The House Selling Song

(sung to the tune of "Life's Been Good To Me So Far" by the Eagles)

Listing Link

I've got a house on a friendly street
If you want it, then we should meet.

The space is great, the floor plan's open,
Colorful walls and the floor is oaken

It has a bath with a heated floor
The master suite right out the door.

The basement finished with paneled walls
For your man cave, it's got it all

The view off the deck is really sweet. 
When the garden blooms, it's a calm retreat

In the summer you can walk to the beach
By car or train, Boston's is in easy reach

We're only asking 388.
It's a sellers market, you might want to raise that rate.

We're Going On the Road...and Trail, and Bike!

For Sale!

S.D. and I are hitting the road! We're selling the house, leaving our jobs, changing our state of residence to South Dakota, trading the car in for a van, selling almost everything in the house, packing what's left into the van and heading West. If it doesn't fit in the van, its not going.  For the next three or so years we plan on traveling around the country, camping, backpacking and bike touring.

Me and Austin

Thirty-six years ago, my sixteen year old self dreamed of packing her dog, Munchkin and her windsurfer into her Austin Healey, and heading West....and now it's going to happen. Sure, Munchkin will be with me in my heart, the windsurfer has been replaced by a bicycle, and the van will be much more practical than an Austin Healey, and I'm much older but now, and best of all I'll have my best buddy ever with me, S.D!

Ah, I fondly remember that awkward first date when S.D. defiantly told me he had no interest in having a house (although he did have a very nice house), his plan was to retire, buy a van, convert it into a stealth camper and wander around the county. Little did he suspect that was exactly what I was looking for, and that rather than scare me away, made me take a second look at the bearded, ex-boatbuilder-turned-fish-biologist-turned-government-bureaucrat. And good thing too! We're only two months away from making it happen.

Here are the details. S. D. is retiring as of May 29. I can't use the "r" word myself, but I'll be leaving my job, effective the same day. If all goes well the house will sell, or have sold just about the same time. We put it on the market today, and with the market being pretty "hot" here, hope to be under contract by mid-April, and on track for a late May closing.

Meanwhile we've begun making arrangements to establish residency in South Dakota. Why South Dakota you ask?  It's a little known fact but South Dakota is a virtual meca for folks who need a residence, but don't actually want to live there. With no income tax, no capital gains tax, a one-night once-every-five-year stay required for a driver's license, and a couple of companies that provide mail forwarding services, it's the perfect state if you plan to be on the move.  Once those arrangements are complete we can buy, and register the van (in South Dakota, by mail).

After the house sale, a week or two before the closing, we're selling almost everything in the house. If you're interested in buying anything let us know. Or stop by. We don't own anything fancy, but what we do have is useful and in good shape. Some stuff will be difficult to part with, it's funny how much things can mean to you, but if it won't fit in the van. It's got to go.

Then the house sale, then we head West!

First stop will be Traverse City, Michigan to visit Lyss, then UP. We're going to South Dakota via the Upper Peninsula.  Once in South Dakota, we have to spend a night in our new state, get our driver's license and move on. We might linger awhile in the Badlands, they sound really interesting. Lots of nice camping and bicycling locations.

We'll continue meandering west, camping, hiking and bicycling until early to mid July when we arrive in Ashland, Oregon. There we'll rent a storage unit for the remaining stuff.

*Route subject to change

And then the real adventure begins.

At the beginning of August we'll store the van too, put on our backpacks and head North on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail). We'll hike until the snow gets too deep, or our legs too woobly. Whichever comes first.

And then we'll just see what happens, but for now the idea is to bike around over the winter, eventually ending up at the Southern terminus of the PCT in early spring, then hiking North again. We'll hike until our legs get too woobly, or the snow gets too deep (the snow pack in the Sierra's usually lasts until June).  Once the snow is gone, we'll continue on to Ashland, and complete the PCT.

...and beyond that... who knows. That's a long way away, and a lot of new things away.

The Quotable Davy Crockett

Apparently, Davy Crockett is a fount of wisdom, a fact that was not apparent to an East Coast girl until a recent trip to Austin, Texas.
Sure she knew that he was the 'king of the wild frontier', that he grew up in Tennessee, that he killed a bear at the age of three, and was himself killed defending the Alamo. She did not know he was responsible for a number of quotes that Texans hold dear to their hearts and identity.

The most popular quote, found just about anywhere from napkins, to buildings, and tea cosies is: "You may all go to Hell, and I will go to Texas".There is even an Etsey store dedicated to the Hell vs Texas memorabilia  https://www.etsy.com/market/i_will_go_to_texas

Texans are obviously proud of their state, and the Crockett quote does a good job of concisely summing up that feeling.

However, the Texans have another popular Crockett quote that seems a bit problematic:
"Be always sure you are right - then go ahead"

So popular, in fact that Fess Parker recorded an inspirational little ditty  based on it, and worth a listen if you're in the mood for good laugh




At S.D.'s suggestion I  looked up some quotes from another famous Texan and found one that is an appropriate counterpoint to Davy's righteous quote, and more to my liking. The Great Kinky Freedman states:

“If you have the choice between humble and cocky, go with cocky. There's always time to be humble later, once you've been proven horrendously, irrevocably wrong.”

Texas State Capital - Home of the Lone Star(s)

Texas Capital

As a bleeding-heart liberal I have to confess, I have issues with Texas. And while Austin's reputation as Hipster South had assured me I would like, maybe even love that city, what I did not expect was that I would also love the state capital building.

I went to Austin to attend an Electronic Resources and Libraries conference held annually on the grounds of the University of Texas (because that's what librarians do these days). Arriving early, and after enjoying an amazing burger I decided to wander about and headed south in the general direction of downtown. On the ride in from the airport we'd all noticed the capital dome. It's hard to miss, huge and shinning there is the dead center of town. And while I hadn't intended to go there at all, I
soon found myself wandering around the 22 acres campus, and then inside the  360,000 square feet capital building itself.

Extra points: The Star is in the center

As you'd expect from Texas, the building is huge! Bigger than the Federal Capital building. But it is also, unexpectedly symmetrical, open and a great place to play Find the Star, or rather Find the Lone Star. According to wikipedia "Texas is nicknamed the Lone Star State to signify Texas as a former independent republic and as a reminder of the state's struggle for independence from Mexico. The "Lone Star" can be found on the Texas state flag and on the Texas state seal today.^[9]

Yup - here too

Actually, the Lone Star can be found on a lot more than the flag and the seal. Wandering around the massive capital you start seeing stars everywhere. And not just in the impressively large places like the rotunda ceiling, but also carved into the backs of the wooden benches, in the chandeliers, in the door hinges.

Bench Stars

 I even had to check out the bathrooms just to sure I didn't miss any. (1 of the 3 bathrooms had a star).

And then it was off to the Texas State Museum Gift Shop. Ohhh, the marketing opportunities!!!  That is museum gift shop that probably turns a profit. The Lone Star stuff was everywhere - and it was cool too.  You have to admit, the Star is pretty sweet.

A very small sample

A Weekend's Visit to the Chesapeake

1879 Hooper Strait Lighthouse

The Chesapeake Bay is a big-ass body of water. With it's rivers, streams, islands and meandering coast, it has an enormous amount of coastline, and an even bigger watershed.  And then there's the Chesapeake Bay Land Area, part sprawling metropolis, part remote farm/fisherman wilderness.  Layered over that is an amazingly rich history...and then there are oysters. And as different as some aspects of it may be from another, they are all connected.

At least that is my excuse. A few months ago S.D. and I visited  friends there for 3 days and I've been writing and deleting posts about it ever since. Trying to get a handle on the whole thing, or even a tiny part, and failing miserably.

This then, is attempt 312.

S.D.as the pensive Lighthouse Keeper

When traveling my biggest hope is that I can somehow get a sense of the area. Doing and seeing stuff that will give me a taste of the people, history and outdoors there are like.  So when our friends asked what we wanted to do during our visit I wasn't sure. What can you do in 3 days to get the feel of the this ginormous area? Luckily our hosts had a much better idea that I did.

Our first stop, and an excellent choice by our friends was Lures Bar and Grille.

The fish was excellent and then there was this thing called cheesy grits. I don't know how they make those, and considering the carbohydrates involved, I don't want to, but those were awesome.

The next day we went to the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. A Museum with the unenviable task of telling the

Best stairway ever! (in the lighthouse)

story of the aforementioned giant watershed that is the Chesapeake Bay in 18 acres, 15 buildings and even more boats. And they do try. Some of the exhibits, like the signature 1879 Hooper Strait Lighthouse, are pretty impressive. Some, like the "At Play on the Bay" exhibit try to cover too much and confuse the message.  Sometimes it was about recreation, and sometimes it seemed to be about the forces in conflict with recreation. The potential for the exhibit to act as a catalyst to conversation about those many conflicts were hinted at, but never fully realized. If it ever is, that would be an amazing exhibit.

Of course there was also lots of great stuff about oysters. Oyster boats, oyster processing, and some really great Oyster Advertising.

It was only fitting that after the museum we stopped at the Fisherman's Inn Restaurant.  With it's extensive collection of oyster plates, it was only natural to ordered oysters, and they were good. However, it was the butternut squash and lobster bisque that made the meal. Wow, that was really good! Even better than the cheesy grits.

The next day we were booked on an afternoon flight home, leaving a few morning hours for more exploration and our host, and expert tour guide wound around some back roads to Jackson's Landing.

Patuxent River marsh

The Landing is a small park on the Patuxent River, a tributary of the Chesapeake.  We took the trail from the parking lot and wound up through a small, random Henry Ford-ish type collection of buildings called the Patuxent Rural Life Museum .  The trail then dropped  down a switchback to a boardwalk.  Along the walk were interpretive signs of the nature-type.  The first one described the area as a Swamp, and half a mile later, another described this area as a Marsh. As a lover of salt marshes, I don't think I'd ever contemplated, or even realized the difference before.  But here for your edification and mine are the definitions:

----

A marsh is a type of wetland that is dominated by herbaceous rather than woody plant species.[1] Marshes can often be found at the edges of lakes and streams, where they form a transition between the aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems. They are often dominated by grasses, rushes or reeds.[2] If woody plants are present they tend to be low-growing shrubs. This form of vegetation is what differentiates marshes from other types of wetland such as swamps, which are dominated by trees, and mires, which are wetlands that have accumulated deposits of acidic peat.

A swamp is a wetland that is forested.[1] Many swamps occur along large rivers where they are critically dependent upon natural water level fluctuations.[2] Other swamps occur on the shores of large lakes.[3] Some swamps have hammocks, or dry-land protrusions, covered by aquatic vegetation, or vegetation that tolerates periodic inundation.


A salt marsh is a marshy area found near estuaries and sounds. The water in salt marshes varies from completely saturated with salt to freshwater. Estuaries are partly sheltered areas found near river mouths where freshwater mixes with seawater. Both salt marshes and estuaries are affected by high and low tides.

---

Salt Swamp (w Cypress Tree)

And now I know! or do I?

The Patuxent is tidal, and therefore slightly salty,  the area of the boardwalk that fronted the river and was identified as a swamp had some lovely cypress trees.  So is it technically a salt swamp?

----

And after three days in the Chesapeake did I have any better understanding of the area? Well our friends certainly helped, and I now know just enough to know that it would take years of biking, kayaking and exploring to get a solid handle on it.  Thanks B and P!

When Adventure Comes to You, the Nor'easter

Given all the excitement over the recent snow storm. The competing boasts of most snow, the countless photos of people walking down deserted snow-covered streets, kids sledding and closely monitored road, school and work closings,  the 36 hour news coverage...and the reality that this happens, exactly like this every two or so years, it starts to become clear that the excitement isn't really about it's uniqueness so much as each potential storm is an adventure.Snowstorms aren't unusual in New England, they're a welcome break from the routine, an adventure that you don't have to leave home for, an adventure comes to you.


The January 27th storm was a great example. Like all great adventures it was 70% planning and 30% wtf. The weather forecaster's predicted it a solid 48 hours in advance, giving everyone time to make the proper plans and get the excitement building.

Schools started cancelling classes, parking bans went into effect, grocery shelves were emptied....and then the Governor closed the highways and declared a state of emergency hours before the first flake fell.

All that was left to do, and deal with, were the unplannables.

• Just how much snow will fall? Will it be a dud, or historic, epic or catastrophic storm?
• Will the power go out? And if it goes out will you be forced to survive by wrapped up in your down sleeping bag and eating raw frozen meat?
• Will you get time off work? and if not will the trains run to get you to work? or will you get stuck in waiting for a train in the cattle yard that is North Station?
• Will the snow be light and fluffy? and if so, and if it's a blizzard, when do you shovel?
• Will the snow be snowman or snowfort snow? can you even attempt to shovel 24 inches of that? and if so what style of snowman should you build?

In Beverly, the snow didn't start until 10pm. At 2am it still didn't seem all that impressive. After
checking and seeing that the forecast was still calling for 24 inches, it seemed doubtful. At 6:00 I poured my morning coffee and settled back to watch the snow. Unimpressed by the what had already fallen, I soon realized that in the time it took to drink one cup, the snow had doubled!  Without booking a flight, driving for hours or suffering any discontent at all, the adventure had begun!

Still tiling after all these years

S.D and I have taken a break from hiking and biking and are currently focused on finishing our unfinished basement. It's a great space, big and dry and in desperate need of a bathroom, sheetrock and flooring.

And so this winter we decided would be, what I euphemistically refer to as " adventures in suburbia part three". After getting to know and enjoy the neighbors and then gardening and obsessing over lawn care, we turned to the house itself.  No adventure in suburbia is complete without a bit of house renovation. Sure we had already stripped wall paper off every vertical surface and deep pile rug off every horizontal surface, hired contractors to renovated the upstairs bath and reframed a master bedroom out of two small rooms ( in our first two years as home owners) but now we felt it was time to get really serious.

Earlier this year we had the plumbers come and install the rough plumbing. After S.D. recovered from knee surgery he got busy framing out the bath and washer / dryer room. That was followed by numerous trips to Home Depot and several hours of web surfing as we tried to decide how to deal with the small window on the bath / shower area. The way the room was laid out, the bath/ shower area was 5x3 with a small high window on the long wall. Initially we had wanted to have a large shower stall. But we soon realized that either meant a 5x3 shower (which is the exact measurements of a full sized tub, or we'd need to make a smaller shower and loose the window. Being practical, resale-value-aware folks we opted for a more practical tub-with-window option. That option ruled out pre-formed tub units and left us with only one surround option; tile.

I'd tiled in my former life. A life I now refer to as my days as a construction site queen (Please note earlier posts on the downside of being a queen - a lesson learned much later) . In those days I'd show up young and limber to a professionally prepared bath /shower / floor / backsplash with all the tile and grout selected by the home owner. The "guys " on the construction site would pull out their professional grade tiling tools. With their giant drills they'd mix the thinset or grout and be on standby with a tile saw to make any necessary cuts. I basically spread the thinset, placed the tiles and grouted them. And then cleaned up and went home in time to meet the girls getting off the school bus.

Tiling as a middle-aged suburban homeowner turned out to be a totally different experience. First, I had to pick out the tile and the grout, or rather S.D. and I had to. Neither of us is fond of shopping or even decorating so that made for some fun. Then we had to gather all the tools erring (and erring we did) on the cheap and easy side. Furthermore S.D. had to frame the space and we had to install the backerboard ourselves! It was at this point in the return to construction work that I began to refer to my former vocation as that of a construction queen.  The reality was dawning on me of just how much prep work had been done for me. Not only did working with the crew make the job easier, it also went faster. I'd lay some tile and viola the next day the plumbing would be finished. Now we had to do each and every step ourselves. It certainly brought a new perspective to the job.

All that aside, two nights ago, a mere six months after starting, we finished with the tile. twenty five years after my last job and I can still lay and grout tile like I used to. Although honestly I don't remember being so sore afterwards.

Honey happens

(co-authored and edited by S.D.)


This year we were prepared. We weren't going to live through weeks of sticky kitchen, like we had last time...and we were going to get honey! We didn't know how much, but the hive box was heavy so we knew we'd get something. To avoid the sticky mess, we had plastic layed out on the chairs and table. We had every possible utensil we'd need for honey extraction on the counter, and we had the counters clears of everything else. The coffee pot, the knife rack, the dish rack, the toaster, the big yellow fruit bowl were all moved into the living room. In hopes of a big harvest we had bought a bee extruder, honey extractor, sieves , a collector bucket, a capping knife (and we borrowed an electric capping knife) and 24 1/2 pound, and 24 pound honey containers.

wax cappings

To get started with the harvest, we placed the three foot high honey extractor on the plastic sheet by the sink, grabbed a dish towel, wet it and then rang it out. S.D. put on the bee suit. It was time to see just how much honey we would harvest after two years of bee keeping.

Getting the frames
We put the bee extruder on the hive between the honey super and the bees and left it for two days.  This allows the bees to go back down to the main body where the queen lives but not back into the honey super. Getting the honey super off the hive was relatively easy.  This way the bees didn't object when we removed the super and although it was heavy we only had to move it a few hundred feet to the back deck. There we removed two frames, shook off the ten or so persistent bees, covered the remaining frames with the damp towel to keep other bees from coming to the frames and brought the removed frames and one persistent bee into the house.

Uncapping

Loading the spinner

Once we had the frames, lovely smelling and heavy with combs full of honey, the next step is to remove the capings off the top of the comb so the honey can flow out. Removing just the cap, the very thin wax cover, of the comb, and not the comb itself is tricky business. We had borrowed an electric capping knife made just for this purpose. Once plugged in, the knife heats to the ideal temperature to simultaneously heat and slice through the wax. It worked okay. So long as we removed the building wax hunk off regularly and S.D. used a lot of pressure. The wax cappings went into a big metal bowl and the honey started dripping. Meanwhile, the bee who snuck in started buzzing angrily overhead and a few more showed up on the outsides of the window screen.   We ended up with a nice chunk of wax after it was filtered, enough to make a few candles.

Spinning Out the Honey
Once the cappings were off both sides of each frame we loaded the frames into the honey spinner. This was the three foot high bucket with a closable spout at the bottom, two racks on the inside, and a handle on the outside. Once loaded, we placed the lid on top. Grabbed the turning handle on the side and started cranking the handle, thereby spinning the frames inside the bucket and causing the honey to fly out of the combs hit the inside bucket walls and flow to the bottom.

Our Honey Flow

Honey!!!!

After repeating the process for 4 frames we noticed that the honey at the bottom of the bucket was starting to reach the spinners. It was time to open the spout and start filling the collector bucket running it through the sieves. The into the honey containers from there. And boy did the honey flow. By the time we'd finished all 12 frames, we'd filled all the bottles we'd prepared and even had to find a few jelly jars to fill too!   In the end we figure we got about 30 pounds of honey.  All of our friends, family and neighbors we gave a sample to, and the 15 pounds we sold to co-workers,  loved it and said how much better it was than store bought.  We figured out a quick estimate of how much each pound of honey cost us, it wasn't pretty, but then this is a hobby and not cost effective in any way.

Clean Up
Fortunately the plastic wasn't needed, it wasn't nearly as messy as we feared.  Clean up of all the gear was easy, we let the bees do it!  The frames went into the super and back on the hive to let the bees clean them up.  The extractor, sieves and bucket all went out to the back yard and every bee in the area helped clean them up.  In the end all we had to do was give them a quick wash and the clean up was done.

Graduation

Honey Harvest

After two years, 5 queens, 3 bee packages, 1 nuc, we had a kitchen full of lovely honey. Even more impressive, we'd finally gone through the full cycle of a bee keepers years - we were bee keepers!

Mt. Isolation - and Done!

Standing on the summit of Mt Isolation I was torn between getting as many photos as possible, just taking in the view of Mt Washington valley in its fall splendor, and celebrating our completion of hiking all 48 of the NH mountains over 4000 feet. With temps in the 30s and a howling wind it was obvious there wouldn't be much time to do either.  But wow, was it ever beautiful! And we did manage to both enjoy the view and get a few good photos to commemorate the day and the event.


This had been S.D and mys third attempt at sumitting Isolation, the most remote of the 4000fters. The first we had attempted as a day hike and abandoned after only 3.5 miles in the middle of what was an extremely memorable, and even more quotable hissy fit on my part. This time, considering the length of the hike, 14.2 miles, the 11 available hours of sun, and our lack of fitness, along with the desire to do a little backpacking,  we decided to attempt Isolation  as an overnighter. According to the maps and trip reports there was a good tent site less that a mile before the summit that would allow us to hike up, drop our packs, summit and then come back down and spend the night on the mountain. The next morning all we had to do was pack up and hike out.

And that's pretty much how it happened. We hit the trail at 9:00. The first 2 miles are relatively steep and through mixed forest. After that comes a 1.5 or so mile section of what another hiker refers to as "a stream masquerading as a trail".  We tried to locate the "unmissable" T that marks the location of bushwack and missed it.  After crossing the Rock Branch we stopped and ate lunch before continuing North along the river on the old railroad bed for another two or so miles. Then headed due west and up for another mile on another stream masquerading as a trail. At one point we met up with three guys coming down. One of them has just finished the 4000fters! There were congratulations all around and we continued on.  Coming up to the pass the trail wound along the side of a valley and through a quarter mile section of extreme blow downs. Luckily some wonderful trail crew had hiked all the way up here with serious saws and cleared the path. Right after those the trail leveled out in a pine forest, the only level area we'd seen in miles and there was the tent site.

S.D.and I scoped out the site, dropped our gear and headed for the peak. Just after the tent site we hit the Davis Path and turned south.  The Davis path, the first path to the summit of Mt. Washington looked pretty good for a 150 year old trail. After a mile we came to the side trail leading up to the summit. From there is was a short rock scramble to some of the best views in the Whites (of course when is any view in the Whites that is not one of the best?)

Back at the tent site we unpacked, cooked dinner and settled in for cold night. Temperatures dropped into the low 30's but we stayed warm and protected even as the wind blew high over the site. During the night the clouds lifted, the moon brightened the tent, and two flights of Canadian geese honked their way north.

Sunrise was spectacular. Red and orange but in no way foretelling of any bad weather, the day turned sunny and warm.  We packed up and headed down, stopping at the river for a hot oatmeal breakfast.

Feeling a little more relaxed and confident, I agreed to try the bushwack this time. The idea of this is that you get on the 3100ft elevation line and staying on that manage to cut off a mile of the trail and a significant PUDs (pointless ups and downs). S.D did pretty well with the trail blazing and navigation,  I did pretty well with my not-wanting-to-be-lost compulsion,  we got to see a giant moose, and made it back to the official trail alive.

From there it was just a little more rock hopping along the stream/trail, then down the hill and we were back at the trailhead.

Finishing the 4000fter is bittersweet. Some goals you reach and it's good riddance. After months of training you cross the line of a century and you're done. Yea!  Not so much with the 4000fters.  I'm glad to have stood on the summits of all those wonderful mountains.  Having that goal gave us a clear list of spectacular hikes and challenges.  Plus it got us up some very nice peaks that we wouldn't have normally hiked.  The goal of the 4,000 footer club is to get you out on more of the less popular peaks, it worked and it was worth it.  Now were just going to have to find more great hikes on our own.