Photo-Therapy

This is a deplorable situation: the only pictures I've taken in the past couple of weeks have been AT WORK!

Not to say that the D200 has not come in handy for physical therapy purposes; and walking around the gym with it hanging around my neck has been sorta cool--look at me! I'm working AND playing at the same time!

I've done this a half-dozen times now because my stick-man (or woman) figures of exercises are far past laughable. And patients can't remember what's on the menu just from the name of the exercise, though it seems to me that "butt lifts" and "knee flops" should be enough.

So I just set the camera on black & white, a low res image size, high ISO since grain won't matter, and shutter priority at maybe 125, and snap away.

Then, in Photoshop, I select the folder images for Contact Sheet, 4 rows and 4 columns, and print--a copy for the patient, and one for their chart, a third for my files. Slicker than a month-old egg!

Of Mice and Men

Put your money on the mice. All night long, they're still frisky; I'm exhausted.

What to do? The warfarin is working. Manilow wasn't toxic enough. The snoring in the room didn't stop them, though all night along--those brief moments when I was sleeping--I dreamed of humpback whales.

SO what would an exterminator do--wrap up the entire house in a big baggy and fumigate?

Where do the mice-with-trackshoes live--only between certain floor joists, or fromt there, into the walls and on into the founation and up to the attic? I haven't put D-con those places yet, but am planning to.

I've heard of some high-frequency sound emitters that drive away vermin, but am guessing that's about 90% hype and 10% fact.

Admittedly, though the songbirds took a hit, we had no mouse problems when the cat was around. Maybe we can take up a floorboard and stick a tiny cat or two in there for a week, and see what happens. Nah, Ann won't let a cat inside.

Something's gotta give. Ideas welcomed.

The PitterPatter of (Uninvited) Little Feet

This will be the fourth night of biological warfare. So far, it's the mice, three, and me, zip. Although there seems to be some attrition--less scurrying, and slower.

I've never figured out why the mice who have made a home between our bedroom ceiling and the floor above are prone to RUN everywhere (in the pitch black darkness.) My only guess is that it is a time of high murine libido, what with spring and needing to get started on the first of several litters of the year. Eat, run and make babies. Just NIMBY. Or in my ceiling, more to the point.

So the first night, we tried the Barry Manilow torture. I set the radio upside-down on the floor above, and it did the trick, making our rodent boarders think there were humans just a floorboard away--until the station went off-air for a while about 2 a.m. and it was time to make whoopie til our alarm put an end to the debauchery around 4.

The next day, I ramped it up a notch, finding a half-inch drill bit and a bit of uncarpeted floor in Ann's closet upstairs. With a funnel, I introduced a spoonful of D-con into the hole, then pulled a plastic storage bin back over the hole, and waited til last night to test the results. And like I said, the running was slower, the whoopie was less ebullient, but there was scurrying nevertheless.

So today, another whallop of D-con in the floorboard hole, and we'll see what effect poisoning the well might have tonight. I'm getting impatient to exclude wildlife from the premises, and doing battle with the ladybird beetles daily for the past month has done nothing to improve my generosity toward alien invaders.

It's about bed time. Tomorrow is a work day. I need my rest. YOU HEAR THAT, Mickey?

Notations: Late March '07

~ I confess I have several vanity searches set up on Google News to notify me of entries to Fragments, Slow Road, etc. There are more misses than hits with this alarm system, but sometimes in this way, I get a heads-up notice of some good news. Such was the case yesterday when Gary Boyd's very nice review (which he added at Amazon.com, to my delight) came to my attention. Now, I'm bringing it to yours. You can read it over at Nameless Creek. I do so much appreciate his kind words, and now to keep the balance, we need another at Barnes and Noble. Hint.

~ We've a new rhythm going here as the days warm: Tsuga eats walnuts, husk and all, late each afternoon. He rouses the whole house with his heaves in the wee hours and chucks-up out the back door. Then, just after breakfast, he grazes along the edge of the driveway for long stems of grass which he clumsily chews in his meat-shredding (nut crushing) teeth. Binge-purge. Is there a doctor in the house? Meanwhile, Tsuga's oddities are up for all to see, over at Floydvirginia.com--another photoessay some of you have seen/read before.

~ If you are at all interested in what is happening (or about to happen) along the 469-mile length of the nation's longest (and most heavily visited) national park, check out the online eNEWSLETTER of the Friends of the Parkway. I'm hoping to have something to contribute here each month, and would be appreciative if any readers have Parkway-relevant links, comments or resources you'd be willing to share. I'd be happy to compile them for this purpose.

~ It seemed like a bit of software that was meant to be. After using OneNote since I started teaching at Radford back in the summer of 2004, for the first time, I was going to have to pay to upgrade (to OneNote 2007) or stop using it. Doh. The March 31 deadline approached. I waffled. Then, in quick succession, I got three $25 coupons from Amazon. And then learned Amazon carried the upgrade for $79. I have my registered copy now, for $4. Sometimes, life is like a box of choc'lates. Ya never... never mind.

Spring

Yesterday, March 28: the first day of Spring on Goose Creek.

The measure: not day length or temperature; not the blooming of Coltsfoot (come far too early this year) or pinking of the buds at the tips of trees along Nameless Creek when the sun rises earlier and earlier each day. The first day of Spring is marked by our first meal on the front porch.

This year, it was Ann--the irresistible force: Let's eat outside! And I-- the immovable object: it's too cool yet, and everything is likely wet from the hard rains we've had (though they seemed to have passed by, the air cooler, the sky clearing a bit to the north though thunder still rumbled.)

It was pretty cool for sitting, but the meal of chicken casserole (the chicken we canned ourselves last fall) held in bowls in our laps warmed us even while the winds followed the storm south, down beyond the end of the pasture, out over the Blue Ridge, surging like a wave, spilling down into the piedmont and beyond. Behind the wave, a neon strobe of pink flashed in the near-dark, thunder coming later with each flash. There: the smell of lightning.

And listen: how very Appalachian the thunder. Remember: in South Dakota, the storm that passed over us, crashing it's way toward the badlands? The thunder, for being so very close and loud, was flat, monotone, two dimensional--a sheet of sound dropped down hard against prairie that lay open to the horizon in every direction.

CLAP! And we held to our warm bowls, listening. Mountain Thunder in stereo, hi-fi, reverb and not mere percussion. Antiphonal thunder kettle drums answered by two or more pairs of tympanis back on Lick Ridge, set at fifths; and tonal heavy hammers, against steel out beyond Free State. Sound sent, sent back, modulated, amplified, and moving away. The pink-orange spilled down the great escarpment toward Carolina as Goose Creek rose clear and cold, to its own water music, and appreciative and silent, we took our empty bowls inside.

Clean Coal: Count the Costs

" More than 470 mountains have been destroyed by mountaintop removal coal mining. Watch this video about mountaintop removal, including excerpts from the documentary Kilowatt Ours, featuring Woody Harrelson and a soundtrack featuring an original recording of "Blowin' in the Wind," sung by Willie Nelson. (08:23)"

PLEASE do more than watch the video when you visit the link. Keep clicking on the page. Get an education. Then educate somebody else. Maybe even a politician.

You might also keep in mind this quote from a few days ago: "the Bush administration released a new energy plan in April 2001 that called for construction of 1,300 new power plants by 2020." And understand that "clean coal" mined just as you see here will power those plants. Unless WE SPEAK OUT for our mountains, streams, freedoms and rights.

Sharing Some Good News

A few of you reading this have been following this dog and pony show since the early days (five years ago almost to the day). Suffice it to say that when this epic began, the destination was far from certain. In late March, 2002, the handwriting was on the wall, and it bode ill for my professional future.

I knew I would not continue to dig the same hole deeper. Just where I would plant my spade, and what treasure I would find there in the next excavation into the future, I did not know. But I had the strong and abiding notion there was treasure just outside my door, through my window that looks across at our barn and field. But what was it?

The blog started that month, and the mantra "write every day, write from the heart, write what you know" became the first thing in my mind when I awoke every morning.

And four years later, this week of this month last year, the manuscript for Slow Road Home was in the hands of Edwards Brothers, Inc. Soon, 1000 books would arrive on my doorstep.

And yesterday, five years from the inception of Fragments from Floyd, I learned that Slow Road Home - a Blue Ridge Book of Days will be acquired for distribution in all the Blue Ridge Parkway gift shops and book stores along the 469 mile length of the National Park.

The "reach" of the book is extended many-fold by this means of dispersal, and will find a population of readers to whom I very much wanted to speak. This news, for me, is a major encouragement and reassurance. And so, I wanted to let you know just where the slow road has carried us, you and me, here at the five year mark into the unknown.

And what chapter will unfold by this time NEXT early spring?

Hard frost last night. Sky is pinking up. The reflection of the woodstove flames dance orange against the windowpane, framing an utter calm, cold landscape beyond the glass. The barn roof is white, the butterfly bush outside my window limp with ice crystals fringing every curled and faded leaf.

How womblike-the warmth of the stove, the familiar touch of chair and desk, this old flannel shirt I wear as if it were my birth skin. I love this place, so constant, so fully known and at hand. This place: this room, this house, this valley, these mountains, this time in our lives. Especially now, as winter creeps closer and the days grow short, I appreciate the roof overhead, the full stacks of firewood, the canning in the basement and slow moments like this to see our blessings, the ordinary that we too often take for granted.

We can't know what's coming around the bend in the road. But it has been a very nice road, that's for sure.
from the last page of Slow Road Home ~ a Blue Ridge Book of Days

Leaving the Best: Sustainable Forestry

I'm sorry not to have been able to write at greater length about Jason Rutledge and Healing Harvest Forestry Foundation. A few more images of his demonstration last Saturday in nearby Copper Hill can be found here.

Suffice it to say, Jason is an early ambassador and elder statesman of forestry stewardship. He and his son, Jagger (who you can see in the gallery image cutting up the tulip poplar he just dropped) are engaged in a work of love (the profit is small and hard to come by, especially in a day of declining timber values.) And both are as articulate about their purpose, methods and goals as you'd ever expect to find coming from a suit and tie, much less from the garb of a woodsman in the backwaters of Virginia forests.

What Healing Harvest sees perhaps most clearly is there is more to the forest than the trees. In the end, it is the "environmental services" of the forest--its carbon sequestration, cooling effect, energy conversion and especially water resource impact--that makes our woods so valuable to us. To US, not just the small landowner who thinks in terms of his acres during his day.

But then, Jason can also convince you that it makes sense now and in pennies to consider leaving your woods better and better with each sucessive, selective, low-impact, worst-first cutting.

In this demonstration, Jagger Rutledge used a "Swede cut" to drop a tulip poplar 31" across at breast height. (The area it grew in is destined to become a pond). He estimated the tree was about 80 years old. The 8-foot section that was cut from the trunk of the tree weighed approximately 2200 pounds. And the Rutledges' team of Suffolks moved it away as if it were made of balsam wood, leaving no dozed road, no collateral tree damage--just a scuff in the leaf litter in the process.

Silage

Gary Boyd guessed correctly right off the bat: the boy's been around (country places).

Last week after having a blogger's lunch (Doug Thompson and Colleen Redman, who joined us accidentally for coffee) I stopped by the Jacksonville Center to explore the possibilities of my Note Cards being made available in the Retail Store there.

I spotted a familiar personality disappearing into the door of the old concrete silo--a prominent feature about which there has been talk for years: how can we use the structure (deemed to be sound from an engineering point of view) to best advantage?

Suzy Nees had just finished "decorating" the entry way and the silo interior. This involved removing considerable pigeon guano and spider webs, and them spreading bamboo canes and leaves around the perimeter of the great tube's interior mossy floor: in a few days, the silo would become a music studio.

I went by on Saturday and sure enough, a sign on the door said "do not enter: recording in progress". I'll let you know more when I find out WHO and WHAT about the music.

So, what you see when looking straight up is very like another planet: Planet Floyd, I suppose. And thanks to Suzy for snapping this picture of Fred, who seems to be suggesting that things are looking up in town these days. If you stop in town, be sure and visit the Jacksonville Center's retail shops, exhibits and galleries.

Waste Not, Want Not

Inefficiency: energy converted uselessly to heat of friction and incompletely burned energy residues: air and water pollutants.

The answer: Efficiency boosts--a much better solution to having more energy and less waste (including famously: greenhouse gases). Here's a snippet from a piece by Lester Brown on Huffingtonpost.com

" One crucial area of focus, a step we can take essentially immediately, is raising energy efficiency--especially in the United States.

When the Bush administration released a new energy plan in April 2001 that called for construction of 1,300 new power plants by 2020, Bill Prindle of the Washington-based Alliance to Save Energy responded by pointing out how the country could eliminate the need for those plants and save money in the process. He ticked off several steps that would reduce the demand for electricity:

* Improving efficiency standards for household appliances would eliminate the need for 127 power plants;

* More stringent residential air conditioner efficiency standards would eliminate 43 power plants;

* Raising commercial air conditioner standards would eliminate the need for 50 plants;

* Using tax credits and energy codes to improve the efficiency of new buildings would save another 170 plants;

* Similar steps to raise the energy efficiency of existing buildings would save 210 plants.

These five measures from the longer list suggested by Prindle would not only eliminate the need for 600 power plants, they would also save money. Although these calculations were made in 2001, they are still valid simply because there has been so little progress in raising U.S. energy efficiency since then."

Fred sez: When the time comes, I'll vote against the BIGGER HAMMER approach. Sometimes LESS is MORE.

Monday Puzzler

And you just THOUGHT Floyd was an unusual place! This unaltered photo was taken not a half mile from the traffic light, and it is NOT the moon (or Over The Moon).

Then WHAT is it? Come back later today for the answer.

On Losing Our Rootedness in the Soil

"Most people of my grandparents’ generation had an intuitive sense of agricultural basics: when various fruits and vegetables come into season, which ones keep through the winter, how to preserve the others. On what day autumn’s frost will likely fall on their county, and when to expect the last one in spring. Which crops can be planted before the last frost, and which must wait. What animals and vegetables thrive in one’s immediate region and how to live well on those, with little else thrown into the mix beyond a bag of flour, a pinch of salt, and a handful of coffee. Few people of my generation, and approximately none of our children, could answer any of those questions, let alone all of them. This knowledge has largely vanished from our culture."

by Barbara Kingsolver | Orion Magazine March-April 2007

Why Has it Taken SO LONG?

...and so many miles of streams gone--entire watersheds? I look at Goose Creek and Nameless, and try to imagine how I would have felt had these irresponsible "laws" allowed them to become lost to "overburden" and acid mine waste.
Press release 3/23/07 from EarthJustice

"Today, we applaud the ruling in federal court stating that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers violated the law by issuing mountaintop removal mining permits that allowed vital headwater streams to be permanently buried.

"The federal government has been illegally issuing such permits. Doing so has led to widespread and irreversible devastation to the streams, mountains and lands across Appalachia. The judge

The Corp's witnesses...conceded that the Corps does not know of any successful stream creation projects in the Appalachian region

has made it clear that the Corps must now comply with the Clean Water Act and stop issuing illegal permits.

"This decision does give the Corps another chance to try and show that they can issue permits for valley fills in streams without violating the law. But the evidence to date shows that the Corps has no scientific basis--no real evidence of any kind--upon which it bases its decisions to permit this permanent destruction to streams and headwaters. They have shown no evidence to support their claims that this destruction can simply be 'fixed' through mitigation. In fact, as the court opinion correctly notes: "The Corp's witnesses...conceded that the Corps does not know of any successful stream creation projects in the Appalachian region."

"Mountaintop removal mining valley fills cannot comply with the Clean Water Act without strict environmental limits. We hope the Corps recognizes this fact and realizes that approving illegal mountaintop removal mining permits does nothing to protect the environment, violates the law and is destroying the lives and culture of the people of West Virginia and the region."

Behind the Veil

I pulled into the parking spot at the Floyd Library yesterday, and the crows in the walnut tree stayed put.

City crows, I thought, with the notion that our Goose Creek crows spook at the slightest hint of human activity. From two hundred yards into the pasture they will take flight when I crack the front door open. But these City Birds are used to commotion and noise--maybe even follow it, since where there's city life, there might be the scraps of a tossed hamburger. Or road kill.

I reached reflexively for my camera, even at the time thinking "common crows: not much of a picture."

And yet, I'm rarely this close for so long, so I trained the lens on the nearest one of three, and hoped I'd see something image-worthy. But the one I focused on wouldn't even face me. All I could shoot was bird booty, and I was about to put the camera back in the bag and go check out a book.

Then, this bird turned his head over his shoulder and looked directly at me, with some apparent disdain, I might add.

And as if to say "I ain't puttin' on a show here, bubba" he fanned out his primaries like a cape, spread his tail feathers, and disappeared from view behind a screen of blue-black. And the show was over. And this was the show!

What wonderful control for each individual feather had this common blackbird--moving each independently as he preened feather by feather. I'd never before thought of feathers as anything but passive, and yet here was a dexterity of control not unlike the way I move my own fingers just so, mind over matter.

But then, it should come as no great surprise that to perform the aerobatic maneuvers we see in our distant crows against the sky takes precise adjustment second by second in the spread, pitch and camber of individual feathers. But this was the first time I'd really watched it happen in this crow so uncommonly close out my window, perfectly at rest, and disappearing briefly from view behind a living fan of feathers.

Healing Harvest: Demonstration March 24

Join Jason Rutledge, the Healing Harvest Forest Foundation, and Virginia Forest Watch for a demonstration of what it means to be a Biological Woodsman serving the forested community of Copper Hill. Meet at the Apple Ridge Farm on Pine Forest Road in Copper Hill at 1:00 pm on March 24 to carpool to the demonstration. For more information telephone 929-4222.

I'm going (read more about it). So is my camera. See you there. Jason is a Floyd County low-impact horse-logger. And while you're thinking sustainable forestry, take a look at this!

Our second media production is now available!

This is a professionally edited one-hour film made at Biological Woodsmen's Week entitled: Community-Based Restorative Forestry, HHFF Style. It features a collection of national, regional and local media, plus homemade video never before seen by the public, including footage of working in the woods, and the panel discussion held at the Airlie Center in Warrenton, Virginia.

The panelists are Troy Firth, Gary Anderson, Wendell Berry and Jason Rutledge.

Floyd County: On or Off the Beaten Path?

This is a comment to yesterday's post, Floyd Among the Giants. This seemed a discussion worthy of more.

This is a real conundrum. Of course we want to live in a place that is a nice, comfortable and attractive, and off the beaten path. We want the town and county to survive, even prosper, but it's chief "product" perhaps is the lifestyle and setting that will be destroyed if enjoyed by too many living too close--or too many at once on a weekend or special event.

That rural places are being discovered is a certainty. That they are increasingly popular as home-building destinations is also certain if you look at what is happening to land prices in places where previously there was a "vacuum" of population.

Perhaps the best we can do for in Floyd County in this netherworld between bucolic isolation and popular exploitation is to 1) decide what's precious about the place, pace and pleasures we enjoy and 2) prepare to protect them by zoning, by conservation easement, by purchase by entities whose goal is preservation and not mere profit. We can exert our influence on our supervisors to listen to more than the cha-ching of the treasury at the prospect of dollars--regardless of impact on the "commons" of the county.

We MUST put values on our sense of place and common "ownership" of Floyd County that aren't measured exclusively in revenue. And yet, money talks. Farming is no longer a livelihood. Farmers own the land and can't pay taxes. And there go open spaces, watersheds, viewsheds, and fertile agricultural soils.

This problem is not going unnoticed, but I haven't heard a great, unified solution to it. And Floyd is a divided community--about fifty percent would welcome commercial development of any kind if it meant greater convenience and more jobs, even minimum wage.

I do know that, since new residents ARE going to move here, I'd rather have people move here that KNOW what life is like in the winter during ice storms; what it is like when you want Chinese takeout or to see a movie; what it is like living an hour's round trip from the nearest gallon of milk or expecting any of the other missing "necessities" of life in the towns from which they might hope to move. Most who would expect these things here are so NOT ready for Floyd.

While some bloggers actively promote development of the county and region, most I know are FAR more concerned with keeping the rate of growth very slow and in maintaining the kind of change compatible with the qualities that brought them here in the first place. Many who have moved here have already left and gone back to less isolated places, as I heard today at lunch in town.

Floyd is far from perfect. And I can't think of any of its problems that will be solved by a massive influx of retirement relocation all at once, or by importing the city amenities--Starbucks, W-mart, and convenience-at-hand--that might come with in-migrants if they don't plan to come to be adopted by the land and lifestyle rather than to remake it to suit their habits and preferences.

This is a matter actively discussed and of great concern: how to love Floyd County, hope for a prosperous future, have affordable land and jobs for the next generation, and not overwhelm the roads, the economy, the rural feel, and the quiet landscapes in the process.

Tiny Floyd: Among the Giants

Who'da thunk it: Floyd, one of the Ten Top Southern American Cities. (click picture for larger image)

I got notice of this a couple of weeks back before it was public and current in Salon Magazine. I still can't find a link to the article or image, so if you do, please sent it along.

Whoa! Check out the top picture--from our very own Buffalo Mountain, taken by our very own Weird Uncle Fred of Fragments from You-Know-Where. We just don't know WHY. Apparently, one of the travel writers that passed through the county last year was smitten by the Floyd Effect.

The Right Stuff

I'm eternally searching for just the right tool for the task(s). Lately, definitely PLURAL.

"Right" means it helps me work the way I think, carrying me with the least possible intrusion by the tool toward completion of the job or jobs at hand.

And when it comes to sorting out the "action items" on my plate, it helps me to see the whole plate. For that, I've often tried, then abandoned software utilities called "mind mappers."

But here's one such web-based, free and sophisticated program I just might stay with. It's called Mindomo. Just click the LAUNCH button. My PROJECTS map has 16 MAIN TOPICS so far, some of them running three levels deep. I can SEE all the things that are "out there", in various states of need or progress, and decide what "to do" to move each along. Then I set alarms and calendar events accordingly. And I can see the same map from work or home, laptop or desktop.

Works for me. Another similar program is bubbl.us but I think I like Mindomo better. I wish it didn't take so many clicks to start a particular saved map on startup. It's still in beta but I'm finding it fully functional. Your mileage may vary.

Blue Ridge Parkway Notecards Set #1

Be among the first to see the FIVE cards that were voted to the top by readers of Fragments from Floyd and Nameless Creek.

Thanks for your suggestions, and I hope many of you will want multiple sets of these note cards to use for yourself and to give as gifts.

I expect to have these available to shipping and placing on shelves locally by the first week of April. Please email me (see sidebar) to get your name on the list for first mailing. Please leave shipping information.

Sets will be $10 for five cards and envelopes plus $1 per set for shipping. You can make checks payable to Goose Creek Press. See mailing address at the bottom of this page. (Virginia residents please at state tax of $0.50 per set to keep the governor happy.)

I'll post this link to the Parkway Cards on the sidebar for future reference. But don't delay! Order now while supplies last.

(UPDATE: I have replaced #2 with the Pilot Mountain image on recommendation of one who knows Parkway consumers better than I do. I discovered I couldn't please everybody, but since these will be somewhat targeted toward Parkway travelers, I figured I'd listen to someone representing that population. I'll modify the thumbnails page to reflect the changes--soon.)

Step It Up!

Speaking to a Dartmouth audience about changing global warming's impact by modified lifestyles and economies, Bill McKibben was accused of "preaching to the choir". How will converting the converts do any good, asked one person in the audience.

"Only if the choir sings five times louder is there any chance we'll get federal legislation to help stop global warming", McKibben said. "It's important now to get everyone in the choir to sing at the top of their lungs."

His timing may be right: Congress is considering more than a dozen global warming bills, Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth" just won an Oscar, two global oil companies are investing in wind energy, and several corporations are backing legislation to reduce carbon dioxide emissions.

A youthful-looking 46, McKibben was among the first to sound the alarm about global warming in 1989 with "The End of Nature." But after that book and nine others, he no longer seems content with just issuing warnings. He wants to lead people into action."

Step It Up happens in your area on Earth Day, April 14. Be there. (Click JOIN AN ACTION at top of stepitup web page to find an event near you.)

And I'm buying DEEP, McKibben's book (which he recommends you buy LOCALLY), published just this month. Here's an excerpt from the author's webpage that talks about the book:

"The time has come to move beyond "growth" as the paramount economic ideal and begin pursuing prosperity in a more local direction, with cities, suburbs, and regions producing more of their own food, generating more of their own energy, and even creating more of their own culture and entertainment."

Fools Names and Fools Faces

It was not hard to find evidence of Blue Ridge Parkway decline a few weeks back when I went looking for it for the purposes of a Parkway newsletter. Damage from the vagaries of weather--like the two ice storms we've had in the last month--one can to some degree overlook as "acts of God." But the saddest evidence of Parkway decline and abuse was this: graffiti at Rakes Mill Pond dam.

There is, after all, scant risk of being caught by a Park Ranger while in the act. Far too few have far too much territory to patrol to be any kind of threat to vandals and lowlifes with spray paint like Jody.

Do you suppose that people like this carry cases of black spray paint in the trunks of their rust- infested, Bondo-colored vehicles just in case they get the opportunity to become immortalized on an overpass, or even better, at a frequently visited and beautiful place in a national park?

Do you suppose that for Jody this was an act of rebellion, of machismo, or of sheer indifferent disregard that there might be anyone else in the world beside him (or her, as the case may be)?

I sympathize with graffiti in public places to the same extent that I appreciate people rolling down their windows and throwing the remnants of their Happy Meals along our road.

There are just aspects to the human condition and perspective that I simply do not understand. Carrying spray paint for Jody's purposes is certainly well outside my frame of reference. I can only imagine with some satisfaction that, while the park rangers won't catch him, someone else with a badge eventually will.

The WHEREs We're From

Spring. A time of new beginnings. A time to take nourishment from our roots to our winter-resting branches and grow a little taller--no matter how old we are.

And for this purpose--to give you an idea of the soil you grow in--I've posted a link to the Where I'm From template permanently in the sidebar. This "meme" is still circulating to good effect out there in the online world. And closer to home, even wife Ann sat down and wrote her own version for her reunion. Here's mine.

Let me emphasize that my only role in this is to make available two things I didn't have any part of creating: 1) the original poem by George Ella Lyon (which you can find via a link on the template page) and 2) the poem template with blanks and prompts that guide you to create your own version of George Ella's original. I am simply the messenger.

I will see George Ella again this summer at Hindman at the Writers Workshop, and tell her once more how popular and poignant her work has been.

If you haven't sat still long enough to ponder what you'd put in the blanks of the template, what are you waiting for? Finished, it will be a gift to your family. And to yourself. Trust me, it's worth the time.

Why I Want an iPod: End of message

I've tried to convince myself that when my "egg money" built to a certain level, I'd look at getting an iPod. Why? Because radio reception is crummy between the house and work (though sometimes the static only enhances the mood of the oldies station from Wytheville.) And I have six CD's in the built-in stereo. And NPR always comes in good, even the other side of Pilot Mountain. So maybe this isn't a very good reason.

But I've thought man, it would be great to have an iPod to be able to listen to audio books when I travel. That would make the miles zip by. But other than to work, I hardly ever travel. And when I do, it's usually not very far.

And I have a CD player in the car--and the easiest way to get audio books is on CD from the library. (Tip: Converting CD's to iPod files) And I generally would rather be thinking about something I wanted to write about than being entertained by somebody else's thoughts.

But then, there are some really interesting looking podcasts available for download that I would never sit and listen to stuck behind a computer. Where would I listen to this kind of audio program except driving to work? -- so we've come back to caveat number one.

Well then. I feel better having had this little conversation. And I appreciate your contribution to the egg money fund by following sidebar ad links to the Biltmore House, Blue Ridge Parkway, Crooked Road, bed & breakfasts, and the good links to Virginia.org visitor information like the Virginia Travel Directory. (Sorry for too many that sell land or law or irrelevant junk, but they're getting more contextual over time.) I've been curious myself where some of these lead--like "hiking in Virginia"--but I can't go there per google's rules.

So the egg money fund will grow on little bit by bit, and I'll most likely look to invest in something related to either the photography or the writing. Or find a suitable local charity. When I decide, I'll let you know, and thanks again.

Giving Nature Back: To Our Children, Ourselves

...Abby had found the broken remnants of a tailless kite, and entertained herself (and us) for a delightful hour under the blue prairie sky.

That afternoon I witnessed in a most striking way the contrast between the old-fashioned play of children actively entertaining their bodies and imaginations in the out-of-doors, and the modern, physically-passive, over-stimulating kinds of "recreation" that happen to kids almost exclusively indoors and may involve use of the thumb muscles alone.

"I like to play indoors better 'cause that’s where all the electrical outlets are" explained one urban fifth grader.

Read More (quick-loading Scribd pdf). This is an early draft, editorial comments welcomed and appreciated.

Friday SHoRTs: March 15

* What is your Personal Brand, and how is it changing, growing, evolving. Read more on Nameless Creek.

* There are new additions (to muddy the waters still further) in the Parkway Notecards Gallery. I'll try to make a decision for WHICH FIVE CARDS no later than Monday morning. I'd be happy to hear your thoughts. Input so far has been helpful, if not abundant.

* Related matter: You're a potential note card customer. You find two similar products of photographic cards, similar in every way except this: SET ONE is sealed; there may be a card somewhere that shows what's in the package, but you can't look at each of the five different views you might be paying for. SET TWO is also in a clear plastic envelope, but it is open at the top, and cards can be removed and easily reinserted. Which of these two sets of cards is most appealing to you? I ask this having obtained a heat sealer this week. To seal or not to seal (the tops)--THAT is the question. Thots?

* Thanks for feedback on the pdf document viewed at Scribd. Take a look at some of the recently-submitted files. Interesting. AND for the REAL FFF fans, here's an early, early beginning to what might become the words-and-images book that might be called Field Notes from Nameless Creek. For best viewing, click the VIEW FULL SCREEN button to the right on the Scribd display page after clicking the link to the file. Better yet, download in pdf from the Scribd sidebar.

* I was delighted yesterday at the Roanoke Biz2biz meeting to get to meet some local bloggers whose names were familiar but I'd never had a chance to shake their hands. Among other first meetings, I was glad to get to tell Andrew Cohill, CEO of DesignNine about his role (as founder of the Blacksburg Electronic Village, bev.net) in bringing us back to Southwest Virginia with the idea to live isolated while connected to the larger world. I as also able to tell him about my experiences in self-publishing, as he is looking to move in that direction in the near future.

* Been wondering if your Money Market shares have tanked with the recent "readjustment"? Take a look at Google Finance (fairly new, at least to me) for some nice interactive graphs that are intuitive to operate and let you custom-view the period over which you'd like to track changes in your investments.

* Take a look at Just Another Day in Roanoke at roanoke-found.com. Blogger Keith Clinton spoke at the meeting yesterday, and is active in bringing the different segments of the Roanoke blogging community together and keeping important current events (political, news, social) before the smaller clusters of bloggers in each quadrant of the city.

Our Beleaguered National Parks

The 469 mile long Blue Ridge Parkway is the nation's most visited national park, and yet funding for it has not increased relative to the economy or to other national parks. Consequently, not only the aesthetic experience of travelers is being degraded, but even their safety is at risk.
The is no ASPLUNDH or Department of Transportation to come along after ice storms to pull fallen limbs and toppled trees from the Parkway. Large branches that littered Rocky Knob Campground will make for some good firewood to the first campers, but those limbs and trees also fall on the roadway posing risks for accidents. And there is far too little staff to do this kind of cleanup quickly due to longstanding funding cuts to the Blue Ridge Parkway.
Compare this not-uncommon sagging, rotting or fallen rail fence with the intact fence in the header image. In places, the rail fences are entirely rotted away; of course the farmers whose fields are lined by rail fence don't depend on it to keep their cattle in, and also string at least a single line of barbed wire, as you can see here.

But there is a glimmer of good news: in late January, federal appropriations were made so that the parkway and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park would be able to hire more seasonal workers to run visitor centers, keep roads and trails maintained and continue funding park programs. From the Asheville Times...

The proposed $2.4 billion for national parks, which is a $230 million increase over last year, would send $1.5 million to the parkway and $1.9 million to the Smokies, an 11 percent increase for both parks, the two most visited units in the National Park Service.

"These seasonals will enable us to keep those visitor centers open, providing safety and general orientations to the parkway, and educational and interpretative programming," Francis said.

"And we will be able to keep our facilities clean, roadsides mowed in a better way, our vistas will be in a better shape, and our law enforcement will be able to provide a higher level of visitor services."

FeedBack, Y'all

I told you in the "FEEDS I'M READING" sidebar about Scribd, billed as the "You-Tube for Text". It was swamped with submissions when I first tried to upload a file; it was zippy today.

And for starters, I uploaded Gene Hyde's review of Slow Road Home that I converted to pdf, but this seems to load much faster than pdf, and may be the wave of the future for linking to documents that in the past have been too complex, too large, too slow to load in a browser.

Would a few of you click on the link here to tell me if you could access the page quickly and without problems? Many Thanks! -- Fred

Noise, Nuts, and Notes

Our Dog, the Chimera ~ Half canine, half squirrel. It's not that Tsuga is underfed or lacks variety in his diet. Sometimes he just feels like a nut. He has taken a liking to walnuts, and we can hear him crushing them from across the creek. Then, in the middle of the night, we see them again. Can you imagine how hard it must be to digest a walnut shell? Do you know that ground walnut shells are used as a sand-blasting abrasive? Small wonder then that the dog has problems digesting them. Even the squirrels are smart enough not to eat the shells.

Blogger event ~ Tomorrow I'll be attending a blogger event in Roanoke sponsored by Roanoke biz2biz.com; I expect it will be a pretty well covered event, and there will most likely be live podcasting and moblogging from WDBJ where the event will be held. I didn't know until I had or he signed up at one of the speakers will be area blogger, Sean Pecore, from nearby Boones Mill. My understanding is the program is primarily to facilitate the use of blogs for business communications and marketing, and so I expect to learn a few things and also meet some new friends and fellow bloggers.

Note cards ~ Thanks to the several folks who left suggestions about the note card choices. I had already pretty much decided that the rock church didn't fit as well as some of the others. I'll be going back through and looking for another couple of choices before I finally decide on which five to include. It will probably be at least three weeks before I'll have any cards available, but I'll let you know.

Noise and smell of city ~ The smell of clean air and the sound of nothing but nature -- these are things that I am too often indifferent to until I experienced their opposites, which I remembered this morning can be found at the Roanoke Airport. Stepping out of the car to help Ann with their bags made me want to get back to Goose Creek as quickly as possible. Exhaust fumes and sirens stand out in such sharp and unpleasant contrast to the pleasantries of home. I know the wife will be glad to return to the ordinaries that we take for granted.

More Mountain Melodies

We worked on Southern Mountain Melodies home page a bit more yesterday, and now there are four of the Traynhams songs available to generously sample. See the bottom of the sidebar for the links. And pardon our dust. For now, you can REFRESH the page by hitting F5 to make the player disappear when you're through listening. We'll fix this the next run through.

And for those few of you who might enjoy "Old Time, All the Time", Mac told me about Sugar in the Gourd. Click on the LISTEN button up top on the program's page, and well, listen. Discover some old favorites, and some NEW old favorites.

Serving Suggestion

To read the Google Reader sidebar FEEDS/BLOGS I'M READING all on one continuous page, click the READ MORE at the end. Or click here.

I find this is a good way to both share and remember news or blog pieces I might want to return to--sort of like creating my own newspaper for later. However, unless you go to the trouble periodically to "unshare" older items, this list can grow indefinitely--which I guess is no big whoop since Google is storing all my "newspaper" pages on their server.

Parkway Note Cards

You can start with this one, then click through to number six. Clicking the X at the top of the screen will carry you to the front page and thumbnails for the Parkway Cards gallery. Placing your cursor on each image will remind you of the title of the image.

I'm ready to have another set of note cards printed, five to a set, like last time. Trouble is, I have six images in the folder, and one of them has to go. Can you help me decide?

Deselect ONE, and email or send a comment with your choice, and thanks in advance for your contribution!

And if want to be put on the list for first orders, be sure your email is in your comment, or send me that info to my email addy. Cost will be $10 per set plus $1 postage set, ten cards and envelops. Each card will include the caption text you see in the gallery (or something similar). More, soon.

Wedge and Tong: Cutting Trees, Saving the Forest

I appreciated the space in the Sunday Roanoke Times devoted to the Rutledge's Healing Harvest Forest Foundation's horse-logging practice.

Healing Harvest is based in the Floyd County community of Copper Hill. The nonprofit was established in 1999 to support sustainable forestry and animal-powered logging. They advocate a "worst-first," single-selection cutting program. That means choosing to cut individual trees, taking weak, diseased and unwanted trees first and leaving healthy trees to continue to grow.

"What's important is what's left," Jason Rutledge said.

Cutting the weakest and least desirable trees opens up the forest for other growth, he said. Not only trees, but also mushrooms and ginseng -- which Healing Harvest will help landowners cultivate -- can thrive in a healthy forest.

"You can't have them without the forest," Jason Rutledge said. "You can't grow them in a clear cut."

Watch Jason's team of Suffolk draft horses, Wedge and Tong, do their work in a short video at the Roanoke Times link above.

Read more about Healing Harvest in Floyd County, Virginia.

No Child: Your Thoughts

For those of you who responded to the Leave No Child Inside link last week, please take note: You can share a comment to the piece on the Orion site. The comments already posted are worth reading, if only to know that you are not the only one concerned that your grandchildren don't know one tree from another.

Here is the comment I left a few days back.

I am truly encouraged to find the pendulum swinging, finally, back to a healthy center. I left biology teaching in the mid-80s partly because I no longer found enough field-interested students to enroll for my "Plant Life of Virginia" class at the community college where I taught.

The catalyst of Richard Louv's writing has brought to the surface the uneasiness many of us as individuals and institutions have felt in the distance between all of us--not just youth--and the outdoors during the cultural shift towards indoor electronic inactivity, with the false belief that humanity is somehow apart from and above the cycles and rhythms of the natural world.

I have felt until now largely alone in my hope that, in my blogging and essays, I might reconnect ADULT readers with the small wonders of the ordinary. I have a renewed courage to persevere aggressively in this goal here in my Blue Ridge area of Virginia.

I also have a broader context in which to discuss my "memoir of landscape", Slow Road Home --a Blue Ridge Book of Days, as it also serves to bring readers back to center on the "pace, place and pleasures" of the natural world.

I am so encouraged, with renewed hope that there are receptive ears to hear this message in our times. I think Mr. Louv is to appear soon in Roanoke not far from me, and hope to be able to hear him speak.

And this: Richard Louv will be reading these comments and making specific response on March 13 and March 20. This could represent some really valuable exchange of ideas, experience and hope on this important matter of reuniting ourselves (adult and child alike) with the wholeness that comes from simply being attuned to earth and sky.

Somewhere. In a dream...

Blue Ridge Parkway, Milepost 152, on the windy afternoon of March 7, 2007

Pilgrim at Nameless Creek

"Again and again as I read, I went back to my bookshelf to compare this work with that of Annie Dillard. Fred expresses a similar wisdom tinged with amazed gratitude at finding himself alone and content to record the measure of his days along the winding valleys and hilltops of the Blue Ridge in Floyd County, Virginia. My only worry is that others will attempt to literally follow him there with less awareness of the fragility of this remote ecosystem, and so I recommend reading the book and not necessarily visiting (!) in order to experience the beauty of that place, whose remoteness and inaccessibility is intrinsic to its survival.

Fred First takes us on a path of his own discovery that parallels the similar paths of others who have explored voluntary simplicity and introspection, leading us toward a closer connection with everyday experiences, finding the joy in shared experiences with a cherished companion, and the quiet peace that comes from solitude in natural surroundings. Through images and words Fred brings us with him, and we can truly partake of that same wonder, gratitude, and compassion, and recognize the value in simple reflection on nature's bounty, which truly is all around us.

Thank you Fred, for sharing with us your heartfelt account of your personal geography. May you continue to bring us the same at Fragments from Floyd." Amazon.com review of Slow Road Home

---

Thanks to reader and Fragments Friend Susannah for her kind words about Slow Road Home over at Amazon.com ~ ~ where you can now LOOK inside THE BOOK! Perhaps it was mere coincidence, but the same day I was delighted to find her addition to the reviews of the book, I also found someone (a bookstore chain perhaps?) had ordered 40 copies from Lighting Source where the book is now printed. Wonderful discoveries, both, and I hope that those 40 books are "seeds" that will find their way into parts of the country previously unreached by my little dog and pony show.

And if you feel inclined to add a review to Susannah's, much appreciated. I think especially as more connectors (like the comparison to Annie Dillard and Tinker Creek)

PS: Susannah, please send your new email addy.

Picture This

"The back page of an October issue of San Francisco magazine displays a vivid photograph of a small boy, eyes wide with excitement and joy, leaping and running on a great expanse of California beach, storm clouds and towering waves behind him. A short article explains that the boy was hyperactive, he had been kicked out of his school, and his parents had not known what to do with him—but they had observed how nature engaged and soothed him. So for years they took their son to beaches, forests, dunes, and rivers to let nature do its work.

The photograph was taken in 1907. The boy was Ansel Adams." (from No Child Left Inside by Richard Louv)

Day-after Debriefing

No matter how "successful" one my little book events is, there is a feeling of both relief and regret when it is past and not filling that spot on the calendar where it was for months. And I alway have preconceived notions of how it will be, who and how many will come, and where and how I will steer the conversation and readings just so--and none of this transpires according to imagination's script. Often, it's even better. But there are always regrets, no matter how "well" things have gone.

There were many I hoped to see last night who did not come. And some who came that I did not expect. The crowd filled all the chairs provided for the event, and they were responsive enough, if a bit "Lutheran" in their restraint--except for the front row: two grammar-school-aged girls listened to every word and followed me with their eyes and their imaginations as I acted out the story of Zachary, our lost dog who found his way home.

And they asked questions:

"How did you write your book?" one asked.

"I didn't write a book. My words became a book. I just wrote paragraphs every day.You write a book one sentence at a time. Then find two sentences that fit together. Soon you'll have a paragraph. Write another that belongs to the first. And soon you'll have a page. Do this every day, and your sentences and paragraphs and pages will do a better and better job saying what it is you want to say. And in time, if you really want to, you'll have written a book."

And "Is your book TRUE?" asked the other.

"True? Yes, but it is a painter's reality. A painter looks out at a landscape--a pretty barn, a couple of cows, the hills in the distance, and some power lines. He leaves out the power lines in his picture. With writing, you can leave out the power lines and just focus on the things you want your readers to see in the subject of your words. This isn't dishonest. It just uses words to focus attention on parts of the view."

After the program, the two girls twittered excitedly. "I'm going home and write the story of my life!" One said. "I'm going to tell my teacher about this!" said the other.

They both came up to the book table with one of my bookmarks and asked me to "autograph" them. Made me smile.

But who knows how this small influence on these young minds might take root and grow to become something of substance. My small appearance and fumbling half-hour could represent a gentle nudge towards a future for one of both these young girls to take writing as their voice to the world.

So I have my satisfications and my regrets. But who knows how we touch the lives of others in ways that can't be known until their sentences that we inspire finally become their book.

Art at the Park(way)

I'm still scattered this morning, awash in things undone yesterday in preparation for Thursday's morning-to-midnight busy-ness.

Looking back over Wednesday's Parkway excursion, the thumbnail of this unworked image popped out, and though I should have been taking care of book keeping and contacts updates from the community college last night, I got lost in Photoshop instead..and finding you a link to the image that tells that this is not just another pretty place along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I actually stopped here to see if I could get a shot of a perfectly symmetrically split pine tree growing in the pasture off-image to the left. It obviously split when young, and both halves of this mature tree are growing at about a 30 degree angle, forming a dark V against the woods and sky behind. But there wasn't enough light for that image after all. But lo and behold, there was Donna and Rick's place begging to be photographed.

At about milepost 155 is the home and pottery studio of two of Floyd County's top-tier potters, Donna Polseno and Rick Hensley. To drive past, you'd never know what art lies inside this unassuming and bucolic farmhouse setting. Take a look at a piece from a 2005 issue of Ceramics Monthly with images of their work, and a nice review of their methods and its meaning.

This is just one example of Floyd County's decentralized arts and crafts, which I think is a wonderful idea--at least for the potential customers. Not only do you get to see and purchase high quality, locally produced art, but you get to traverse some delightful countryside getting there. And there's always plenty of free parking--except during the 16 Hands Tour, coming up in May.

Definitely: An OH CRAP Moment

"The CSIRO scientists set out on a 10-day experiment to infect ducks with a South-East Asian strand of avian flu to better understand the risk to Australia.

On Monday, the final day, scientists realised a filter was missing from one of their protective suits, centre director, Dr Martyn Jeggo, said.

"On day 10 when we were completing the experiment and humanely killing the ducks and doing postmortems, it was discovered one of the workers did not have a filter in her head suit," Dr Jeggo said. The BIG OOPS.

Windswept

For three hours, the wind scoured my skin, abraded my eyeballs, pushed, shoved and bullied me. But then, what did I expect on the Parkway in March. But was it worth it? Depends on your yardstick.

I'd offered to try to get some pictures for the editor of Friends of the Blue Ridge Parkway High Vistas newsletter. The cover article in the upcoming issue will be on the sorry financial plight of the national parks, the Parkway in particular, of course. Did I have any pictures of picnic grounds, visitors centers and such in my archives? she asked, and the answer was no.

But this seemed like a good excuse to have the beautiful road pretty much all to myself. Did I get what she needed? I'm not at all certain. This weekend, maybe I'll show you one or two I think might be useful for her purpose. Did I have a good time on my little solo "assignment" before meeting in town at 6 at Jeannie Oneal's to talk about the Floyd Writers Room at the new motel? You bet!

This image doesn't do justice to the size of the trees, their windswept austerity, or the steepness of the slope where they grow across from the Rocky Knob campground (which, by the way, remains severely cluttered with ice-storm damage--branches everywhere--a real bonanza for the first campfire builders!)

Mountain Stage

I found this view of the newly-expanded Floyd Country Store that I brought home a few weeks back. You know, I think this is one of those things that, no matter how big you build it, it will fill to capacity.

But the scale of it seems about right. And so many things are better in the new version of the Country Store--not the least of which is the lighting. But then, no great surprise here: the store's owner, Woody Crenshaw, owns Crenshaw Lighting. And he is a photographer and knows how difficult it was to get anything like a usable shot with the old lighting.

I think Ann works Friday evening. Maybe, if there's enough left of me after work, I'll head to town and see what's happening "of an evening" in Greater Downtown Floyd. Ah, soon with warmer weather, the music will spill over onto the street, and the 2007 Music Season will have officially arrived.

Scattered. But GOOD Scattered

Yikes! My desk suffers from a bad case of the piles. Somewhere underneath Appalachian Voice, NRDC newsletter, Today in PT, Hindman Summer Brochure, assorted bills and solicitations et cetera is the Phoenix Hardwoods oak surface of a clean slate, not seen in some weeks. And this, in spite of my Getting to Done attempts (even incorporating GTD into Gmail. Tried it?)

Front burner: getting ready for Community College book talk Thursday (that's just tomorrow!). I think I'm okay for baggage--carton of books, change purse, bookmarks, laptop slide show for the pre- and post-meeting perusal. What I don't have together is my 30-40 minute talk. On the one hand, there is SO MUCH that will spring from the audience--old friends and neighbors we haven't seen in decades--that I want to stay unscripted so the conversation can go where the energy of the moment dictates. On the other hand, because of the level of potential distraction, I need some notes to guide me and not let me wander down any rabbit hole that comes along. There is a certain fear in operating according to a very loose script, but that seems to have worked out okay in the past. Still, I'm a little bit anxious. But good ANXIOUS.

Some of you read this in rough form a few weeks back. I massaged it some, and turned it into an essay: Nose for Winter. It will air live on WVTF this Friday. You can listen online now. The intro goes like this:

Anyone who walks Virginia's fields and forests in winter might easily forget they even have a sense of smell. The olfactory world of the cold months can seem a trackless desert for the nose. But WVTF essayist Fred First says if you know where to look, you can find ways to use your sense of smell even on the coldest winter day.

If I'd finished the article, I'd most definitely have something to say about Richard Louv's Orion essay, Leave No Child Inside. I highly recommend this topic for your consideration and for discussion here next week. I think this is a crucial issue, and one to which I can, perhaps, contribute--with my writing, photography and general concerns for esthetic and biological awareness, especially among the nation's cloistered and apathetic young people. An excerpt to lure you over to the article:

We do know that when people talk about the disconnect between children and nature—if they are old enough to remember a time when outdoor play was the norm—they almost always tell stories about their own childhoods: this tree house or fort, that special woods or ditch or creek or meadow. They recall those "places of initiation," in the words of naturalist Bob Pyle, where they may have first sensed with awe and wonder the largeness of the world seen and unseen. When people share these stories, their cultural, political, and religious walls come tumbling down.

Over on Nameless Creek today: Abby asks Dumpa a nature question.

I could go on, but I know very few are left reading this far down a blog screen. Lost most shortly after YIKES! Does anybody know if there is an "extended reading" function (to hide most of longish posts) that can be added to blogger like used to exist for Moveable Type? Would be nice. More as it happens...

Shedding a Little Light

You've heard by now how much more efficient Compact Florescent Light Bulbs (CFL) are than the old-fashioned incandescent bulbs. Replacing the light bulbs in your home or business is a single step that everybody can take (I think I read it's now mandatory in Australia, and lawmakers in California and New Jersey are considering bans on incandescent bulbs) to save significant energy and reduce greenhouse gases.

Walmart is jumping on the GREEN bandwagon (image is everything) promoting the bulbs to their customers. Great! But the downside is the mercury these bulbs contain.

...in January 2007, Wal-Mart announced it had set a goal of selling 100 million compact fluorescent bulbs this year. But, even after two months, Wal-Mart has refused to adopt a national recycling program to deal with the serious environmental threat posed by the mercury content contained in the CFL's.

Without a national recycling program, Wal-Mart's efforts to sell 100 million CFL's could result in the spreading of an estimated 227,273 pounds of mercury into American households.

Some large chains, like IKEA, are also making themselves responsible for recycling these bulbs from their customers who buy them. Apparently, some serious soil and water contamination is probable given enough broken bulbs in places where that dangerous element might enter the food chain.

So, the take home: get low-mercury CFL bulbs (we don't do Walmart, period) and gradually phase out all the old style. (We'll have to replace a couple of our old favorite lamps here at Chez Goose Creek that take the large-based 3-way bulbs, but that won't kill us.) But be very careful what you do with the bulbs once they finally burn out (should you live so long!) They ARE a hazardous waste!

And come on! Wake up, Walmart!

Today on Nameless Creek: A New Kind of Calvin-ism

Room in the Inn

Okay kiddies, it's Creative Juices Time! Here's the project I need your input on (and this is for real):

A new motel is under construction in the heart of downtown Floyd, undertaken by Jack Wall and Kamala Bauers (of Wall Residences). I only know the edges of the tale. But I know that it is designed so that the motel will employ folks who couldn't work independently in most other settings, giving them a safe working environment, some dignity and a little income. It will seek to encorporate into its construction and later, offer a venue for conferences on green architecture and alternative energy.

And, per Jack's design, the rooms will have significant individuality by being decorated according to themes--one of which will be (GET READY!) the "FLOYD WRITERS' ROOM". Yep, that's right. And along with blogger-writer Colleen and a few other folk, I'll be making suggestions about how the room should be furnished, decorated and equipped.

We're meeting Wednesday evening about this, and since I've only heard about this recently, I haven't had much chance to think about it. I did talk with Colleen the other day, and some more old fashioned writerly things--like a roll-top desk, a manual typewriter, an ink well and quill pen, lots of book shelves and books, a gooseneck lamp--will certainly be included. But then, we would want it to have more modern writing features as well, a wireless connection at a minimum.

And it should give the guests some flavor for the spoken and written words of Floyd County. Perhaps a montage of poetry, stories, biographies of local writers could cover one wall. Copies of the Muse Letter going back to Year One? Maybe a blog could be created specifically for guests of that room to enter their own "guestbook" comments directed at one or more of the Floyd writers whose works they'd perused while staying in the room. Might be nice to have available some audio recordings of Spoken Word at Cafe del Sol.

What else? You've got a budget of xxxx dollars. How will you spend it to give one room the flavor of Floyd's wordsmiths? Don't be shy. We really need ideas!

Monday, Monday

We picked up a Mommas and Papas CD last week, so today's potpourri collection title is a natural. Man, that Momma Cass had a sweet voice. Do I remember correctly that she died by choking on food in a restaurant? (Update: not so. She died of a heart condition.)

(:) The extra pair of glasses that Ann insisted I get will be ready today. The optometrist we go to has an office at the Pine Tavern. Park in front. Walk in. No wait. Walk out with disposable dark glasses and pupils from Night of the Living Dead. So pleasantly small-town.

(:) I. MUST. Do it! Our taxes are so simple, but even so, I hate sorting out interest income, W2s, charitable deductions and such. And my Goose Creek Press stuff this year actually is sort of involved--at least to me. Our accountant (home town boy, Allan Thompson) sent us one of those multi-page forms to put everything down on. I didn't do it. That's some of the aggravation I pay him for. I'll ask forgiveness rather than permission to omit this niggling bookkeeping step.

(:) I've benefitted from some sorting-out as a result of the interchange in comments and emails over the past few days. I think Rob Paterson understands; and Andy; and academic writer friend Tom, who is also sort of "between projects" and knows the feeling of unfulfilled drive to move ahead in the absence of clear focus or direction. There was never any hint of "don't blog"...only what, where, when, and a periodic need to understand why. All those answers are not yet in, but you've been a help. Thanks.

(:) OH! The main reason I'm going to town today is...no, wait a minute. That's a post in its own right. Stay tuned later this week. Maybe next. It's a GOOD thing!

(:) And, almost finally, if you live in this part of the country, pick up a Winter 2007 copy of Appalachian Voice (free news magazine available at libraries, grocery stores, and such.) On page 20, Gene Hyde (Radford University Appalachian Collection Librarian) offers a kind review of Slow Road Home. I've put a copy up on the book website if you're interested in taking a peek.

(:) This week in the book world: sending my first copy of SRH to France. And Thursday evening, a very wonderful opportunity to speak to a "home town" audience back in Wytheville, an hour's drive west, where we spent twelve years and the setting for quite a few of the vignettes in the book. (Scroll down the sidebar for time and place.)

Hope for Hemlocks?

Could there be hope for those eastern hemlocks that haven't already succumbed to this cottony sucker-of-death? Is the adelgid doomed?

ASHEVILLE ~ A new method of attacking the pest that destroys hemlock trees—a technique that involves the dairy product whey and a fungus—shows promise but may be a long way from making an impact.

About 74,000 acres of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park’s 500,000 acres contain hemlocks, and "pretty much every place we have hemlocks, we have adelgids," said park spokesman Bob Miller.

The park uses a crew of up to 16 people in peak season who spray about 2,000 acres of trees with a soapy solution and inject the insecticide, a program that will cost $812,000 this year. Predator beetles are employed in more remote areas.

We probably won't live to see if this experiment makes any real difference. And there will be places--Goose Creek, for instance--where it will already be too late. I doubt we'll have any living hemlocks left in five years.

There are several massive hemlocks along the steepest part of our road, dead and leaning, and every day I expect to see the last night's winds or rain have sent a massive branchy trunk down across our single-lane road. Ann is most likely to discover such an event as she drives to work in the morning dark.

When a smaller one fell last winter, the highway department came to deal with it, sure enough. But rather than clear it away, they simply pushed the branches and tops and bark and chunks of rotten trunk down the bank toward the creek. It looked awful, and still does. I can imagine what the debris field will be from one of the giants. Its corpse will be scattered across a half acre. And then another. And another.

But maybe some can be saved. The Smokies have the greatest concentration, and that area still has relatively healthy stands I think. I was happy to see that work still goes on to save yet another forest species under threat from an invasive agent, though this will be scant comfort over the coming decade as ours rot in place. Or barricade our mountain roads.

A Five Year Blog Retrospective

This was too much to post as a comment over on Nameless Creek as a followup to a recent "allegory about blogging", and perhaps a topic with which other bloggers might identify. Thanks Gary, Andy and others for your thoughts as I grapple with the purpose and end of blogging. Here I attempt to give voice to my vacillations pro and con about writing every day to this one-in-a-billion journal.

I feel such a strong ambivalence, not wanting merely to add to the noise of an increasingly bloated world of ego and opinion while having a self and point of view that wants to see the light of day.

I feel increasingly irrelevant in a world where more and more people are better qualified to discuss anything I would think to post. At some point, saving your own words is like saving barbershop floor clippings after a haircut. Yes, it's yours. But of what value is it?

I find, for good or ill, that blogging satisfies too many of my creative urges--to the extent that I don't have enough motivation to spill those energies over into anything concrete: a book, a magazine article, a for-real professional-quality gallery of images, a radio essay. Maybe that's okay. Sometimes I think so. Lately, not so much.

I don't want the blog to become a mere broadcast, and yet it feels far more monologue-ish and pushed compared to the multi-way, collaborative "front porch" it did at one time. There's still a point to using the blog as a simple repository for future reference or posterity (of uncertain value for either). But again, it seems a sad one-man band keeping time when nobody's dancing.

For the first three years of Fragments, I would have told you that there was at least one, usually more, reinforcing connections made through the blog every week--a new reader who was also a writer or editor; someone with connections in SWVA who felt reunited to place through the images on FFF; a "place blogger" who quickly became a kindred spirit and friend; a journalist, producer, photographer, writer, etc who was interested in or coming to Floyd and wanted to establish a relationship. Lately, not so much. None, actually.

For some of these deficiencies, I give myself credit. The teaching at Radford, the return to the PT clinic, the writing of the book, the marketing and promotion of the book, the Floyd Press regular column, the various other projects--all this has diminished my energies and focus for blogging. And rss readers put distance between me and the blogs I read in that way, and between those who read mine by newsfeed. There is a level of anonymity that didn't use to be there.

And some of the loss I feel is simply the nature of the beast, the nature of something become routine that once was innovative, cutting-edge and unknown. Heck, folks: five years of doing anything every day is a long time!

Above all, I don't want to become a blog that blogs about blogging.

Well, there you have it. I am my own worst enemy. And I apologize for this public navel gazing, and do so just to let you know I'm still home, still listening for the next traveler to pass down our slow road, still excited about this world-connection we have at our fingertips, and still just as confused as the rest of you about what all this means and where it is leading us.

What odd times we live in! -- Fred

Farmer's Tale

I woke up this morning thinking perhaps the wife in this little allegory from Fragment's ancient history was right.

When we expose our greatest hopes and precious things to strangers, we may be thought a fool. But the ordinary treasures we share may touch lives in ways we cannot imagine. This is the tale of one hopeful fool.

He prepared them lovingly, his precious mementos and carefully pressed flowers. He arranged them prominently on simple benches near the road. Just beyond, by the barn, a rough oak plank set across two tree stumps formed a crude table to display all manner of clippings and cards that flapped in the breeze-some brittle and yellow with age, others crisp and white from yesterday's journal.

Someone might care to turn the thin pages and read the forgotten stories, said the farmer to himself. Up around the bend near the low-water bridge, photographs were pinned haphazardly on the dark trunks of the maple trees-dog-eared, roughly framed or not at all; some new, most sepia toned from the passage of time, worn with a patina of love and memory. Trinkets and curios, found things and very private bric-a-brac lined the dirt road along a quarter mile of this seldom traveled path in a remote part of a sparsely peopled region of the rural land of Erehwon.

"Who will come?" she asked derisively. "You are a foolish old man" said the farmer's wife, "and if anyone comes, they will think you mad". read more...

Some Things That Start With S

Speech to Text Update:
I've been training Dragon naturally speaking for couple of months now, and it's finally starting to get a little smarter. I'm using it for almost all my e-mail, which saves me thousands of keystrokes everyday. (I'm using it to dictate this post, and that process of speaking text is coming more easily. It is improving my diction, and possibly will make it possible someday for me to speak with the intelligence of a six-year-old when leaving a voice message on an answering machine. One can always hope!) I still can't trust it completely, and have to carefully proofread everything -- especially at work with patient evaluations and related medical paperwork. I understand that the medical transcriptionists at the hospital across from the clinic are using the program extensively in medical dictation. It may not be perfect, but my wrists and plums are thankful for the technology.(Note the unintended fruit in the previous uncorrected sentence).

Speaking of Ergonomics:
If I read or used a laptop in bed, I would be more interested in this product called LapDawg. It's a little pricey, but considering the cost of wrist, shoulder or neck problems that are made worse while reading or using a laptop keyboard, it's really pretty good deal. I'll be able to recommend it to my patients, many of whom read in bed and to whom I offer the advice: put the bend in the book take it out of your neck. Simply propping a book on a pillow in your lap is one step in this direction. But this little stand is way better.

Summer Writers Workshop:
I just got the brochure from Hindman Settlement School regarding their summer writers workshop. I came home from this workshop in 2005 profoundly changed by five days among top tier Appalachian authors. I'm seriously considering going back this year to hang out among the likes of Lee Smith, Robert Morgan, Sharyn McCrumb, Joyce Dyer, Silas House, Meredith Sue Willis, Jack Higgs, Kathyrn Stripling Byer, Lisa Alther, George Ella Lyon, Gurney Norman and others. I'm in Kentucky is not one of those places you would pick out to go with the end of the hottest month of the year, but the suffering should be far outweighed by the inspiration, motivation, and encouragement but hopefully become from the investment of the week on Troublesome Creek.

Ermine and Black Velvet

Here, for certain on this first day of March, is yesterday's last frost of February.

So maybe I was premature with Wednesday's posting of what I described as the last of cold-weather aesthetics. We're not there yet.

But the dog brought home a wet but otherwise uninjured baby box turtle the size of a silver dollar yesterday. Even the cold-blooded among us are sensing the worst of the season has passed.