Warriors Mark

Cheryl's Chickens

2012-01-24T21:17:00.000-05:00

Hank had open heart surgery on Thursday. Cheryl stayed with family near the hospital to be with him as needed. Neighbors and friends stepped up to watch their place while they were gone. Diane came on Friday. Jerry came early Saturday morning to plow fresh snow from the long drive with Hank's old tractor. We had stove and chicken duty through the weekend.

Sometimes we walked the long way round to catch the mail or paper at the end of the drive. But most the time we walked across the field, the same row between stubble of cornstalks. In the basement we'd load the stove as full as possible and leave it open till it was burning hot. Then get the chicken's thawed water feeder to swap out with the frozen one and walk out to the coop. Something nice about this little room of clucking hens eager for a drink. They peck the snow from off our boots and let us pet them while they drink. Winter time so just a few eggs.

Three times a day we went, the dog could not believe this fabulous change in schedule. Saturday night the stars are bright, we shuffle through the powder. We think it was a Barred owl hooting in the distance. Sunday night we see a shadowy herd of deer fleeing up ahead.

Monday they came home from the hospital. Hank is doing fine.

Cold White

2012-01-22T12:58:00.000-05:00

White hot is the color of steel at 2190 degrees Fahrenheit.
Cold white is ... is this morning.

Spider's Box A Short Story

2012-01-21T14:37:00.000-05:00

"That was delicious.", Papa says contentedly, pushing back his chair.

"It was good wasn't it?" Mama stacks some plates to carry to the kitchen. "Lisle and Aillie, lend a hand if you please."

"Yes it was", Grandpa agrees. He stands, then limps over to the fireplace. He drops another log on the irons to a little shower of sparks and nudges it with his boot to just the right place. He slips his pipe from his vest and raps it against his palm, tossing ashes in the fire. He fills his pipe, tamping it with thumb, strikes a match upon the stone and sucks and puffs the glowing bowl. The room smells of wood smoke, supper's stew, and coffee but soon will smell like Grandpa's Dublin Gold. He goes back to his seat at the table, smoking, looking at the fire.

"Aillie, would you be so kind to get your Grandpa and me another cup of coffee."

"Yes, Papa."

"And take a dish with you." Papa lifts the folded paper that lays beside his place, spreads it out before him, fits his glasses on his nose. The clatter of cleanup comes through the kitchen door.

Lisle, a young man of 17, makes a few trips to the kitchen, the minimum, and then moves to his dulcimer in the corner and begins lightly striking strings with the soft hammer. He leans in close, listening, turning the wrench one way and then the other, tuning the instrument.

It's been bitter cold all this week, mean winter snarls and groans. The wind blows all about the house seeking entry at each crevice, drawing heat from every crack, the leaky stone walls. No one wants to leave the hearth.

Aillie comes back with coffee, carefully filling the mugs. She is 10, a long haired beauty, still unaware of this.

"Ahh, here's the obit", Papa says, scanning the paper, continuing the dinner conversation.

Their neighbor, Henry Beegan, died suddenly this week.

"Says here he was only 72."

A heart attack, poor Myrna found him in the barn.

"I still can't believe I was talking to him just last week".

The women finish kitchen chores and come back into the room. Mama sighs into her rocker by the fire and lifts her knitting bag into her lap.

Aillie slips away and takes the stairs two at a time, catlike to her room. She returns slowly with a package wrapped in cloth, held tightly to her chest with both arms. She slides it onto the cleared table and reclaims her chair, her legs tucked under her. "I have something to show you", she announces and begins to unwrap it.

"Indeed you do", says Papa, looking up from his paper, peering over glasses.

It is a smallish box of dark wood, the size of a deep shoe box, raised up a bit on hidden feet. Inlaid in the top is a silver spider's web with strands running down the sides, like it is draped over the box. Upon the web a large spider waits, inlaid with bits of iridescent shell.

"Oh my goodness, it's beautiful." exclaims Mama, now standing behind Aillie's chair. "Aillie, where did you get this?" A hint of concern is in her voice.

"Mr. Bee gave it to me. You remember when Geoffrey broke his chain and Mrs. Bee called to say he was in their yard and their little dog Biggie was going nuts because he's so scared of goats and would we please come get him? I think Geoffrey likes to tease him. Well, Mr. Bee helped me get the lead on Geoffrey and then he said he had a gift for me and did I have a minute? So we went into his little shop, that one behind the barn, and he showed me this box and said he would have given it to his own little girl if he could have had one but that I was surely second best and he'd be pleased if I would take it. He said it should be our secret because he didn't think you'd let me keep it if you knew but now he's gone and I can't give it back so I thought it would be OK to show you. It's wonderful isn't it?"

Lisle had come back to the table to have a look. He stood at the end grabbing the heavy plank with fingers underneath and thumbs on top, leaning forward on stiff arms. "What's in it?", he asks, momentarily lifting his feet and balancing.

"I want everyone to guess." She had planned this. "I want everyone to guess what's in the box."

"Ahh, we'll make a game of it eh?", says Papa, and takes a sip of coffee. "Alright, who wants to go first?"

"Why don't you go, Granpa?" Allie looks his way.

Grandpa had watched with his usual bemused expression, tickled pink with all and any of his family's shenanigans.

"Are you giving any hints? Have you put things in the box or might they still be something Henry had?"

"I did not put anything in the box." she answers plainly.

"This looks a fine box, yes indeed, and would be the perfect place for Henry's fly tying gear!", he chuckles. "In the top part I would put my tools. My brass dubbing twister, collar bobbins, bead tweezers, and magnetic bodkin. Oh yes, and my classic hair stacker and Matarelli whip finisher. Could not do without those. In the next drawer I'd put materials, you know, the bead chain, down, cactus chenille, and bunny bits. The different colored threads you need. And last I'd have the metal stuff, the wire and the weights. The hooks, maybe some Saber Stonefly Nymphs or 3X long reach streamers." He laughs again. "Is that a good guess Aillie?"

Aillie smiles. "That's great, Grandpa! That could be it. I never could have thought of that. Just picture all those things in there." Aillie has her elbows on the table, her chin in curled palms, a little finger caught lightly in her teeth, staring at the box like she can see the things that Grandpa said.

Papa clears his throat, preparing for his turn. "It certainly is a fancy box but Henry was not a fancy man. I'll guess it's lots of useful things, small things that do a job. I'd say a corkscrew and a pocket knife, that red Swiss Army kind, and something that would start a fire, a flint and steel and tinder box, or matches in a slender tube. Nail clippers, there must be more, what do you think I'm missing?"

The game is on, they all chime in. A pipe tool offers Gandpa. Some finger picks says Lisle. The smallest hip flask you can find for just a nip or two. A needle and some thread, of course, Mama has to say. A bottle opener, a pocket watch, that nested brass and steel screw driver set that got so very small. A brass map maker's loupe, an exquisite fountain pen. They nod and laugh at each entry. Aillie is so happy they are playing her game she wiggles her feet.

"And you, my dear?" Papa looks over to to his wife.

She rests her knitting hands upon her lap, with yarn still looped about a finger. "At first I thought of lace making, it's so much like the web. The box might have all kinds of threads and bobbins, hooks and such. But Henry was a gardner so now I'm thinking seeds. Some seeds from all the plants he grew, a few from every year. He grew so many of those Heirloom ones I'll bet he kept a stash. What were those beans he used to share…?"

"Dr. Martin's", Grandpa states without a moment's pause.

"Yes, that's it. And those yellow big tomatoes, Golden Queens, he called them. I can see him wanting a special place for all those precious seeds."

"Maybe it's a magic box." Lisle proposes and Aillie grins at this.

"Maybe it holds all the sounds you almost never hear. The ones that come in quiet and whisper in your ear."

Lisle: Poet, Budding Songster.

"They'd be color coded and you could hold them in your hands. The sound of butterflies, or snowflakes crash-landing in a pond. The beating hearts of deer mice. The sound a rainbow makes."

"Winking", suggests Papa.

"The sound of smoke," from Grandpa, he puffs a perfect ring above their heads.

"That's wonderful.", says Aillie. "That would be so neat."

Lisle is pleased with his guess. It's Aillie's turn now.

"I like to think the whole world is somehow in this box," she starts. She spreads her hands and fingers and opens wide her eyes. She's an actress. She burns a look into the box, a sage, a wiccan at her ball. She is glowing. "A little bit like Noah's Ark, a sampler of the earth. Bits of fur and feathers, and skin and bones and teeth, and any cell that's needed from everything that lives. And then when scientists get smarter and they can clone from this, they'll come to Spider's box to get the things they need. So when the Panda dies, and frogs and Rhinos vanish, when whales and tigers are no more, then Spider's box will have the cure and bring them back again."

They are quiet for a minute. Aillie sits back down on her haunches, her hands still on the table.

"That's a beautiful wish, Aillie." Mama breaks the spell.

"Well let's take a look shall we?" says Papa, and reaches forward toward the box.

"No!" cries Aillie, her hands instantly on the lid. "I mean, we can't." Then quietly, "I'm sorry but we can't open it. It's spider's box. Only spider knows what's in the box." She hadn't planned this part. They're silent. She knows they're disappointed but starts to wrap the box. She's spoiled the fun.

"Oh man." says Lisle, shakes his head and moves back to his corner.

Taken aback, Papa slumps back into his chair. "You mean you don't know? You haven't looked in the box?", he asks, incredulous.

"No, I haven't looked. I don't want to know. I want to imagine what's in the box."

"But dear there might be something valuable in there. A message or something important."

"Yes. There might be. But I don't want to know. I don't know why. I just don't want to know."

She gathers the wrapped box from the table keeping her eyes down. "I'm sorry I can't show you. I know you want to see. I guess I'm not being fair. Thank you for playing my game. I don't know what I will do. I may give it back to Mrs. Bee. I think she may need it now."

She starts for the stairs but Grandpa lifts just a finger to catch her eye. Their eyes meet and he tries his damnedest to send love. Just some of it, there is no way that he could send it all. In the hall they hear her start to cry.

"Well I never!" says Papa and picks up his paper again, rustling it back and forth, exasperated, bewildered, and touched.

Mama blows her nose and puts her knitting in her bag. She gets up to go to Aillie.

A quiet settles on the room. Just the shifting fire and Lisle lightly playing. He stops and starts and hums a bit and then begins to sing.

Spider's box is a mystery what's in it she won't tell
She claims she doesn't know herself and this she guards so well
Maybe you can't open it, though it seems there are no locks
Imagination is the key to opening Spider's box

Spider's Box - the work.

Spider's Box

2012-01-21T14:29:00.000-05:00

"Spider's Box" Walnut, silver, mother of pearl 12 x 8 x 6h

The summer's project was a flagstone patio. Two months of spare time with dirt, gravel, stone; shovel, mattock, maul. There was occasional need for finesse but mostly coarse work. By the end I was ready for something finer and this project fit the bill.

It was an idea I had been sitting on for months, inspired by a photo I took of this black and yellow garden spider. A loose interpretation.

I started doing a little inlay after watching my brother build some guitars. These days guitars is where we are most likely to see the inlay artisan's work. Anything above $2K for an acoustic guitar and you are probably paying for fancier inlay on the headstock, fretboard, or sound hole rosette. But previous efforts on my part were simple dots or singular cut pieces of mother of pearl or wood. This was by far the most challenging. I bought a good book, The Art of Inlay by Larry Robinson, which gave helpful tips and some outrageous examples.

The inside of the lid is fitted with a mirror. Drawers are lined with red velvet and the dividers are white oak. Blood and bone.

Interestingly this piece spawned a short story. I am an amateur writer, of that there is no doubt. But why not put it down? What could possibly be lost in trying? I enjoyed the effort.

I would like to sell this piece. I have a lot in it for materials and would like to recoup the cash to feed my habit, um hobby. So if you need a box for small precious things or know someone who does I'm asking $1000.

That's a lot of money for a box, certainly more than I could spend. But I'm not sure I would make another one for the same money in my present situation. I almost never make something twice. I know it's supposed to be the journey not the destination but most the motivation is wanting to see a completed object that was just an idea, to see how close I can get. Once I know I don't need to see it again.

A Big Heart

2011-12-30T13:27:00.002-05:00

Cultivate a big heart this year.

a big heart is compassionate
a small heart is indifferent

a big heart is inclusive
a small heart is exclusive

a big heart is generous
a small heart is needy

a big heart looks for the good in others
a small heart finds fault

a big heart seeks understanding
a small heart seeks only to be understood

a big heart see others as it sees itself
a small heart sees others, well, as others

a big heart does not take insults personally and absorbs them
a small heart feels hurt and passes them on

a big heart is calm and patient
a small heart is anxious and restless

a big heart loves all that is
a small heart loves only what serves it

Deflated Christmas Spirits

2011-12-23T10:01:00.000-05:00

Is your Christmas spirit sagging? Has your festive enthusiasm been flattened by the relentless barrage of retail commerce? Are your high hopes for the holiday and new year deflated?

I don't think the latest in outdoor Christmas lighting is helping matters. I refer to the giant inflatable caricatures of our holiday icons that now light up some front yards. Including Daffy Duck would look entirely appropriate. Big and bright and noisy, America's contribution to the world aesthetic. I suppose kids love 'em.

But a daytime drive through the neighborhood finds dead Santas, dead Frostys, dead Rudolphs, left face down on the lawn and looking like victims of a Grinch with a pointed stick. One morning a stiff breeze is blowing and Santa is trying to get up, flopping about like a dying fish. Ho, ho, ho. It's depressing.

Aww c'mon man, lighten up for Christ's sake. You've got family coming.

Me an' Santa

2011-12-16T19:26:00.000-05:00

Me an' Santa we be down tight. We go way back. He's my bro, my BFF, my homey, my kemo sabe.

He's got my back and I've got his. I sit on his knee and he sits on mine. He calls me, we talk.

We hang. We are dudes in a pod. We are Batman and Robin, Simon and Garfunkel, Fred and Barney, Frodo and Sam, Lewis and Clark, Prentice and Tuttle.

I make cookies. I have fresh milk. My chimney is clean.

Me an' Santa we be solid.

3 Flying Rocks and Silent Chime

2011-12-13T20:01:00.000-05:00

I made this mobile in 2007. The rocks from our woods, the "silent chime" - sash weights picked up from a demo job, and the timbers from a local sawmill. All told it weighs over 300 pounds.

To raise the beast I enlisted Chris's help, my son's friend, a professional tree man equipped with the necessary rope, hardware, and know-how. Looped through a pulley and tied to the bumper, a slow drive hoisted it to the limb.

It hangs in a big hickory tree just 60 feet from living room windows. I think of the insignificant geological time these rocks are unnaturally suspended above the earth. It moves not only on its axis but also as the tree sways. I like to see the infrequent bird sitting on it.

Big Beautiful Moon

2011-12-10T09:31:00.001-05:00

Big beautiful beautiful moon in a carpet of cloud
Circled in orange I think I'll take its picture
Shoes and coat a signal to the dog
Can I come? Can I come? Excited worry, please please?
YES!! leaping out on the lawn
Down to the garden for a better view of sky
splayed tripod in deep grass
First one cat and then the other appears
this time curiosity will just watch
Dog snuffles in orbit immersed in a sense I can't imagine
I fiddle with this little machine
Blink blink "beep beep" self timer for a steadier shot
Take one, take another. Mmmm that might work
Fold up shop and back to the house
One cat races by and then the other not to be outdone
I smile at this trio of pets, these furry companions
that choose to accompany me

Eye Know

2011-11-14T21:12:00.001-05:00

Voodoo in the Field

2011-11-13T19:37:00.001-05:00

I'm Puzzled

2011-11-09T21:53:00.000-05:00

Drag and drop to rearrange.

Impermanence

2011-11-03T20:21:00.000-04:00

In My Youth

2011-10-18T21:30:00.000-04:00

I was doing some interesting shit.

Get Up Dog Please

2011-09-22T22:01:00.000-04:00

Blue Couch

2011-09-11T21:36:00.000-04:00

I bought this blue couch on September 11th, 2001. We had been looking for one for a few weeks, finally made a choice, and brought home fabric samples the night before to compare. We picked one we liked and I was to place the final order the next day.

At the time I was enrolled in a web design course, the first week of classes at the Penn State conference center. We are in the first morning class when a buzz begins as students get the first online reports. We break for our usual coffee break and the news is displayed on TV screens, a smoking tower, an attack. We stare in wonder. Back to class but no one is paying attention. People leave. All are too concerned. Class is dismissed.

I leave wondering what to do, what to do. I have called my people. All are distressed but safe. I don't know anyone in New York who might be in harm's way. I'm not going to New York to help. I couldn't get there even if I wanted to and don't possess the needed skills if I could. So... I guess, I guess I'll just do what I'd planned to do.

I walk into the store, the clerks are watching a television. There are no other customers.
"May I help you?".
Sheepishly I say, "My wife and I were here last week we ....."

And so almost in slo mo we complete this normal everyday transaction, that on this day is surreal, an exchange of monies for material goods. As people are dying by the hundreds, as firefighters climb the stairs, as people call home from the upper floors for the very last time, as people leap to their deaths, as all of NYC is smoke and debris and chaos and pain I swipe my plastic and sign the slip and leave the store.

I like this couch. We made a good choice. At ten years old it shows signs of wear but is still comfortable. But it will always be a little haunted.

Small Moth

2011-09-05T11:13:00.001-04:00

Be Careful Out There

2011-09-04T09:24:00.000-04:00

Thump! Working outside, I look up to see a bird has hit the clerestory glass and fallen to the roof. I watch to see how it fares, will it survive. Sometimes they do. Thump! As I watch, BirdTwo hits the same pane and rolls further down the slope. This I haven't seen - two, fifteen seconds apart. They look similar, fall warblers, I presume they are mates.

BirdTwo barely moves and goes still. BirdOne moves ever so slightly, pulls in a splayed wing, then rights itself, visibly wobbling on its feet. Call 911! Where's the medic? the trainer? the stretcher? No one shows. BirdOne is on its own.

I check BirdOne every fifteen minutes for the next hour or so. It just sits waiting, turning its head but not moving its place, waiting for healing. It's gone after about two hours.

This could be you or me with a loved one driving down the highway, just flying along on a normal day and WHAM! One survives and the other doesn't.

Say the things you need to say to one another. Focus on the things you would miss not the things you would change. Be grateful for each other.

And be careful out there.

Happy Birthday Margy

2011-09-03T08:35:00.000-04:00

Dining Out Summer 11

2011-08-30T21:26:00.003-04:00

8-28-2011 here I sit soaking wet in the year Bin Laden was assassinated in the month that record heat scorched the corn crop in the week a hurricane stormed the eastern seaboard 520 days after we had dinner here together in the last hours of my father-in-laws life

Dining Out

Holy Cow!!

2011-08-29T22:35:00.001-04:00

In a pasture near us there is a cow whose markings depict the complete nativity scene. I'm not kidding. Check it out and see if you don't agree. It's a miracle.

Click to enlarge image.

End of Summer

2011-08-28T19:59:00.000-04:00

End of summer, the browns and yellows, the grasses and goldenrod, the fading queen anne's lace, the sumac and buddleja.

The days are noticeably shorter, the humidity drops and the light seems a different quality. The green looks older, faded, like it's been worn. Crickets and grasshoppers sing loudly a final chorale.

We can tomatoes and eat corn on the cob, and pesto, the last of what the garden offers. We take a sweater to sit on the porch to watch the sun go down.

Old People's Words

2011-08-20T21:57:00.002-04:00

Once a week I stop to visit my parents at a nearby continuing care facility. Doing conversation with them can be kind of a trip now days. At 96 Dad is doing remarkably well, a kind of light hearted banter seems to be our norm and the way he seems most comfortable. But Mom is no longer playing on the same field we are. She usually can not speak whatever is in her mind, the right words just will not come, and so generally she does not participate. But now and then she chimes in and it is a challenge to make sense of what she says.

A recent conversation between these two people who have been married 66 years made me smile.

Mom says to Dad - "I got the things you wanted in the mail". [this didn't happen]
Dad: [playing along - if ever you need a good sport this is your man] Oh? And what might that have been?"
Mom: "Well if you don't remember I could have it sent again".
Dad: "OK. Great! Mail it twice."

We like to think we have a good grip, that we know what is real and what is not real. We trust our memories and think they are a truthful story of our lives. But apparently this is not so. Research has shown that our memories change like everything else. They may be altered by the response we get in the retelling. What gets the best feedback becomes the new truth. It is possible that complete fabrications become absolute truth. Something that never happened becomes something we are sure we did. Of all the countless images and stories who knows in old age what pieces of our minds will remain for us to think about.

I certainly hope I remember the time I swapped some songs with Paul McCartney in the lobby of the Hilton in NYC in 1978.

C'mon Honey Let's Move to America

2011-08-09T21:04:00.000-04:00

C'mon honey let's move to america.
Just look at this picture your cousin he sent us
The grass is so green and the sky is so blue.
Acres and acres of green just to play on
Look at the people just playing for fun
And everything's clean where's the trash where's the clutter
Where are the buildings that never get finished
And power they got it look at those poles, all those lights
All those lights, just to light up a field.
They say you can have TV 24/7 and showers as often as once every day
All the people have cell phones and money in pockets
And houses so full that they rent space for extra.
And food is just everywhere the people are fat
We would be funny looking like that.
And this is so hard and we can't get enough
Let's move to america where it would be easy
C'mon honey let's move to america

Sing for Your Supper

2011-08-02T21:37:00.000-04:00

We sing for our supper when our mama is away

We sing wide open cause it won't be long

Mama feeds her little ones something good

That's what we get for our supper song

Broadside of a Barn

2011-07-31T08:37:00.000-04:00

Morning's Feathers

2011-07-23T21:10:00.000-04:00

Two feathers found on this morning's walk. I think the large one is most likely a crow feather and I'm guessing the small one is from a mockingbird.

Cabbage Leaf

2011-07-11T21:24:00.000-04:00

I Crane My Neck For You

2011-06-29T21:33:00.000-04:00

i crane my neck for you just hoping for a glimpse
i crane my neck for you whenever you are near
i crane my neck for you in hopes you'll notice me
i crane my neck for you indeed i do my dear

Our Dads

2011-06-12T19:38:00.002-04:00

Margy and I picked up our Dads to take them for a drive on Saturday; the Mountain Laurel tour, a known route where Pennsylvania's state flower flourishes. And I believe we caught the peak. Margy's dad, Dan, who has made this excursion many times, proclaimed it the best he's ever seen. In some spots a sea of blooms as far into the woods as you could see.

Last stop was Meyer's Dairy for shakes and cones. This local business that has been providing milk and wonderful ice cream to our town since 1931.

Both our dads, these fine looking old gentlemen, turn 96 this year.

A To Do List

2011-05-31T21:32:00.001-04:00

Cleaning up a bit we found this list our daughter had made some time ago. We laughed trying to figure it out and date it.

Get dog - is she just getting the dog from her pen or are we between dogs and she intends to get a new one? If it's the latter then this is what I would call a big ticket item for a list. Like Get in Shape or Get Religion.
Start laundry - this a good item but no where on the list does she Finish laundry.
Wash face - unless this involves some kind of imported holy mud from the Ganges this is what I call padding a list just so you can check off more stuff. I can think of other bodily things you're gonna do but they don't deserve to be on a list.
Finish plate cover - I think she was making designer switch plate covers for her room, carefully adhering images cut from magazines.
Pet bunnies(treats) - This is great isn't it? Ya gotta take a break and smell the roses. Or pet your bunny.
Paint another coat, door, and heater pieces are all part of her bedroom improvement project.

Making lists. I have never been an avid list maker. I make materials list for a project, an occasional shopping list, and sometimes a broad view for things I might wish to get done in a season. But I've rarely done it on paper for a given day preferring to keep a flexible list of "possibilities" in my head.

But some find it very helpful to organize their efforts and feel a nice sense of accomplishment as the items get checked off. Breaking a large task into smaller manageable chunks in a list helps prevent feeling overwhelmed and the accompanying inertia. Just do this one small thing that you can do now. Check it off. Do the next one. It can give a nice focus to the day I suppose.

If you are a list maker and lead the "connected" life you might enjoy playing with one of the many free web applications catering to list makers. There is ta-da list a fairly simple one that is easy to use. Zenbe is another that has more features including an iPhone app so you can take 'em where ever you go.

Lastly someone has created a blog of lists - images of lists that she has found or people send to her. Amusing to see what some people put on a list.

Homemade Sushi/Sushi Board

2011-05-11T21:31:00.000-04:00

I started making my own sushi sometime last year, encouraged by friends who did it. There are many videos demonstrating how to do it. I bought a rolling mat and sushi rice, rice vinegar, the nori seaweed sheets, wasabi paste, and pickled ginger. All of these are now available in your hip super markets. I've kept it pretty simple, just vegetarian, and haven't tried to do the "reverse roll".

Favorite fillings are avacado, red pepper, cucumber, carrot, and cream cheese. It makes a nice looking appetizer or a simple light meal. It's actually quick to prepare as sushi rice uses less water(it's counter intuitive - for drier rice use more water) and only takes 20 minutes to cook.

Well one thing leads to another and a month ago I made 4 sushi boards as an attractive way to serve it. I gave two of them to my daughter on her 21st birthday as part of a sushi making kit. She loves sushi and is now wowing her friends with her efforts.

The boards are made of 8/4 walnut. For two of them I used an ebonizing technique to turn them nearly black. I inlaid three mother of pearl dots because, well, it seemed like a sushi kind of thing to do. You know, when you see those three dots you might ask, "Why three?" And in the hesitation that is the question maybe you will awaken to the true nature of the universe. Or maybe not. Maybe you will just relax and enjoy your sushi.

Do people look like their dogs?

2011-05-02T21:04:00.003-04:00

Some people claim that after a while people and their dogs begin to look alike. I don't think this is true at all. But for the gray around the muzzle I don't think I look anything like my dog.

What do you think?

First Picking

2011-04-27T21:51:00.001-04:00

One of the joys of spring - all the asparagus we can eat. We have a 25 foot row that has been producing for 25 years, enough each year for ourselves and to share with friends.

The first week it's strictly saute in a little butter. Then it's on to stir fries and other recipes. We are open to suggestions. We make a soup from the first Moosewood cookbook that we like and it freezes well.

For those of you who are lucky to grow asparagus yourself or able to get it from a local farmers market here is another one of our favorites recipes. Perfect side dish for dinner on a warm spring evening or a nice contribution to a pot luck.

Cold Gingered Asparagus

1/2 C. rice vinegar
1 1/2 T. finely minced fresh ginger
2 T. sugar
1 lb. fresh asparagus
1 clove garlic, minced
2 T. Chinese sesame oil
1/2 t. salt
1 t. soy sauce

Combine the vinegar and ginger in a small suace pan and bring to a boil. Cook uncovered over medium heat for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the vinegar is about 50 percent reduced. Remove from heat and stir in the sugar. Set aside.

Steam trimmed asparagus spear in a sauce pan with a little water - 5-8 minutes. Rinse in very cold water. Drain and spread on towel to dry a bit.

Combine garlic, oils, salt, and soy sauce in a small bowl. Arrange the asparagus on a platter and drizzle this mixture all over it. Cover tightly and refrigerate.

About 1-2 hours before serving, spoon the vinegar mixture over the asparagus. Serve chilled or cool.

Yield: 4-5 serving
Make a few hours ahead of serving to allow time to chill.

* From Mollie Katzen's Still Life with Menu

In the Woods Today

2011-04-25T21:51:00.000-04:00

I was glad Lucy was on a leash when we came upon this critter. She lunged toward it and who knows what would have happened. Looks like something that could get a hold of her nose and not let go no matter how much sweet talking you did. I don't believe pretty please would do it.

Only the second snapping turtle we've found on our place as it's a good 1/4 mile to the creek. But females will travel a fair distance from water to find sandy soil to lay their eggs. This looks like a big turtle to me but they can get as big as 20 inches long.

And it seems best to just leave them alone. From Wikipedia:"Lifting the turtle with the hands is difficult and dangerous. Snappers can stretch their necks back across their own carapace and to their hind feet on either side to bite. Also, their claws are sharp and capable of inflicting significant lacerations."

Year of Bloodroot

2011-04-24T21:27:00.000-04:00

Probably 10 years ago I transplanted a small clump of Bloodroot from a friends place. It has fared well, spreading out a larger circle but mostly staying in one place. But this year, for some reason, it just showed up all over the place. Small clumps throughout its flower bed and I also found a patch in the woods 100 feet away.

I don't mind though as I like it. Native to the northeast, it's an early bloomer in the spring and also has an interesting leaf. We recently added a double bloom variety purchased at a Native Plant Society fund raiser.

Known mostly for its use as a dye its roots will create a bright orange to red color. There is some reference to medicinal use but what I read definitely discourages that. It is known to be toxic to animal skin cells and will cause serious blisters and scabbing. Seems like the dying work shouldn't be done without rubber gloves as well.

A Green Day

2011-04-20T22:08:00.001-04:00

A little warmth and some rain in the Spring and our world is transformed. I think of this time of year as the "greening". In every shade from pale willow buds to the lush fields of grass, all that was gray and brown now dons its Spring mantle of green.

Does anyone remember a book called the Greening of America by Charles Reich? It was a best seller in the early 70's; I read it in high school and was filled with hope. It claimed a non violent revolution was happening that would transform the world for the better.

Another one of similar ilk published in 2000 was Bobos in Paradise by David Brooks. This one offered a synthesis of the liberal idealism of the 60's with the wealthy Yuppies to bring on a new generation of do gooders with clout to change the world for the better.

What I think is underestimated in these books is greed. Human nature's endless desire, the incessant need for more, more, more. And it isn't just Wall Street or the boardrooms of Corporation X that leave us shaking our heads wondering how much do they need, how much is enough? It is worth considering in oneself.

It seems no matter how much one has it becomes the norm and one begins to look for more. The difference between yourself and the very wealthy is probably just your starting place.

Why do we so quickly abandon what we have for what we want?

A Rainy Day

2011-04-08T19:04:00.000-04:00

it rained all day today....

A Beautiful Day

2011-03-19T17:50:00.001-04:00

A good day to bury Ginger the rabbit. Now Margy can open the freezer again.

Laid to rest wrapped in Margy's favorite old purple towel, Ginger joins Baker and Sarah and Bonnie and Watson and Perdy and Rufus and Lucretia and Hershey and Molly in the family plot. We must be moving past middle age outliving so many pets.

The next digging I do will be in the garden - something life affirming.

Bedside Tables

2011-03-12T16:45:00.006-05:00

What seemed like a fairly simple project was a little more than anticipated. Each table is made of more than 30 individual pieces. The joinery includes 8 sliding dovetails and 30 mortise and tenons. Doing two of them added up to a fair amount of work.

This was a straight forward design. As an accent I like using the white sap wood that is usually omitted from cherry furniture. I joined two boards to create the white stripe down the middle of the top and also chose a board to include it in the drawer faces. This matched two bureaus I made in 2007 & 2008. So after 35 years we now have what might be called a bedroom suite.

Dining Out Winter

2011-03-08T21:51:00.004-05:00

Dining Out Summer Spring

Central Park, NYC

2011-03-06T21:34:00.000-05:00

day in the city

Ginger Died Friday Night

2011-02-27T13:23:00.004-05:00

Our dear pet rabbit finally passed away at the ripe old age of nearly 12. She long out lived our expectations, ignorant as they were, for what we thought was a normal life span of a rabbit. We jokingly called her the energizer bunny as she just kept on going. When we got her and her mate, Baker, for our kids in '99 I thought we'd have them five years. I had 3 rabbits as a kid and they didn't last 3. But it turns out 8-12 is normal for a well cared for small breed domestic rabbit.

We thought the two bunnies we purchased were the same sex but the truth came to light when they were caught humping under the Christmas tree. Ginger was allowed two litters and played her part well enough. I gotta say there is not much that's cuter than baby bunnies. Robin named them all - Scooter, Skipper, Bonnie and Clyde, Merle, Curious, Bobo.

Her beau Baker

Ginger was not particularly fond of being held in her youth and left many a scratched belly and arms as she tried to free herself. But this changed in later years and she seemed to enjoyed being petted, sharing with us her soft fur coat, leaning into a hand scratching her cheek.

As is the way with many childhood pets, the child moves on and the pet stays. So Ginger became Margy's pet. Feeling sorry for a caged creature a gourmet rabbit trail mix became a "must have" treat and Ginger would sometimes stamp her feet demanding her daily dose. As Margy once hurried to deliver Robin remarked, "Geez, Mom, you're like Ginger's bitch." What we do for love.....

New Socks

2011-01-15T16:38:00.000-05:00

I bought these socks the other day and I like them well enough I suppose but look at this, there's a left and a right. What the hell, when did this happen? Whose idea was this? I didn't get a warning or anything, did you? What's happening?

You remember when your Mom was teaching you how to dress right? And when she did the socks part everything was still pretty cool. All you had to do was pick two that were the same color, or close anyway, and get the curvy heel part down and then pull 'em on and you were good to go. Didn't matter which foot the sock went on. At that point you were thinking, "Allright! This shit is gonna be easy!" Course you didn't say that and then when you got to shoes and left and right and tying laces and all you had a lot of second thoughts. As a matter of fact shoes might be the place when you started having doubts about everything big people had in store for you.

Anyway I'm feeling like I am not OK with this left and right sock thing. So just to show 'em who's boss, just to stick it to da man, just because I'm a bad ass living on the edge kind of guy, I put them on the wrong feet.

And I'll be damned. Try as I might I could not walk the straight and narrow. Everywhere I went I just kept leaning to the left. Man, life is getting complicated. I don't know what's goin' on anymore.

Martha

2011-01-10T22:13:00.003-05:00

Martha, a three year old long haired calico, is the newest member of our family. She comes to us from a friend whose father died, leaving behind his beloved cat. Our friend was carefully seeking a new home for her.

The story goes she showed up as a stray with 5 kittens in tow and was appropriately named Mama Kitty.
But that's not what we wanted to call her, so after much deliberation, Martha it is. A long haired cat would not have been our first choice here in our woods, where briers and seeds abound, but her sweet disposition won us over.

A concern for any new pet in the house was the reception our big tom, Simon, might deliver. But it turns out he's a wuss, the one who hisses and runs for it. Martha has not been aggressive but neither has she been afraid. Not sure they will ever be BFF's but already they are tolerant.

Room With Two Views

2011-01-08T16:37:00.000-05:00

October 16th

This Morning

The season has changed. I don't know many people who like winter. It might be just those who enjoy winter sports. For the rest it is something to be grimly endured; the cold, the snow and ice and sleet, the dull gray skies.

I won't say I like those things but I have always felt OK about winter because I love the change of seasons. The yin and yang, the other side of the coin, we're on the other side of the sun. You can't know nice without not-nice. The face stinging cold wind magnifies warm cocoa by the stove. Boots in hard crusty snow gives pleasure to barefoot in new spring grass. I like to be reminded of the ever changing miracle.

Coat Tree

2011-01-02T18:36:00.001-05:00

This was fun. How often do you get to make a tree from pieces of wood? Usually wood comes as a tree and you have to make something else. I wouldn't have thought of this project if son Dylan hadn't suggested it as a possible Christmas gift. We had a coat tree by the front door in the home of my childhood but I don't think of homes using them these days. Instead there is a closet or hooks on the wall or nothing. The latter is what he had in his apartment and coats piled up on the furniture.

When beginning a design I usually take a look at what has been done for possible ideas and to get standard or approximate dimensions. Then the wheels start turning with a flow of ideas and possibilities that seem to float by until I know what I'm going to do. I don't know what triggered incorporating a stone except that I'm generally drawn to work that uses these fundamental materials. And it made good sense to add weight and stability to something that is normally top heavy in use.

Before any other work I went looking for a stone. I left work early and drove out to Nature's Cover, a local landscape materials business. The yard man showed me a couple piles of river rocks and in the cold and growing darkness I searched for the right one. Most were smaller than I had in mind but I picked three I thought might work. "How much?" "Just those three? You can have those and happy holiday to you".

I only started this project a week earlier so Christmas day I wrapped just the stone with a note that said,"I'm making something for you. This is the only part that is finished". A nice curve ball that left him swinging with guesses.

The technical details - I glued up some 6/4 stock to get a 3 x 3 post, then ripped it into a hexagon. Figured out how to get a hexagon from a square using some web origami instructions.

All the curved parts are bent lamination, a technique I prefer over cutting curved parts from wide stock. They are much stronger and thus can be lighter. The legs were made up of 13 strips a little over 1/16th" thick glued together on a form. The branches used the same form but only 9 laminations and then cut into two pieces and shaped.

The only hardware is a 6" steel ring with three arms that I had a local shop fabricate. It is fastened with screws to the legs giving them needed rigidity and supports the stone and its platform.

Shaping was done primarily with an abrasive carbide wheel on an angle grinder followed by an inflatable sanding drum mounted in a drill. Using the drum right up to finish sanding maintained an irregular surface not unlike a debarked tree might have and feels nice to touch.

Asian Soup

2010-12-03T20:37:00.001-05:00

I don't do so well with cookbooks and recipes. I often seem to leave out something or jump ahead and get things in the wrong order. I once left the eggs out of a quiche. What I like to do is make up something from ingredients on hand. Rummage through the icebox and pull out the things that might go together. I do the same thing in the super market, walking the isles thinking up something to cook and forgetting two things on the list. It's what I did last night for this soup I made tonight. I don't think I've ever bought bok choy before.

I write it down here for those who like a recipe or at least a starting point for personal variation.

Asian Soup

2 T. dark sesame oil
2 large garlic cloves minced(that's a great word isn't it?)
T. minced fresh ginger
1/2 lg onion thinly sliced
2 medium carrots cut thin diagonally
1 stalk celery cut like the carrots
1/2 lb. sliced baby portabellas
    - I was thinking shitakes but balked at the price
1 baby bok choy roughly chopped

Saute these in your soup pot.

Add:
1 qt. vegetable broth
    -you can buy it by the qt. I used a powdered variety.
1 lb. tofu cut in medium cubes
A bunch of water.
3 T. soy sauce
2 T. rice vinegar
1 T. asian hot sauce
    -or some kind of hot sauce. Our asian one is a little sweet.
black pepper

Cook for a while and then add:
Some kind of noodles.
    -I picked up some fancy stuff in the asian section but it looked like it was made of the usual stuff so I bought a very thin short noodle in the regular noodle aisle. A rice noodle might be a better choice.

Cook 'till the noodles are done.

Note: I made up these amounts using my best guess at what I splashed and poured.

I served it with a flatbread and it was good. I kept thinking it might need just a little something else but I couldn't think what that might be.

Any suggestions?

It's good to be ....

2010-11-16T21:32:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Dylan.

Love Spreader

2010-11-15T21:45:00.000-05:00

I was talking to my dog the other day. I said, "Lucy, c'mon make yourself useful. Bring in some firewood. Go get us some food. You gotta earn your keep. Geez, what do you do around here that's useful anyways?"

She looked at me with baleful eyes and said without rancor, "I spread the love. I'm a love spreader".

I had to admit that's more useful than most of what I do.

A New Website

2010-11-12T09:10:00.001-05:00

StephensWork.com
This is a screenshot of a website I created in 2001 to share my creative efforts on the web. After the initial excitement of getting something online (OK I was the only one who was excited) it has lain fallow, mostly neglected with little new content and little traffic. For the past two years I have used a blogging tool to share things on the web instead of the website.

Website design has changed dramatically in 10 years and this site was long overdue for an overhaul. It was "hand coded" in Notepad using tables and frames for layout, font tags for styles, and rollover images in navigation, very old school. It worked but was static and difficult to add new content.

The look of the new design is minimalist, a reaction to what feels like noise on the web. I wanted a quiet place. We now surf the web with blinders on, just like TV, filtering out all that is unwanted or enduring video ads before getting to the "free" content. The new site has an admin page where I can add content via the web which should greatly encourage its upkeep.

For those interested here is a primer on website design today that includes the specific tools I used.

HTML(Hyper Text Markup Language) is the basic language of the web and provides the hierarchical structure of data that is interpreted by browsers. First publicly available in 1990, version 4.01 is currently the standard. HTML 5.0 was published as a working draft in 2008 and is slowly being adopted. With more "drag and drop" and WYSIWIG (what you see is what you get) editing tools available you don't have to know this language to publish on the web but it sure helps.

CSS(Cascading Style Sheets) was first published in 1996 and is very cool. Separation of content and presentation is the accepted practice now and CSS makes this possible. Layout, colors, borders, and all manner of text manipulation can be controlled down to the last pixel. Erratic at first as browsers interpreted differently but now most have adopted the W3C standards.

Server Side Scripting Few websites are just static text pages linked together as they used to be. Most alter what is displayed depending on varying parameters. It might be a user's set preferences, the date or location, or just the latest and greatest content. When a web page is requested a script runs on the server, usually in conjunction with a database, before delivering the custom page. I used PHP. Others are ASP, Perl, ColdFusion, and Python. PHP is free and there is a tremendous wealth of information, tutorials and scripts available from countless people who like to play with this stuff.

Database: I used MySQL to store information about all the gallery images. Title, dimensions, descriptions, comments and tags to facilitate searching are all stored so I can find and display images depending on certain criteria. MySQL/PHP is the most popular combo in use on the web because it's free and works well. Facebook uses it.

Client Side Scripting: Javascript. As the name implies this scripting happens in the end user's, or client's, browser using the end user's resources. On the plus side this usually means fast response - no waiting for the round trip to the server to make the change. On the downside the designer has no control over the user's resources; i.e., old funky browser, old slow computer, javascript turned off. Javascript used to be pretty complicated and unreliable but recently Javascript Libraries have been made available that have taken a lot of the pain out of doing some pretty cool stuff. I used jQuery for one small feature. MooTools and YUI are others. JQuery has excellent online documentation and many scripts are available for free.

AJAX(AsynchronousJavascript and XML) I did not have a function needing Ajax but include a description here because it was such a buzz word in the web world for a while and has widespread use. It is a kind of client side /server side hybrid, using several technologies to make requests to the server for additional data without reloading the entire page. It makes for a more dynamic and interactive user interface.

RSS(Really Simple Syndication)
Also known as "feeds". Another way to vary your site's content is to get it from somewhere else. I am using it to display the last three entries of the blog I write which is hosted on blogger.com. If you "subscribe to a feed" you get back an XML file of that feed's content. This XML (Extensible Markup Language) can be "parsed" or read to separate the data from the XML structure to display it on your page. There are many tools to do this. Some free services online - you enter the URL of the RSS feed you want and it coughs up some code you can paste in your site. Feedburner is a Google tool. I tried Feedinformer which was easy to setup and worked but choked my site as it waited for their script to give me the goods. Too slow. I found a PHP script (magpierss) to do the job - more complicated to set up but much faster.

Embedded Objects
Many sites now offer embed code as a way to share their services. This code places a box on your page that draws its content from the service. I am using YouTube to display a channel, or playlist, of my videos. Anything I add to the channel on YouTube's site will show up on my site. I'm also displaying a digital "book" with embed code from blurb.com.

Extras

Fancy Fonts
Web text has basically had 4 fonts for designers to use: 2 serif, 2 sans-serif. Anything else had to be done with images which are slow to load and do not scale. With the implementation of CSS3 that is changing. You can now host whatever fonts you want and apply them with CSS. I downloaded 2 free fonts from FontSquirrel which also has documentation on how to do it. It's not perfect - you can see the site flinch as the fonts are applied.

CAPTCHA (Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart)
CAPTHCHA is the name given to those squiggly letters and numbers you have to figure out and enter in the box before you send in your form. It is generally not a good idea to put your email on a website because Spambots (as these applications are called) harvest emails for malicious use. Keeping your email only on the server side and accessible only after solving the squiggly puzzle prevents this. I found a PHP based open-source script (Secureimage) that seems to work well. It even provides an audio track to help those poor humans trying to figure it out.

Mobile Devices
The bane of web designers has always been the lack of control over the viewing medium. It looks perfect on one platform, browser, resolution, type size and falls apart in another. Now we have gorgeous 20" monitors and teeny-tiny cell phones trying to view the same site. I found a PHP script that tells me if a mobile device is requesting a page. I can then redirect to a suitable format. Luckily in my case a few lines of CSS were enough to make it workable.

Canopy 2

2010-10-31T14:36:00.003-04:00

Canopy 1

Three Sisters

2010-10-17T20:17:00.005-04:00

three sisters on holiday at the shore
a time away from husbands, work, children
on the boardwalk in a small shop they buy matching hats and dresses
laughing and teasing as they do so, slipping into old familiar roles
after supper they walk barefoot for miles on the beach
arm in arm, leaning into each other, sharing their stories, cherishing each moment
knowing it will never happen again

maple, sycamore, walnut
9-12" tall
they are hollow, the hat crown a friction fit stopper
the dots are inlay
each contains the scent of a different perfume

Harvest Moon

2010-09-23T22:08:00.000-04:00

Plant More Trees

2010-09-20T19:44:00.000-04:00

Nodali Llama Speaks

2010-09-18T22:13:00.000-04:00

EARTHLINGS HEED MY WORDS!

I am an ambassador sent by the Universe. You are an embarrassment!

Your house is burning and you fight amongst yourselves!

The water that gives you life is being poisoned and you fight amongst yourselves!

The air you breathe is fouled and you fight amongst yourselves!

The ice caps are melting and you fight amongst yourselves!

The frogs and bees and fish are dying and you fight amongst yourselves!

YOUR HOUSE IS BURNING AND YOU ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS THE TELEVISION!!

MAKE PEACE NOW AND HEAL YOUR HOME OR SOON YOU WILL HAVE NOTHING TO EAT BUT EACH OTHER!!

I have spoken.

So Inclined

2010-09-09T22:39:00.001-04:00

Dining Out 2

2010-08-14T15:26:00.001-04:00

Dining Out 1

Night Blooming Cereus

2010-07-31T21:41:00.001-04:00

Friday night friends invited us over to watch a flower bloom. Not your usual invite but sounded like a party to me. Turns out it's an annual event to watch their Queen of the Night strut her stuff on the one night a year she does.

We arrived about 8:30, the plant in center stage on the picnic table with 5 flowers beginning to open. By 11:00 they were fully open and the air scented with their perfume.

They've had this particular plant for about thirteen years and most of the time it's an ugly thing. Gangly stems and leaves, turning dull brown in the winter. It is a member of the cactus family and is native to the Sonoran Desert.

But one night each summer, in June or July, its flowers open as night falls and then close forever with the first rays of morning sun.

Here is a time lapse video of the flower blooming.

The Measuring Door

2010-07-28T21:02:00.004-04:00

On a lake in Maine is a summer cabin, a place called Moxie Ledge. It has been in one family for nearly 100 years. Handed down from its first buyers to their six children, it is a vacation haven to brothers and sisters, grandparents and grandchildren, aunts and uncles, in-laws and spouses, cousins and more cousins and all of their friends.

And the door to the kitchen has been used to measure them all. It is a record of family growth through generations. The oldest notation I could find was 1924.

Click to enlarge.

I picture a circle of children waiting their turn to make their mark upon the door. Some names are oft repeated, the mark a little higher with each successive summer. But there are so many different names it did not appear to be exclusive, not family only, but instead inclusive, welcoming to all, just like this place.

View from the porch.

Caterpillar

2010-07-27T20:01:00.001-04:00

Caterpillar:

"We're all vulnerable. Mix the wrong feelings together, the right kind of bad with the wrong kind of good, and you'll wind up with a total breakdown."

-Lewis Carroll
Alice in Wonderland

Cabbage Head

2010-07-25T22:15:00.000-04:00

We are harvesting some big bad ass cabbage heads.

The Thirty Year Quilt

2010-07-24T22:29:00.002-04:00

One of Margy's best friends, Robin, married Lou in 1979. Thinking of a wedding gift for this special friend Margy decided it would be nice to make them a quilt. She had a lot of sewing experience and inspiration from a family heirloom but had never made one. She bought a book, decided on a star pattern, and with her mother bought material at a Lancaster Amish fabric store. And so it began over thirty years ago.

What happens in thirty years? Margy finished college and then a masters degree. She bought a house and gave birth to and raised two children as did her friend. She named her daughter Robin. She got a job and then another and another following a shifting career path. And all the while she worked on the quilt when she could.

It was carried about in a yellow plastic bag, the ever growing star, the diamond shaped pieces. Each band a different color, each band 16 more pieces than the last, 800 in all, all stitched by hand. As the star grew it became a little celebration to move to the next color.

About three years ago the star was complete. Only thing left to do is the quilting. She bought the rest of the material, the dark blues and cotton batting, the white/light blue backing. I made a quilting frame for her which replaced the ping pong table. This is a big quilt, 8 feet on the short side, king size. And so for countless hours she worked away stitching the lines of the star and then a wave pattern out to the perimeter.

As this summer approached Margy's family planned a gathering in Maine not far from where Robin and Lou now live. We would of course stop to see them. Could she finish the quilt in time? Three days before we left the last stitches on the outer binding were made. Break out the champagne.

We often make plans with good intentions. The saying goes the road to hell is paved with them. Along with feelings of accomplishment Margy is a little relieved to have finally followed through on this one.

Canopy

2010-07-13T10:09:00.003-04:00

Repairing Things

2010-07-06T22:37:00.002-04:00

It's gotten harder. Before, if you had the inclination and some aptitude, you could take apart many of the appliances, machines, and gadgets that we use and take a look. You could fiddle with the levers and cams and gears and springs and attempt to simulate its operation to see what was not operating as it should. You could tighten or replace a loose screw, clean and lubricate sticking parts, bend a lever to get more travel. In a pinch you might even make a replacement part from stuff you have in your shop.

But now, as electronics has been incorporated into nearly everything we own, you can't see what's going on. It's happening inside this black box, this module. If you are skilled in this work, and you have the right information, you know what is supposed to go in the black box and what is supposed to come out. If there are several black boxes chained together you must discern which box is the faulty one that needs to be replaced. And too often, much to your dismay, it may not be available or costs more than the entire item you are trying to fix.

Most of our electronic toys are made on robot assisted production lines. Robots are fantastic at assembly but not so good at figuring out what is wrong. Humans must still do this, an expensive proposition that more and more often will not be offered. Replacement is the norm. Repairing things used to be our first consideration but not so now days because even if you could get it fixed it won't have a frobnozzle that moobangs like the new ones do. It won't have the latest features. So into the land fill it goes.

A week ago I repaired this knife. Knives are old school. Very old school. With my years of experience and highly developed troubleshooting acumen I quickly detected what was wrong. The handle was falling off. This is a favorite knife in the household, one we've had for 30 years or more. The blade is regular steel, not stainless, that seems to hold a keener edge. The handle was ebony, I believe, but had become split and chipped at one end. I ordered brass rivets and found a small piece of cocobolo. An evening's work and it feels nice again. This tool might now go on to the next generation.

Roadkill

2010-07-02T20:33:00.005-04:00

When you climb in your car you are king of the jungle. You are the hunter who is not hunted. Armed with firestones and windshield beware all who cross your path. You are mowin' 'em down.

In our cars we barely notice the carnage but on a bike one gets a more intimate view that is hard to ignore. A steep incline with a known deer carcass is to be avoided if possible. When sighted up ahead one tries to time the pass to a long exhale. The stench is enough to make you cheer on the carrion eaters. C'mon buzzards! Let's go crows! Make haste maggots! Get this thing outta here!

The numbers, though unsubstantiated, are big. In the US one million vertabrates a day. They correlate to rodent and animal populations gone unchecked by natural predators. No more are wolves and big cats and eagles who would cut down on the traffic.

And then there is our pets. Estimates of 26 million cats and 6 million dogs annually. You could fill a tanker with the tears from all that heartbreak.

a turtle, a cardinal, a red fox puppy

Apart from pets the ones I find most distressing for some reason are turtles. Maybe it's the imagined crunch of the shell. Or the fact that it seems it could have been avoided. It isn't like they darted out in front, or ran willy-nilly back and forth like a chipmunk. Maybe it happens at night. Maybe I've hit one and thought it was a stone.

Louden Wainwright lll knows about roadkill. Tell us about the Dead Skunk Louden.

Pennsylvania Mammals

2010-06-29T14:08:00.001-04:00

Pennsylvania might rival a rainforest for variety and number of small mammals. Here's a list of over 70. When the creator was drawing these up she was in the zone, the juices were flowing, the drafting board must have been hot from the friction of frenzied sketches, the production line was smokin'. You can picture her as a crazed artist working straight through into her sixth day, unable to sleep, glassy eyed, cigarette in hand; the ideas will not quit.

Here's just a sample:

The skunk. Walk softly and carry a big stick. The skunk goes about its business unafraid, conscious of its power. A harmless looking creature armed with the ability to accurately spray a highly offensive fluid up to 16 feet. An odor so strong humans can smell it a mile downwind. Up close it can make one temporarily blind. What other animal does this? A beautiful animal with black and white striped fur. I'd love to see a skunk, a zebra and a panda riding in a bright red convertible. That would make such a cool photo.

The opossum. Let's make one with a pouch to carry it's young, a marsupial, the only one in North America. It'll be ugly as sin with a pointy nose and teeth and rat like tail. It'll eat anything including its own dead. But then give it a coat so silky the lady in the mink stole is envious. Wait - that's not enough. Make it play dead as its only defense. Scientists still don't quite get this. An involuntary response to attack that makes it go temporarily comatose and an anal gland emit a putrid flesh like smell. That'll make 'em leave you alone.

The porcupine. Hair, fur, hair, fur, I don't know, what else have we got. Needles! That's it! I'll cover it with needles. I'll even put them on the tail so it can smack a dog in the nose with 'em. And I'll put little barbs on them so you can't pull 'em out. Heh, heh. And I'll give it a sweet friendly face and make it waddle like a fat clown. Jesus, seems almost sadistic.

The beaver. Let's see, most of them are living in holes, there must be something else. How 'bout one that takes down trees with its teeth and uses them to build a dome like house. And they'll do it in a pond with an underwater entrance and they'll make the pond too by building dams and hold it all together using mud like mortar. They'll have webbed hind feet and a paddle for a tail. They'll mate for life and store food for the winter. They'll have a beer fridge and.. nah, that's too much. A good artist knows when to quit.

*images from the web

Lady Luck and the Missing Blade

2010-06-27T16:41:00.002-04:00

Accidents are a strange phenomenon. In the aftermath we try to piece the sequence of events back together. What led to this, what was missed, how did this happen, who was to blame? Why didn't I do this instead? Or that? What if..... if only I had....

We've all had them in varying degrees of severity. From pinched fingers and broken bones to those that leave damage for a lifetime. Some are so bizarre and catastrophic that there had to have been something in the air just before their occurrence, something that you think would be perceived with just a little attention.

And maybe this is true for all the ones that didn't happen, countless moments we don't remember. We hesitated. We stopped. We anticipated and stepped aside. We paid attention. The accident didn't happen.

Yesterday I went out to the wood lot to get another load of firewood, work that has a good deal of accident potential. I took down a fairly large standing dead white oak and dropped it right where I planned, a little victory I don't take for granted. Then went about the business of cutting it up and loading the truck.

The first 20" of the butt end was too big for me to lift. I rolled it back up on the stump for a place to work and with a maul buried the one wedge I'd brought. A good start but not enough for stringy white oak. I'd have to come back with another wedge or the splitting maul.

At the house I unloaded the truck. Son Dylan had just arrived and brought with him a splitting tool he prefers, a Fiskars splitting axe. I tried it out on some red oak rounds and was duly impressed. Light in handle and heavy in head with a sharp blade. The wedge like shape keeps it from sticking like a regular axe and often one good swing was cleaving sections from the round. I put it in the truck with another wedge and headed back to the stump.

I freed the wedge and worked a while with the new tool making nice sized billets for the stove. But then there is an instant that I can't quite recall. I am swinging the tool and then it is in the ground between my feet and my ankle bone smarts. I realize the tool has glanced off and was a mere fraction of an inch from embedding the blade in my ankle. I don't know how I missed my mark on the piece I was splitting, I can't picture it. I do know that in that instant it was only Lady Luck standing between me and my carelessness. I get a chill thinking of the damage I could have inflicted.

When splitting wood the axe or maul is raised high above the head and brought down with force. The hand nearest the head slides down the handle. The key to doing this safely is bringing the wrists down near the ground on the follow through so that in case of a miss the head goes into the ground instead of pivoting back to you. I know this. I have demonstrated it to others. Why did I not do this?

This was an accident that didn't happen. A little swelling, a little black and blue. It will be forgotten. Lucky me.

Be careful out there.

Farmer Black and His Big Whites

2010-06-21T19:56:00.002-04:00

I'm Farmer Black and I've been growing these Big Whites for the last five years. I work for Hyper Genetic Plants, Inc and I have to keep a low profile 'cause I know there are people who don't approve of the work I do what with all the goin' green and buy local and such but, you mark my words, someday when the SHTF those folks will be beggin' for the food I make.

Take these here Big Whites. Why they are a scientific miracle they are. They have this super tough skin, it's almost like some kind of plastic, and it protects the fruit inside so they can be shipped all around the world with no harm done. And it'll keep fresh as the day you pick 'em for a solid two months. No refrigeration needed. And the best part is when you slice into one you got the reddest, juiciest, sweetest watermelon you have ever tasted. You get just one of these babies and a pig on a spit and you got a picnic for a crowd!

And growin' em? I tell you they are a farmer's dream come true. You see they put out some kinda chemical that kills everything but themselves so you have absolutely no weeds, no competition, no spraying all those expensive poisonous chemicals or nothing. Them green folks oughta like that. Only problem we still got is it seems to get in the runoff so the farmers downstream are raisin' a stink.

But as soon as we get that little wrinkle worked out we'll let the world in on this wonderful creation. I'm hopin' it's soon too 'cause they tell me then I'll get to work with the Super Whites or maybe even the Gonzo Whites. The Gonzos are 4 times the size of the Bigs and twice as sweet if you can imagine that. Something that sweet be enough to make you beg for lemonade.

Anyway keep your eye on your local grocery 'cause any day now one of my big girls will be sittin' on the floor of your produce section. Yep, any day now, I'm pretty sure.

Father's Day

2010-06-20T21:18:00.000-04:00

My father and mother live nearby in a retirement community. Dad will be 95 on the 30th. He says of the pending birthday, "You can pile the gifts in the corner".

I dropped in on Dad today to deliver some cards and give well wishes. I took this picture. The pictures on the wall are of his father, mother, sister, and grandfather. His father died when Dad was just 9. His sister lives in England.

I consider it a true blessing in my life that I had a father who was a role model but not an overbearing one. He was supportive but not directive, available for counsel but expecting his children to find their own way. He was honest and could be trusted completely. He was not overly demonstrative in his affections or praise but neither was he critical or judgmental. Raised by a mother who did not believe in corporal punishment he likewise did not strike his children.
And though I don't think many outside the family saw it, he could be very funny. This sense of humor is now what carries him through the trials of old age.

I think it is not uncommon for sons to spend much of their lives trying to win the approval of their fathers. I am grateful my life has not been saddled with this burden.

Thanks for everything Dad.

Happy Father's Day.

Speed Meditating

2010-06-17T22:04:00.000-04:00

Go Fly a Kite

2010-06-12T16:38:00.008-04:00

I love this kite. My sister gave it to me for Christmas twenty some years ago. It is hand batik, made by an artist known to my sister's friend. Someone named Sarah who sold them on the craft circuit for a while. It is signed and marked 3/10 meaning #3 in a lot of 10, not dated March year 10. For many years it hung on our wall as art when not in use.

Today was a good day for it, a steady wind around 8 mph. Not too much like last weekend. A very stable kite that goes up easy and meanders back and forth. When the wind stalls it does not dive but kind of floats, waffling, till it's picked up again.

The next time someone tells me to go fly a kite I can say I just did that.

Sunday Chimes

2010-06-07T21:00:00.002-04:00

I admired these big chimes for a long time before I bought one. I loved the sound but love the silence too and wondered if I'd regret the purchase. Would it be too much, displacing bird song and crickets, and all the other sounds that grace our place?

But it turns out it takes quite a bit of wind to get them going and the wind it takes makes enough noise in the trees that the subtle sounds are lost to that anyway. The chimes may be silent for a week or more.

This Sunday as the wind blew most the day it sounds like church around here, the ringing gong, the rustling leaves wave upon wave of applause.

Will the congregation please rise?

Evening Ride

2010-05-14T22:02:00.000-04:00

WTF

2010-05-05T20:25:00.000-04:00

This is among a small group of pieces at the Walter Museum in Baltimore in a room labeled Ancient Americas. It is dated 200 BC from what is now Mexico. This and several others of similar origin were a notable contrast in that they were lighthearted and playful. I imagined human beings 2000 years ago laughing and smiling, maybe telling a joke or funny story.

We are so smart now. Our minds are filled with facts and figures and all the how-to-dos and our time with doing, doing, doing. Our phenomenal machinery makes waste the world it strives to conquer.

Have we learned anything? Do we know anything more than our ancient ancestors? Are we looking in the right places? Are we asking the right questions?

You made your bed ...

2010-05-02T20:06:00.005-04:00

..now lie in it.

For a long time I have thought I would make a new bed frame. The first one I made of construction lumber and plywood over 35 years ago. It served us well through a foam mattress and then a futon. When the futon became two valleys the frame was discarded with the mattress. Since then it has been box springs raised off the floor with a generic steel frame, no foot or head board to speak of.

Now, as we look once again to improve our sleeping surface, I thought I would finally get to this project. But as I started I couldn't get excited about any particular design. I discarded the one I thought I would do that was based on the trim and built in cabinets in the room. I looked around for inspiration, Greene and Greene, Shaker, bent lamination with spindles, craftsman style. There is some beautiful work out there but nothing clicked. I suppose it's because half the fun for me is thinking something up.

I knew I had some big 8/4 cherry boards in my stash that would be nice to showcase in some way. Hey, here's an idea. How 'bout just a big board floating in space, no bedposts or anything. Minimalist headboard. Nothing more, nothing less. That'd be cool wooden it? Now I'm getting excited.

There are some good reasons for bedposts. You can hang your hat on 'em. You can put notches in them if you keep score. (OK, that's not a good reason). And they give structural integrity to the foot and head boards. Wood has great strength across the grain and tremendous bearing weight on its ends. It's what trees are good at: stand up tall and bend and sway but do not break. But wood splits along the grain, or lengthwise, more easily, as we witness in trees struck by lightning or damaged by ice storms. Bedposts support the weight of the bed and it's occupants on 4 small points and provide cross grain strength to what might otherwise be a flimsy headboard.

So eliminating them from my headboard presents a design problem. Or maybe not. It may have been strong enough with these heavy boards without all this fuss but the diagram below shows what I thought were potential places of weakness and how I dealt with it.

Stress A is simply where there is the greatest leverage. I thought two near comatose bodies sucking up java leaning back against 30" of unsupported boards would exert a lot of force at this point. I re-enforced this by edge drilling a 5/8" hole through all three boards and inserting 2 steel rods.

(Click image to enlarge.)

The top board is supported by 3 short 5/8" rods. (Sorry, no magic. But it looks like it's floating doesn't it?) I thought the back side of the holes(Stress B), less than a half inch of material, might bust out. To strengthen this I first ripped a 1/4" thick strip from the top board and set it aside. I inlaid 1/8" steel plates at each hole and then glued the strip back in place to hide them. This also covered the holes for the long rods.

Our new sleeping surface is this memory foam stuff that has gotten a lot of hype. I recently heard some very negative reports regarding these mattresses. We had slept on it several times and liked it. I surveyed friends who have had them for years and finally decided to give it a try. Some say that because they are so expensive owners convince themselves that they're comfortable whether it's true or not. Well that's certainly what I plan to do.

One last thing, the long rails of this bed. I marked a board I thought would be good for two matched bed rails probably 10 years ago, passing over using it in who knows how many other projects. And now here it is doing what it was destined to do. My peers and I, we are getting a longer view. It's OK if it doesn't happen right away, that doesn't mean it won't happen. It might happen later.

Fresh Start

2010-04-11T21:40:00.007-04:00

I think spring means this to many folks even if they are not gardeners.

The garden is mostly Margy's project but I help out when needed. After she spread some nice mushroom compost and cleared the way I got out the old tiller and worked it over.

Some tools last a long time. This tiller was purchased by Margy's Dad in 1974 for $418. It came to us when they moved from their long time residence to our town in 1989. We use it twice a year, spring and fall. Each spring we roll it out of the shed and it doesn't want to start, just like today. We put in fresh gas and clean the plug and yank away with no luck and then we have to take off the pull cord cover and take out the mouse nest and repair the wires to the magneto. This year the nest is occupied. Mom gives a scared look and takes off down the tiller with five little ones clinging to her teats for dear life. With a little coaxing they make it to safety under a bush. Sure enough they chewed the wires again. A quick repair and the old girl fires right up.

We've been working this spot for a long time now. Walking alongside the tiller I feel like I'm walking on a chocolate cake.

first greens in the cold frame...

first asparagus...

fall planting of garlic...

And so we start again. Last year tomato blight put a hurtin' on a big reason for doing the garden. Here's hoping for some big juicy ones this season.

Lamp Farm

2010-04-01T10:21:00.000-04:00

This Lamp Farm at Penn State University is designed to use all the power generated by Pennsylvania's Wind Farms.

Dining Out

2010-03-27T21:15:00.003-04:00

This is in a small clearing in our woods. The table came from a friend. The chairs and china and candle holders and sliver ware and wine glasses came from Goodwill. When dinner was over we walked back to the house leaving everything behind.

My plan is to come back every few months, in the different seasons, in all kinds of weather, and take a picture of myself sitting here waiting, possibly for years, as this little scene is reclaimed by the power that reclaims all things.

I can picture an 80 year old man sitting here still wondering the same things this one does.

Portfolio Book

2010-03-13T09:28:00.007-05:00

I have been meaning to do this for some time - gather the scattered disparate images of this "body of work" into one place. I have started and stopped more than once. It's aim was not promotion, just a wish to keep some accessible record. Many of the pieces are no longer in my possession.

Digital imaging has exploded over the last 5 years and with its popularity an industry of ways to store, manage, and share them has followed. Photo books is one of the options and there are many tools from which to choose. They range from the automated packaged click and go to the custom made. I think these books are rapidly replacing the old albums that held photos in sleeves or used adhesives.

If you think your parents had lots of pictures with boxes of old slides and brittle albums it will seem trivial compared to the numbers we are generating today. With no film costs and immediate evaluation of the image let's take another one. What the heck shoot 'till your finger hurts just to be sure you get a good one. I love this change in the history of photography. But how will we keep these images to be seen in our old age? Store them on a hard drive? Hard drives fail. Your nifty Firewire or USB isn't going to plug in to your new computer 10 years(5 years?) from now. Are you still watching your VHS tapes? Most of the work for this book was getting usable images from an assortment of slides, prints, and low resolution digital.

Our ever changing media storage.

So as primitive as it may seem some advise using good ole paper to archive your favorites. Photo books make this fairly easy to do and the cost has gotten reasonable. One work flow is to mark or tag your favorites (most photo organizing tools do this) through the year and at year's end make a book.

An easy to use option is included in iPhoto and looks pretty nice with some classy themes. Drag and drop from a folder of images, add a little text, and click "buy now". Similar tools are available online - some require download of software others just require upload of your images. I tried iPhoto and several others but each time reached a point where I wanted to do something I couldn't so set the project aside.

I wound up using an outfit called Blurb. They have the plug and play software but also provide templates for inDesign, Adobe's professional desktop publishing software. Working within their guidelines for proper printing, the design is then open ended. The completed project is uploaded to them as a PDF and I received my book within a week.

Like so many other Web 2.0 tools Blurb has made an effort to create a community of users. Your book is made available to the public(or not if you choose) in their "Bookstore". You can set the price and actually make money if it sells. People can comment on books and they have various promotions. They have a great tool for previewing the books - an online flash widget that works exactly like turning pages in your lap. This is pleasantly weird to me. I have spent a little too much time looking at wonderful books people are making.

This book is the standard landscape layout with "image wrap" hardcover and just 40 pages - a cutoff point for the next jump in price. The online preview just shows 15 pages but the "full screen" viewing option is about as nice as hard copy. See the book if you like.

I like bugs cause no one else does...

2010-03-07T20:49:00.006-05:00

Daughter Robin has a sign on her wall that says "I like poetry, long walks on the beach, and poking dead things with a stick". She has always been thus. Christmas 1997 we gave her a bug aquarium - a small plastic dome to temporarily hold her finds for examination. I wrote this poem in the card.

I like worms that are slippery and slimey
I like to hold 'em till my hands are all grimey
I like beetles and spiders and ants
And toads that will try to pee on my pants
I like to catch em and put em in jars
It's kinda like jail without any bars
I know it's not nice but I don't keep 'em long
And I give 'em some play things and sing 'em a song
I like 'em shiny or stingy or covered with fuzz
I like bugs cause no one else does.

Writing a poem to accompany a gift was something my father did and I carried on the tradition occasionally. His were usually limericks, a clever little something pertaining to the gift or the person. My sister in law Pat has taken up this baton and written several for family events. I wonder if others do this or whether it was done more in the past before the days of Hallmark and the ready made verse.

Legoman, Oh Legoman

2010-03-03T22:24:00.008-05:00

Legoman oh Legoman
Come put us guys together
Build us castles high and strong
And ships for stormy weather

Take us in your nimble fingers
And all our pieces find
And we will gladly be for you
Whatever's in your mind

Legoman oh Legoman
Oh hear our desperate plea
We're trapped within this darkened box
A yearnin' to be free

So place us on the battlements
The drawbridge, in the spire
Bring forth the wizard with his books
And torch of magic fire

Give us helmets, swords, and shields
And capes that we may clothe
There is no battle that we fear
It's boredom that we loathe

Conjure up a pirate isle
With caves stuffed full of loot
The nasty alligator
That chewed off Wilkie's boot

Fabricate a splendid coach
Fit to carry royal blood
Then march us through the city
Though the streets be filled with mud

Make us mighty warriors
Make us strong & kind & just
Make us champions for the helpless
In you we give our trust

Oh Legoman oh Legoman
On you we all depend
For though we're only plastic
You turn us into men

So be our leader, be our king
Beside you we will stand
And we will make your dreams come true
Your wish is our command

Rummaging through old papers I found this poem. When our son was a lad he was an avid fan of Legos, so much so that we sometimes called him Legoman. For a few years another set topped his Christmas wish list. In '96 I wrote this poem to accompany the gift.

Note: From humble beginnings in a carpenter's shop in 1916 in Denmark, Lego is probably the world's most popular toy. The name was formed from the Danish words "LEg GOdt" or "play well". Later on it was realized that in Latin the word means "I study" or "I put together". Aptly named and a very cool toy.

A Happy Birthday

2010-02-25T20:32:00.001-05:00

It was a happy birthday although the outlook wasn't promising. I have made a point over the years of trying to do something different than my normal routine on my birthday. Nothing particularly special but something to make me sit up and notice the passing of time, the path of a lifetime.

So I arranged for the day off and was making some tentative plans. Ah the best laid plans ... derailed by a game of racquetball the evening before and a seized up back that had me limping home v e r y c a r e f u l l y.

So the day was spent mostly on the couch downing Advil at prescribed intervals. Well, come to think of it, that is a little different than normal.

It was day 20819 in the life. Of course there is an online calculator. Putting one's age in days makes it a little like watching the odometer in your car. At day 18,262 you want to pull over by the side of the road and take pictures. By day 23,741 you are starting to show some wear. Only two of the power windows work, some of the dash knobs are missing and you have to add more oil when you fill 'er up. If you hit day 29,219 you are beyond the average and you got your money's worth for sure. No one else dares drive it at this point. You don't want to admit it but you're gonna have to take it to the yard pretty soon.

But this day was happy because I received so many well wishes from friends. I got cards from my father-in-law, my brother and his wife, my sister and my friend Linda with whom I share this birth date. I got phone calls from another brother and my sister and my daughter. I chattted online with my son who is in Africa which is now just a ho-hum miracle.

And I received flowers, a nice bottle of wine and a lovely dinner from Margy.

I felt loved. Now there is a priceless gift.

Thanks to all of you.

Ghost Bikes

2010-02-23T21:22:00.003-05:00

I have driven past this roadside memorial many times only vaguely remembering its story. On this day I stopped to take the picture, drawn to the white bike in white snow and long shadows. Once home I searched for the back story.

On March 22, 2006 Bohdan Kulakowski, 63, a well respected Penn State Professor, was struck by a van and killed while riding his bike. Thomas Fry, the 51 year old driver was not speeding or DUI. He had been diagnosed with degenerative eye disease but had not been told he should not drive. He told police he may have taken his eyes off the road for a second and never saw the bicyclist. Kulakowski was wearing a helmet and had reflectors on his bike. It was a tragic accident. Kulakowski was an avid biker who rode to work most days. Fry was charged with vehicular homicide but was only sentenced to 5 years probation.

What I discovered in this search is that what I thought was an impromptu memorial to a friend is part of a larger project called "ghost bikes". It is an effort to raise awareness of these all too common accidents and the need for better accommodations for bikers on our roads. The project is coordinated by ghostbikes.org. The website gives methods for creating the all white bike and instructions for installation. A map shows locations of over a hundred such memorials.
These are from a web search:

Still Spinning

2010-02-14T20:40:00.002-05:00

Here is a recent effort in my growing collection of wooden vessels. The concept behind this work is that there would be two vessels. The one that one sees when the piece is still: a narrow cylinder with large top and fins. A spiny blow fish, an artful anemometer, a turbine vessel. The other one is when it is spinning: a virtual one captured only in the mind or with a slow shutter speed. The blur that blends into a smooth solid larger container.
I'm always a little uncertain about work that is more complicated. Simple is usually better, more universally accessible. For this piece I had some nicely figured cherry that I used for the fins. I like the base - a crotch piece of walnut shaped like a river stone. There was a lot more engineering for this piece than most I do and that part was fun - reason enough to do it. It spins nicely though a little off center despite considerable effort to get it right on.

Still Spinning

For the technically inclined here is some detail. I ripped the central core as accurately as I could to give me a piece 4 x 4 x 12, marked the centers, then ripped off the corners to give me a long octagon. On the lathe turned the piece but left 1/2' of the octagon at each end. Using the 1/2" as bearing surfaces I ripped the eight slots for the fins on the table saw and then drilled the holes at either end on a horizontal boring setup. The top hole is counterbored and the top turned with a tenon to fit.

The fins are a thin sandwich - 1/8' matched veneers with a 1/16" strip of lead embedded at the edge between pieces. I just had a feeling that I needed weight to overcome the wind resistance of the fins for the piece to spin for any length of time. I thought the weight should be placed at the edge but I don't know why. My physics question is: could I have placed this weight at the core for the same effect?

See the diagram for the method of mounting the piece to spin. Thanks to my friend Jerry for advice. It is basically the way he mounted a weather vane. The main problem I had is that it is difficult to drill a large hole into end grain and the bit drifted off center. So in the end the piece rotates a little off center instead of the dead on Swiss watch perfect I would have liked. I said it was fun I didn't say I did it that well. I'm letting go of this.

Comfort Food

2010-02-10T19:19:00.001-05:00

Driving home from work, it's February, it's cold, it's been snowing like the old days, and I'm thinking about supper and something warm and cozy: comfort food. Risotto comes to mind and I think up this dish as I follow the path home.

1 box frozen spinach (of course you could use fresh)
1 medium onion
3 cloves garlic(more or less depending on how you feel about it)
1/2 pound sliced mushrooms
some sun dried tomatoes(they're pretty, throw in a couple more)
2 T olive oil
1 C. arborio rice
2 1/2 C. vegetable broth(or beef broth if you like it and know the beast was free to wander open pasture. That's OK now I think.)

Cook the spinach separately, keep the water.

Saute the vegies in oil in heavy skillet. (I used cast iron)

Heat the broth to simmering in separate pan.

I followed directions on the box for cooking the rice since they were the same as a risotto recipe I looked at. When veggies are done add spinach with water. Add rice and 1 cup of broth. Start stirring.

This is the only problem with this recipe. No guy cooking here, you can't turn it on high and leave. (400 degrees for 10 minutes is the same as 200 for 20, right? Well it should be.) Nope, just keep stirring adding more broth as it thickens. About 20 minutes all together. You might need a little more water or broth near the end. Try some - should be nice and soft.

Serve with grated parmesan and nice bread, glass of red and your favorite person.

I'd guess that comfort food is different for each of us. Surely it can be connected to past experience. Mom made it when you were sick. Grandma made it when she visited on the holidays. Did your Dad ever make it? I don't think hot and spicy qualifies. Mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, hot oatmeal, tuna casserole, creamy soups, cream of mushroom, corn chowder, toast and tea.

What is comfort food for you?

Super Sunday

2010-02-07T19:45:00.000-05:00

The heart of winter, a beautiful weekend winter snowfall, 10" of white fluffy stuff. Shoveling paths to the shop, the doghouse, the back door. 3 below at waking this morning, both stoves are stoked to keep us warm. We cook and putter about the house with our projects. Birds are all over the feeders, a food source that isn't buried. The days do get noticeably longer.

Super Bowl Sunday: I watch with the world with beer and chili and a bit of dismay. Can't quite get comfortable with the excess, shades of the Roman Empire's decline. Go Saints!!

A few recent photographs: link to web album.

Housework

2010-01-24T21:04:00.003-05:00

We had company Saturday and Sunday this weekend so did a lot of housework. We have a standing joke when the debris gets too deep that it's time to have company so we will be motivated to do for others what we are not quite willing to do just for ourselves.

I have been party to several discussions on housework recently; with my kids who are navigating life with new housemates, with newly weds, with old timers set in their ways. To clean or not to clean. Making peace with this task seems a significant hurdle in living with others.

Those who like a tidy organized home have the higher ground here for we've been taught that cleanliness is close to godliness. And most people probably prefer a tidy environment; they just doubt the return on effort or think someone else should do it.

If you think one's environment has some influence on one's psyche it's hard to argue that some level of organization and cleanliness isn't good for you. A filthy unkempt space is lousy Feng Shui and causes some unease even if subconsciously. Most of us are just trying to get a grip. Chaotic mess doesn't help. A tidy room promotes clearer thinking, better focus, a sense of calm and control.

But in this corner, wearing the black trunks, is the argument that housework is a waste of precious time. It's just going to get dirty again. Every moment you are cleaning your house you are not practicing the cello, reading a good book, helping your community, making friends. An endless list of things that's easy to argue are more meaningful. For those house cleaners who feel holier than thou, you are moving dirt from one place to another. This is a higher calling?

Do you think this will be on the big quiz at the holy gates?

Choose the phrase that best describes your housekeeping philosophy:

I love wall to wall white carpet
you can't come in with shoes on
a place for everything and everything in its place
Huh? What's the question?
I have to move every few years
I try to keep at least a narrow path through most rooms

If it is I bet the only answer that matters is whether you're telling the truth.

Then there is housework's lowly status. It's considered menial work. Because it does not engage intellectually most find it uninteresting, boring, drudgery; an unpleasant chore. It does not need to be so. Like any physical activity it can be done well with attention, speed, accuracy and grace. I don't know this from experience, I'm just saying. It might be worth reconsidering one's view. Doesn't it feel good to put your hands in warm soapy water? If you were bed ridden vacuuming stairs might actually look like fun.

So where are Margy and I in this piece of the marital dance. On the same page, thankfully, which is really all that matters. Pretty laissez faire. A neat freak would run screaming from our place. Long ago I coined the acronym FSS, flat surface syndrome. If it's flat it's covered with stuff. We can go to sleep with dishes in the sink and to work with the bed unmade. We like it neat but there are better things to do. We each get infrequent organizational attacks (at differing times of course) when we "just can't stand it any more" but don't insist the other participate. Instead, "I made a pile for you when you get the chance". The living room stays reasonable. We clean for guests so that they are comfortable and probably in fear of what they would think of us otherwise.

It's not the right way to deal with this. It's just the way we do.

the tables turn

2010-01-20T21:12:00.003-05:00

Everyone we meet has the potential to enlarge our world. We may learn something we knew nothing about from their talents, interests, and culture. And through their circles of acquaintances it can expand again.

This process is particularly interesting when it begins to come from your own children. After nearly 20 years of teaching, guiding, and sharing with our children what we hope will be the knowledge and skills to live a contented, happy life the tables slowly turn and they begin to influence us with their discoveries, their chosen interests, their circle of friends.

Last year daughter Robin spent 9 months at a place called Botton Village in England. It was a Camp Hill community dedicated to the care of mentally handicapped adults. A six hundred acre estate nestled in a storybook setting in the moors of Yorkshire. We were lucky to visit her there this summer, our first time abroad. This wonderful experience would not have happened without her initiative and invitation.

Sunday we put our son Dylan on a plane for Senegal, Africa for a semester of study abroad. He will be staying primarily in Dakar, the capital and western most point of Africa. He is posting stories of his experience to a blog. We look forward to seeing Senegal through his eyes.

A Sam Maloof Rocking Chair

2010-01-03T19:46:00.004-05:00

Dear Sam,

I recently finished making a rocking chair of your design and wanted to tell you about it.

It must be over ten years ago I visited the Boston Museum of Fine Art and sat in one of your chairs. The museum curators had commissioned contemporary wood craftsmen to make seating for the public so that visitors could sit in art while they looked at it. I spent a lot of time looking at your chair. It made a lasting impression.

Earlier this year I visited the showroom of an Amish father-son furniture making business with friends, one of whom was looking for chairs to go with a dining table I had made. The chairs they offered were nice, a Windsor derivative, and an order was placed. I got to thinking I would like to make a chair and yours came to mind. I have made many things of wood but never a chair, let alone one as challenging as your rocker, so thought it would be best to get some help.

At first I sought books as I usually do. I read your book, Sam Maloof Woodworker and Jeremy Adamson's The Furniture of Sam Maloof. OK, I admit I didn't read all of it but I did look at all the pictures. Poured over them as a matter of fact. I dug up my December 1980 issue of Fine Woodworking and studied the feature article you wrote. I watched a long video of you doing a demonstration. I think you were 90 at the time.

An internet search turned up the help I needed from Charles Brock who offered full sized plans of a "Maloof Inspired Rocker" with instructions included. Charles teaches workshops on his methods for making this chair and has also recently made a companion video. I think some might begrudge another making a living from their design but I think he would have your blessing. He is enthusiastic and genuinely interested in helping others be successful.

I thought about you a lot as I made this chair. My favorite quote of yours is when you were asked, "Of all the furniture you have made what is your favorite piece?" You answered, "The one I'm working on. It's always the one I'm working on." This captures for me a love of the craft, of the process, of how to live one's life. It's not about what you have done. It's about what you are doing.

There are many who have excelled in their area of interest as you did. They are gifted with a unique vision of their work and the determination and perseverance to make it a reality. But what set you apart from others was your willingness to share what you know, what you learned. In countless articles, interviews, and demonstrations you gave the details as if to say, "Here, you try it."

In the past the tricks of the trades were reserved for those sworn to secrecy and willing to endure years of servitude. Today sharing knowledge is often seen as weakening one's advantage in the marketplace. I think your life demonstrates the fallacy in this approach. Although monetary gain was not your motivation, lo and behold, it eventually came your way. And there is no way to measure the friendships and goodwill this way of life creates. More than learning to make a chair I want to learn this from you. Give freely, hold nothing back. Give to all without fear.

It goes without saying that this chair is not as refined as you and your assistants would make. The lines don't flow as smoothly; I should have used a different piece of wood here; a glue line shows a little bit there. But it is a nice chair that is a pleasure to sit in. And I hope it shows that I cared about its making. I tried my best to make something beautiful.

With gratitude,

Stephen Tuttle

Notes:
Sam Maloof died at age 93 on May 23, 2009. Renowned for his tireless work ethic he was still putting in 8 hour days a few weeks before he died. He is one of the most influential woodworkers of our time. The home he built in San Alto, CA along with its gardens and extensive art collection is now The Sam and Alfreda Maloof Foundation for Arts and Crafts and is open to the public.

Sam's furniture will continue to be made available by the three craftsmen who have worked for him for many years. Their website: http://www.sam-maloof.com

This leg to seat joint is a hallmark of Sam's chairs. It is a bridle joint of sorts using matching router bits for the mated pieces. It is further secured with screws covered by ebony plugs. Its strength eliminates the need for stretchers beneath the seat allowing for more sculptural possibilities.

The wood for this chair is from two walnut trees that I harvested using a chainsaw mill. It is nice to be able to picture these trees, to follow the path from tree to chair.

I rarely make something twice and don't think this will be an exception despite ideas and knowing more than when I began. The amount of handwork involved took its toll on my hands. I need to rest them. The opposable thumb thing isn't working as well and if I'm not careful I might have to move down the food chain.

Mason's Lizard

2009-12-29T19:09:00.001-05:00

Son Dylan had said he would like some of my art, a nice request I was happy to fulfill as a Christmas gift. I chose this photograph and made a custom walnut frame. I attached the second photo to the back with the description.

This mason jar was set at a grave site in a very small graveyard near Moab, UT. I presume it once contained flowers. A lizard must have crawled in for one last fateful drink. - February 2006

Part of the appeal of this photo for me is the fond memories of the trip when it was taken. A long train ride from central PA, a stop over in Chicago, and on to Moab, Utah to see my friends Jerry and Barbara. We worked on a small addition to their house but took time out to see the wonderous surrounding landscape. In the off season we had these cathedral like spaces to ourselves at times. I remember palatable silence amidst colossal forms. Evenings at the local brew pub shooting pool or nice meals at home. It was such a perfect blend of working with a friend on a focused task and then relaxing and exploring in an incredible environment. A wonderful time.

Christmas Lights

2009-12-21T21:00:00.000-05:00

Geez this is wasteful isn't it? We've got people starving in China (are we still using China?) and this guy is burning energy like there is no tomorrow. He's generating enough heat to melt the snow on his lawn before everyone else. His neighbors get a brown out when he plugs 'em in. Ever heard of global warming? Can you spell c-o-n-s-e-r-v-a-t-i-o-n?

Actually I like it. Yeah it would be too much if lots of people did it but I think every neighborhood should have one politically incorrect dude who just goes ape shit with the lights. Palm tree lights?!!! It makes me smile.

So here is hoping that for one moment this holiday you can let go and raise a glass with family and friends in joyous celebratory excess. And be thankful that you can.

Cold windy night

2009-12-10T21:51:00.003-05:00

Lucy needs a walk. Here I sit on the couch tired from work and a game of squash, full from supper with a fire in the stove and the Christmas tree alight. The wind howls around the house. Our heavy chime that is not easily excited has been a constant gong. Duty calls. But I know once she gets me up, inertia overcome, we might see something.

Yesterday's six inches of wet heavy snow is now icy solid. Must not fall down. As we get older we get shorter but the ground gets farther away. How does that happen? Man it's cold. Colder 'n a witches tit in a brass brassiere as they say in .... nevermind, no one says that.

Down the drive to the street where it's clear and we pick up the pace. Clouds on the horizon still seem white despite darkness. Maybe they are reflecting the distant town lights. Above the moonless sky displays countless stars. There's Orion's belt. There's the Seven Sisters. Those girls are faint but for some reason it's one constellation I always find. The wind is a constant drone.

Sorry girl it's too cold tonight. Just down to the stop sign and back to our cozy hearth. And a biscuit. After a walk comes a biscuit. I'm well trained. Punishment for not delivering the biscuit is 20 minutes of mournful staring.

Still Black and White

2009-12-07T22:25:00.002-05:00

dog house heater

2009-11-16T22:25:00.003-05:00

My previous dog was a collie and had a serious coat of fur. I never did see her shiver. But not so my new dog, a black lab mix with sleek short hair. Since we are sometimes gone for the day and need to put the dog in her pen I thought a little additional heat in the doghouse was in order. A little internet searching turned up a homemade solution: http://www.nodakoutdoors.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=46653

Basically it's a coffee can with a light bulb in it. Had to wire an outdoor outlet and string a wire out to the pen but it's in place and looks like it will do the trick. Just need some cold weather to put it to the test.

Keb Mo at the State

2009-11-14T19:59:00.000-05:00

In our town, State College, Pa. , the old theater on the main street was bought by a non-profit group, renovated, and given new life as a community theater. Their focus has been to bring in music acts - the up and comings, the once weres, and shows that just work in a more intimate setting. They also show alternative films and some community plays.

Monday my son Dylan and I caught Keb Mo, a great contemporary blues act. Good performance with excellent back up musicians to accompany his slide and electric leads. If you don't know his music you might like to check it out - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLiMXitJzvw

Weekend: What did you see?

2009-10-25T22:34:00.001-04:00

tonight's moon

2009-10-21T22:23:00.001-04:00

go where the river run

when the moon is holding water and the sky has gone bone dry
when the hour it is witching the wind howls do or die
do you think you will be ready to face the music and the facts
will your purpose tip the balance will you have the strength to act

go on go on go on there's so much more to be done
surely some path will open so go where the river run

like leaves that fall in season like a snake that sheds its skin
like winter snow that's melting they're dying to begin
what if it's now or never and you only get one turn
will you fold your hand in passing on the lesson to be learned

when the landscape looks so barren you'd swear there is no sound
when all has gone to darkness where can hope be found
well you know it's not in wishing the past could be undone
for it's only in the doing that happiness is won

the angry storm that rages the tears that come like rain
the tragic act that holds you so tightly in its pain
oh leave it where it happened leave it cause you must
don't be taken with it we need you here with us

go on go on go on there's so much more to be done
surely some path will open so go where the river run
go where the river run, so go where the river run

- written sometime in the 90's, for all who have known tragedy

Fuck NJ

2009-10-17T09:09:00.002-04:00

Fuck NJ. Not Suzie or Janice or Mickey but NJ. This is graffiti on the Ben Franklin bridge in Philadelphia and its odd declaration got me thinking. Is it just human nature to denigrate and scorn the other?

I understand the need for us to belong. The self inflicted feeling of separation haunts us for a lifetime and so we seek connection however we can find it. Through lovers and mates, through race and culture and religion, through beliefs and preferences, through clubs and cliques we align ourselves with this or that seeking validation and confirmation that I am. I exist.

I suppose we then belittle all that we did not choose to reassure ourselves that we have chosen correctly. We are right.

I am from Pennsylvania, this imaginary place drawn on vague maps 300 years ago by guys who'd never seen the place and bought with trinkets from people who knew it is not possible to own land.

I am from Pennsylvania so fuck New Jersey. And fuck New York and Delaware too.

I am from the United States so fuck Canada. And Mexico and Cuba.

I am from Earth so fuck the moon. Fuck Jupiter and Mars too.

Man, I feel better already and I'm just getting started. Gotta get some spray paint.

dog walk sounds

2009-10-09T21:54:00.005-04:00

today the dog's walk was at nightfall it's getting dark earlier now
at the bridge a deer is standing in the creek I haven't seen one there before
we watch each other until I move she jumps into the cornfield
in fading light there is less to see more to hear
a gentle rain begins to fall on paper-like leaves of corn
it might be the same sound made by a thousand mice feet
along the meadow creek a feint ripple wake punctuated with a loud splash that spooks the dog - I doubt the muskrat has many visitors this late in the day
heavy movement in the corn and many footsteps deer on the move - the other day the paper warned us this would happen
the crunch crunch of my shoes on gravel
jingle of metal dog collar Holly calls serious bling
along the road beneath some power lines but in just one spot a distinct buzzing and I can't tell if it's something with the wires or a horde of insects in this bush all saying the same thing
cars on wet roads begins afar and builds to woosh and fades not unlike the surf the rise and fall
we stop to get the mail and paper
it's dark now and we're wet.....