miles

I have heard this song many times but never really listened to it until these lyrics jumped out at me somewhere in the middle of Kansas a couple of summers ago.

You cannot know the miles until you feel them...

...i'm thankful that old road's a friend of mine.


For all my blessings, I'm really missing the road today.

that's right...

I'm not from Texas, but I do have a thing for The Lone Star State...

... the Larry McMurtry, Ann Richards (may she rest in peace), dusty cowboy boots, tumbleweeds and steel guitar Texas of my dreams.  I've been counting the days 'till Robert Earl Keen's Ready for Confetti.  I picked up a six pack of Shiner Bock on the way home and we fixed up some chili and guacamole salad and turned it up.  We don't need much of an excuse for an occasion but this was a clear cause for one -- and, I'm not in the business of writing record reviews but I'll say that all my favorite bases are covered (in no particular order):  cowboys, trains, whiskey, roads, fast girls, cars, horses, love, death, etc.  I'm an instant fan of the cover of Todd Snider's "Play Me a Train Song" but am not about to pick favorites.  It's all good and classic REK.

This is not from the album but it is just plain fun:

yikes

red sky at morning...

light

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noted while lounging in the backyard between preparations for monday

why yes,

this is a post about cheese.

If "cheese is milk's leap into immortality," then epoisses is milk's turbo jet-fueled rocket launch into an eternity of sweet, salty, funky, melty, gooey bliss (yeah, i'm all about the bliss lately).  Peace, love and epoisses.

pastoral

Come Saturday afternoon I usually begin setting my sights on some fermented grain or grape but I got new kicks today so I was motivated to take them out for a spin.

Corn is dominating the landscape this time of year.  For all the reasons that I shouldn't, I still have to push agri-business politics aside for a moment just to admire.  It's hard to argue with beauty sometimes.  

beyond familiar

Hipstamatic photos are a current guilty pleasure of mine but it has taken me awhile to figure out exactly why.  They remind me of looking out from when the sun gets caught in the fringes of my eyelashes.  The shattering of light makes it seem like the landscape has been bathed in gold.  Do you know what I mean?  The effect is at once dreamy and gleaming and it illustrates that there is real mystery out there among what has become familiar.   It is possible to venture into another place that resembles what is known, but is ever so gently altered in a softer, brighter, more blissful way.  The journey there is not made over roads or trails but by standing at the edge of the field and allowing oneself to be transported by light.  

rising

Waning cresent at daybreak.  Good day all.

and ... begin

Love that word and everything about the start of something -- especially since I figured out that possibility has always been greater than trepidation.  With everything to do, I still had to stop on my way today.  Sometimes right before the sun hits the horizon the color is so intense in the western sky ...

and I did a u-turn in the highway to stand at the edge of the field and watch this crazy tide of fog.

Dusk was equally spectacular tonight.  This is the time of year when other things begin to change too.

we sat at the vineyard's edge...

the sunlight draped

 thick and ribbony

spilling like syrup

 over the green

and over our shoulders

while we spun silence into silk

Leelanau Peninsula, 15 August 2011

perfect

what is there to say...

Had such a sweet, short time.  There were moments this summer when I felt like these journeys might go on forever but here I knew it was the end ...  and do I need to say how perfect it was?

truck

“Make sure you whoa ‘er down going around the curves and when you come up to a stop.  It gets a bit wobbly.”

These are my instructions as I climb behind the wheel.  I honk and wave and tear out of the driveway --shouting warnings out the open window to the rabbits as I go.  It feels good to leave an honest cloud of gravel dust in my wake.

I love a truck.  I learned to drive in a truck.  I don’t mean a shiny new leather and chrome king cab with ac and satellite radio.  I’m talking about a FARM truck.  A little rusty and a lot dusty and smellin’ sweet and funky -- like hay -- dogs rolled in hay.  You have to hand crank the window up and down and it squeaks when you do.  There’s play in the steering and bounce in the ride ... and better hadn’t figure on the brakes to slow you down.  You need shifting skills.  You know -- an artful orchestration of the clutch and gearshift.

All this lends itself to a certain kind of travel.  I suggest the back roads, where you can go (just a little) slower -- narrow roads with more curves and cornfields, and fewer cars.  Sunset is nice, dusk is great, night-time is grand.  Cicadas, Crickets, Waylon, Willie -- maybe even a little Garth...

I cannot make up this kind of perfection.  This was the song that was playing as I rolled out:

river concerto, part two:

featuring frog (cricket*) solo:

Recorded August 1, 2011 at Smoke Hole Canyon on the South Branch of the Potomac

*  I initially identified the soloist as a cricket but am troubled that it sounds so unlike the cricket currently residing in our basement.  This leads me to believe the soloist is, instead, a frog (actually thinking it could even be a toad) -- but my preliminary research is inconclusive...

river concerto, part one

Recorded August 1, 2011 at Smoke Hole Canyon on the South Branch of the Potomac

quench

Steep hills, rocky trails, steamy hot miles, blisters and bugs. And if that's not good enough, there's this:

Cheers!

rising

While the fisherman fish, the walking man, or woman as the case may be, walks. I took the southernmost section of the Laurel Highlands trail along the Youghiogheny this morning (or "Yawk" if you prefer).  The trail follows the river through beech, maple and oak before it rises SHARPLY up to this view. I don't mind a good climb though. It always starts a little rough until you catch your rhythm ... and your breath.  Plus, the return trip is certain to be easier.  I like to get the hard work done up front.

scale

... and perspective:

Yesterday we stayed at the Seneca Rocks outpost. Trout were jumping at the "tan hendrickson" in the valley but I was intent on other pursuits.  I climbed to the top for the view.  Spectacular from afar and up close.

river concerto

Monday I spent the afternoon under the sycamores on the South Branch of the Potomac enjoying a concerto performed by the river and cicada orchestra featuring cricket solo.

I'm bound away

Stopped at Harper's Ferry to enjoy the view and visit the ATC headquarters. Renewed my membership and conducted a little research ... 2000 miles, anyone?

Oh Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away you rolling river
Oh Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, I'm bound away...


a P.S. on this entry:  S says there is no way I could finish the AT because I am all the time stopping to take pictures.