Albinos are magic

This post gets a soundtrack, not a photo.

I was just out for a run, feeling discouraged and frustrated with the graduate school application process. The sun was about to set and the sky was on fire...hot peach and pink. I decided to take a diversion down a dirt path to get closer to the lake and as I turned into the woods I stopped in my tracks. A huge albino buck stood on the path about 20 meters away, just watching. I swear it was magic. We stood there looking at each other for what must have been five minutes and all I could think about was how much it looked like the forest spirit in Princess Mononoke. It actually brought tears to my eyes, the great white beast. I felt like I should make some kind of peace offering, especially since my attitude towards deer has been so negative as of late with all the negative impacts their overpopulated communities have on the native vegetation here. I've even gone so far as to call them "rats with antlers". But here, I knelt in front of the deer and put my hands on the ground, palms up. We just kept looking at each other and I think we came to an understanding. Then, the clouds broke and the setting sun shone bright through the straggling leaves on the two of us while a cold rain began to fall. The deer turned and walked off into the woods.

I was so excited I took off in a sprint toward the cabin. As I ran down the road I looked back into the woods and I could see the deer, walking alongside me, watching. I could have run all night.

Through the whole incident I had my headphones on to accompany the run. The songs that played throughout the whole experience somehow formed the perfect soundtrack...John Cale and his eerie voice sang as we stared at one another in the dark woods. The clouds broke, the rain began to fall, and the sun shone down as Brian Eno's exultant chords played and I sprinted back home.

Autumn Breeze

Virginia Woolf describes the season change perfectly in To the Lighthouse:

So with the lamps all put out, the moon sunk, and a thin rain drumming on the roof, a downpouring of immense darkness began. Nothing, it seemed, could survive the flood, the profusion of darkness which, creeping in at keyholes and crevices, stole round window blinds, came into bedrooms, swallowed up here a jug and basin, there a bowl of red and yellow dahlias, there the sharp edges and firm bulk of a chest of drawers...

Nothing stirred in the drawing-room or in the dining-room or on the staircase. Only through the rusty hinges and swollen sea-moistened woodwork certain airs, detached from the body of the wind, crept round corners and ventured indoors. Almost one might imagine them, as they entered the drawing-room questioning and wondering, toying with the flap of hanging wallpaper, asking, would it hang much longer, when would it fall? Then smoothly brushing the walls, they passed on musingly as if asking the red and yellow roses on the wallpaper whether they would fade, and quesitioning (gently, for there was time at their disposal) the torn letters in the wastepaper basket, the flowers, the books, all of which were now open to them and asking, Were they allies? Were they enemies? How long would they endure?

So, some random light directing them with its pale footfall upon stair and mat, from some uncovered star or wandering ship, or the Lighthouse even, the little airs mounted the staircase and nosed round bedroom doors. But here surely, they must cease. Whatever else may perish and disappear, what lies here is steadfast. Here one might say to those sliding lights, those fumbling airs that breathe and bend over the bed itself, here you can neither touch nor destroy. Upon which, wearily, ghostily, as if they had feather-light fingers and the light persistency of feathers, they would look, once, on the shut eyes, and the loosely clasping fingers, and fold their garments wearily and disappear. And so, nosing, rubbing, they went to the window on the staircase, to the servants' bedrooms, to the boxes in the attics; descending, blanched the apples on the dining-room table, fumbled the petals of roses, tried the picture on the easel, brushed the mat and blew a little sand along the floor. At length, desisting, all ceased together, gathered together, all sighed together; all together gave off an aimless gust of lamentation to which some door in the kitchen replied; swung wide; admitted nothing; and slammed to.

From Hut to Hotel, and Now Back to Hayward

After a summer of living in a little hut on top of a hill, I was stationed in a hotel for the month of September. While it may sound like a glamorous existence, let me assure you that the AmericInn in Ashland, WI is not what I call home.

Not to belittle the AmericInn; as far as hotels go it's actually pretty nice. But it's hard to get any rest when there's an ice machine clunking out cubes in the middle of the night and your skin is on red alert from being constantly chaffed by the bleached bedding and towels. Especially after a summer in the forests of Northern Michigan where the Great Lakes were my tub and a hike through the woods was my daily commute. Instead of moonlight there was a blaze-green alarm clock and instead of a woodpecker tap there was a click-clicking keyboard. Unfortunately, summer came to an end with a gust of frigid and stuffy air-conditioned air.

But autumn has come to the rescue! The data is entered and the hotel fled. I'm now back in Hayward where the maples are turning and the sumac is already on fire. As the season changes so my focus changes and I look ahead to the coming months. With the (best ever!) summer behind me I'm eager to see what this fall will bring.

Winter Animal Tracking

This is a wolf print! The spirit of the Puebloan is shining through like the sun's glare on the snow.

Got a hot tip from the local news, The Sawyer County Record,  on a winter animal track identification course at the natural history museum. Fuelled by Estelle's sour cream coffee cake and our new tracking knowledge, we followed the prints of an alpha pair as they marked their territory in the snow. The Puebloan is happy these wonderful predators are once again free to roam as they please.

Kimchi!

The arrival of a second stoneware crock inspired a spontaneous MLK day kimchi-making celebration!

Bread

Alvador Menende bakes his daily bread. Life is a yeasty thing.

Sauerkraut!

The spirit of the puebloan continues in the form of a handmade life in the Northwoods...

what better way to kick things off than by fermenting vegetables?

200,000 miles!

Very Large Array

The VLA

Got up before sunrise to escape the bitter cold and catch a glimpse of the Very Large Array in the finest crepuscular hour. Our final glimpse of New Mexico..

The Cibola

the Cibola!!! yeeahhh!!
Our favorite place. like home.

Carlsbad Caverns

Carlsbad Caverns

One huge and impressive hole in the ground. Don't eat at the underground lunchroom though. Although it is quite the novelty at 700ft underground, rotten salad dressing will poison your gut for days to follow.

Aldo Leopold Wilderness

The Aldo

Highlight of the trip... a one of a kind wilderness. We made our way down to the Mimbres and disappeared into the mists of time, traveling in the footsteps of the late, great Aldo Leopold.

Mexico!

Mexico!

Buenos dias amigos! Every day is beautiful in Mexico when you're camping on the beach. The sun is hot and the beer is cheap. If we weren't living in the wondrous squalor of the Northwoods, we would be living on the beach. Listen friends, they have fresh torillas for mere pennies! Fresh fish tacos, dolphins, sunrise jogs on the beach, a fiesta barge that plays Carlos Santana...And as the Mexican car insurance agent pointed out, "You can drive drunk, man. Just don't wreck--We'll throw you in jail." Ole!

Organ Pipe

Organ Pipe
Drug running. Smuggling. Mexican cartels...a place where you can reflect on the international market for illicit substances. with sage words of advice: "In the desert if your salt tastes sweet, it's too late."

The Sonoran

The Sonoran
Fighter jets circled overhead as we sat among the saguaros:
Insects flittering
Hot sun beating down as fall
Reveals desert life

Sedona AZ

Sedona AZ

If you look closely at this image you may see a vortex ghost hovering in the background. This picture was taken as we approached one of Sedona's several "vortices". These are mystical areas that channel the hidden energies of the earth straight into your third eye. We can report feeling many strange sensations (Axl Rose can vouch for us).

This particular vortex was better then the other one we went to which left us feeling sickened. FYI.

Flagstaff

Flagstaff AZ

Caught in snowstorm in the hills outside of town. Our roadside campfire attracted some passers-by. We shared a dinner and drinks while the snow fell down, covering all but the coals.

Rim 2 Rim

Grand Canyon National Park

A tortuous hike into the Grand Canyon yielded many interesting events: We discovered the results of presidential elections (Obamanos!), dipped our feet in the CO river and communed with a pair of condors. All the while channeling Teddy Roosevelt.

Vegassss

Vegas Baby!!

Vegas is the scummy underbelly of America. What it lacks in style and authenticity, it makes up for in pointless titillation. But as you stumble down the trash-strewn streets, half drunk on bourbon and filled with Denny's Grand Slam breakfasts, you have to shed a patriotic tear. This is America.

Zion NP

Zion NP

This space is reserved for commentary by Father Seahorse.

Antelope Island

Antelope Island

Salty brine on all sides, shrimpy stink, and grazing bison. Journeying through a strange suburb of farms and strip malls, we arrived at an island on the Great Salt Lake: Antelope Island! Bison were introduced in the late 19th century, only to be nearly exterminated for a Hollywood movie in the 1920's. They're back now and thriving.