Day 266
I still have nothing. I'm just tired. Trying to stay awake until 10 pm or I'll be awake at 2 am. Tomorrow I have to take mom to get her nails done and blah, blah, blah. Just keepin' it goin'.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Saturday, July 30, 2016
Whatever Happened to Radagast the Brown?
Day 265
Woo-hoo...Only 100 days to go.
Whatever happened to Radagast the Brown? For fans of J.R.R Tolkien we know Radagast was one of
three wizards in Middle Earth. Radagast was primarily a naturalist, prefering the company of animals and plants rather than men, dwarves or elves. Because of this he was vilified by Saruman the White, the leader of order of the wizards. Of course it was Saruman's belief in his superiority that led to his downfall.
It was Radagast who first discovered, through his animal friends, of the growing evil in Dol Guldur. And first does battle with the Witch King of Angmar. And yet, after the Hobbit, Tolkien seems to have forgotten about Radagast. He simply disappears from the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
It has been many years since I read the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, so maybe I have forgotten. Did something him happen to Radagast? Why was he left out of the LOTR?
Outside of the white substance running down the side of his head, which I can't help but think of as bird droppings, I find him to be a most interesting character. I believe he should have had a story of his own. Probably due to my love of animals, I feel him to be a kindred spirit.
But such is true of all interesting characters to their fans. Each of us has a favorite that we believe hasn't been treated fairly. This is a sign of an exceptionally good story.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Woo-hoo...Only 100 days to go.
Whatever happened to Radagast the Brown? For fans of J.R.R Tolkien we know Radagast was one of
 |
| Old Toby...Finest weed in the South Shire |
It was Radagast who first discovered, through his animal friends, of the growing evil in Dol Guldur. And first does battle with the Witch King of Angmar. And yet, after the Hobbit, Tolkien seems to have forgotten about Radagast. He simply disappears from the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
It has been many years since I read the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, so maybe I have forgotten. Did something him happen to Radagast? Why was he left out of the LOTR?
Outside of the white substance running down the side of his head, which I can't help but think of as bird droppings, I find him to be a most interesting character. I believe he should have had a story of his own. Probably due to my love of animals, I feel him to be a kindred spirit.
But such is true of all interesting characters to their fans. Each of us has a favorite that we believe hasn't been treated fairly. This is a sign of an exceptionally good story.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Friday, July 29, 2016
Day 264
Day 264
Nothing special tonight, just playing cards with family. It's always nice to get away from the house visit. It's getting late so...
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Nothing special tonight, just playing cards with family. It's always nice to get away from the house visit. It's getting late so...
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Day 263
Day 263
I'm taking the night off from writing anything substantial. I wrote the five part story over this past week so I think I deserve a break for one night.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I'm taking the night off from writing anything substantial. I wrote the five part story over this past week so I think I deserve a break for one night.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Romance and the Mt. Holly Snapping Turtle Finale
Day 262
It was Sunday morning and we had to check out at the ranger station by 11 am. The weather had finally cleared up, the sky was blue, there was a gentle breeze. The sun was warming the air and the day held promise of what I had hoped for when we had arrived on Friday. By 10 am the electricity came back on, marked by the lone light bulb giving off a brilliant light. We turned everything off as we were instructed to do when leaving and I was taking the trash to the garbage can out by the pond.
There in the water was the tree branch bobbing up and down, only the surface of the water was still. As I placed the trash with our leftovers in the receptacle, I saw the branch move around so the red spot was facing me. Strange. Then the branch briefly ducked under the surface, only to rise in another spot closer to land and me.
The branch silently moved closer to the edge of the pond. A moment later I realized, what I had mistaken for a tree branch was actually the head of a turtle. An enormous turtle. As I said before the head was a good 5 inches across, and the two spots, one red and one milky blue, were it's eyes. As it rose out of the water and walked up on the land, I could see the full breadth of the thing. It looked to be the size of a sea tortoise, the kind that live a hundred years and children ride at zoos.
I have already told you his eyes were hideous. There were deep gouges in the shell, from what I can only surmise, was the propeller of some pleasure craft driving over him. Quite possibly more than once. He looked me full in the face with his milky blue eye, and the hair on my neck stood at attention. At first I assumed the eye to be blind, or at least diminished to some extent, but his sight was as sharp as any turtle, maybe more so. For when I moved, he moved right along with me and there was no escape from that eye.
As I stared helplessly, into the depth of the dead eye, I began to swoon, as if hypnotized. I found myself frozen to the spot as the beastie moved closer to me. If Irene had not chosen that exact moment to emerge from the cabin complaining of the cold, I shudder still to this day, to think of what might have happened to me. The snapper, for it was a snapping turtle, turned it's attention on Irene. I tried to call to her to run and lock herself in the cabin, but I could not speak, still recovering from the mesmerizing spell cast by the evil eye. The eye was now cast upon Irene.
I thought I must stop this vile creature from harming my lady fair. Well, not that fair, it was first thing in the morning and we had been camping without a shower and I'm sure I wasn't smelling my best either. Anyway, the scent of unwashed bodies was probably what attracted the turtle in the first place. But I digress.
Irene, without batting an eye, picked up a log and threw it. The wood fell short but did cause the beast to hiss and take several steps back toward the pond.
We quickly grabbed our things from the cabin and fired up the car. I didn't even bother turning around as I backed down the path to the road, and away from danger. When we stopped at the gate, we had a good laugh about the turtle. I asked Irene for the key to the gate lock. The look on her face told me she had left the keys in the cabin. One of us had to go back.
I reminded her it was her turn to unlock the gate and she would need the key to do so. With another look from Irene, I quickly realized I would be going back, I'd rather face the turtle. When I returned to the cabin, the turtle was nowhere in sight. I grabbed the keys and the white box of stale doughnuts we had forgotten to throw in the trash and returned to the car. When I stepped out the door, the turtle was there and moving toward me. It is amazing how fast one of these things can move. I dropped the doughnuts and started to run. To hell with the clean up deposit, I wasn't going back to pick up doughnuts.
We made it to the ranger station and returned the keys, confessing I had dropped a box of doughnuts when I left. The ranger said that that was OK. Being of a chatty nature, as some rangers are, he told us about a snapping turtle named Ol' Henry. Seems the old fellow likes to swim up to the cabin looking for food. Some folks go to the Cidar Mill and by the old, stale doughnuts in the white box and feed them to Ol' Henry. Sense of smell is all he has left, blind in one eye and can't see out the other. So he follows his nose to the campers and begs for doughnuts. Irene and I thought it was a funny story.
We never went camping at Mt. Holly again.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
It was Sunday morning and we had to check out at the ranger station by 11 am. The weather had finally cleared up, the sky was blue, there was a gentle breeze. The sun was warming the air and the day held promise of what I had hoped for when we had arrived on Friday. By 10 am the electricity came back on, marked by the lone light bulb giving off a brilliant light. We turned everything off as we were instructed to do when leaving and I was taking the trash to the garbage can out by the pond.
There in the water was the tree branch bobbing up and down, only the surface of the water was still. As I placed the trash with our leftovers in the receptacle, I saw the branch move around so the red spot was facing me. Strange. Then the branch briefly ducked under the surface, only to rise in another spot closer to land and me.
The branch silently moved closer to the edge of the pond. A moment later I realized, what I had mistaken for a tree branch was actually the head of a turtle. An enormous turtle. As I said before the head was a good 5 inches across, and the two spots, one red and one milky blue, were it's eyes. As it rose out of the water and walked up on the land, I could see the full breadth of the thing. It looked to be the size of a sea tortoise, the kind that live a hundred years and children ride at zoos.
I have already told you his eyes were hideous. There were deep gouges in the shell, from what I can only surmise, was the propeller of some pleasure craft driving over him. Quite possibly more than once. He looked me full in the face with his milky blue eye, and the hair on my neck stood at attention. At first I assumed the eye to be blind, or at least diminished to some extent, but his sight was as sharp as any turtle, maybe more so. For when I moved, he moved right along with me and there was no escape from that eye.
As I stared helplessly, into the depth of the dead eye, I began to swoon, as if hypnotized. I found myself frozen to the spot as the beastie moved closer to me. If Irene had not chosen that exact moment to emerge from the cabin complaining of the cold, I shudder still to this day, to think of what might have happened to me. The snapper, for it was a snapping turtle, turned it's attention on Irene. I tried to call to her to run and lock herself in the cabin, but I could not speak, still recovering from the mesmerizing spell cast by the evil eye. The eye was now cast upon Irene.
I thought I must stop this vile creature from harming my lady fair. Well, not that fair, it was first thing in the morning and we had been camping without a shower and I'm sure I wasn't smelling my best either. Anyway, the scent of unwashed bodies was probably what attracted the turtle in the first place. But I digress.
Irene, without batting an eye, picked up a log and threw it. The wood fell short but did cause the beast to hiss and take several steps back toward the pond.
We quickly grabbed our things from the cabin and fired up the car. I didn't even bother turning around as I backed down the path to the road, and away from danger. When we stopped at the gate, we had a good laugh about the turtle. I asked Irene for the key to the gate lock. The look on her face told me she had left the keys in the cabin. One of us had to go back.
I reminded her it was her turn to unlock the gate and she would need the key to do so. With another look from Irene, I quickly realized I would be going back, I'd rather face the turtle. When I returned to the cabin, the turtle was nowhere in sight. I grabbed the keys and the white box of stale doughnuts we had forgotten to throw in the trash and returned to the car. When I stepped out the door, the turtle was there and moving toward me. It is amazing how fast one of these things can move. I dropped the doughnuts and started to run. To hell with the clean up deposit, I wasn't going back to pick up doughnuts.
We made it to the ranger station and returned the keys, confessing I had dropped a box of doughnuts when I left. The ranger said that that was OK. Being of a chatty nature, as some rangers are, he told us about a snapping turtle named Ol' Henry. Seems the old fellow likes to swim up to the cabin looking for food. Some folks go to the Cidar Mill and by the old, stale doughnuts in the white box and feed them to Ol' Henry. Sense of smell is all he has left, blind in one eye and can't see out the other. So he follows his nose to the campers and begs for doughnuts. Irene and I thought it was a funny story.
We never went camping at Mt. Holly again.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Romance and the Mt. Holly Snapping Turtle Part 4
Day 261
Irene sat in the corner huddled in her sleeping bag for warmth, giving me the hairy eyeball. I had filled the old cast iron heater with wood and opened the flue, but try as I might I couldn't get it to catch fire. The fact was the wood was wet. Before we left for The Cidar Mill, Irene had asked me to bring in a supply of wood and fill the heater. That way we could start a warm fire as soon as we returned and warm the cabin.
I had explained to Irene before we had left, that I could tell by the wind and sky that it wouldn't rain, sighting my superior camping and weather prognostication skills. After using up almost all of the newspaper I had brought for fire starter, I was able to get a weak fire going which in turn dried the wood at the top. It didn't take long before the cabin was a sauna again and Irene could she her sleeping bag.
I went out in the rain and stocked up on firewood hoping it would dry before it was needed. As I came back to the cabin, my arms loaded with firewood, I glanced over to the pond which seemed to have risen higher in just the past hour. The tree branch I had seen earlier was gone, sank beneath the surface. I forgot about the pond and tree branches.
The cabin was warm and toasty and all had been forgiven, if not forgotten. It was getting late and we had had no dinner, the electricity was still out. I remembered the cider and doughnuts. So by the light from the glow of the heater I opened the doughnuts as Irene found two plastic cups for the cider.
One bite and I knew, those doughnuts were older than I was. I followed the doughnut with a large swallow of the cider before I noticed it wasn't quite right. Checking the plastic jug we found the expiration date had been rubbed off.
The well was outside, and since I had no intention of going out in the rain again, I decided the cider wasn't so bad after all. As a matter of fact, the more I drank, the more I drank (just like the Blake Sheldon song).
Irene had opened the wine as she was not brave enough (or stupid enough as she put it) to drink something that from that fruit stand. Soon we were laughing at all that had happened to us on this camping trip. There was another peal of thunder and the ground shook, Irene nestled up close to me. This was more like it. My plans for romance were blossoming.
Irene asked me to come up to the loft and give her a massage. I thought, "This is it."
Until she said, "I have cramps."
How often had a man's fire of love been doused by those three little words. At least this explained why she got so mad about the firewood.
I rubbed my hands together to warm them up before my fingers worked their magic. I pride myself on my back rubs. As I worked Irene's cramps out, I started to feel some cramps of my own, deep down in my stomach. I made it down the ladder from the loft and out the door before depositing the cider and doughnuts, I had just ingested an hour before, next to the car.
It had stopped raining and the full moon was shining bright. There in the pond was the tree branch again floating just out of the water, the milky blue spot shining in the moonlight. Then, I swear, the blue spot winked at me, as the branch sank beneath the surface once more.
When I went back inside, Irene was asleep. I lay on my cot thinking of that milky blue spot and how it had seemed to wink at me. A trick of the light and the hard cider, I thought. That night I had a dream of a tree branch with a mouth and a milky blue eye, dragging a car tire into the pond. I also imagined I had heard something outside the door. In the morning, I decided both the dream and the noise were caused by the cider.
I stood in the doorway, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. I didn't notice the scratches in the fresh paint on the door.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Irene sat in the corner huddled in her sleeping bag for warmth, giving me the hairy eyeball. I had filled the old cast iron heater with wood and opened the flue, but try as I might I couldn't get it to catch fire. The fact was the wood was wet. Before we left for The Cidar Mill, Irene had asked me to bring in a supply of wood and fill the heater. That way we could start a warm fire as soon as we returned and warm the cabin.
I had explained to Irene before we had left, that I could tell by the wind and sky that it wouldn't rain, sighting my superior camping and weather prognostication skills. After using up almost all of the newspaper I had brought for fire starter, I was able to get a weak fire going which in turn dried the wood at the top. It didn't take long before the cabin was a sauna again and Irene could she her sleeping bag.
I went out in the rain and stocked up on firewood hoping it would dry before it was needed. As I came back to the cabin, my arms loaded with firewood, I glanced over to the pond which seemed to have risen higher in just the past hour. The tree branch I had seen earlier was gone, sank beneath the surface. I forgot about the pond and tree branches.
The cabin was warm and toasty and all had been forgiven, if not forgotten. It was getting late and we had had no dinner, the electricity was still out. I remembered the cider and doughnuts. So by the light from the glow of the heater I opened the doughnuts as Irene found two plastic cups for the cider.
One bite and I knew, those doughnuts were older than I was. I followed the doughnut with a large swallow of the cider before I noticed it wasn't quite right. Checking the plastic jug we found the expiration date had been rubbed off.
The well was outside, and since I had no intention of going out in the rain again, I decided the cider wasn't so bad after all. As a matter of fact, the more I drank, the more I drank (just like the Blake Sheldon song).
Irene had opened the wine as she was not brave enough (or stupid enough as she put it) to drink something that from that fruit stand. Soon we were laughing at all that had happened to us on this camping trip. There was another peal of thunder and the ground shook, Irene nestled up close to me. This was more like it. My plans for romance were blossoming.
Irene asked me to come up to the loft and give her a massage. I thought, "This is it."
Until she said, "I have cramps."
How often had a man's fire of love been doused by those three little words. At least this explained why she got so mad about the firewood.
I rubbed my hands together to warm them up before my fingers worked their magic. I pride myself on my back rubs. As I worked Irene's cramps out, I started to feel some cramps of my own, deep down in my stomach. I made it down the ladder from the loft and out the door before depositing the cider and doughnuts, I had just ingested an hour before, next to the car.
It had stopped raining and the full moon was shining bright. There in the pond was the tree branch again floating just out of the water, the milky blue spot shining in the moonlight. Then, I swear, the blue spot winked at me, as the branch sank beneath the surface once more.
When I went back inside, Irene was asleep. I lay on my cot thinking of that milky blue spot and how it had seemed to wink at me. A trick of the light and the hard cider, I thought. That night I had a dream of a tree branch with a mouth and a milky blue eye, dragging a car tire into the pond. I also imagined I had heard something outside the door. In the morning, I decided both the dream and the noise were caused by the cider.
I stood in the doorway, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. I didn't notice the scratches in the fresh paint on the door.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Monday, July 25, 2016
Romance and the Mt. Holly Snapping Turtle Part 3
Day 260
Irene and I woke Saturday to a soggy morning with the same gray, overcast skies. After all, it was autumn and what did I expect? We would just have to make the best of it. So we went in search of adventure in the form of a cider mill. Nothing says fall in Michigan like fresh apple cider and hot doughnuts.
We drove down the path, I got out and unlocked the gate, drove through and then locked the gate again. As we were driving along, following the directions we had been given at the ranger station, I had visions of an old weathered mill with a large water driven wheel slowly turning the apple press and churning out that sweet/tart nectar. The air filled with the scent of crushed apples, and fresh, hot doughnuts still crispy from the hot grease.
Dark red candied apples and nut covered caramel apples. Cotton candy and homemade fruit pies baked to a golden brown. And maybe some apple wines or hard ciders. My stomach started rumbling after the sparse breakfast we had had that morning at the cabin.
When we arrived at the "cider mill" it was far less than I had expected. In fact it was little more than a shed by the road with a hand painted sign that read The Cidar Mill. There was a few bags of apples, an over priced pie, doughnuts in a plain white box and apple cider in plastic jugs with a sticker from Yates Cider Mill. To say we were disappointed was a gross understatement.
We would have just left but we were so hungry, we bought a half dozen doughnuts and a half gallon of cider and drove back to the cabin.
By now the rain had started coming down heavy. When we pulled up to the gate, Irene flat refused to get out and unlock it, even though it was her turn. I tried to appeal to her feminist side telling her that she didn't want a man doing something so chivalrous as laying his coat down across a water puddle for a woman to keep her from getting wet. She decided when it came to one of us getting soaked in the rain chivalry was fine by her.
My rain poncho was in the back seat and I worked it over my head and shoulders before stepping out of the car. Irene slid into the drivers seat and when I had opened the gate she drove the car through. After closing and locking the gate I turned back around to find that Irene had pulled the car all the way up to the cabin, leaving me to walk in the rain. Payment for my "feminist" remark.
I ran up the drive as best I could, slipping on the muddy drive. As I was rounding the curve leading to the cabin there was a bright flash and loud booming crash that shook the ground. I had been momentarily blinded by the lightning and when my sight returned I looked in the direction of the crash knowing the strike had been very close by. I saw the pond was rising from the torrential down pour, then I noticed something that had not been there before.
I saw what I had thought to be the end of a large branch sticking up out of the water. The branch had to be almost five inches across and at least that much above the water surface, with an angry red spot on one side and a milky blue spot on the other side. I assumed the wind or the lightning had broken it loose from a nearby tree overhanging the pond.
Another flash roused me from my curiosity; I dashed into the cabin closing the door behind me. The cabin was dark so I flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. I flipped the switch down and back up again, still no light. I flicked the switch several times with the same result. The electricity was out.
Perfect.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Irene and I woke Saturday to a soggy morning with the same gray, overcast skies. After all, it was autumn and what did I expect? We would just have to make the best of it. So we went in search of adventure in the form of a cider mill. Nothing says fall in Michigan like fresh apple cider and hot doughnuts.
We drove down the path, I got out and unlocked the gate, drove through and then locked the gate again. As we were driving along, following the directions we had been given at the ranger station, I had visions of an old weathered mill with a large water driven wheel slowly turning the apple press and churning out that sweet/tart nectar. The air filled with the scent of crushed apples, and fresh, hot doughnuts still crispy from the hot grease.
Dark red candied apples and nut covered caramel apples. Cotton candy and homemade fruit pies baked to a golden brown. And maybe some apple wines or hard ciders. My stomach started rumbling after the sparse breakfast we had had that morning at the cabin.
When we arrived at the "cider mill" it was far less than I had expected. In fact it was little more than a shed by the road with a hand painted sign that read The Cidar Mill. There was a few bags of apples, an over priced pie, doughnuts in a plain white box and apple cider in plastic jugs with a sticker from Yates Cider Mill. To say we were disappointed was a gross understatement.
We would have just left but we were so hungry, we bought a half dozen doughnuts and a half gallon of cider and drove back to the cabin.
By now the rain had started coming down heavy. When we pulled up to the gate, Irene flat refused to get out and unlock it, even though it was her turn. I tried to appeal to her feminist side telling her that she didn't want a man doing something so chivalrous as laying his coat down across a water puddle for a woman to keep her from getting wet. She decided when it came to one of us getting soaked in the rain chivalry was fine by her.
My rain poncho was in the back seat and I worked it over my head and shoulders before stepping out of the car. Irene slid into the drivers seat and when I had opened the gate she drove the car through. After closing and locking the gate I turned back around to find that Irene had pulled the car all the way up to the cabin, leaving me to walk in the rain. Payment for my "feminist" remark.
I ran up the drive as best I could, slipping on the muddy drive. As I was rounding the curve leading to the cabin there was a bright flash and loud booming crash that shook the ground. I had been momentarily blinded by the lightning and when my sight returned I looked in the direction of the crash knowing the strike had been very close by. I saw the pond was rising from the torrential down pour, then I noticed something that had not been there before.
I saw what I had thought to be the end of a large branch sticking up out of the water. The branch had to be almost five inches across and at least that much above the water surface, with an angry red spot on one side and a milky blue spot on the other side. I assumed the wind or the lightning had broken it loose from a nearby tree overhanging the pond.
Another flash roused me from my curiosity; I dashed into the cabin closing the door behind me. The cabin was dark so I flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. I flipped the switch down and back up again, still no light. I flicked the switch several times with the same result. The electricity was out.
Perfect.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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