Time has been flying by here in the mountains.



Perhaps it’s the view that has been distracting me.

Then again, it could be that I spend a lot of time chit chatting with hikers. Franconia Notch is a hiker haven. Right outside my cabin is the start of a nine mile loop that takes you across these mountains.

A trip on this trail involves a lot of climbing over steep and rugged terrain, and cold, windy, and often times wet weather conditions. That’s why I have Harold to help me here. Harold might be ready to hike, but he never actually seems to make it off the porch. But he keeps me company and he’s great at sharing the ten essentials that you need for a hike.



But enough about Harold, let’s talk about mountains. There is a club of some prestige here in the White Mountains; The 40 over 4,000 club. There are roughly 48 summits in the White Mountains that are over 4,000 feet high. Hikers put themselves through all sorts of trials and trails to bag over 40 of them. My cabin is nestled at the feet of Mt Lincoln, and Mt Lafayette, both of which just happen to be on this list.

(I want to find the person who made this list and have a chat. I want to know why Little Haystack (the peak on the right above) is not on the list. Despite it’s name, it fits the criteria quite well at an elevation of 4,780. In my opinion it’s as much a separate peak from Mt Lincoln as say, North and South Kinsman, (which didn’t even bother with different names,) or Mt Monroe which is barely a dimple on Mt Washington. But I digress.)



The Loop Trail first takes you past waterfalls on the appropriately named Falling Waters Trail. Then it carries you away from the stream and leaves you to climb the difficult, boulder strewn trail to the top. But you are handsomely rewarded as you reach the top.

Just before you reach the summit of Little Haystack the trees start to become twisted and gnarly. They’re called Krummholz trees. Krummholz is a German word, that means “crooked wood,” and it well describes the wind-battered trees you find at the high elevations on summits. You are about to enter one of the most intense and fragile ecosystems on the planet.



Welcome to the Alpine Zone. Small lonely islands in the sky, surrounded by an ocean of trees. Very few things can survive up here where the wind and cold are so intense, the soil so rocky, and the sun is often blotted out by clouds. The view from these sky islands is spectacular, but the conditions are often harsh, and the environment is delicate. The alpine plants like the carpet of Mountain Cranberry, or the tiny white flowers of Dwarf Cinquefoil, and the bright yellow Mountain Avens are well adapted to low sunlight and high wind, and grow very slowly, but a single footstep can damage or kill them.



So follow the trail carefully. (This is, after all, the famous Appalachian Trail, why would you want to stray from it?’) The cairns and the white trail blazes will guide you.



First you’ll summit Mt Lincoln, at 5,089 feet....



And then you’ll climb Mt. Lafayette, the highest peak on Franconia ridge at 5,260 feet. (Just keep climbing, don’t worry you’ll make it!) You’ll be walking in the footsteps Henry David Thoreau, and the poet Robert Frost. You may also notice the footprint of the old summit house.



From here it’s time to head down towards the Old Bridle Path. On the way you’ll pass by the Appalachian Mountain Club’s Greenleaf Hut. (Do stop by and say “Hi” to the Croo, they are an awesome bunch!)



By the time you reach my cabin again you will have travelled 9 miles, walked across three mountains, and shown your feet some of the best scenery to be found in New Hampshire.

And just like that....it was July.

I cannot believe how quickly time has been flying by. Life at Bear Brook has kept me busy. Shenanigans, as always, abound.



I realized not long ago that I was living in a community of full-fledged ice cream junkies. I am ashamed to say that I quickly fell into their wicked ways and it wasn’t long before I became one of the worst ice cream enablers among the group. There are many vices far worse than ice cream and we aren’t often so desperate that we resort to making it ourselves, but the acquisition of delicious frozen dairy treats does take a sizable chunk of time out of one’s day.

Perhaps it was a crazed ice cream deprived state that led me to the decision to go from this:



to this:



But I did, and I love it!. Those two pigtails went to Locks of Love. This hasn’t been the craziest extreme make over going on at Bear Brook. A bunch of people shaved their heads for St. Baldricks.

I also had fun playing with tools in the woods for a week.



And came out of that week looking very dirty. (Of course our bosses insisted upon calling "Work Skills Training," but I think that I had way too much fun to call it "training," or "work.")

And finally, by June it was time for me to pack up and move out of Bear Brook. But the adventure isn't over yet. I moved from Bear Brook to here:



I'll be spending the rest of my summer in Franconia Notch State Park in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. (Try not to feel too sorry for me darlings....it's not all bad. :)

And the adventure continues....

In the utility closet at Bear Brook, behind the brooms mops and shelves of earth friendly cleaning products there is something squirmy going on. Meet Bear Brooks new residents; a host of red wriggler worms.



At first the members of the New Hampshire Conservation Corp weren’t entirely sure how to welcome the new addition to camp. “They aren’t exactly friendly or outgoing,” said NHCC member Geoffrey Lloyd. “I asked them if they wanted to go hiking and they just ignored me.”

But friendships began to sprout as the worms found their own niche in the close-knit community. As it turns out, red wrigglers are extremely good at getting rid of kitchen waste. Daniel Moffatt was surprised by “how excited these guys can get about garbage.” Each week since their arrival the worms have eaten about half their weight in vegetable scraps, apple cores, shredded newspaper and miscellaneous kitchen waste.

Tensions did run high after the worms held an open-mic night that went into the early hours and woke several members with slam-poetry and acoustic renditions of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.” But with the promise of worm castings for use as top-rate garden fertilizer in the spring, members were willing to work out their differences. “I think it’s helped that we stopped feeding them coffee grounds.” says Emma Trester-Wilson.



Bear Brook is not the only place welcoming worms. Vermiculture, also called worm composting is becoming a popular method of composting food waste, although there are some limitations. For example, large amounts of acidic foods such as citrus and onions are not recommended for worms, and adding pet waste, meat and dairy products will result in stinky worm bins. Aside from these drawbacks, worm composting is an easy, odorless, and low maintenance alternative which requires little space. Worm castings are also an excellent source of soil for potted plants and gardens.

There are many resources available to anyone interested in starting their own worm bins. Our worms came from Joan O’Connor of Joan’s Famous Composting Worms in Henniker, New Hampshire. “Worms Eat My Garbage; how to Set Up and Maintain a Worm Composting System,” by Mary Appelhof is a wonderful comprehensive guide for beginners. Online an abundance of detailed websites on vermiculture are only a Google search away.



As for the worms at Bear Brook? “They’re definitely here to stay.” Said Marlee Levielle, Education and Service Learning Manager for the NHCC. “We’re all looking forward to spring when we can use the worm castings in our gardens.” Geoffrey Lloyd is just “hoping that when the weather gets warmer the worms will be more eager to hit the trails.”

No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow. -Proverb-



I cannot hope to do justice to the transformation that has happened here over the past few weeks.

The first sign that things were changing was the sunlight that started shining into my cabin and waking me up in the mornings.



Day by day the layer of ice began to retreat from the surface of the ponds.

Then the birds woke up. I saw few birds my first two months here, and then all of the sudden the woods were filled them. Bear Brook is a noisy place this time of year.



I started seeing streams and vernal pools that I had no idea were even there before. Familiar places have changed completely as new features appear underneath the snow.



And all at once the woods are jam packed with things that are living and growing. Today I hung out by a vernal pool that was full of frogs. We’ve had several warm days of rain which means the salamanders should be out soon!

Finally, this week when I walked into the lodge I found this spring time mystery:



If you think you know what it is, leave a comment. The first person to correctly identify the critter and the stage of it’s life cycle will get something springy and New Hampshire-ish mailed to them.



Good luck!

Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!" -Robin Williams-

Time is flying. It seems like only a few weeks have passed since I first drove into Bear Brook, but tomorrow we will have been here for three whole months. Our schedules are getting more and more packed as we approach the end of education season and are scrambling to get all of our class projects finished up and squared away.

In addition to the glories of lesson planning and teaching we've been working on a number of other projects. Right now everyone is gearing up for the Manchester Earth Day Celebration which the New Hampshire Conservation Corp is throwing at Veteran's Park in Manchester on April 18th. There will be games, there will be food, there will be animal pelts, and there will be hip-hop! Even though I am pretty sure that no one who reads this journal lives near Manchester tell all your friends anyways, cause baby, it's gonna be grand!

We've also been occupied publishing a newsletter for the NHCC which you should totally read, and can find here.

On another note, we are having problems with internet access here at Bear Brook. Simply put, the problem is too many people needing to use the internet and not nearly enough bandwidth to go around. This makes uploading pictures at camp an impossibility, which makes blogging kinda difficult. I'm going to try and work out something this weekend, we'll see how it goes.

There is little doubt that you are wondering how someone who is supposed to be living in the woods took a picture like the one above.



On Sunday a group of us ventured down to South Boston for the St. Patrick’s day parade. Since my birthday is on Saint Patrick’s Day I considered it to be my birthday fling, even though it was technically on the ides of March.



There were bagpipes.



There were some pretty sweet costumes....



and some pretty sweet floats.



There were all manner of things civic...



and patriotic.



There were, of course, Storm Troopers.



There was dinner at a very authentic Irish German restaurant.



There was revelry and goofing off on Boston Common



Not to mention much rejoicing at the sight of green grass.



And best of all, there were good friends.

Dear Everyone,

After spending two months in New Hampshire there is something I have noticed about this place;



New Hampshire gets a lot of snow.



When I first got here I learned pretty quickly about post-holing. Post-holing is when you are trying to walk in deep snow (which is pretty much anywhere that isn't on a road,) and the snow goes all the way past your knee and usually up to your thigh. Not surprisingly, it's a little difficult to walk this way.



Snow shoes are truly essential for getting around if you want to go anywhere with a view.



Normally by the time March rolls around I am sick of winter.



This year, not so much.

Peace,



Robin

I may have gotten myself wrapped up in something that I may never get out of.

It all started with Marni. A few weeks after we arrived Marni suggested that we “Play The Game.”

“Play The Game?” We all asked, “What is that?”

To play the game (PTG) you need to know three simple rules:

1. This is the offensive move in PTG:



2. If you make eye-contact with someone making the offensive move, you have to do this:

>

3. Unless you block it in time with the defensive move by going like this:



There are a couple of basic strategies:

If you’re good at the quick draw, you wait until you have everyone’s undivided attention and then throw up the offensive move. It’s a tough thing to do, but if you’re quick enough you can get multiple people on the floor that way.

Then there’s the sneaky technique. Wait until your target is distracted with something else and, when the least expect it, throw up the offensive move and call their name.

Then there are the less common techniques, like the scan. Make the offensive move and just look around the room to see who you can snipe. Not surprisingly, it’s not nearly as effective but when it works, it’s priceless.

Most of the remaining strategies are just a combination of these basic maneuvers.

For the first few weeks I watched. I feigned disinterest, but quietly and inconspicuously as I could I studied everyone’s moves.

Then, when I thought I was ready I declared myself “in.”

I did well the first day, I may have been a newbie but I held my own pretty well. But then....

I picked a fight.



With Ralph.

I caught him three times in one day, and then I blocked two of the ones he sent my way, and now Ralph has it in for me. I expected retribution to come quickly, but not from Ralph. Ralph is patient. Ralph is a brooder. Ralph can wait.

I don’t know when it’s coming, but sure as you’re born it will come. When I die you might as well bury me with my arms and legs propped up in the air because if I know Ralph he will surely staple a picture of himself mid-PTG to the lid of my coffin.

I have not updated the blog because....

I have not updated the blog because my camera is on the fritz. I have tried every avenue I can think of to fix it but I think I’m just going to have to suck it up and get a replacement. As a result a some of the pictures in here are either a few weeks old or have been taken by Stephanie (who incidentally is also keeping a blog, which you can find here.)

I have not updated the blog because I have been too busy playing hacky-sack:



My hacky-sack skills have improved exponentially since arriving here, (although to be fair, my hacky-sack skills had no where to go but up.)

I have not updated the blog because we have been too busy sledding:



I have not updated the blog because I’ve been busy learning to play the guitar:



My repertoire is almost at four songs. There was that first week when all I could play was Wagon Wheel. My fellow lodge mates were very kind in not going crazy when I sat down and plugged through it for the 873,384th time.

I have not updated the blog because we have been busy dreaming up designs for our own sustainable communes:



The sheep, alpacas, and angora bunnies in the field? Totally my contribution.

I have not updated the blog because I am too busy making plankton out of felt scraps and tulle.



I have not updated the blog because I was watching while Sue taught everyone to crochet:



I am slightly concerned that the crocheters now outnumber the knitters. I have not updated the blog because I am contemplating a counter strike.

It has been suggested that not updating the blog makes it significantly harder for those trying to live vicariously through me to do so. I apologize to those individuals, but as you can see....I have not updated the blog because I have been hard at work!

These past two weeks have been a blur. We don’t have TV out here in the woods, but around noon on the twentieth this is what we did:

We have spent the majority of the past two weeks in training for education season. Part of the NH Conservation Corp program involves several months teaching environmental education in area schools. It’s something that I won’t talk about much on here, but it is one of the things that drew me to this program.



There is a growing concern that children are growing up too detached from the world around them. They spend a large portion of their time inside playing video games, watching TV, and surfing the web. The time that they do spend outside is confined to the framework of sports or other extracurricular activities. As a result they are more aware of the destruction of rainforest thousands of miles away, but unaware of where the food they eat and the water they use everyday comes from.

There is also a growing body of study that suggests that the absence of unstructured play time in the natural world may correlate with increasing rates of ADD and childhood obesity. I don’t want to give you the impression that these studies constitute rock solid evidence in favor of these theories, because they don’t. It is a difficult thing to study, to measure and to quantify.



But I cannot escape the memory of my early encounters with nature. Birding trips with my grandfather, camping trips with my family, field trips to parks and nature centers in Girl Scouts and in school. I find myself wondering what role these played in shaping who I was and who I have become. My experience at a week-long outdoor education camp is one of the happiest memories I have of sixth grade, a year that I otherwise remember being a nightmare as I struggled with a learning disability and switching schools mid-year. I do not think it is any small coincidence that last year I found myself going back to that same Environmental Education Center to become an instructor. Incidentally, it was that experience that brought me to where I am today; out here in the woods of New Hampshire, wondering how I will affect the students I will be teaching. 



As both individuals, and as a team, by teaching about photosynthesis and the water cycle, we have started to build something. We have a very clear vision of what we want to create but we have only a glimpse at what the finished product will look like. But we hope that in the end something will sprout from the seeds we sow.

The temperatures here are expected to drop in the next couple days. Highs are expected to be in the teens, while low temperatures will be well below 0 degrees Fahrenheit.

As I mentioned before we live in cabins that have no central heat. Our only source of heat when we go to bed at night are wood stoves.

As a result, I’ve learned pretty quickly how to work a wood stove. The stove in the cabin that I share is kinda....finicky. The main problem is that our stove loads from the top rather than the front and it has pipes that go down from the top into the body of the stove to vent oxygen to the fire. The problem with this is that the corded wood which works great in the other stoves in camp...



....doesn’t fit in our stove. (Kindly ignore that it looks like it does from the outside, trust me, it doesn't.)

Enter Herald:



Herald is an old stove, who was junked because warping issues made him impractical for use. To be useful he needed all of his joints sealed, his sides patched with cement, his legs taken off so he would fit into our low fire place, and some sort of grate to feed oxygen to the fire.

Enter girls with tools, (and assistance and direction from our boss Mike.)



We took him apart, sanded him down, sealed his joints, and made a grate. Then we put him back together and, with much singing and ceremony, moved him into his new home.



One thing I have quickly come to appreciate here is warmth and how important it really is to us. I'm from Ohio, I have lived with snow and winter weather for all of my life, and I never considered myself a freeze baby. But the aspect of living without central heating was one that I was definitely nervous about when I moved out here.

It really hasn't been as bad as I expected, but I have still found myself preoccupied with the presence or absence of warmth since I arrived. I very quickly realized how isolated and detached we are from the elements, living in heated houses, complaining as we scrape snow off our cars, and drive them to heated work places.



It seems like such a small thing, but Herald has been the main topic of conversation in my cabin since Mike unearthed him from the junk pile. He is our first big triumph, and he has brought us all closer together with the hope of making our lives....



....a little bit warmer.

I made it to new Hampshire and I am overwhelmed with the prospect of describing what it’s like. So many aspects of my life have changed so dramatically from what they were a week ago that it almost feels like I’ve traveled to a different continent.

Take the weather, for example. In Ohio this is light snow cover:



In New Hampshire this is light snow cover:



You can do this on a frozen pond in New Hampshire:



This is, at best, a highly risky enterprise in Ohio.

Then there are the people. There are 26 of us in the NH Conservation Corp this year, and we came here from all over the country. One member lives twenty minutes away, another came all the way from Hawaii. We all come from different backgrounds and have different hobbies and interests (although there are quite a few knitters and crocheters in the mix.)



We work together, eat meals together, and live together. The cabins we sleep in are unheated so we spend most of our time in the main lodge, which was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930’s.



The best part of this first week here has been getting to know everyone. Hanging out together, exploring the park we live in, learning more about the program, and how to live sustainably out here in the middle of the woods. I’m sure living and working practically on top of each other for ten months will have it’s difficulties, but I cannot think of a group of people more up to the task.

I stopped for the night just outside of Albany. My hotel room has a good view of the Albany skyline, which, while it isn't as impressive as say, the New York City skyline, is pretty neat.



The trip thus far has been uneventful. I wound up leaving later than I had wanted to, and it was almost dark by the time I reached Buffalo so I did not stop to see the canal, but I did cross over it a few times, and I even sang "Fifteen Miles on the Erie Canal," once just for posterity.



It has become apparent to me that I am not the only person who seems to think that I should provision as if I am bound for the homestead. My mom offered to pack me "some" snacks and I happily accepted. As it turns out "some" consisted of nearly half a bushel of oranges, an entire bag of pretzels, two almost full boxes of crackers, and a big zip-lock full of peanut m&m's. Then my brother and his wife Melissa dropped by to see me off and brought me a GIANT grocery bag full of candy and snacks.

Please do not mistake this for complaining. I am touched by all of the people among my friends and family who have been thinking of me and going out of their way to help me get ready for this new endeavor. Their support means more to me than I could ever hope to express in words.

Plus, it is a load off my mind knowing that if this whole Conservation Corp thing doesn't work out.....



I could start my very own snack shop.

But I am in a hurry because I am frantically packing for New Hampshire. No matter how often I remind myself, I can't shake the feeling in my gut that I need to pack as if I am going on the Oregon Trail and will be days away from civilization. Note to self: They have these nifty little things called STORES in New Hampshire. (You don't even have to barter away one of your oxen!)

Something exciting that I will be taking with me in the Conestoga car:



My shiny new MacBook Pro! I have named her Clio (because I am the type of person who takes great joy in giving inanimate objects whimsical mythological names.)

I got a bit geeked out when I realized that the route I'm taking to New Hampshire closely parallels the Erie Canal! ( And I just realized that there are few people in this world who would put an exclamation point at the end of that sentence.) I am hoping to stop somewhere along the way to look at something historical and canal-ish.

I'm going to be super busy in the next few days. Everyone have a happy (and SAFE) New Year! Hopefully my next post will be from New Hampshire! Wish me luck!

Last week the weather decided to finally get serious about this whole "winter" thing and sent us an arctic blast. I was happy to see some snow covering the ground again, even though it didn't last until Christmas. (And just to prove that Ohio weather is nothing if not bi-polar, yesterday temperatures were up in the 60s.)



I braved the cold to make a trip down to Granville to visit my friend Grace. Grace is an alumni of the SCA, and one of the reasons why I wanted to join.
I made Grace and Mia take me on a walk even though it was frigid outside because I wanted to see Spring Valley. I had been hearing about it for over a year, but had yet to actually visit. Spring Valley is Grace's baby.



Grace's Great-grandfather built a swimming pool in Spring Valley before World War II, using water pulled from the spring fed creek. Two generations later, Grace's family still owned the property and Grace and her siblings grew up there, swimming in the pool, and exploring the woods and creeks around it. But while Grace was off working for the SCA the pool was closed, and her family decided to open Spring Valley to development. Not all of them were happy to see it happen, but they saw few other options.

It was then that Grace said the most dangerous thing she can say. "Are you freaking kidding me!?!" I have learned through experience that when Grace says this seemingly innocuous phrase that she is about to do something unexpected, and probably, pretty spectacular.

While I would love to be able to say that she single-handedly preserved Spring Valley, in truth, something like this just doesn't happen that way. Grace started telling people about her idea. They sent her to other people, and she told them about her idea, and then they sent her to more people and she told all of them about her idea. Some liked it, others needed some persuading. The people who liked her idea joined her project, and together they wrote grants and had meetings and they found ways to compromise with everyone else and eventually....



They succeeded.

It was a demanding project for Grace. In preserving Spring Valley she was working against the development project that her family was collaborating with. In sharing her vision with others she also had to share a portion of the decision making. She didn't get to have the final say in every choice they made, and she didn't always agree with every decision they made, and that can be a pretty tough thing to swallow when it's something you care about so much.



Grace has been an inspiration to me, and she is only one of the handful of amazing SCA alumni I have met. This passion and drive makes me want to be part of it. I just hope that I can live up to the example that they have set for me.



(P.S. I couldn't help but notice that Spring Valley has quite the Wooly Beech Aphid population, as demonstrated by an abundance of sooty mold.)

"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather."

                                                                   -John Ruskin-

The weather for the past week and a half has pretty much looked like this:



Dark, damp, and chilly, but not really cold enough for snow.

Winter doesn't usually get me down until about late February, but I've been wishing really hard for snow this December. I'm trying to take John Ruskin's quote to heart, but the local climate has not made it easy. Just to top it all off, last week was finals week for me.

Fortunately, I was able to shake off the different kinds of good weather for a bit. The Biology Department at the University of Akron maintains a greenhouse and after an exam I spent some time there just reveling among the things that were green and growing.




Justicia brandegeana, (aka: The Shrimp Plant) not to be confused with it's Acanthus cousin Pachystachys lutea (The Yellow Shrimp Plant.)


I couldn't read the tag of the plant on the left but the one on the right is the aptly named Chenille Plant. (Now if only I could knit that into a shawl.)


Red Powder Puff, and Burro's Tail, which totally has ROUND leaves. The leaves are round and not flat! Round leaves are apparently the kind of thing that you can only get away with if you hang out in the desert. Round Leaves! (I couldn't make this stuff up.)


I couldn't find a tag on either of these but I'm pretty sure the one on the right is a bird of paradise.

"Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul."   -The Koran-

So what feeds your soul in the winter?

Hey look! I finished a sock!



I shall now show you a pretty picture of a leaf to distract you from the fact that I am supposed to be working on my shawl.



Did it work?

No? Ok, how about a picture of a train station all gussied up for the Polar Express?



Still no huh?

Ok, fine. I admit it. I've been working on socks instead of my shawl. But they're just socks right? They're not nearly as fiddly as lace, and they're quick enough to be but a small distraction.



See, I've even skipped over second sock syndrome and already cast on the second sock. I will soon have a cozy pair and I shall resume knitting my shawl. (Although a hat doesn't sound like a bad idea...)

Today I am saying good-bye to a dear old friend.



Or rather a pair of dear old friends. I know they aren't pretty, they're cracked and worn, and at the best of times, muddy. But me and these boots have been through a lot of miles together. Together we have traversed two continents, seven countries, and thousands of acres of National Parks.

The first time I saw a bear I was wearing these boots. I was in Cade's Cove in Great Smokey Mountains National Park. I was driving the loop road by myself after sunrise. Words alone cannot describe Cades Cove, and pictures give it only a little justice.



Cades Cove is where John Oliver chose to build his cabin in 1818. It's difficult to imagine someone choosing to pack up their possessions into a wagon (or even just a pack on their back,) and trudge their way through those rugged mountains to start a new life. At the same time though, it's even harder to imagine the heart break of having to leave a home here, as the Cherokee were forced to on the Trail of Tears, and as the descendants of early settlers did when it was made a National Park.



We wandered through John Oliver's cabin together. I tried to imagine what it was like living there in the 19th century. It was still fairly dark in the early morning light, and the cabin has only one glass paned window. I wondered if we could ever see the cove the same way that John Oliver saw it when he first came here. A rustling from the woods less than a hundred feet away scared the pants off of me. (I may have screamed like a little girl.) As much as I wanted to see a bear, I wasn't sure I wanted to come across a bear alone, on foot, armed with nothing but my car keys and my boots to assert myself. Three turkeys indignantly trotted out of the woods, looking at me as if I had just blasted an airhorn at Wimbledon. I wondered what William Oliver would have thought of in this situation. Quite possibly it would have involved "dinner."

I didn't see the bear until later that morning. I was in the car, and the bear came loping across a field. I nearly missed seeing him.



He didn't see me at first, and he stopped and we looked at each other for only a few moments. I think he was trying to figure out if he needed to be afraid of me. I pulled the car forward a few feet, and he seemed to make up his mind and ran behind my car and off into the woods on the other side of the road.

Adventures come in many forms. Sometimes they come when you least expect them, but sometimes you have to go looking for them, just to shake things up. I've had a lot of adventures of both types in these boots, but it's time for a new pair, because come January...



I'll be starting a new adventure. I'm moving to New Hampshire to join their Conservation Corp.

It is the night before Thanksgiving so, naturally, my evening looked like this:



This cookie-cutter chaos is not a factory for Christmas cookies but for Christmas ornaments. (They may look and smell like Christmas cookies but they are not. Trust me. I had to try a bit of the dough just to be sure and I am quite certain that Christmas cookies do not taste like a salt lick.)

While we were being all domestic we decided to whip up some of Kay's dill bread (best utilized for the fabrication of toast,) and boy-howdy is it good. Granted it looks pretty gross as you're mixing it up.



But have faith. This gray slop transforms into pure deliciousness. Despite Kay's warnings to double the recipe it may not even make it to the toast stage.



Have a happy and safe Turkey Day, and spare some kind thoughts for all of the people in Mumbai.

I've been busy fighting a cold and getting slammed with school work. Some how I managed to find time to alphabetize this entry too. How do I do it you ask? I guess I'm just that good. (That, and I totally just stole this idea from a meme.)

26 things you may, or may not, know about me.

A is for Apples. I love apples, but whenever I eat them they make me sneeze. How weird is that?

B is for Bear. The first time I saw a bear in Great Smokey Mountains National Park in beautiful Cade's Cove just after sunrise was a very cool experience and one I'll never forget.

C is for Chainsaws. I don't particularly like chainsaws. It's not that I think they're immoral, it's just that whenever I'm around them I find myself thinking about severed appendages. A few months ago my Dad went through a "You should know how to use a chainsaw" thing and endeavored to make me conquer my fear....



....but I'm still not much of a fan.

D is for Deutchland. I traveled around Germany during the 2006 World Cup. This word always has me reminiscing about crowds of football hooligans, old friends, good pubs, and a spirit of adventure.

E is for both Entropy and Enthalpy, as my life seems to exist in a precarious balance between the two.

F is for Free Rice. I find this game highly addicting, but since it raises money to end world hunger I have to play it right?

G is for Great Lakes Brewing Company. A local microbrewery that also maintains a commitment to the environment. I especially like that many of their beer's names' make reference to local history.

H is for history, my first love.

I is for the iTeam. There will always be a place in my heart for the iTeam.

J is for Jillian Moreno. Because she's my knitting hero. I love her designs!

K is for knitting, of course. If you have known me for longer than five minutes and have not yet realized that I love knitting you need to pay more attention.

L is for Leslie Howard. While I could never get into Gone With the Wind, and have not seen any of his other movies, I have a girlish crush on him as Lord Blakeney in the Scarlet Pimpernel.

M is for M*A*S*H. My secret goal in life is to be a little bit more like Hawkeye Pierce. Whoops, I guess it isn't much of a secret anymore.

N is for National Parks. Hanging around in one for too long turned out to have a bad influence on me. I now have a long list of National Parks that I want to visit, and an even longer list of fond memories from them.



O is for Ohio. Because it's where I live and stuff. (However, please do not make the mistake of assuming that I am automatically an Ohio State fan because frankly my dear, I don't care.)

P is for Pixar. I adore Pixar movies, especially their short films. While I certainly have my favorites among them I have yet to see a Pixar movie that I entirely didn't like.

Q is for my friend Rosemary Durda because she always likes to remind me that "there is no 'Q' in team." Words of wisdom right there. Speaking of Rosemary Durda.....

R is for Rosemary Durda's sheep. My friend Rosemary Durda grew up with a flock of sheep in her backyard, and she doesn't seem to think that this is remarkable. (She seems to have grasped the brilliance of the concept a bit more since we taught her to knit.)

S is for Salamanders. In the spring, (around the time of March Madness if you live in northern Ohio,) find a place near a pond and watch for the salamanders that are moving to the ponds where they breed. If you're lucky you'll find one of the yellow-spotted ones, that are about the length of your hand. They are remarkable creatures to see. (Hence why I can't seem to stop posting pictures of them.)



T is for Taylor Mali. Slam-poet, teacher and one of my heroes.

U is for the University of Toledo. Go Rockets!

V is for Vowell, Sarah Vowell. (yes, I'm making her sound like a certain agent in her Majesty's service. It's hard to come up with interesting topics that start with V, ok?) I admire this author's quirky and humorous approach to history. "Assasination Vacation" was a great book, and I can't wait to read her newest book "The Wordy Shipmates".

W is for Wendy's Frostys. Delicious. What else do I need to say?

X is for xkcd. My love of this web-comic cannot be quantified.

Y is for Yarn. (See entry for 'K' above.)

Z is for zombie movies. While I have slowly learned to appreciate them, I can't handle suspense. I hate it when the hero is in a dark room and suddenly everything goes quiet, and you know the zombie is just around the corner about to jump out at them, and you're on the edge of your seat waiting for them to slowly turn around and....usually those moments have me cowering behind my knitting.

So what are a few of your favorite things?