Posts Tagged ‘nature’

fall colors

We drove up Bore­as Pass with Seth & Hol­ly yes­ter­day to look at the awe­some fall col­ors. I think we were about a week too late for the peak of aspen sea­son but they were pret­ty great any­ways. I love the smell (eau de rot­ting leaves)…

Also, I edit­ed these pho­tos while lis­ten­ing to “Songs in the Key of Life” on the record play­er which is prob­a­bly why they look so warm & hap­py.

view to breck ombre walking way leaves close up looking light boreas pass bright mountains us

Posted: September 23rd, 2012
Categories: adventures
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i walked 4 miles to the library and there was a lot to look at

Swallow housies.And a full creek.UnderPond scum bloomA song called Reptile was playing when I came across this guy.GiantRacoon footprints

Posted: September 17th, 2011
Categories: adventures, Daily
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Comments: 1 Comment.


When John and I were in the woods this week, we spent some time talk­ing about why we like back­pack­ing.

I said that I like the aspect of immers­ing myself in nature and break­ing away from the pat­terns of nor­mal life. You get to spend some time with your­self, and each oth­er (because J is my awe­sometrusty­back­pack­ing­part­ner) at a pace that is defined by when the sun sets and ris­es, and how long it takes to get from one stream to the next. It is real­ly cool to be immersed in a great con­ver­sa­tion about math/science/education/philosophy/pine bee­tles and then all of a sud­den you have to go up a big hill so you hike in silence for the next hour, just exist­ing in the rhythms of your foot­falls and absorb­ing the land­scape around you. Or maybe it rains (pours) and you are cold so you stay cozy in the tent and fall asleep right at dusk, and that feels real­ly rather nat­ur­al. Or you wake up ear­ly and watch the moun­tain goats play­ing on the rocks above the alpine lake (that you swam in yes­ter­day in an act of brav­ery). You just sit, and observe, and laugh when the fish jump so high out of the water that they catch air.

I also admit that I quite like the sur­vival aspect of being out in the wilder­ness for mul­ti­ple days at a time. Every­thing we need is on our backs, and in an effort to keep those packs light, we pare down to just the neces­si­ties. It turns out that human beings do just fine with some food, clean water (kata­dyne + water­falls FTW), a method of keep­ing dry/warm, a way to boil water, and very lit­tle else except clean under­wear (a def­i­nite neces­si­ty in my book), and the lat­est addi­tion to our gear, a bear vault (which only kind of eased my total bear pho­bia but it was help­ful to keep orga­nized and made for a nice chair).

For John, the answer was more sim­ple. It’s about the hik­ing. Putting one foot in front of the oth­er and let­ting them take you to super spe­cial places you would­n’t oth­er­wise get to expe­ri­ence. He’s total­ly right, of course. Hik­ing is both the rea­son, and the method, and the excuse for get­ting to expe­ri­ence all of this:

Posted: August 17th, 2010
Categories: things i like
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Daringly Stupid Spring Compost Kickstart Method #7

Note: tight fit­ting lid with car­bon fil­ters rec­om­mend­ed for steps 1–3

  1. At the height of cit­rus sea­son in mid-Jan­u­ary, grow lazy and “for­get” to take out com­post pail for three weeks (“it’s cold!”).
  2. Dis­cov­er fright­en­ing black wiry mold grow­ing over grape­fruit remains, and quick­ly close lid of pail. Call off com­post­ing of veg­gie scraps until spring.
  3. Leave pail on counter until late March.
  4. Decide that you should not leave the pail on the counter while you go on a spring break trip to sun­ny Flori­da, just in case the con­tents of the pail decide to make a break for it while you are gone.
  5. Set the pail on the back porch for the last few snowy weeks of the year until mid-April and the start of gar­den­ing sea­son.
  6. Grow dis­il­lu­sioned with try­ing to pull up the Lambs Ear that you plant­ed two sum­mers ago, despite the warn­ings from Grand­ma Alice (“it’s like a weed! it spreads!”).
  7. Mean­der over to the com­post pail and lift the lid.
  8. Become intrigued by the foamy, mush­room­ing sub­stance inside the pail.
  9. Decide to pour the con­tents of the pail into your black com­post bin, which is full to the top of brown, dry gar­den waste from last fall.
  10. Mar­vel at the way you can still iden­ti­fy a few car­rot tops and an onion skin at the bot­tom of a pile of sludge.
  11. Cringe at the smell waft­ing up from the anaer­o­bic pile of tox­ic slime.
  12. Decide to use the com­post aer­a­tor to “mix in” the slime and encour­age break­down of exist­ing brown mat­ter.
  13. Remem­ber that your com­post bin is pre­car­i­ous­ly bound togeth­er with zip ties, and poke the mass of dis­gust­ing­ness gen­tly.
  14. Pull out the hose and apply water to both the bin and the pail, the lat­ter of which clear­ly needs to be left out in the sun to “air out”.
  15. Stir a bit more vig­or­ous­ly, until you real­ize that flecks of vom­i­tous wretched goo have land­ed on your left arm.
  16. Run away quick­ly as an angry wasp tries to find out why you have poi­soned his home with putrid cit­rus mat­ter.
  17. Return bro­ken lid to bin, and secure in place with heavy rock.
  18. Debate with John about whether to call the envi­ron­men­tal pro­tec­tion agency.
  19. Show­er (extra soap required).
  20. Wait for your com­post to turn into a love­ly, rich pile of organ­ic good­ness!
Posted: April 18th, 2010
Categories: Daily
Tags: , ,
Comments: 1 Comment.