In a state with a lot of wonderful parks, Fillmore Glen is one of the best. It’s fairly small, under a thousand acres, basically a cool, shady little gorge, with a series of waterfalls and miniature bridges. Millard Fillmore, our 13th President, was born near here, and there’s a replica of his log cabin birthplace. He grew up dirt poor, son of a tenant farmer, and the park was constructed by other poor folks, in the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression. They did an amazing job – picnic pavilions and a lot of the stonework retaining walls, etc. have survived from the 1930’s, despite a number of floods over the years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The woods reflected in a pond. It was very still, but there are small ripples throughout the picture, if you look closely.  Last year, they gave a Nobel to some scientists who were able to detect infinitesimal ripples – apparently just surfing through the whole darn universe all the time now.  I have sometimes felt a tingling sensation up my spine, and thought it was the anticipation of eating a jelly doughnut after the hike, but it could be Einstein’s gravitational waves.  Far out, dude, feeling totally amped about this whole ripple thing.

 

 

a picture of exuberance

 

 

 

OK, not taken in August, but the only picture I could find of the first bridge.

 

 

A close call, encountering the dreaded Dark Newt of Doom, and barely surviving. “Only these marishes and myrie bogs, In which the fearefull ewftes do build their bowres, Yeeld me an hostry mongst the croking frogs …”  (The Faerie Queen)

 

 

 

Seriously, can you imagine this little creature inspiring dread? Shame on Spenser for kicking up a skink, perhaps he was thinking of Warty Newts, or had a bad experience with salamanders, after a night tossing back mulled wine.  I know Renaissance folks associated newts and efts with sorcery, but personally, I’m always delighted to spot these cute little guys, and the Eastern Newts really are this bright and colorful, almost fluorescent.

 

 

Toward sunset, the fungi always seem to glow a bit. Has anyone seen foxfire? I’ve seen bioluminescence in the ocean, but never in the woods.

 

 

 

 

Fillmore Glen is just outside of Moravia, NY, at the south end of Owasco Lake, one of the eastern Finger Lakes.  It’s a sleepy little village, but it produced the industrialist John D. Rockefeller, a U.S. President, and the first president of Cornell University.

 

 

 

 

Finger Lakes, FLX, hiking, Nature, NY, Upstate New York

Pictures of Upstate New York. August, Fillmore Glen

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Have you ever experienced a recurring dream?

I have one, that comes to me during ragweed season.

I find myself walking and walking in the country.

Trees and plants, woods and fields, hills and dales.

There are people with me, walking and talking, talking and talking, talking of stalking, pointing and gesticulating.

In the dream, I don’t know the time, but I know it’s very early.  Too early for all this gesticulating – I can’t even say that word, at this early hour.  Hand-waving, then, and sounds like they’re speaking in Latin.  Are we monks??  I don’t understand any of it.

Then I hear a voice say clearly “…The F Stop…” and I look around for a bus.  But there isn’t any, so we keep walking.  I don’t know what time it is, but I know somehow, that it’s early, and we’re rambling in the grayness of Pre-Noon – that horrible, fuzzy zone that exists before lunchtime.

Without looking, I can tell my socks don’t match.  One feels like it’s wool, knee-high, and itchy.  I don’t own any socks like that.

It’s at that point, the slow dawning horror comes over me, as I become aware, that I’m not dreaming.

I’m actually awake, out and about at this ungodly hour, hiking apparently, and have fallen among  some roving cult of naturalists, botanists, forest-bathers, and photographers.  Why does this keep happening.  Apparently sometime last night, once again, I agreed to an Early Morning Nature Walk.  Don’t remember.  Don’t remember if anyone thought to give me breakfast first, or brunch, like decent, civilized people.  Don’t remember signing on to wander around in the shrubbery and thickets of binomial nomenclature.

But that explains the people in my dream, talking in Latin.  And the “F Stops” – the photographer has us straying through sodden “Depths of Field” or suchlike, and my socks are soggy.

Ragweed Season.  I don’t sleep well, and I don’t do awake so well, either.  I’m stumbling along, coked to the gills on antihistamines, Echinacea, Sudafed, Mucinex.  Just let the mosquitoes drink as much of my blood as they want.  They try to fly off, but then the Benadryl hits, and they drop from the sky like stones.

Walking at breakfast time.  Dogwoods, but no doughnuts, fritillaries, but no frittatas.  Someone offers me a handful of Dragon’s Tongues.  They’re surprisingly tiny and green.  It seems like the dream-state is resuming.  But “dragon’s tongues” turns out to be a mixture of grape vine tendrils and the leaves of a flowering mustard plant, they call “wild arugula.”  Not bad!  The grape tendrils are delicious, kind of lemony.  Someone pulls out a thermos and gives me some coffee.

I open my eyes, and it’s a pretty nice day!   Nature’s not so bad, really, as long as the plant life includes coffee beans and tea leaves.

 

x

 

 

Pollen thy name is Legion

 

breakfast, Finger Lakes, FLX, hiking, Nature, NY, Uncategorized, Upstate New York

It’s always a cakewalk in ragweed time.

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“Still Life with Fungus & Poison Ivy”

 

I know, these pictures look like a nature walk with the Addams Family.  I’m enjoying the fresh new foliage and spring flowers as much as anyone, really, but on a recent hike, it was the tree fungi that caught my eye.

Doesn’t the 2nd shot looks like Pan di Spagna (Italian sponge cake)?

I also wondered about the minimalist spider web in the 3rd shot.  I once saw photos of spiderwebs, after the spiders had been given various drugs (OK, I guess it’s occurred to all of us to do that).  The caffeine web was jazzy, random, frenetic-looking.  The LSD web, as I remember, was unnaturally perfect.

Apparently nibbling on this fungus leads to a lack of ambition and inability to complete tasks?

Or just a desire to simplify and try something new, even if you don’t catch any juicy bugs that way.

 

Finger Lakes, FLX, hiking, Nature, NY, Uncategorized, Upstate New York

A Fetching Flock of Fungus for Friday. Pictures of Upstate New York. May.

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craft projects for lifers, Japan

How to make a shining ball

A Guest Post by Miroku

Hello –
Once a year or so, I “re-blog” a post. I’d like to introduce Miroku, a blogger from Japan, who writes about many interesting and vital issues of our day.

Japanese English diary

Today, I have a good news.
I discovered the way how to make a wonderful thing.
Moreover, it is very easy.
I will introduce it.

It needs few things.
The things we have to prepare are cling wrap and sandpaper.
That’s all.

Firstly, roll cling wrap into a ball.

cof

Secondly, compress it very strongly.

cof

Finally, only one step remains to be done.
Polish it with sandpaper.
Polish single‐mindedly.
Polish! Polish! Polish! Polish!
After a while, we’ll be rewarded with this creation.

IMG_20180330_161413

And it’s very beautiful!
It needs a few times but it is very easy.
Let’s try it!

P.S.
I received some opinions.
They say “I can’t do it well”.
So I give you a tip.
The key to the success is “Don’t give up polishing”.
Keep polishing and check a calendar.
And you will find an answer.

(Please point out my mistakes in English grammar or my life. I…

View original post 5 more words

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Well kids, we’ve been learning a lot of History by looking at statues, haven’t we.  Today’s entry is Paul Revere, an amazing guy – – silversmith, engraver, industrialist, propagandist, volunteer soldier, and patriot.

When I examined this statue, I noticed straight away, something very odd – – no pigeons were roosting on it. 

It’s always nice to see someone on horseback, who isn’t brandishing a sword.  But I also found his pose a bit odd, and wondered aloud, why Paul was depicted with his arm out like that.  A well-informed passerby informed me that Revere was famous for feeding the birds as he rode, and told me the story of “Paul & the Pigeons in the Park,” which has been set to verse.  I also have his recipe for Pigeon Pie, if anyone wants it.    

 

In days of old

Pigeons were bold

And chased all the kids from their play.

Never seen in the park,

Were the robin or lark,

Only pigeons on pavements gray.

 

In parks they’d lurk

Twice as big as a turk-

Ey, in days of yore

~

Kids sad as Eeyore

~

Then a hero did appear,

Named Paul Revere.

~

Paul mounted his steed,

And cast down bird seed,

Luring pigeons onto the highway.

On they came, bad and fat,

And Paul’s horse stomped them flat.

And for dinner they had them that day.

~

Boston loves its beans and cod,

Banks and money, more than God.

And Sam Adams rocks –

A very fine beer,

But after the Sox,

It’s Paul they Revere.

 

~

 

 

Granny Hitchborn’s Receipt for Pigeon Pye

Take ye the pigeons that look to be young fat & sweet.   After ye have trimmed them, drawn them, and trussed them as ye would a squab, scrub in salt water & then scald in fair water, heated ‘til seething.  Beat with a billet of wood & pluck them.  Then kill the birds & boil them until it be sufficient.

Lay the birds in a charger & add a handful of whortleberries, unless they be more sour than a Pilgrim at a May Pole Dance, then add rather a goodly store of currants instead.

Now boil the blood and with it Madeira & plenty of mace nutmeg & pepper.  Gum Arabick if needs thickening.

Roll a crust of flour & lard, or lard & hard tack, broke into pieces, or lard, flour, lard, hard tack & lard, and lay on it the crust daintily and bake it

When it has cooked sufficient, on top scatter rosemary & thyme, to lay the smell a bit.

Let cool before cutting and watch ye out for beaks.

Alternate History, Arrant Nonsense, Boston, Colonial History, Early American History, food, History, Public Art, Removing Statues, Revisionist History, statue, United States

Learning All About History By Looking at Statues. Chapter VII. Boston – – Paul’s Pigeon Pie

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St Paddy’s Day has come & gone, and still not much is wearing green in Upstate.

But this clump of moss was like a vibrant little island in the woods.

I took a picture of it with my cellphone, to look at daily, because it’s the greenest thing I’ve seen for months.

You may spot a few white pellets — the snow was pelting down in angular, misshapen granules.

I was once in a kind of sketchy pub, and the bartender told us, “No ice, it’s gone off.”

We stuck with bottled beer that night, and didn’t use the glasses.

I’d never heard of ice going bad before.  But then, moving into a new apartment, we found the ice cubes in the freezer were shrunken in their little tray compartments, no longer cubes in fact, and seemed to have picked up a metallic odor.  I guess there was that incident with the Titanic, too, now I think about it, under the heading “Bad Ice.

Even the weather is tired of ice and snow by now.  The precipitation has become unimaginative.  Old Man Winter is  spring cleaning, too tired to dream up new crystalline shapes, just shoveling out whatever icy trash is left in the clouds,  sleet and grayish-white grit, can’t be bothered with delicate snowflakes.

And so in the cold dun and gray, a homely clump of moss receives its due, and becomes our hero for the day, a real luminary in the woods.

 

 

 

 

Finger Lakes, Nature, NY, Upstate New York

Pictures of Upstate New York. April. Moss, the Only Green for Miles.

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Finger Lakes, FLX, Frostbite, Ithaca, Nature, NY, snow, Things to Do When Your Water Crystallizes on You, Upstate New York

Pictures of Upstate New York ~ March ~ It’s Spring! Breaking Out the Lawn Furniture

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