Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Routines & Systems

      “Routine is one of the most powerful tools for removing obstacles.  Without routine, the pull of nonessential distractions will overpower us.  But if we create a routine that enshrines the essentials, we will begin to execute them on autopilot.” – Greg McKeown

      I’m a big believer in established routines.  Unfortunately I’ve got a lazy routine established at the moment.  Not enough rowing, walking, burpees, and weights.  A few days ago I set out to re-establish a routine by starting small – ten burpees and ten push-ups.  Just do them at the same time every morning, just after I get up, and once the routine is established start increasing the workload.

      James Clear, in Atomic Habits, talks about focusing on a system, and not on goals.  I feel that’s about right too.  He also says it’s okay to miss, but don’t ever miss twice.  More good advice.  Of course, I missed more than twice, but who’s counting?  I should be.

      Last summer and fall I had a pretty solid routine that included fifty burpees per day, no matter what.  But then I injured my back, and that what mattered.  My back is back to normal again, but the routine of fifty burpees per day hasn’t reappeared.  Perhaps starting with ten and building back up again will do the trick.  After all, ten is way better than zero.

    • Algebra 1

      Deep in the recesses of my brain are memories of Algebra 1.  In the fall of 1980 I took Algebra 1 in a fragile state, and it didn’t end particularly well.  I’d moved to a town I wasn’t particularly fond of, went to a school with a bunch of people I didn’t know, and was taking a class that I was indifferent to.  If I excelled in English, History and other classes of the time, my fourteen-year-old mind just couldn’t wrap itself around Algebra 1.

      I would bring my homework home, ignore it as long as possible, try to tackle it when I was falling asleep, and bring it incomplete into school.  The Algebra teacher at the time had a tactic to ensure that students would do their homework; Public embarrassment.  He’d have as all march up to the chalk board and do one of the assigned problems for all to see.  So a row of us would shuffle up to the chalk board, and one by one students would finish the problem and sit down.  Until there was only one person standing, staring at an unfinished problem on the board.  That would be me.

      I’m not sure how many times we went through this exercise, but it was many times.  If the teacher was trying to shame me into doing the homework, it didn’t have the desired effect.  Instead I grew to hate Algebra 1 more, and became more reluctant to do the homework, and the cycle continued.  Rather than work with me, he seemed to be as indifferent to my struggles as I was to the subject.

      And then something funny happened.  I was moved into another Algebra class with a different teacher.  This new teacher had us do the problems in class, and helped us work through the problems when we needed him.  And when we finished our work he had chess boards in the classroom and we’d play chess until the bell rang.  So we all hustled to finish our homework as quickly as possible so we could play chess.  I got an A in that class and while I’ve never been a math wiz it broke the hex that was hovering in my head.

      I learned three things from that teacher.  First, that Algebra could be fun.  Second, that chess was a magical game that I quickly fell in love with.  And third and most importantly, learning takes commitment from both sides.  I own the responsibility for my initial failures with Algebra, but so did that teacher.  I don’t remember the first math teacher at all, but I can still picture the second teacher.  I wonder if the two ever discussed the quirky, quiet redhead who took Algebra 1 with them.  I ended up being one of the students marched up on stage in senior year to get academic awards from the teaching staff.  It was a long way from the Freshman Algebra 1 class.

    • Ice Sculptures

      Winter in New England brings an endless cycle of freezing and thawing.  This morning we got heavy wet snow.  Today it has warmed up and much of the snow is melting.  Tonight brings bitter cold and water will re-freeze.  This constant cycle brings frustration to those who are ready for spring, but it also brings ice sculptures to the landscape.

      This is most apparent wherever water flows over a surface and down.  The blasted ledge along the side of the highways is a great spot to see ice sculptures as you drive by.  Quarries, rail trails and nature rock outcroppings are other options for seeing ice sculptures.  And of course waterfalls offer a daily transformation as water flows and freezes.  Icicles hanging off rooftops are another source of ice sculpture inspiration.

      Sunday we walked the Windham Rail Trail again.  It was transformed by ice and snow from the previous time we’d walked it a couple of months ago.  Part of that transformation is the ice flows coming off the blasted ledge on the north side of the trail, which formed spectacular ice sculptures.  It’s one of the joys of winter, if you only look for it.

    • Chickadees in the Snow

      “All substance is soon absorbed into nature, all that animates it soon restored to the logos, all trace of them both soon covered over by time.” – Marcus Aurelius

      I was helping Bodhi down the stairs last night and noticed a set of chickadee tracks in the snow.  I thought to myself that they would make a great picture for the right photographer (I’m a pale alternative).  Bodhi proceeded to step into the snowy tracks, forever changing the image.  And yet there were still a couple of other tracks in the snow that I opted to leave well enough alone.

      This morning the tracks were still there.  Not a complete surprise since the temperatures remained below freezing and there was no snow overnight.  But there will be tonight and these tracks will disappear in time; a memory for me and anyone else who happens to see them before they’re forever lost.  So I took a picture to capture the moment.  I’ve done my best to capture as many moments as I can with photography.  I recognize that sometimes you have to live the moment instead of constantly having the phone out, and I’ve tried to keep the phone in my pocket most of the time.  Perhaps InstaGram has suffered for the omission, but I don’t believe the 20-30 people who look at my pictures felt the lapse.

      There is only today after all.  We’re told to make the most of it and generally I live that way.  Capturing a moment in time with a photograph is a blessing for only the last eight generations or so.  We all see time flies by too quickly.  Footprints or castles in the sand are typical analogies to this rapid passage of time and our fragile place in it.  But I think I prefer the chickadee footprints in the snow as my analogy.  Chickadees are fragile creatures, and yet they find ways to deal with the harsh New England winters.  Chickadees are social creatures, as much for survival as anything else.  Humans share similar survival instincts, and the same fragility.  Time marches on.  Best to focus on the day at hand.

    • 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.

    • 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.

    • 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.

    • Wind Turbines

      Wind turbines keep popping up.  30 years ago you’d be hard pressed to find one in New England.  Today they’re seemingly everywhere.  And yet the New England states lag far behind other states like Texas, Oklahoma, Iowa, Illinois, New York, California and Oregon.  That middle swath of the country is all prairie, the land is cheap and the wind plentiful.  That’s a great recipe for wind turbines.

      New England is working to catch up.  There are plenty of wind turbines popping up.  But solar seems to be the green energy of choice.  Which is funny when you think about the number of sunny days versus the number of windy days.  Wind just seems like a logical choice.

      The biggest wind farm project in New England was Cape Wind, an offshore wind farm situated south of Cape Cod that would have produced 468MW from 130 turbines.  But it was in the wrong place.  The rich people in Nantucket and Hyannis objected to the prospect of looking out from their beachside mansions and seeing wind turbines.  So after 16 years the Cape Wind project was cancelled.  And billionaires celebrated.

      When I look out at Buzzards Bay in Pocasset, I can see eight wind turbines that were built in Wareham and Bourne.  Have they changed the view?  Absolutely.  But I don’t mind seeing them.  To me wind turbines represent a sustainable future state.  I hope my grandchildren and great-grandchildren have a world worth living in.  And I wonder about people who think only of themselves and the view they have.  Selfish narcissist bastards I believe.  There are way too many of those inhabiting the world nowadays.

    • February Sunset

      Waiting on February sunsets and dreaming of the road.  I’m… tired.  Good time to look at some sun dappled water.

      You’ve got your passion, you’ve got your pride
      But don’t you know that only fools are satisfied?
      Dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true
      When will you realize, Vienna waits for you? – Billy Joel, Vienna

      A bathroom shower project I’m working on isn’t going especially well.  Funny how that can set you back so much.  Dreaming of travel when so much is right in front of me.