John Wayne in the Morning

Lofty goals today include 1.) reaching the top of North and South Twin Mountains, 4761 ft and 4902 ft, respectively, and 2.) reaching 50,000 words.

There are 3 crossings of the Little River unless a reroute of the trail or a bushwhack along the east side limits the swim to one time only. I will take my water shoes and my ski mittens. The words may not be as unpredictable as the water crossing.
Climbing and writing; the slogging of each activity is much the same.

Planning for Lilies

The day lilies spring up just as the forsythia fades from yellow flowers to green leaves. Every year the lilies bloom for one week in June. At that time I cancel all plans to travel, avoid all invitations, and make certain that I'm at the lake to admire them. In the meantime May will soon arrive and May Baskets have yet to be assembled.

Call It Off

"There is something wrong with that squirrel."

"That's because it is not a squirrel. It's a wood chuck," Jim says.
"Huh?"
"A groundhog. Look how big it is."
I squint. No wonder it is a malformed squirrel. This is what I have to look forward to. I know what a groundhog is. I just didn't know this squirrel was one.
It reminds me of our neighbor at the lake, usually a city dweller, who was sure she saw a kangaroo in the back gully. Jim had to get out the mammal book to show her it was probably a deer. She couldn't be sure. Maybe it was a fox. There's something wrong with that kangaroo.

Mean Streets/Lovely View

Four more writing days this month with the end coming none too soon. Today, how can the villain become a bloated gray tick that can no longer consume any more blood, drop off to the floor, only to be picked up with disgust and thrown into the toilet for flushing? How can that happen with such a lovely day ahead?

Or does that happen to the hero? Poor Hero has taken enough battering this month. I hope the tick is the final villain and Hero can coast to the finish, leaner and meaner, without being thrown from an airplane in the last chapters.

Maybe Hero lands in one of the empty boat slips, or grabs the line dangling from the wing. Really, it is time to end this novel. Seven thousand or so words remain. Choose wisely.

dont forget to write

Not my mailbox, not my lane, but I like it just the same.

Anthropomorphism

Mr. Loon seeks trouble. He was enamored of the beaver as it swam by, who wouldn't be? One year we anchored a duck decoy out about 100 feet from shore and tied on a yellow rubber duckie to the decoy. Mr. Loon, that year tried to engage the Duck family. Mr. L would flop around them, showing off his white underbelly and stretching out his wings in the hope that the ducks would take notice. I know some people like that.

Trouble with a capital B

On Sunday last, Jim saw a moose swimming across the lake from right to left, east to west. I was driving around somewhere. He took no pictures. He has seen three so far. I have not seen such a thing. He says they moose paddle.

This morning I debate whether this swimmer is a beaver or a very large muskrat. The teeth are much bigger in a beaver. And who ever heard of a muskrat having to be trapped as a nuisance because of cutting down the trees along the shoreline?

I'm hoping that beavers do not like metal floats or cables or the pressure treated wood of a floating dock.
When swimming, a beaver's tail goes up and down and a muskrat's tail goes side to side. According to the moose spotter.

Need the Rain

Rainy Day, rain all day.

We are safe and warm under a secure roof. The Maine flag is not so lucky and shows a tear above the Dirigo logo. It has extended from 1 inch to 6 inches just in a span of half an hour, whipped apart by the wind, gusting to 30 mph.

The airplane rolls with the punches and moves about as much as the ornamental ones above the heating vents. A day for jigsaw puzzles and novels instead of hiking and flying.

Earth Day

We flew over the narrows where the dredge has to keep the passageway open between middle and lower lakes.

Then flew past Shaker Village, fire engines and hoses next to a house fire, a gravel pit, a golf course, blue tennis courts, the tower at Panther Pond, and, on the way home, Sebago Lake.

In honor of Earth Day I picked up cans for two weeks in the ditches along my running path. I finally turned in three bags full and made $10.95. I helped Earth, Earth helped me. That would buy almost 2 gallons of fossil fuel to burn in the airplane. The irony.

Whatever Floats Your Boat

Harborview, the Blessing of the Boats, the Wendell Foss tugboat turning a complete circle in the Montlake Cut, and love in springtime, April in Paris.

These are what come to my mind when we wash the little aluminum boat and prepare for its launch. At the same time others think about buying their own pressure washer and killing all the black flies chewing at their receding hairline.

The paddle boat, lashed to a tree for the winter, trembles in anticipation of its spring freedom.

Bigfoot

Dawn brings us to the corridors of the regional for-profit hospital.

Nothing emergent, don't worry.

But it still takes some large shoes to walk these halls.

Spring Hiking

Carter Dome, 4,832 feet

There is evidence of Hurricane Irene's influence last year with some water crossings showing foot bridges in disarray.

I don't recall seeing any dams in these mountain rivers before this one. Maybe miners were here.

I think about the ingenuity of those mountaineers of the past and see modern evidence of form and beauty in the log stairs on the way up.

Carter Dome is a rocky shrub-snow-and-mud-covered mountain with an icy path, undercut by water running underneath the snow. Not much to look at from the top.

On the climb, the mountains across Pinkham Notch were much more becoming with their streaks of snow from a distance.

Hikers, the few that I see, are wearing tee shirts and shorts. I am overdressed in insulated ski pants, a poly turtleneck, wool socks and fleece mittens. And sweating as a result.

By the end of the 10 mile hike I have emptied the 2 L water bladder, a thermos of chocolate and half a liter of gatorade. During the hike, there was only one fall when the snow path gave way and threw me into some shrubs. Luckily I was wearing padding.

Doldrums Banned

Busy, busy.

Ferrying airplanes,

Stopping to admire Mrs. Turtle on the jogging path,

Planning the hike to Carter Dome,

Writing to catch up from the lagging doldrums of last week.

Character Development

What if today the goals included:

1. Drink

2. Gamble

3. Eat bad food

4. Spend time with unsavory characters

5. Shirk responsibility

6. Piss people off

These goals are not difficult, especially in a novel.

The unsavory characters in real life mostly hang out at the airport, talking nonstop about rules and regulations, the other guy's bad techniques, blondes, brunettes and redheads.

Tax Day

Goals of Three

Let Them Be

1. X

2.Y

3.Z

I remember today as being tax day. Not taxing day.

The number of words in the novel don't seem to be matching the anticipated count. Instead, there is a feeling of lagging and limping, in line for the bear behind me, falling off the up escalator, marginalization. Much like the feelings when dealing with a taxing day. Better to have the feelings of a celebratory day, the trumpets blaring fanfares, donning laurel wreaths and waving stanchions. Shut up, XYZ, and write the novel.

Half Birthday Celebration

Owl's Head, Carter Dome, North Twin, South Twin, Galehead, Garfield, Carrigain; these are the choices for today's hike.

There is only one current trip report, two days old, and it says lots of new snow above 3,000 feet. These hikes are between 7 and 18 miles. I am behind in my writing. I don't much like snowshoeing though I can do it.

So even though I really wanted to hike today in 60 degree weather below the mountains, since there is no hiking partner and no snowshoe enthusiasm, the celebration will have to be at home, not in the woods.
"Waa waa," she cried aloud, secretly pleased to be sedentary and eating cake in a warm house.

Warm, but Creepy like Facebook

The furnace is working again, no thanks to our licensed furnace repairman. Jim found the fan replacement part, going first to the distributor in Mass., then to the wholesaler in Portsmouth, and finally to the retailer in Rochester. The furnace is quieter than it has been in years. And the house is warm.

Yesterday while Jim was repairing the furnace, I weighed in at the proper maintenance weight. At the meeting I sat behind a woman with a little hair tag coming out of the side of her head. Because I am writing about magic and time travel, I wondered what would happen if someone pulled that long strand of bleached hair. Would a disc of skull come off revealing her brain? Would the lights turn on? Would she get an idea as if a light had switched on? Would the portal to another dimension open?

What's creepier?

That hair tag or secretly taking a picture of it?

That's a toss up in my book.

Fire and Exorcism

Today we need a shaman to put the fire back into our spines.

Our furnace stopped heating again, but not because it didn't want to provide heat, or couldn't.
It stopped because the exhaust fan stopped. That working fan draws carbon monoxide outside and prevents us from falling into a deep and breathless sleep, wearing only cherry red cheeks.

It's called a squirrel-cage fan because it looks like one of those rodent treadmills.

Or it's supposed to look like that. Ours looks like this. Oops.

So the mechanism that drives the fan works, but the fan itself, well, not so much. We need the shaman to exorcise the rabid squirrel that chewed up its cage.

Fire and exorcism.

Sounds like the novel might be exciting today.

I'd Rather Be Cooking

It is right at the freezing point outside.

Cooked sausage cornbread stuffing was prepared for the turkey that was also just at the freezing point, but thawed.

Mist rolled off the water, warmer than the air.

Loons called for company. Hello, out there? Anybody there?

Hey, long time no see.

Good, you?

How's the Cape?

Busy this winter. What about the North?

Oh, you wouldn't believe it!

...

Writing dialogue takes a lot of patience.

Doctoring the Wall

Another partial wash-out of the retaining wall last year requires replacement, rebuilding, hauling sand in buckets from the top of the hill to the water's edge. A trip to the big home improvement store for cement or mortar may be in order. I know nothing about cement. Not sure if I want to learn anything about it.

But I know a lot about doctoring. Maybe cementing and doctoring might have something in common.

Playing with Matches

Yesterday one of the characters in the April book tried to brew tea in a setting of the Midwest U.S. in the 1850's. But would the character have had access to matches to light a fire to brew the tea? How much more difficult it must have been to wait for a fire to be lit, to even find something like a match to light the fire. All the while wearing a Colt, not even a Beretta or a Glock, stuck in the belted waist band of a fitted dress.

Maybe the character should have been placed into more modern times with ready electricity, wearing suspenders, in a safer environment that did not require a firearm, and with ample free time to dye Easter eggs.

Happy Easter

Hallelujah!

Lent is over.

Long live habits and sweet traditions.

Not to be outdone by yesterday's loon, a pair of Canadians honked as they passed by. 

Easter bunny won't you please

Let us be your Easter geese.

The house smells like eggs and wood smoke. The turkey is still frozen in the refrigerator. Easter dinner will be egg salad sandwiches in front of the fire, after the traditional Easter egg-dying, -hiding and -hunting. Loons, geese, turkey, eggs (Jim says 'boneless chicken'), this is a very bird-heavy paragraph thus far.

 On that note, the blog ends here in the habit of cake.