The fascinating world of an aging American man.
Also known as bee balm, the Native Americans understood that this is a potent flower.
They used it as an antiseptic to treat infections and wounds, took it for headaches and fevers, and believed that brewing it as a tea would ease flatulence. Perhaps I will give that a try.
When I was trying to shoot this a hummingbird buzzed down and lighted briefly on one of the nearby flowers. She saw me and bolted — before I could take a picture — off to find a less crowded spot in the neighborhood.
I judge my winter camping trips with the Boy Scouts by the condition of the outhouse. This year it was pretty darn good. The smell was tolerable, probably because it’s been so cold, and besides a little ice on the seat, it was not bad at all. I took a picture, of course.
The cabins at Woodworth Lake are cold and rough around the edges, but warm up nicely when the stove’s well stoked. There’s a peculiar smell to these weekends, a mix of dirty socks, wood smoke, and grilled cheese that clings to your clothes when you leave. It’s a reminder of your adventure.
Many scouts have come before, and a lot of them inscribed signs that ring the cabin. Mostly they’re simple, but others look like they had some parental input, with neat lettering and a gleaming coat of polyurethane.
The oldest one I could find was dated 1994, from Cub Scout Pack 40 in Amsterdam.
That doesn’t sound like long ago, but a lot can happen in seventeen years. The boys would be in their twenties now, setting off down the road of life. Some will be businessmen, some work with their hands. Some will find success, others trouble. But long ago they all shared a cold winter weekend in the woods. They may not remember every detail, but I’d bet they would recognize the smell of that cabin.
Holy, crap! What was that in the middle of the road?
I pulled over on the side of Airline Drive in Colonie this morning after nearly running over a huge snapping turtle. By huge I mean its shell was larger in diameter than a good sized dinner plate. Why was it crossing the road? Apparently, to get to the other side.
As a citizen of the great state of New York, I saw it as my duty to remove our official reptile from the road before it was flattened by a careless driver. First let me say that you should be prepared for a fight if you ever decide to pick up a snapping turtle.
I approached it from the rear, grasped it firmly by the sides of the shell, and lifted. The turtle writhed in my hands and tried to twist its head around to bite me.
Wouldn’t that be a fine headline in the TU: “Local man saves turtle, loses finger.”
By the way, here’s what DEC says about snapping turtles:
These turtles will snap at anything they find threatening. Their snap is so powerful that it can easily shear fingers – so stay a safe distance away!
This is why I need an iPhone, so I can do research before, not after.
Anyway, with the help of a ski pole (yes, I’m aware it’s May) from the back of the car, I guided the turtle to safety.
It’s a good day. The turtle is safe, I’ve got all my fingers, and a number of drivers have a funny story to tell, about how they saw some nut with a ski pole herding a turtle on the way to work.
My favorite picnic spot at Thacher Park was quiet and uncrowded on Saturday. That’s because it was closed.
Several of the park’s roads and parking areas were barricaded, blocking access to many of the picnic areas, fields, and special spots that make Thacher Park a local treasure. The ground was strewn with broken tree limbs and branches, the sort of stuff that would normally be removed during routine clean-up.
We were able to park in the Hop Field area and managed to find a picnic table and grill that weren’t broken. It was important to be extra careful with our charcoal cooking fire, because the ground was carpeted with piles of dried leaves and pine needles.
The rest rooms? Locked. Not a big problem for me and the boys, but it’s something my wife finds inconvenient. Without going into detail, it appears that the area behind the bathrooms is being used as an open air latrine.
The State Senate and Assembly have proposed restoring enough funding to keep Thacher Park open, but as detailed in this statement from Parks Commissioner Carol Ash, funding cuts will mean a crippling reduction in services.
Depressing? Shameful? Disgraceful? Take your pick, they all apply.
Early one morning last week I noticed something splashing around in Ann Lee Pond. What the hell is that? I pulled the car over.
A short distance from shore a pair of sleek, dark animals darted around on the water, diving and surfacing like tiny seals. Otters.
I’d never seen an otter before, but it was obvious what they were. Naturally, I didn’t have a camera, but every morning and afternoon since then, I’ve stopped by the pond hoping to see them again and get a picture. Nothing.
Oddly appropriate that on Earth Day one of the otters made a return appearance, gliding along obliviously as I snapped away. I’ll admit, part of me just wanted an excuse to use the headline above, but the truth is that I find even the most ordinary animals sort of amazing.
All before 7:30 this morning I spotted a dozen turkeys, several deer, birds of all sorts, the otter, a large turtle — and several anglers out in their boats trolling on the Hudson. Every day is Earth Day if you just look around.
