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    • Morning Cleanup

      This morning I got up early and did my usual Saturday morning routine when I’m at home: Coffee and some contemplation, followed by the outside chores.

      Step one as I sip coffee is to look around the house and yard to take stock of what needs to be done.  Once my coffee is done I’ll get to work.  This morning that meant putting on my boots and winter gear and heading outside to shovel shit.  In summer?  Eliminate step one.  This shit’s not going to take care of itself.

      Chores are a form of meditation if you approach them the right way.  Tasks done repetitively, and done well, are a reward in and of themselves, even when that task is shoveling up dog crap.  I don’t take pleasure in the process, but in the result it brings.  Clean yard, walkway, deck…  wherever he’s done his business.  Winter with an old dog is tough.

      Despite having responsibilities in my teens and twenties, I can point to one event that accelerated my journey to adulthood.  I was married to the wrong woman at the time, and had moved to Connecticut with her — literally meeting her halfway between where she’d lived and where I’d lived prior to that.  She got a job before I did, and while I looked for a job I worked part-time at Guiding Eyes for the Blind cleaning dog kennels.  Nothing offers perspective like realizing you’re in a bad marriage while shoveling the crap out of 30 kennels, hosing them down and then going outside to clean up the outdoor kennels they occupied while you were cleaning the indoor kennels.  Day after day while you look for a job in a place where you know next to nobody.

      I thought that, until I became a parent, thankfully in a great marriage the second time around, where changing diapers became one of my primary roles.  Explosive diarrhea blows out a diaper?  Clean it up and change their clothes.  Son’s explosive diarrhea up the entire sleeve of your dress shirt?  Clean it up and change your shirt.  Daughter’s barium enema leaks out all over your dress shoes?  Clean it up and buy new dress shoes.  Shit happens.

      So now, with an older dog who tends to shit while he’s walking somewhere to take a shit, there’s a lot of cleanup again.  But I have perspective on what cleanup can be.  Not optimal but not so bad.  Bodhi is one of many to teach me a lot about myself over the years.  Certainly patience was a key lesson as he went from his adolescent years to his adult years to his senior years.  He’s teaching me a final lesson.  Today it’s him.  Someday it may be me.

      But not today.  The shit’s cleaned up, the bird feeders are filled.  Snow is falling now, adding a coating of white over the places I’d just cleaned.  Looking over at the feeders I see three bluebirds taking turns at one of the feeders.  It’s going to be a good day.

    • Onondaga

      Long before present-day Syracuse dominated the lake that bears their name, the Onondaga lived in this area.  Onondaga means “hill people”, and there are certainly plenty of those in the region.  If you look at a map of the area, you see that there’s another dominant feature in this region: water.  Lake Ontario is just to the north and west of Lake Onondaga.  The finger lakes are southwest.  And the Mohawk River cuts an East-West corridor from Albany to roughly Lake Oneida, which connects to Lake Onondaga via the Oneida and Seneca Rivers.  This network of waterways was a superhighway for native populations, and later for Basque and French traders, and eventually British colonists and the waves of settlers who followed them.  Salt production was a major industry for early settlers to the Syracuse area as they tapped into the massive natural deposits around the southern part of Lake Onondaga.

      In my fourth year of crew, I rowed on Lake Onondaga in the summer of 1988 in the Intercollegiate Rowing Association Regatta.  This regatta was memorable for me for a few reasons.  That year Northeastern University had an accident on the way to the regatta and their rigger was killed.  The Heavyweight Men went on to win the IRA’s that year, and I witnessed the race.  To say Northeastern was a sentimental favorite after that event is an understatement.

      When you drive down I-90 you cross the lake outlet between the Seneca River and Lake Onondaga where Syracuse has their boathouse.  This is where we launched during the IRA’s and I still have vivid memories of my time there that bubble to the surface whenever I cross this outlet in the daylight.

      The Onondaga were one of the five original tribes in the Iroquois Nation.  The Oneida and Mohawk were to their East, and the Seneca and Cayuga were to their West.  So the Onondaga as the middle tribe were the logical “keepers of the fire” for the five nations.

      During the Revolutionary War, the Onondaga fought on the British side and paid for this in 1779 Sullivan Campaign led by Major General John Sullivan.  George Washington brought the fight to them in a series of coordinated raids in when the United States won.  Thousands of Iroquois fled to Canada and many starved in the winter of 1779-1780.  Their homeland was settled by New York veterans of the Revolutionary War as part of the Military Tract of Central New York.  Today there are roughly 500 people living in the Onondaga Nation Reservation just south of Syracuse.

      Lake Onondaga has suffered its own affront, as a company called Allied-Signal, which later became Honeywell, and other companies used the lake as a dumping ground for Mercury and other toxic chemicals.  Years of dredging and capping the bottom of the lake were completed in 2017.  The Onondaga consider the lake sacred.  Corporations considered it a convenient dumping ground.  It seems to me that the way the Onondaga lived on the land and the waterways that cut across it is preferable to the way that those who came after them have treated each.  I know that in 1988 I wasn’t thinking about how much mercury I was rowing over as we competed in the IRA’s.

    • Amber of the Moment

      “Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment.  There is no why.” – Kurt Vonnegut

      Que será, será
      Whatever will be, will be
      The future’s not ours to see
      Que será, será
      What will be, will be – Que Será, Será, Jay Livingston/Ray Evans

      I was at a meeting this morning talking to a gentleman about life.  He told me a story about the song Que será, será and how his mother used to sing it to him when he was growing up.  She’s since passed away and now that this is used in a commercial it’s constantly reminding him of his mother.

      Frankly I’ve never thought much of this song.  But he challenged me to focus on the message the song is saying and less on the Doris Day 1960’s aspect of it.  On closer inspection, I think the lyrics pair well with the Kurt Vonnegut quote.

      I’ve been on the road for six straight days.  Tomorrow I have a meeting and then head home.  This has been a productive and great week.  But I’m tired and ready to get back to my own house for a bit.  Tonight I’m trapped in the amber of this moment.  What will be will be tomorrow.  But I hope what will be will be several days at home.

    • Tums Sandwiches

      I’m staying at a Homewood Suites in Upstate New York.  Generally I like these hotels more than some others because the rooms are larger, they serve free breakfast and free dinner with beer and wine, all at a reasonable price.  But nothing is really free, is it?  While I’ve stayed in a few Homewood Suites that served up excellent food and exceptional service – Augusta, Maine I’m looking at you – this one leaves a lot to be desired.

      Look, I know they build the food into the price of the room.  So charge me an extra $5 and make me something delicious and nutritious.  Crispy eggs in the morning and soggy pizza at night are not going to earn rave reviews online.  Dinner with a side of Tums ain’t my idea of a good night on the town.

    • Lake Effect

      When you’ve been away from your home since Friday morning last week, Wednesday night seems like a long-ass week.  And I’ve got two more days to go.  My self-imposed ban on Facebook was shelved for the weekend, but I’ve seen what people are posting and I’ve reinstated the ban.  I almost slipped into miserable post mode myself with an observation of the couple next to me at the bar, but chose to delete it.  My small part to make the world a bit of a brighter place I guess.

      It’s snowing heavily in Rochester.  It was snowing heavily in Buffalo earlier.  I’m about done with snow.  But I’m a sales guy with an entire territory that consists of snow belt.  Best to suck it up and deal with a little snow.  But this is lake effect snow, and that’s a different animal.

      Lake effect snow occurs when cold air blows across a body of water and the precipitation rising from said body of water fuels the formation of snow that falls downwind of the body of water.  And with the Great Lakes due west of me, that means Buffalo and Rochester get the benefit of lake effect snow, and I get the benefit of raising my windshield wipers and bringing in my snow boots in anticipation of having to clear the snow off the car in the morning.

       

    • On Hemlocks and Time Travel

      There are few places I’d rather be than deep in a quiet coniferous forest.  Hemlocks are my personal favorites, but balsams bring their own pleasures.  While you can find both in any old neighborhood, there’s nothing like a stand of native trees out in the forest.

      I found myself kneeling down under a stand of hemlocks this weekend during a hike to see the Lick Brook Falls.  The combination of waterfall, mature hemlock trees and solitude was like a jazz trio playing your favorite tune.  Instantly familiar, but in a whole new way.
      Nature is a source of energy.  Like many I’m revitalized in the woods, and especially in the presence of conifers.  I was once hiking with a group of friends and found myself well ahead of them in one stretch of trail where I was surrounded by balsam firs.  I stopped to wait for them and as my heart rate came down the quiet of the forest drew me in.  I became a part of the forest myself for those few minutes until my friends arrived.
      I had a similar feeling when I was looking out at the waterfall Sunday.  It was a deep contentment with where I was at that moment in time.  I’ve gotten that feeling from the swing in a rowing shell when all of us were blessedly in sync and the boat was balanced and moving well.  I’ve had that feeling floating underwater in Buzzards Bay when I felt like I was a part of the bay.  And I’ve had that feeling of flow and time travel when I’m writing or having a magical conversation with someone special.  This is flow and synchronicity, stillness and movement, urgency and timelessness blended together into an energy drink we can swim in.
      But back to the hemlocks.  I’ve wanted to plant a stand of hemlocks in the woods behind my house, and another stand of them between my house and the neighbors.  I’ve lived in this house for twenty years and haven’t done it.  Part of that was concern for the invasive species woolly adelgid, which feeds on hemlocks and eventually kills them.  I don’t have a great excuse really, and so I’m going to plant a bunch of hemlocks this spring.  I may live in this house for another twenty years, or a may move on in a year.  Who really knows?  But the hemlocks would live on – hopefully a legacy to some quirky dude who shared this place next to the woods once upon a time.

    • She-Qua-Ga Falls

      In the town of Montour Falls, New York there is a stunning waterfall that looks like it’s flowing right into the homes that sit at the base.  When you drive down West Main Street, as I did, its a shock to look up and see this magnificent waterfall cascading down onto the town.  It was a wow moment on par with coming through the Webster Tunnel on I-376 in Pittsburgh to have the entire city open up in front of you.

      Seeing the falls with high water in the creek is a must.  I saw it on a warm February day with rain and melt-off fueling the tumbling waters.  Apparently that’s what She-Qua-Ga means; tumbling waters.  It’s not the only waterfall in Montour Falls – I’d also visited Eagles Nest Falls a couple of minutes away from She-Qua-Ga Falls, but it’s the most accessible.  You don’t have to get out of your car to be blown away by it, but of course you must.  Seeing a waterfall from afar is not the same as feeling the mist dance on your face and hearing the roar of the cascading water.  You should have a relationship with a waterfall, otherwise what’s the point?

      Anyone who knows me knows I like to dance with ghosts, and there’s a real tango with history at the base of She-Qua-Ga Falls.  This was the place where Queen of the Seneca/Iroquois Catherine Montour lived.  Several of the place names nearby honor her, including Catherine, Montour and Montour Falls.  It was the place where Red Jacket, who signed the Treaty of Canandaigua after the Revolutionary War, practiced his speeches.  If Fort Stanwix tore lands away from the Iroquois, Canandaigua promised to give some of this land back.  For the once mighty Iroquois to cede these lands to the new United States must have been a devastating and bitter pill to swallow.

      Around 1820 Louis Philippe, later the “Citizen King” of France from 1830 to 1848, sketched the falls from roughly the spot where I was standing taking them in when he was in exile.  At some point I’ll try to take a picture of that sketch and update this post with it.  For now, I’ve had the opportunity to see the real thing.

    • Lick Brook Falls

      This morning I woke up and thought I’d tackle one more waterfall before I shut down this grand tour of Ithaca area waterfalls.  I drove 7 minutes up the road to Lick Brook Falls at Buttermilk Falls State Park.  This is a lovely and quiet spot, especially on a Sunday morning with icy, muddy trails to contend with.  So on went the micro spikes over the boots.  I’ve worn that combo a lot this weekend and never was it more needed than on this hike.  Steep downhill stretches were a sheet of ice, all the more treacherous because if you slipped you’d likely end up in the fast moving stream.

      So I cautiously made my way down the icy trail.  I’m not timid, but I do have a fondness for living.  And not getting hurt again.  After all I was flat on my back cracking a rib just two weeks ago.  I’m getting older but I still remember THAT.  I also did the mental math – I was one of two cars parked the trail head, and what were the odds of me being discovered should I slip?  Not good.

      No sooner had I said that than a trail runner came dashing down the hill behind me.  It was his fourth loop of the trail I was hiking down.  And yes, he was wearing micro spikes, but he was also hustling down the steep icy path I’d just descended.  And he was wearing shorts.

      I told him that he was a better man than me, got a quick download on the trail ahead and wished him God speed.  He reminded me of the thru hikers we saw hiking through Mahoosuc Notch.  I’d be moving at what I thought was a decent speed only to have those thru hikers blow right by me.  All you can do is salute them and move along at the speed that makes sense for you.  And that’s exactly what I did with that trail runner.

      Lick Brook Falls is really three falls.  The from the bottom to the top, Lower Lick Brook Fall drops 25 feet, moving up the trail, Middle Lick Brook Falls drops 47 feet and then Upper Lick Brook Falls drops 93 feet.  This third drop ranks Lick Brook Falls as the fifth highest waterfall in the Ithaca area.  It’s similar to Lucifer Falls for its relative isolation compared to the other falls on the top five, but unique for its three drops.  This one reminded me a lot of hiking along a mountain stream in the White Mountains.  The hemlock, oaks and maple trees certainly helped with that impression.

      Ultimately I did three more waterfalls today, but I’ll save those for another post or two.  If I’d just done this one today I’d have called today a victory.  There are some incredible stories that came out of the others, and they’re worth a post of their own.  Hiking the “blue” Lick Brook Trail in February paid off with plenty of water, ice sculptures and isolation.  It occurred to me more than once on the trail that there was nowhere else I’d rather have been at that moment.

      According to the Sweedler adn Thayer Preserves website, this area was protected from development when “Moss Sweedler purchased the “Lost Gorge” in the 1970s, and understanding its uniqueness, decided to leave it to the Finger Lakes Land Trust in his will.  But in 1989, the Land Trust let the Sweedlers know that Lick Brook was a top priority for protection, recognizing the development pressure in the area and the site’s exceptional beauty, and in 1993 the Land Trust purchased 128 acres from Moss and Kristin Sweedler at a bargain price, creating the Sweedler Preserve at Lick Brook.  Since then the preserve has provided public access to one of the most remarkable waterfalls and gorges in the area.”

    • Four Waterfalls in One Afternoon

      I found myself with an afternoon to myself today while in Ithaca, New York.  Ithaca is a great college town with plenty of restaurants to choose from and enough shopping to occupy those who are inclined to spend their lives in retail environments.  I’m not one of those people.

      I decided to make the waterfall circuit.  Now, Ithaca has a lot of waterfalls and I only had half a day of daylight to work with, so I tried to choose wisely.  You can’t go to Ithaca and not view Ithaca Falls, so that was on the list.  But so was Buttermilk Falls, Taughanock Falls and Lucifer Falls.

      I started with Taughanock Falls.  This was the furthest away but one I really wanted to hike to.  I drove out to Ulysses and changed into my winter boots for the hike.  I’d contemplated this hike before I drove out here so I also put on micro spikes, as I expected the conditions to be icy.  My expectations were met.  The path to the falls was about a mile long with a mix of ice, snow and mud.  I passed 50 or 60 people on this walk and I was the only one wearing micro spikes.  A few people pointed to them and said they wished they’d thought to bring them too.  Taughanock Falls on a mild February day were spectacular.

      Next on the list was Buttermilk Falls.  This one was right down the street from my hotel and easy to get to.  No hiking boots required, just park and walk over to take a picture.  Buttermilk Falls are beautiful, but there’s no real effort required to see them.  I like to earn my scenic vistas.

      Third waterfall was Ithaca Falls.  This is another easy one right off the road.  In fact, you can technically see the falls from the road, which is how we first discovered them.  But I put on my boots again and walked out to the falls for another picture.  Quick walk but well worth the effort to get closer.

      Finally, I drove out to the Robert H. Treman State Park to see Lucifer Falls.  Waze sent me past the state park parking lot to the service road on the other side of the Enfield Creek.  This ended up working out really well as there was a nice path down to the creek on that side.  This was another hike where micro spikes were invaluable.  I’m not sure I would have chanced the hike without them.  This hike reminded me of New Hampshire.  There were hemlock trees shading the path, and with the icy conditions I was one of the only people out on the trail. 

      There’s a bumper sticker available in many of the stores in Ithaca that says “Ithaca is Gorges”.  It’s a nice play on words of course, but right on point; Ithaca’s Gorges are indeed gorgeous.  When you get off the city streets Ithaca offers plenty of views that are well worth the effort to find.  I’m glad to have had the opportunity to see these four waterfalls today.  I’ll definitely go back to each one again, and especially Lucifer Falls.

    • Margaritas and Marketing

      Margaritas and Marketing

      Today is National Margarita Day.  If I didn’t know that on my own, I’d surely have figured it out by the sheer number of social media updates, banners on restaurants and radio banter.  I don’t generally drink margaritas.  They’re up on the list with orange juice on the acidic no no scale.  When I was younger, I’d pop a few Tums, deal with any cankers I might acquire for indulging and plunge right in.  No more.

      But that doesn’t mean I won’t celebrate in my own way.  I’m just not buying into a national day designed to sell more of something phenomenon.  I march to the beat of my own drum, and I’ll toast the margarita drinkers with a rum drink or beer.  Cheers!