an infrequent repository of mostly new stuff
These are trees I planted around the house 25, 20, and 10 years ago, the first when the girls were starting elementary school. Some, like the willow, were rooted from branches. Some were transplanted from the woods as saplings. None were more than an inch around or six feet tall.
Now the tallest one is over thirty feet high.
Most will outlive me.
I think we’ll plant a Sycamore where the Silver Maple used to be. I’m still thinking long term, apparently.
While we’ve been sweltering here in Virginia, daughter Emily sends this, her view this evening.
She works for the Forest Service between Bend and Eugene, Oregon. On her days off, she now has a part time gig as relief staff for the Carpenter Mountain Fire Lookout Tower.
The view is amazing. Click on the link to see it full screen.
Carpenter Mountain (5349’/1630m) summit [1]
To get the full effect, here’s a Youtube link to some drone footage that really gives a sense of place and scale.
The full time ranger is up there 10 days on and 4 days off, April through October. It takes a crew of rangers to backpack enough water to last him 6 weeks.
I’m so jealous.
A whole lot going on here.
Starting at the top:
postcards from the road, Richmond, Virginia
Almost done. Scraper to smooth, followed by one last finish coat.
Then design the bases.
Scottsville, Virginia
postcards from the road
The way insurance works, to replace some of our old with new we need to save cost elsewhere. Fortunately, we like to make things.
I’ve saved these spalted maple rounds since the tree fell down next to the house 20 years ago.
It appears after all this time they want to be end tables.
Scottsville, Virginia
postcards from the road
We’ll be leaving this little two room cottage soon, moving to a larger rental next week. It’s been a place for us to retreat and regroup, heal our wounds these last six months. We’ll miss it.
There’s a small pond through the woods. The bullfrogs chuckle and moan all night. We’ve had a lot of rain this year, good for frogs.
And fireflies. i’ve never seen so many. They rise from the grass at twighlight, a living net of liminal phosphorescent green. By full dark they’ve clustered in the trees, stitching them with Christmas lights. On a night like tonight, before the full moon appears, the whole world sparkles with stars, above and below.
– postcards from the road
Somehow our wedding album survived, found in the burn pile four weeks after the fire. The clean up crew called me Friday to say they found it in the front yard as they were filling up dumpster number four, with a mass of undifferentiated black muck. Said they left it for us on the wood pile.
It had been in the living room with the worst of the blaze. Soaked with fire hoses and foam, then shoveled out into the snow, where it got rained on over Christmas and New Years.
The soggy album came apart in my hands. One edge of the book was melted together. But because it contained real photographs, black and white RC silver prints, the images survived. I peeled them from the pages with a blade and laid them out to dry.
Many in the pictures are no longer with us. A true memento mori. And yet so many are still close friends. And family. All older now.
Thanks, John Strader, for taking such wonderful photos that sweltering summer day. And thanks for taking them the old fashion way.
