the news about bluebirds. It was all the news I needed. It was all the news that mattered.

Thanks for the Delicious Food

Having just completed what would amount to a good half day's work for a real farmer, this wannabe farmer is beat.

It was a good day, working in the woods at the height of spring, spying the occasional wildflower and enjoying the mild temps. While spraying weeds on our hiking trails, I scared up a mama turkey sitting on her clutch of eggs. She circled me twice at about 100 feet, clucking and complaining, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I was too close to her developing family.

Later, moving a pile of firewood, I disturbed a lizard and a couple of toads who had taken up residence there. As I loaded it on the tractor
they eyed me, confused and suspicious, but also a bit curious.

Hauling the firewood back to the house, which, to be clear, provides us more with ambience than heat, I reflected on the hardworking farmer whose livelihood depends on a full day of physical labors. I remembered that, on average, she receives in income only about 18 cents for every dollar I spend on food.

I firmly believe we need to make big changes in our food system. We need to continue working on environmentally sound pest management methods. We need to do a better job on soil conservation and pollinator habitat. We need to continue efforts to protect water quality.

At the same time we have to figure out how to produce enough to feed 6 billion people. We need crops that are drought tolerant and pest resistant and high yielding. We need to eliminate waste and address inequities in the distribution system.

As tobacco usage continues to decline, we have to work on finding viable alternatives for our tobacco farmers. The alternative is to lose North Carolina's most productive farmland, and some of our most capable farmers.

We need to work on all those things and more.

But today, riding on the tractor with a load of firewood, I simply felt grateful for the hardworking farmers. Whether their crops are organic or conventional or genetically engineered or biodynamic, whether their livestock is raised in pens or fields or forests, I am deeply grateful for their hard work bringing food to my table. And the next time I see one, I plan to thank them for the delicious and nutritious food. I hope you will too.

All the Reasons We Never Expected to Love Our RV

Last September, Kate and I bought a used travel trailer. It's small, only 20 feet long, and over a dozen years old. It's been well used, and shows it, with plenty of scratches, dings and dents. But all the systems work and it's well-appointed. We paid $4500 and spent another thousand getting it outfitted, which maybe isn't bad for a second home.

We absolutely LOVE it, and for many more reasons than we expected.

The camper came with everything we
needed, except the dog.

I certainly expected to enjoy the new opportunities for travel and vacations. I was also very attracted to the idea of having a second home, and this is like having one at the beach, and the mountains, and the lake, and a cabin down by the creek. And I was completely enchanted by the compact layout, fitting all the comforts of home in such a small space.

But there is so much more, and it truly surprised me.

I love the feeling of hooking up the RV and taking off on an adventure. Our adventure may only take us 45 minutes from home, but we could be setting off for the Sahara as far as I'm concerned.

I love having a private bathroom attached to the car. Very handy. I'm considering attaching the camper to the car on a permanent basis.

I love the intimacy of living in a small space with my sweetie. Spending time in separate rooms is not an option.

One of our favorite parks,
Kerr Lake State Recreation Area

I expected that the campground vibe would be relaxed and friendly, but I didn't anticipate how easy it would be to strike up a conversation with strangers who quickly become friends.

I've been a huge fan of North Carolina's State Parks for as long as I can remember. I didn't realize my love for them could grow.

I had no idea what an escape it would be from the stresses of everyday life. Taking a couple days to camp, doing some hiking or kayaking, and even hanging out in the camper fixing meals or watching movies with friends and loved ones, allows me to "leave it all behind" in a way I rarely experience.

But without a doubt, the best part of all is how this little camper has given me so many opportunities to do things I enjoy in the company of the person I love most in the world.

Prepared or Paranoid?

Having descended even further into the black depths of internet paranoia (see The Urban Prepper, for example), I decided to make a Bug Out Bag.

A Bug Out Bag (a.k.a. "Grab and Go Bag" or 72- hour kit) is a set of evacuation supplies you would take if you had to leave the house in a hurry (e.g. earthquake, wildfire, flood, etc.). It should contain all the food and other items you would need to survive for a few days.

It should also, according to many, contain all the weaponry you need to fight off zombies or space aliens. Since all the reports of zombie and space alien sitings are unconfirmed, you'll have to speculate on the best weaponry. After extensive study (I watched Signs and War of the Worlds, as I felt space aliens were more likely, plus I'm just not a fan of zombie movies) I decided to include a fully loaded Super Soaker.

Venison Green Bean Casserole

Here's how to make the famous family recipe. It's a nice "one-dish" meal.

First, obtain the appropriate license or permit for your area.

Next, sit in the woods with a gun, bow, or other legal weapon for countless hours and wait for a deer to walk by. Click here or here to see what's that's like.

Alternatively, drive to a grocery store and buy the ground meat of your choice (turkey and beef work well, as does pork sausage).

That will never happen!

This post contains a curse word. OK, you've been warned.

One of the things that really irritates me is when people block the passing lane on the interstate. Maybe they think the "Keep Right Except to Pass" signs were put up as a vision test???

Another of my pet peeves is when people write off grand ideas with the "That will never happen!" response.

Someone might suggest, for example, how nice it would be if all of our streams and rivers were free of pollution.

Admit it, that phrase went through your mind, am I right?

It's a knee-jerk reaction, and one I have had countless times myself. It is a "write-off" reaction, a conversation-ender. And since I took a semester of college psychology 25 years ago, I'm obviously in a position to fully analyze it. Holy SHIT! 25 years ago? [In case you weren't paying attention, that was the curse word]

With the exception of those few folks who can actually predict the future, here are the three possible meanings behind that phrase:

1. "It is unlikely to happen in my lifetime" - Now, this may be a reasonable conclusion in many situations. I am knocking on the door of 50, and statistics suggest I'll make it to 70 or 80, maybe even 90. In that timeframe, for example, it is logistically impossible that we would fully restore even a small portion of old-growth forests, assuming everyone agreed that was a wise effort. Maybe that's too short a timeframe to completely eliminate poverty, or reduce the murder rate to zero. Maybe those things would take 100 years, or 1000 years, or 10,000 years. But does that mean we shouldn't wish for it?! Or work toward it?! Or plan for it?! So instead of saying "That will never happen," try saying "That won't happen in my lifetime and I don't care about future generations so let's don't even try."  It will be an equally effective conversation ender and a more accurate statement.

2. "That will never happen because we're on a path to anarchy and destruction" - It's true, there is some evil shit taking place in this world (sorry, that one slipped out). But there are also people of great courage, intelligence and compassion working to make things better, in ways small and large (almost certainly including you). And the possibility of new technologies solving some of our big problems cannot be discounted. And even if we are on a path to destruction, do you believe human society could not rise from the ashes? And that the lessons we learn and solutions we develop today would not inform future generations?

3. "That will never happen and I'm certain because I actually CAN see the future" - Got any stock tips?

The next time some romantic dreamer makes a wild statement about world peace or clean water or ending hunger, consider a different response. How about "What's your next step?" or "How can I help?"

But most importantly, please spread the word about the "Keep Right Except to Pass" thing. That's REALLY irritating.

Readiness

There are many different degrees of preparedness, from the standard 72-hour kit recommended by the American Red Cross, to those who plan for survival in the case of complete social and economic collapse (often referred to as SHTF, or when the "S@&* Hits the Fan"). To each his or her own, of course, but surely there is some value in considering how to deal with various difficult situations.

From 9/11 to Katrina to the tsunami and nuclear disaster in Japan, there are many possible events that could disrupt utilities, transportation, communication and more. Closer to home and higher on the probability scale are situations like Hurricane Fran, or ice and snow storms that leave large numbers without power for several days.

In this post I will describe my own level of readiness for different situations. In each case I try to consider hygiene, shelter, food, water, first aid, pets and how to pass the time.

Building a path through the forest

This post is about building footpaths through the woods.

Kate and I have always been fond of walking together, and the forest is one of our favorite places to do it. We are incredibly fortunate to own a small patch of woodland, and have created trails through the woods to indulge our favorite pastime.

Our trail system evolved gradually and organically over the years, and now consists of over three miles of walking paths. Here are some thoughts to inform your own efforts.

Were I to start over on a new patch of timber, I would approach it more systematically.

A good starting point is the perimeter. Regular walks around the edge of the property help you monitor for trespassing. If the property is wooded, the perimeter trail could be a firebreak (hire an experienced bulldozer operator for that work). That will facilitate prescribed burning, as well as wildfire control if necessary. It also allows for access by a four-wheeler, golf-cart, etc. which comes in handy when you need to install a duck box or cut a tree on the far end of the property.

Next, consider the interesting features of the property. You might not have a mile-high waterfall, but perhaps there is an interesting rock outcropping, a noteworthy tree, a small stream, or a spot where wildflowers bloom each spring. Try to route your trails where they will pass by these points of interest.

I've also found that creating "loop" routes are more pleasurable than "there and back again" routes. There's nothing wrong with retracing steps, but where you have an option to circle back around to the starting point it makes for a more interesting stroll.

Winter is the time for trail construction, since the ticks, chiggers and deerflies are all sleeping. Also the poison ivy vines have lost their leaves (although you should learn to recognize the leafless vines, as they will cause the same skin reaction).

Once I've decided on a general route, I do an initial "path clearing." Sometimes that's just a matter of walking through and removing downed trees and branches by hand, other times it involves a chainsaw. When picking a route, keep in mind that gentle curves over mildly sloping areas are easiest for walking.

Next comes the somewhat tedious process of removing saplings, small trees, vines and overhanging limbs. My tools of choice are a folding pruning saw and small pair of loppers, as they are easy to carry. This usually takes several passes over the route, back and forth (you'll see things in one direction that you miss walking the other way). A mattock comes in handy for leveling out uneven areas, if you like.

Once the trail is mostly clear, we start using it immediately, and daily if possible. This is a key step in construction. It takes thousands of footsteps to define the trail, packing down the soil. It makes for a more solid and even walking surface, makes the trail more visible, and helps inhibit the growth of unwanted vegetation.

For stream crossings, keep in mind that the water level may rise dramatically after a rain. Having the ability to get a vehicle across the stream is ideal, but that could involve major expense, permits and bureaucracy. I opted for a footbridge across the main stream on our property.

During the first spring and summer I spray any encroaching brush, weeds or grass with a brush killer herbicide. I use a backpack sprayer, and it usually requires at least two applications a few weeks apart.

Once established, it has to be maintained, and the most important part of maintenance is to use it regularly. An unused trail will quickly get overgrown and become unpassable, especially during the summer.

Maintenance also consists of a couple of brush killer applications each summer, as well as clearing the occasional downed limb or tree. Passing through with a pair of loppers once each year is helpful for cutting back small limbs that start intruding.

Another thing we enjoy is naming our trails. We try to use names that reflect the place in some way, such as "Hoot Owl Trail", "Salamander Slope" or "Magnolia Firebreak".

Below, Kate is walking down the Valentine Trail, which was her Valentine's Day present one year. I staked cedar logs on the slope to make walking down the hill easier.

This is How I Grocery Shop

Over the years, Kate and I have developed a highly efficient system for grocery shopping.

Cut.

Take two.

Over the years, I have developed a highly efficient system for grocery shopping, and Kate, failing to read the fine print in the marriage vows, has been forced to humor my silliness.

Like most things in my life, it begins with a spreadsheet.

The spreadsheet contains all the items we normally and occasionally purchase at the grocery store.

The items are grouped as they are found on the aisles of the grocery store.

Seriously. I would not joke about something like that.

We buy groceries once every two weeks, and admittedly, it makes for a bit of an epic trip. Before heading out, we do a thorough review of all the items on the list, highlighting the items we need to purchase on that trip. We prepare for the event with a light stretching routine and good hydration.

We've gotten used to judging how much of each item we need to last for two weeks. That includes non-groceries like laundry soap, toiletries and batteries.

Admittedly, we shop at what some would consider the "evil empire" of corporate America. In our perhaps rather weak defense, of the grocery store options in our area it is hard to beat in terms of selection, price and quality.

If you've read this far, I expect two questions have come to mind. Why? (or perhaps WHYYYY?!!!). And secondly, How?

You can bet that we always have
ingredients for chocolate cake on hand!

My theory is that this approach saves us time and money. Unfortunately, I have no actual data to support that theory. But I can say that impulse trips to the grocery store are exceptionally rare. I can also report that we almost never run out of things. We don't run out of mustard. We don't run out of laundry detergent. We don't run out of toothpaste or sugar or chicken noodle soup or cereal. When we get low on something, it gets highlighted on the list and we buy enough to last two weeks.

As for "How", one issue is perishable items. It might surprise you, however, how many produce items will remain in good condition for two weeks. Apples, potatoes and carrots are easy. But even other items will last most of that time if carefully stored. Bananas are an exception, so I just buy a few each trip and enjoy them for a few days then wait until next time.

[Note: My goal for this year is to make weekly trips to our new farmers market].

Milk usually lasts two weeks, and we also buy soymilk which lasts much longer if unopened. In a house with children that consume larger quantities, that might be a challenge.

Most everything else can be frozen if needed. It helps that we have a large fridge with ample freezer space.

I suppose this approach would be challenging if you liked to experiment a lot with new recipes that called for unusual or very specific ingredients. In our house, Kate does most of the cooking (I'm a VERY lucky man!) and she is quite creative at using standard items in new ways. We also have several favorite recipes that we make a point to always keep the ingredients on hand (e.g. Kate's green bean casserole, which you might think, "whatever", but if so you've never had Kate's green bean casserole).

So there you have it, another of your questions finally answered. Copies of my spreadsheet are available for only $9.95 plus shipping.

Tips for Making the Most of a Hospital Stay

Now there are a million reasons you might have a hospital stay, and some of these won't apply in all situations. And my hope is that you will never have a hospital stay. But these are things I found helpful during Kate's recent visit for surgery.

1. Bring your music - It made a big difference to have our own music. Bring a portable speaker.

2. Bring a companion, or arrange lots of visitors - Nurses are amazing, wonderful, dedicated people. But they are busy. They are more than happy to bring you a cup of tea, or hand you the TV remote you dropped. But if they are in the middle of an involved procedure with another patient, it will be a while before they get to you. Having your own "personal assistant" makes things dramatically more pleasant and comfortable. And it seems many hospital rooms these days have recliners that make for reasonably comfortable sleeping if you can find someone to spend the night there.

3. Bring a notepad - You will want to be able to take notes of doctor's instructions, and make lists of questions to ask when they next visit.

4. Make sure your companion is there when the doctor visits - Doctors, it seems, tend to make their rounds early in the morning (7 to 9 am). You may be feeling bad, a little out of it, or whatever. Your companion can help make sure your questions are answered, and help you remember what they said.

5. Stop the doctor just before they leave the room - Doctors are busy and in a hurry. They may only be in the room for two or three minutes. Just before they are about to leave, say something like "Before you leave, let me think if I have any more questions" or have your companion do so. It forces them to pause and focus on you, and puts some of the control in your hands. It also helps to avoid that "I wish I had asked..." feeling that often happens a few seconds after they have left.

6. Pack a few essentials - The specifics, of course, will vary according to the patient, but consider packing a few items that will make you more comfortable, e.g. a pair of slippers, change of clothes, tea bags and hot cocoa mix.

7. Be extra sweet to the nurses - They are a fountain of knowledge, and can make a dramatic difference in your comfort and recovery.

Again, here's hoping you never need to stay in the hospital, but just in case...

On finding angels at the bagel shop

I have long pondered the question of whether angels exist. I have certainly had the sensation that someone or something was "watching over me." It may be the only plausible explanation for surviving several incredibly stupid youthful exploits.

In my mind's eye, I picture angels as the spirits of those loving friends and family who have passed on to whatever lies beyond. There is one person I often picture, someone whose love and friendship saved my life, and whose time on this earth was much too short. I also picture the playful ghosts of my beloved pups, Rusty and Shaggy, dancing around the yard with glee.

Yet I'm unwilling to rule out that it's not all just dumb luck. How else can you explain the seemingly random nature of tragedy. I am certainly no more deserving than so many others who have passed on. The idea that it's all part of some master plan defies my personal sense of logic.

But this morning I drove to Durham to pick up my wife's wallet, which she had left at the bagel shop, found that not a cent was missing, and decided that the angels have been here all along. They are in the actions of the kind staff of the bagel shop who safeguarded her wallet, and the anonymous customer who turned it in.

We are surrounded by so much suffering and violence, so it's easy to forget the abundant kindness that exists in the world. Each of us practices it everyday without thinking. We are often reminded on Facebook and in sanctuaries that we should be kind to others. But I'm convinced it's our natural tendency. I think what's more important is to notice that others are kind, frequently and excessively, because it's all too easy to forget and focus on the evil.

Are there winged cherubim flitting amongst the clouds? I have no clue, and don't mind waiting a while to find out.

But I'm now convinced that there are angels among us, and maybe that's enough.

Why I Always Decline the Extended Warranty

The short answer is "because Clark Howard says so" and perhaps that is enough said. But here's more food for thought.

An extended warranty is essentially an insurance policy. Now I'm a big fan of insurance, and in fact that's an area where Kate and I sometimes disagree (I want more coverage, she thinks it's a waste of money). But consider that the purpose of insurance is to reduce the risk of severe financial harm (e.g. house fire, car accident, expensive medical issue).

In most cases, the loss of a consumer good (e.g. laptop, cell phone, camera, refrigerator, breadmaker) is not going to cause "severe financial harm". It could cause inconvenience and frustration and perhaps a brief financial setback, but likely not severe harm.

It could also be argued that, if the loss of a particular product WOULD cause someone a major financial problem, perhaps they shouldn't purchase that item in the first place, or should consider a less expensive alternative. Laptops, for example, can be purchased for $300 or $3000. Same with refrigerators and TVs. I don't even need to mention Craigslist, ebay and manufacturer refurbished.

Now there's a good chance that, of the two people who read this post, at least one of you has benefited from an extended warranty. You paid $30 bucks for the warranty, and got a new phone for free after you dropped it in the...puddle on the street, let's say.

But think back over all the times you have purchased the warranty and estimate all the money you spent. Now compare that to what you would have spent on repairing or replacing any products that broke. I believe the data would show that the vast majority of consumers who buy warranties spend more on warranties that they would have spent on repairing or replacing broken products.

There is also the question of when to purchase the extended warranty. Do you accept it every time it's offered? The store will offer you one on everything from $15 toasters to $1500 TVs. For it to even begin to make sense to engage in that gamble (that's essentially what it is, and like casinos, the house almost always wins) one would need a criteria, such as declining it on purchases below a certain amount, or for products that are generally very reliable (e.g. TVs).

However, let's say you decide it's worth it simply to reduce the risk of inconvenience and frustration should you drop your smart phone in the puddle. You could decide that's something you'd like to insure, and that is of course perfectly reasonable.

But rather than purchasing an extended warranty, consider the idea of a "self-insurance" program. Every time you purchase something that you believe is worth insuring, instead of purchasing the warranty deposit the same amount of money in a savings account designated for repairing and replacing broken items. Over time, odds are very high that you will come out way ahead.

All that being said, I can contemplate a scenario where an extended warranty would make sense. One might, for example, require a particularly expensive item for health, safety or income production. Loss of said item might fall into that category of causing "severe harm". I'd also note that while I firmly subscribe to the "delayed gratification" philosophy, an occasional splurge that provides great pleasure or significantly enhances quality of life (e.g. a refrigerator with exterior ice dispenser) is eminently justifiable, and might need to be insured depending on specific family economics.

But probably not the toaster. Well, maybe this one.

Treading lightly, or rationalizing the vast sums I spend on gadgets and gas

I count myself among those who believe that our current rate of consumption is a path to widespread damage to the ecosystem. Thus I wrestle with the question of how to tread lightly on the earth. Should I recycle more? Stop patronizing certain companies? Buy a hybrid? For all my wrestling, it seems most of my choices fall short.

Two foot overhangs shade windows
in summer, let light in during winter

Case in point, our house is smallish by first-world middle-class standards. It is energy efficient, with passive solar features. Yet we have a bedroom we hardly use, and storage space for belongings we don't need. It's no "McMansion", but it's a bit more than 182 square feet.

I hardly ever buy an electronic device that isn't either used or refurbished. But I have a LOT of electronic devices.

Our vehicles are used and high mileage. Yet they are embarrassingly inefficient. My daily ride is a full-sized F-150, with a powerful, rumbling V-8. [confession: I love it!]

We own a small chunk of forest, complete with flowing stream. We do our best to care for it. Doing so, of course, requires equipment; two chainsaws, three lawnmowers and a string trimmer. Did I mention the small diesel-powered tractor?

If you believe greenhouse gases are causing scary and severe changes to the earth's climate (and I do), then you would certainly have cause to point a finger in our direction.

I bemoan the fact that so many of the goods I purchase (tires, toilet paper, hiking boots, the aforementioned electronics) are manufactured in far off lands by workers who may be treated unfairly and paid poorly, in factories that surely spew pollutants into the air and water. And yet I continue to buy tires and and toilet paper and hiking boots. And electronics, definitely more electronics.

I find the endless aisles of cereal and scented candles and bath towels and kitchen gadgets to be both nauseating and alluring. I have a suspicion we could turn off all the factories and have still have an ample supply of toothpaste and legal pads and patio furniture for the next decade or so, especially if we all took better care of what we have.

I've done a fair amount of paring down material possessions. And yet a certain major on-line retailer makes regular appearances on my credit card statement and once a day I peruse the Deal News website. OK, maybe twice a day. Three times max. I could certainly manage to go a bit further on the "paring down."

I do at least maintain delusions of self-sufficiency, harvesting firewood and venison from our forest.

Expense is a major barrier to living a "sustainable" lifestyle. Right now there is a wire connected to my house that runs straight to the mountain-removing coal mining of West Virginia. While I would love to sever that line, solar panels ain't cheap. Falling short, once again.

Another justification (rationalization?) is that, even if I lived in a Tiny House and drove a hybrid and ate locally grown lentils and rice, the overall impact would be the same as beating an oil tanker with a hammer. "Let's vote with our dollars and stop shopping at 'Save-A-Wad'" is a nice idea, but the companies, I fear, have gotten too big to notice.

In the end, though, I do believe that actions are important. Yet so are conversations. And creating models. And education. And raising the next generation. And the work we do with the time and resources we have. And living a life that is comfortable and satisfying, in pleasant surroundings, with good food and enjoyable pastimes, so we have time and space to rest and recharge and get back to doing good work.

And ultimately, the change we need to solve the sustainability problem is exponentially more profound than the choice between a Prius and a pickup. [Did you hear the new F-150 will be all aluminum?!! Sweet!]

And so, I will continue to buy my electronics refurbished, DVDs at the pawn shop, and cars on craigslist. My next truck will be another gas guzzler, but I will strive to make more visits to the farmers market, and fewer to the super store. And I'll continue to believe that someday, perhaps not in my lifetime, we'll have a world where waters flow clean, forests grow tall and deep, and poverty and hunger and violence are history. Achieving that goal is an unfathomably monumental task. But I remain hopeful that the small steps we take today will move us just a bit closer.

Second Season

This is my second season deer hunting and here's the big lesson: hunting is complicated.

By any conventional measure (antler size, pounds of meat, number of deer), my season could barely scrape the bottom rung of mediocre. I harvested a single deer, a small button buck (picture below).

I've also spent many more hours sitting in the woods than I had planned. My goal was to get one decent-sized deer for the freezer. Had it happened in the first 15 minutes of opening day, I would have happily moved on to other tasks, like cutting firewood or sitting in a boat waiting for a fish to bite. I foolishly thought, with one season under my belt, this one would be easier. But on many days the overriding feeling was frustration.

I've seen dozens of deer. But they have always seen me first, or come from behind, or been way out of range. I have come to terms with the randomness of deer movement. I pick a spot in the woods to sit, and imagine them approaching from a certain direction. Without fail, they approach from a another. On one occasion, a deer spotted me just across the property line and froze, staring at me for a good five minutes. On another, as a large herd passed behind me, one of the deer spied me and stood stomping the ground for several minutes, easily within range if I had just been facing the other way. There were several days I saw nothing. Frustrating.

Granted, I've placed some self-imposed limits on my opportunities. My shooting stick is a 20 gauge shotgun, single shot. I have two home-made stands, the tallest reaching a mere 8 feet off the ground. My landowner permit allows me only to hunt my own farm. I've yet to buy a bag of corn.