Grown but not Forgotten

Three boys in one house can be daunting. Squabbles can break out easily, and there is always the chance that someone will need first aid from a bad brush with the pavement.
Overall though, boys are wonderful and full of delightful surprises.
In our neighborhood, our boys became friends with other children that lived near us. Our cul-de-sac was always full of young people playing whatever sport the current season rendered. Basketball, football and even a variant of wiffleball were always in progress. For many happy years, the children would play together in all kinds of weather and develop good social bonding skills, as well as other developmentally appropriate attribute for well adjusted young people.
When we moved to a house with no cul-de-sac, I lamented the lack of a convenient play area that we had had before. My lamentations were in vain. Our side yard, affectionately known in our family as The North Yard, provides even more lovely green space for any particular sport our boys can think of.
An added bonus is that their friends, the other young people from our previous neighborhood, still hang out and join in the yard sports. In fact, as long as I can remember, those children were as much a part of our community as our own. And, wonderfully, it stuck.
Recently, our middle son’s friend from school and the old neighborhood joined us for a quick bit of dinner before heading out to a holiday event.
The two of them, plus our oldest and ourselves listened as they told stories of school, sisters and brothers, favorite teachers, stupid ideas, good ideas and anything else that they were in the mood to share. It was a blast to listen and laugh.
Interestingly enough, the time for our guest to head out to his other engagement came and went, but the stories and laughs continued.
Worried that he’d be more than a little late we made sure that he was aware of the time. He informed us that he had been excused by his parents from attending, and that he was free to chat some more.
Of the many wonderful aspects of having teenage boys in the house, the best part is knowing that their friends feel just as much at home with us, as our own boys do. I hope that as they grow into young men, marry and raise children of their own, that they will still come by and visit and share their adventures. And I hope that their own boys and girls will develop long term friendships as well.
Hopefully, even after our boys are grown and parents themselves, our North Yard will have another generation of young people to play and grow.

All I Want for Christmas is Decent Winter Weather.

Snow Cat (Photo credit: clickclique)

I lived in Pennsylvania most of my life. So, during the winter, I was always sure that there would be at least one snow. And even if we didn’t get snow, it was still cold and, well, wintry. Since I’ve lived in North Carolina, I’ve become a bit acclimatized to our more temperate weather. Long, exceedingly hot summers, and warmer winters have all ingratiated themselves to me.
Somewhat.
At this time of year, though, I always feel a pang of sadness, realizing that in just a few weeks we will be on the rise back into summer again. That means that our days for good cold weather and snow are numbered.
Lately, here, we have had a warmer spell. Not really warm, per se, but it’s not really cold either. The days warm up to the mid sixties, and you don’t need your sweater. As the day progresses, it does get cooler, especially since it gets dark so early, but it’s not downright bitter and gnawingly cold.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have some bizarre desire to spend my winter fending off frostbite or shoveling snow. Rather, I would just love a few days where we could look out on the silent world of freshly fallen snow, hear the wind in the pines and set up the crock pot with Hot Cocoa and eat homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese.
I don’t want ice, and I don’t want three feet of snow. Just under a foot would do nicely, and as we typically have a decent warm up after a snow anyway, it would be fairly easy to handle.
Certainly, it would be necessary to go and buy the heck out of some milk and bread. One of the few things that makes a real snow scary is the blatant possibility that the stores may run out of those winter food staples. I heard once, that a snow storm came on so rapidly that local stores didn’t have the chance to stock up and folks had to make due with only minimal bread and milk supplies.
The horror.
I always feel bad for cows and bakers. Imagine knowing that you have one of the two most coveted survival goods and that a major winter event is headed your way. It’s got to be terrifying.
Nevertheless, I don’t think our luck will hold, at this late date, for a White Christmas, which is distressing. I’m only going to be on this earth a short time, and it would be nice to have several White Christmases before I shove off permanently.
Not that it is logistically desirable to mess up a nice Christmas with snow and prevent the visits of family and friends and thereby ruin the one day a year when everyone gets along and plays nice.
It doesn’t really matter much at this point, because it will be sunny and mid sixties again for Christmas, and if there is snow at all this year, it will probably be wet and short lived.
Maybe next year.
In the meantime, I’ll have to be content to remember one specific cold day, when I nearly froze my keester off, for those long hot and intolerably steamy summer days that are, unfortunately, right around the corner.

The Adventures of Doggy Dinnertime!

Our puppies are as varied in size, shape and personality as is possible for one household, but with  regards to dinner, they are united in passion.
It’s always a bit challenging to get everyone in and settled into their meals, especially given their exuberance in the matter. A few months ago, in order to solve the problem of them crowding the back door and trampling me to smithereens in order to get to their food, I began going outside with them and calming them a bit, with a brief search and rescue exercise.
Our oldest pup is blind, deaf, skittery and just plain pitiful. Of course, she’s very sweet and this one endearing factor outweighs just about all the others. She camps out on an old lawn chair in the back yard and dozes most of the day. Since it takes an extraordinary amount of time and effort to get her attention every night, I decided to teach my other two pooches to go get her for me. I figured that if every night was going to be a canine ‘silver alert’, I should have some help.
Our Trixie, who we have had the longest of our current three, is the smartest dog I have ever known. She is, if any dog is, capable of going out and getting our little old lady and herding her in. After all, she is a cattle herder, so it’s not a big stretch.
Kobe, our pug, is the smallest and quite possibly the only dog I’ve ever met with severe ADHD. He’s game for an adventure, but has very little ability to contribute beyond being cute and scampering about giving shrill and yippy encouragement to his big sister.
Together, they would, ideally, go into the back yard and get our Annie, or so I hoped.
Devoutly to be wished.
Instead, after three weeks trying out my new scheme, I gave up. I have to go out back myself, accompanied by my happy pooches, get our little old lady’s attention and get all three dogs headed in the same direction. Considering their species, it’s remarkably like herding cats.
Anyway, I get myself to the head of the line, and before I let them into the kitchen, I make them all sit. What this can be described as is me yelling ‘SIT!’ to one bouncy, yippy dog who is not listening at all; to one large and waggley dog trying hard to be patient; and to one dog facing the other direction and barking at the wall.
When I finally got them (all but one, of course; she just can’t help it) sitting and making eye contact, I opened the kitchen door. My wagglies all stayed put, for a second anyway. They then proceeded to knock me down, and zoom about.
I tried to make a grab for the over-zealous pug, slipped and over turned my ankle, and was stepped on in every single vulnerable spot by my big, heavy girl, too hungry now, to stop.
Annie kept barking at the wall.
I caught the pug by his hind quarters, trying hard to act quickly, before the pain from my ankle set in. He yelped, made a worthy attempt to bend completely in half to bite me, but gave in when I added a little rubbing into my steel grasp, to confuse him into thinking that I was giving him a little love. It worked.
Trixie, realizing belatedly, I guess, that I was hurt and that she was probably responsible (and seeing that I hadn’t put food into her bowl yet,) swooped back and delivered nurturing and gloppy licks, just to help of course.
Annie was now up on her hind legs, scrabbling at the opposite wall, trying to get in, where there is no door.
Finally, I was able to hobble up on one foot, scooping the pug up with me. I got him into his crate with a nice bowl of food and fresh clean water. I gave Trixie her food, for which she showed her great thanks, by diving into it.
Finally, free of the other two, I gently nudged Annie 180 degrees, so she could at least, I hope, see the blurry light of our kitchen and get her bearings.
With all three dogs fed and bedded, I nursed my poor ankle.
Sometimes having dogs is exhausting!

A Spot of Tea, Anywhere

Years ago, on a whim, I purchased a folding pocket stove. The small rectangular box is light and compact enough to fit snugly into my pack, and the fire tablets are dual use. They can be used to light stubborn fuel, as they will burn unaided for ten to fifteen minutes.

I took it out to my carport, just to give it a try, and brought some tea bags with me. Popping some water in one of my Coleman stainless folding camp pots, I lit the tablet and set the water to boil.
In no time, the water was boiling, and the tablet still had some time left to burn. I tossed the tea bags in, and pulled the pot of the flame. In just a few moments I had a cheery cup of tea and all with very little work
.
Since then, the stove, the tablets and several tea bags have always been a part of my gear.
Why tea? When I was a bit younger, my uncle used to make a tea from various herbs and roots found in nature. Especially on a chilly day, that tea would always warm me and fill me with good feelings. It is amazing how chilly or damp weather can soak up your good mood and leave you miserable. Even with the appropriate winter/wet gear and a lovely trail, I have found myself muttering grumpily, thinking about a warm house and a nice fire and some hot soup.
This bad attitude can be really dangerous in an emergency situation. If you get lost, while you’re waiting for search and rescue, you need to have a good, positive attitude about getting out, or you will become depressed and limit your chances of survival very severely.
One snowy day, when the schools were called on the chance for snow, but other than frosty temperatures and a few flecks of sleet, there was no snow, I broke out the little stove, a fire tablet and set about clearing a safe little spot and a few of our boys and I made some nice hot tea. Even just a few yards from our house, on that cold day, the tea was a warm and friendly pick-me-up and made the cold stand back a few feet.
I’m tempted on a good cold day to break out the stove and some metal cups and an assortment of teas for my hiking partners. We can stop walking, huddle together and wait for a nice, steaming cuppa to take the chill off and cheer our spirits, before we complete the hike. Just thinking about it, puts me in the mood for a hike and a spot of tea.
Cheers!

Getting There.

 [Congratulations to Joel and Andy and the Four Saints Brewing Company! They’ve got a building in our downtown and are on the next leg of their hike to bring Asheboro a really great community focused business! This DRO Blog Post is dedicated to you guys, and all those who dream big!]

In my home state there is a mountainous rock formation called ‘The Pinnacle’. When I was very young, we would sometimes go there, just to look out over the countryside and marvel at the beauty of our state.
Some years later I went back with some friends, just to enjoy the view once more.
At that point in my life, I was wildly out of shape; I smoked a lot and I’m fairly sure that I partied a little too heartily most of the time. The path leading to the overlook wasn’t necessarily a difficult one to navigate, but it was quite steep. My fellow hikers zoomed on ahead without me, and slowly I trudged along, wheezing and sweating profusely and cursing my stupid lungs.
Finally, as I approached the last few yards of path that led to the ancient rock outcroppings that make such an amazing overlook, I felt an overwhelming sense of joy. I had made it to the top, and would soon be rewarded with an amazing scene.
The view was marvelous and as I caught my breath and mopped at my sweaty brow I looked out over the world and was moved by the sheer, wild beauty of it.
The Pinnacle is not the most difficult hike I’ve ever done, nor is it the longest. However, in a little over five miles, the elevation leaps up over one thousand feet, so most of the hike up to the top is steep and requires a certain level of durability. While five miles is a pretty nominal distance, even for an inexperienced hiker, the seemingly endless upward slant can make for an extremely difficult walk.
As a friend of mine from back then used to say, “If you wanna see the view, you’ll have some hiking to do.” He was right, but oh, was it worth it to slog up that hill and spend a hazy afternoon gazing out over that amazing country scene.
Our current favorite hike is a lot less intense than the Pinnacle in many ways. There are a few steep inclines and one or two longer hills that require a good bit of determination to get through. And while there isn’t a breathtaking view like the Pinnacle has, so to speak, during the winter, when all the leaves are down, you can peer through the trees and look out over the surrounding ancient mountains and see the tiny farms nestled in among the shoulders and knees of the old hills.
However, the part of any hike that really always impacts me is how easily we forget that our goals and dreams are just a series of steps; simply putting one foot in front of the other, as the old song says, and you can get there.
Our good friends are getting ready to open a brewery here in our little city. And while it is exciting to think about all the future has in store for these two intrepid young men and their great beer, it is amazing to think that this whole promising business venture started as an idea shared among a group of close friends.
I imagine the scenario as follows, though I doubt that it is completely accurate. A few gentlemen, each who love beer, are sitting around a table discussing, as men sometimes do, how awesome it would be to have a brewery in Asheboro. And the idea could’ve fizzled right then and there, and been nothing more than a wistful vaporous fantasy that was never accomplished, if it weren’t for a little determination.
Now, a few short years later, the dream is rapidly spreading its roots into brick and cement, glass, clay, leather and beer. All because two folks inspired an entire community by not giving up, when the elevation overtook the distance.
Today, as they trudge doggedly across the last few yards before the overlook, the work that it has taken, the determination, the sweaty, wheezing, hazy hours of slogging uphill seem like a walk in the park. The first major leg of their hike is over, but there are plenty more overlooks to get to, and lots more hills to climb. The funny thing about hiking and following your dreams is that once you’ve arrived at your first destination, you can’t wait to move on to the next.
So, whether you’re an entrepreneur, an artist, a musician, a government official, a teacher, a preacher, a student, a writer or a couple of folks with a dream, please don’t give up when the hills get steep. Don’t give up when the heat of the day and the length of your journey begin to weigh you down. Just keep trudging along. Put one foot in front of the other, because dreams can and do come true. It just takes a little determination.

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