Poe Evermore

Our good group got together for a letterboxing triathlon this past weekend. We properly fueled up at Mad Mex where they were shocked and appalled that we were nothing like the PSU students who know how to consume plenty of alcohol before lunch time. The waiter nearly passed out because PA PAddler is such a lightweight when it comes to libations and was afraid to offer him anything other than prune juice.

It must have been that prune juice that put the sour look on PA Paddler's face and made him build a cootie barrier between him and the rest of the innocents at the lunch table. Hunter Jumper decided to order from a unique menu; a palette of well organized entrées that she had brought for everyone's enjoyment. When she has tasted every item, she intends to put the binder up for auction on eBay. The owner's approval is pending but, because jbzfarm generously picked up the lunch tab, I have no doubt you will see it listed sometime soon.

Serious storms threatened the area all day but that didn't keep anyone from hiking Mt. Nittany. I left the camera behind in case we got caught in a down pour but all we had were a few rumbles off toward MILESBURG. It was our reservations that evening at the Elk Creek Cafe that called us from the ridge top before every letterbox was found.

Mososo Kruppe and PA PAddler took advantage of the sampler of microbrews. Consensus was that Elk Creek Copper Ale is the best. I must try it next time out. They also agreed that the Brookie Brown was quite good, the Winkleblink was like soda pop and the Big Trout Stout was a little flat for a stout beer.

Appetizers were enjoyed after exchanges and PTs were swapped. I enjoyed sharing Of Things Arcane and Mososo Kruppe allowed everyone to see if It could be your Luck Day! Some cute parody stamps were passed around and ideas started to pop up for future carving. After the food was tucked in the markers and stamps came out again much to the surprise of the wait staff and manager. We have yet another new group name, the Elk Creek Coloring Club. More t-shirts and patches are being designed, put your orders in now - supplies are limited to those who are chaff (and chaffed).

A nice blues band kicked in at 8PM but some of us needed to find accommodations for the night. We packed up our markers and stamps and went outside to watch what seemed to be a most ill fated parking job before driving back home. Jbzfarm went off to their remote and romantic campsite, 4Rhines had a nice room booked at the Stephen's Motel (they were very happy with this) and the rest of us had paid for places at 2201.


Trying to get a jump on the next morning we decided to put the bikes on the car and inner tubes in the hatch back but not before we got a call from jbzfarm. The road that lead to their campsite was blocked with one of those notorious PA black and yeller gates. They decided to take us up on an earlier offer of pitching their tent in our back yard.


The next morning I woke to be treated to bagels and cream cheese; jbzfarm beat us to the punch and went out to get a bag of breakfast goodies to fuel us for the bike ride. The 4Rhines came over and some kick @$$ cosmos were mixed in my kitchen. I have never had the scent of vodka and triple sec dominate my kitchen at 9AM and I got a little giddy just smelling them. Hunter Jumper mixed them with precision and packed them into her cooler for the afternoon.

Our caravan met on the far side of the Coburn tunnel and as we exited our vehicles I felt the need to grasp the door handle so I would not levitate. There was a whirring noise that sounded like space aliens were trying to beam us all up. It was all around us over head although it looked like any other beautiful day in Penns Valley. This was my introduction to the never ending call of the 17 year locusts. The volume of the noise was almost annoying and quite spooky. We joked about them a bit as we got onto our bikes and prepared for a few miles on the rail trail toward Ingleby and beyond.

There were letterboxes to check out along the way. One letterbox had quite a steep and rocky climb to a view of Penns Creek and the Coburn trestle below. The happy hikers were careful not to mention to Stonefly (until later) that there was snake skin quite nearby. Successfully logged into one letterbox, we started down the trail for another .25 mile to pause for the same reason. It was this area that the cicadas were most vociferous. Undulating waves of drumming cicadas serenaded us as we pedaled on to Ingleby.

Five letterboxes were logged into along this trail before we had to turn around. Just like the day before, we had to leave a box unfound because we had plans to meet the rest of our party at a different location. Mososo Kruppe and Dabralady were going to be meeting us a few miles farther down Penns Creek to put in for the float.


Finally, the nine of us were all at one place at the same time; we have to make sure this happens at least once a year or terrible and monstrous things will certainly happen. Inner tubes were inflated, libations were chilled and a local fisherman waved to us as we put in near the trestle. The day was just right and water temperature (don't go by the initial look on Dabralady's face) turned out to be very nice.
PA Paddler and Hunter Jumper were the bar keeps and when the rapids allowed they served up a few potent treats. I rode in what PA Paddler called my dingy and tied RGBisMe to me for a while. The rapids kicked up again and I set him free so that he wouldn't get tangled and he spilled the last of the iced beverage we had been sharing.

RGBisMe and I daudled on the far bank for a while, trying not to give away the location of a letterbox that was right along the creek. Eventually we saw them exploring the correct location and went over to check it out. It had taken on a little water but the baggies had been closed down just right by the last finders (thank you wanting snow and Ms Beachys) so everything was in good shape. A humorous moment came when Puddleby tossed Stonefly their signature stamp and it stamped him squarely in the chest before he caught it.

More of Penns Creek was enjoyed after the letterbox and we each managed to get tossed out at least once. Mososo Kruppe saved my inner tube from escaping once and Puddleby had hers shoot out from under her at about the same time Mososo Kruppe took a tumble from hers. Dabralady ended up with a mashed shoulder and RGBisme and I had banged up shins.


The walk through the Paddy Mountain tunnel was so much fun and before we knew it, we were back at our vehicles. It was like we had defied some law of time to be immediately back where we had started. Nine letterboxers having too much fun and defying laws. Being one of nine, I look forward to doing it again.

Wheat/ Chaff

When you separate things out, like skimming cream from milk, is what is left behind more or less worthwhile? One can easily argue "less" because the cream has been taken out and all that is left is milk. Some then assume that the cream is more worthwhile but I argue that it too is less. The integral whole has been divided. Cream is just as much a lesser entity as the skimmed milk.

In classrooms where children have been divided out by academic abilities it may be to a student's advantage to be able to learn at their own pace. The ones who have challenges in certain subjects can have some extra care while those who excel in similar subjects can finally be challenged. It sounds like a win/win situation if all you are focusing on is academics. Many times the academically advanced can have serious challenges in social interactions; a lot of book worms need a helping hand in blending well with others and speaking with decorum. It is then, I feel that a good mix of personalities can make for more wholesome growth.

Does chaff have worth? Of course it does, it serves the purpose of protecting the wheat with it's scaly casing. Wheat would not be nearly as desirable if it were not for the chaff. So when threshing time comes and you cast off what you deem unworthy of your needs or focus, remember that there is more worth to cast offs than you might be giving them. It all depends on your perspective.


Ibberson, Old Saw Mill Trail...

Our Gypsy Pilgrimage

Ravenboy was cast as lead Gypsy in the ballet Don Quixote. This is another brief and dynamic dance in the middle of a long classical ballet. It is one of the many roles he has always dreamed of performing so we wanted to be there to cheer him on.

We left in plenty of time to enjoy the sunny day outside of the Metropolitan Opera House. Maga11 had broken her ankle so we stayed pretty close to Lincoln Center the whole time. We were able to check on our 2 NYC letterboxes. We replaced our one in Central Park and looked through the log book of the one near Lincoln Center. Maga11 was really happy to stamp her and Toolman Luke into Peter the Fisherman.

We caught a cab up to Harry's Burritos to sit and waste some time.RGBisMe and I and enjoyed a couple of nice big bowls of chilled Gazpacho while my parents ordered big burrito type things with meat in them - ha! The iced tea there is always fresh and the house margaritas always tasty but they ran out of Dos Equis Amber on tap so Toolman Luke had to settle for a bottle.

I know I have written about Harry's Burritos before. This place is a little bit of a hole in the wall but has an awesome Mexican menu. The interior of the location on Columbus Ave. is filled with kitschy artwork and groovy lights. One of the high point of visiting Harry's is to pay homage to the bizarre lenticular photo of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Deano is riding (what?) right behind Jerry and holds a rising crop in case things get out of hand. You try looking at that picture after a house margarita and keeping a straight face. Maga11 was a real sport and got our photo in front of it. I know you can hardly see it but it is weird!!


We caught another cab back to Lincoln Center (broken ankle remember) and got ourselves all prettied up for the performance. It really was a lovely evening for a ballet. I wrote the following review for a ballet discussion board:

Although I was unable to attend the matinee performance, I was very happy to have seen Wednesday evening's cast. It is never a happy moment when casting changes but I can say I was thrilled with the performances of both Ananiashvili and Pavam last evening.

It was understandable how Ananiashvili's Kitri fools Krauchenka's Don Q into thinking she is his lovely Dulcinea; she won me over completely. Carreño was a wonderful sight to behold, as always. His Basilio was all one could ever hope for up until his final variation which left me a little flat.

Carreño and Ananiashvili were well matched. The joyous playfulness they projected combined with their rock solid technique made them a most enjoyable couple. Their trust in each other as partners blossomed into breath taking moments by the final curtain. The audience responded to them in what I found to be surprisingly more lively than typical mid-week politeness.

Flower Girls Copeland and Pavam were a highlight as was Scott's debut as lead Gypsy. With a nod to Cornejo's costuming, Scott sported the open fronted shirt and was on his leg for solid turns.

The pinnacle of the evening was Lane's Amour. Her sprightly and gay performance had me beaming and feeling blessed to be able to be in the audience. It is rare when we can afford the trip from central PA to see ABT at the Met; that evening's Don Q was like a gift to us.

Booty Shorts, Baby Swans & Bee Swarms

A trip to NYC this weekend was a treat that was long over due. We met up with Tracdc, Satan and Satania in the Poconos and rode in their slick hybrid car into the city. The weather forecast was a nasty one but we were lucky that the rain didn't really start until we were a few blocks from the underground parking garage.

The parking garage we love in Lincoln Center allows you to park your own car and retain the keys. Using this lot has saved us trouble and worry many times. We have helped Ravenboy move in to School of American Ballet by borrowing Toolman Luke and Maga11's van by parking there and being able to access the van multiple times over the day. Using our favorite garage has allowed me to change clothes for an evening performance after exploring the city most of the morning in more casual clothes. Another great thing is you don't have to worry about a parking attendant scratching your car or leaving the lights on.

Saturday it was great to take advantage of the underground lot because we didn't have to go outside in the pouring rain. We used the many underground walk ways to explore the different buildings at Lincoln Center. We popped by the stage door but nothing was going on, we walked to Avery Fisher Hall because some construction had closed the bathrooms we were counting on near the Met Opera House and we snaked our way into the crowded Met Opera House lobby to buy some future performance tickets and get in to see the matinee performance of Swan Lake.

We had time to shop a couple of the little boutique tables that had the stars shoes on sale. We enjoyed champagne and treats on the grand tier level before getting out seats in the 3rd row of the orchestra. We played with the sleeping opera dialog viewers in the seats in front of us when we tired of looking at the grand surroundings. The Metropolitan Opera House has 3,800 seats plus 195 standing room places, making a total capacity of 3,995. For ballet performances, the size of the orchestra pit can be decreased and another row of 35 seats added at the front of the auditorium. The huge lake-like drape of a scrim hid the large stage. The proscenium is 54 feet wide and 54 feet high. The distance from the curtain line to the back wall of the main stage is 80 feet, and the height of the stage to the rigging loft is 110 feet.

Ravenboy had performed solo roles over the past 2 nights and was a couple of minor roles for the matinee performance we were attending. When he finally learned his casting for the performance we planned to attend he sarcastically said, "Oh great, you get to see me in booty shorts and a fake mustache." When I told him where we we sitting he was even less pleased we would be seeing costuming he felt was unflattering. He was still gentleman enough to note our exact seats and promised to project to us during the performance.

This might be the 6th time I have attended a performance of Swan Lake. It's fine except for all of the white tutus that make me want to fall asleep. But a ballet is a ballet and we shouldn't hope for anything different. Satan joked, "I didn't realize there would be so much dancing." The opening prologue was text book except for the crowd going absolutely crazy with the first appearance of Veronika Part, the Swan Princess du jour.

The scene in which Ravenboy did most of his dancing was next and it was the celebration of Prince Sigfried's birthday. Sporting booty shorts and what Tracdc called faerie boots, Ravenboy danced his heart out as a peasant. He helped to heft out a huge maypole and presented it a graceful gesture of a raised hand (and just a hint of his tattoo showing out of his cuff.) We enjoyed watching one of Ravenboy's good friends, Blaine Hoven, perform the role of Benno - the prince's buddy. The peasants get into the wine at some point and the dancing gets more interesting for them. A shocking moment was the conclusion of a series of tosses and catches of one peasant girl. Jackie Reyes was being tossed and caught exactly down a row of peasant men until the last toss. It was either the last fellow was not in place or the second to last fellow who was tossing her didn't /couldn't look. Ms. Reyes was thrown into the air and landed partially on a chair. It looked painful and was the most horrifying thing I have seen happen in an American Ballet Theatre production. We found out later that she is fine and her neck was just a little sore. The peasants danced on and closed the scene with random shenanigans, Ravenboy, wine goblet in hand, vaulted from a wall just as the scrim drew closed.

The rest of the production was, as Ravenboy might put it, text book. I will say Veronika Part was the best white Swan Princess I have ever seen, Maria Riccetto and Misty Copland were great Cygnets and Marcello Gomes the most deliciously evil von Rothbart. Conductor David LaMarche must have had someplace he wanted to get to because he kept a blistering tempo throughout the matinee. This bought us 20 extra minutes for a terrific meal at Ollie's Noodle House. The rain had ended and our walk to and from the restaurant was a nice stroll up Broadway. We got back a little before Ravenboy's post production rehearsal was over to wait by the stage door.

We saw a few stars and some of friends walk by. Most of them were hustling trying to avoid the hag who hangs out there harassing the dancers for their autographs. Ravenboy says she sells them on ebay. Ravenboy finally came out and took Tracdc, Satan and Satania backstage. Tracdc even got to drink out of one the the golden wine goblet props.

The trip home was one of the smoothest out of the Lincoln Tunnel and only a bit of a storm slowed out progress in New Jersey. We got home and were able to enjoy the rest of our weekend hanging out with Mososo Kruppe. Something I have to share is a photo of something we had never seen before. A swarm of honey bees are on a multiflora rose bush on the edge of our field. We watched them come and go and dance their bee dances for quite a while as the football sized swarm undulated in the stiff breeze. An astounding vision of a mass of honey bees.

Happy Couple

Ravenboy and Upside Down as Usual have redefined their longtime friendship as a romantic relationship. Here the happy couple share a snack in their rooftop garden. I wish them a great Met season and super summer!

"We" the People

I find I am leery of anyone who speaks freely implying that they voice the needs, desires, intents or concerns for a group. I am more and more wary of a non elected person who professes general attitudes for a loosely knit community or club like vegetarian societies or letterboxing groups.

It has gotten me into trouble, more than once, when I have taken an individual's proclamation on something and found that they falsely represented the "we" they spoke for. One time, it turned out a planter's letterboxes were hidden in a poison ivy patch. I dropped the planter a matter of fact note recognizing that locations change over the years but wanted them to know about the abundance of poison ivy; no harm, no foul. Then one of the planter's hiking buddies wrote to me stating, "We were really embarrassed that you found our letterboxes that way." I quickly dropped another email, making sure that the planter knew it wasn't a big deal to me and apologizing for the embarrassment. It turns out they weren't fazed in the least and were just as matter of fact about it as we had originally been. The hiking buddy over stated the concern they felt the planter had.

When an individual is unclear in stating who "we" includes, statements like, "This is how we do things," or "We don't do it that way," come across as mandates when they are frequently just regional or even personal preferences. Many informal communities don't have a larger governing body and it is misleading when someone represents themselves as a voice of authority when it is merely their outspoken opinion. New comers to such groups have been known to heed the over-arching statements as law and are later shocked to find that the local rubric or even jargon is not global.

It would be to everyone's benefit if a moment could be taken to clarify who the "we" is -- be it your family, local group, national chapter or the mouse in your pocket. It would allow literal information gatherers, like myself, to put the statements into proper perspective and give them the importance they deserve.

Award Winning Photo/Graphics

Last evening we accompanied Toolman Luke and Maga11 to a reception for the juried artwork at the Blair County Arts Festival. Toolman Luke had entered three stunning black and white photographs and they were all accepted for the final judging. He got a call on Wednesday to congratulate him on winning second place in the photographic division. It was an exciting time for us to go along and see him receive his award.

We arrived at the reception at the Misciagna Family Center for Performing Arts on Penn State Altoona Campus just as it was getting warmed up. Artists from around central PA meshed and rubbed elbows with middle aged pretentious women who had over inflated senses of self. A thrilling moment was when we saw that Tommy Wareham was there, warming up with his guitar. Anything he performed would be a classy touch to the evening.

A bit of background on Toolman Luke is that he has been a professional photographer for more than half a century. He started with his own camera, apprenticing a local studio photographer, did the typical stringer work for local newspapers and secured himself a job with the FBI in the Hoover era. He made a name for himself in DC with his detailed work in photographic investigation and analysis. With a family to support he then shared his talents enhancing the businesses of Emertron, Standard Steel and eventually as senior photographer in the Photographic Department of PSU. Accolades that have been showered upon him are many. He has a great story about the court case in which he was defined as an expert photographer and where he was called upon to analyze photographs for a defense attorney. Ask him about "eggs and grits" sometime, it will blow you away.

As a retiree, Toolman Luke still loves photography. His specialty is still conventional black and white photography but the courses he sometimes offers to local photographers cover everything from basic composition and conventional dark room procedures to the new digital techniques. He has built at least one large format camera by hand (but not the lens) and still develops his own negatives and prints. Just this year he decided to enter a few of those prints in some central PA art shows.

We wound our way through the Blair County socialites to view how and where Toolman Luke's photographs had been displayed. They were very nicely hung together on one wall and his award noted by his winning print, "Sun on Eli's Field." We hadn't known which print had won the award until that moment and we had all guessed wrongly. The judge, who was competent, had his own subjective criteria as judges will have. This versatile judge was called upon to jury everything at the show. This included two dimensional artwork, the photography and all three dimensional artwork also.

The awards were announced starting with a special recognition of Artistic Distinction that was given to Tommy Wareham. With ease and graciousness, Mr. Warham accepted his honor and gave back to everyone in the room with a tune of kind wishes. The rest of the awards were announced and handed out. All present were received with applause and some with the bonus of familiar hugs and air kisses.

We toured all of the artwork displayed through the three galleries. The most compelling thing I noticed was the broad range of digital enhancement that was considered acceptable on photography. Digital and conventional photography was judged in the same category but some of the work done on the pieces were well beyond what a little dodging and burning or a color filter would have done. The third place winning photographer admitted to Toolman Luke to having used the computer software Photoshop to remove a person that was standing in the foreground of one of her entries (not the award winner).

What drove the above point home was when I walked into the gallery where most of the photography was displayed and overheard a group discussing how they could tell where certain photographs had been altered. "Look here," a twenty-something fellow said with a bit of dismay in his voice, "You can see a tree was removed from this side of the building but they didn't take away the huge shadow it cast."

I hadn't noticed things like that, just the garish texture filters the same print had been run through. When they moved aside and walked on the the next prints displayed I stepped in for a closer look. Sure enough, the shape of a fully leafed maple was cast on the side of the house in the print but no tree existed from the direction of the light source, the sun in this case. How much manipulation could be done on a photograph before it crossed the boundary and should be considered two dimensional artwork? I was wondering this as I heard the same group of critics behind me. They were discussing how an artist could easily take a series of photographs and carefully stitch them together using the same mentioned computer software to make what looks like one long elegant landscape. I turned to see what other photograph that they were demystifying. They were pointing at "Sun on Eli's Field."

I quickly stepped in to correct them. I agreed that many of the photos in the room had some level of digital artistry applied to them but none of the three photos in front of them had been touched. They looked more than skeptical and the younger man questioned exactly how "Sun on Eli's Field" was created. I assured them that the photographer could explain it better than I ever could and thankfully Toolman Luke walked into the gallery at that moment. I stepped aside but watched from across the gallery as the critical group went from rigid grilling to astonishment to rapt interest in everything Toolman Luke had to share with them. In turn, each of them walked back over to me expressed how jaded they had become in viewing a lot of the "photographic" work. They had seen the same pieces in other shows take huge cash prizes and had come to assume that most of the stunning photos that they were viewing that been grossly manipulated.

This fueled the main topic of my conversation over the next couple of hours. As we drove home, I asked my family their opinions on what they felt guidelines for photographic entries should be in a juried exhibit. RGBisMe me shared one solution he had seen in the past. Just below the matted photo the negative is also mounted. This would sadly take away from the breadth of the landscape on its own but would lend authenticity to the work. Toolman Luke was interested but unfazed. He knows what work went into his photographs and can sleep well at night knowing that it was his excellence in photography that was recognized.

One example of mediocre stitching with Photoshop can be seen on my Crawford Vista photograph. An example of simple Photoshop retouching can be seen in this example. Retouched photo is on the left and unaltered photo on the right

Expectations, Culinary and Otherwise

We all grow up with misconceptions that are sometimes shattered as we grow. I can remember a humorous story of a first grade child being absolutely shocked when they ran into their teacher in the grocery store and saw her chewing gum. In the child's mind, teachers weren't allowed to be chewing gum, or smoking or having a life outside the classroom. Similarly, as kids we expect that certain foods should always fall within specific parameters of tastes and textures. Apples can be crunchy and sweet or cooked into a mush and are sometimes tart but it would be a real shock to most of us if we were served some apple dish and it was spicy like a jalapeño.

A fun side of experiencing different things is sometimes learning that you like a food that your thought you hated or had always refused to try. I can remember my Aunt Esther sitting me down to a piece of pie but refusing to tell me what kind it was. It had the same flakey crust that her mother had taught her to perfect and I detected a hint of cinnamon along with a filling that was sweet and tart. It reminded me of a good apple pie and I told her I liked it. With that determined, she released the secret that it was Green Tomato Pie. Wow! I never would have thought of eating a green tomato and still had a bit of concern that it was something that might give me a stomach ache. I trusted my aunt and finished the pie. It was an interesting turning point because she had allowed me the decision to continue to eat the pie or turn it away if the idea of its contents were too disturbing because of my pre-disposition of what I thought of green tomatoes. I ate the rest of the pie very thoughtfully and by the time the plate was clean I had decided that green tomatoes had uses other than sitting on a window sill in early autumn waiting for the hopes of a pale blush to make them edible.

Having misconceptions shaken up can be little unpleasant. I always though mailmen were cheerful on their route and that nothing could ever sway their composed work ethic. It was disturbing to me when I saw our mailman jump a foot into the air and rightfully yell in an angry manner when a loose dog came at him aggressively. My thinking that mailmen had nothing to fear and were always glad to walk the street was clarified when I saw that happen.

My mother was raised in the south, deep south. You can be sure her emphasis on the word "insurance" will still be on the first syllable and she still says "ya'll" but with a yankee accent. I grew up in a house that knew what black eyed peas and cornbread were. We also knew grits were something to look forward to at breakfast and not something you poured out of your shoe or sanded wood with. One of the most unpleasant culinary shifts I have had to endure has been that I live in an area where they add sugar to sweeten cornbread. The initial piece of that cake sweet stuff I ever tasted sat one my plate untouched after that first unfortunate bite. I have forever since been very skeptical of being served cornbread at a restaurant. Even the chain that brags of it's country style cooking Cracker Barrel sweetens their cornbread. They must think that it's all right to do that because they add pork drippings to it. Ugh!

I raised my own family with my idea of what grits and cornbread should taste like, no sugar added just plain corny goodness. I have given cornbread my own twist now and then by making a cornbread stuffing or a pan baked cornbread with hot peppers that my dearly departed Aunt Dorothy introduced me to. My son grew up knowing that the stuff they call cornbread in local restaurants was not to be trusted. It helped even my dutchy born husband to refer to it as corn cake so that initial sweetness was not a rust-your-teeth type shock.

I knew I my cornbread expectations had rubbed off on him totally last evening when ordering at a local cajun restaurant. My husband ordered the vegetable jambalaya while I ordered the red beans, rice and corn bread. When my meal was served to me the beans and rice were nestled between two corn-golden wedges that had been painstakingly blackened with lovely grill marks. It was beautiful and he confided to me that he had been considering the same entrée that I had ordered, "...and then I became really afraid of the cornbread." We both tested a nibble of it expectantly and then broke into knowing grins. I had been served cajun blackened corn cake.

The Gypsies are in Town

Something that used to strike a certain amount of comical fear into our hearts as children was if ever we would hear a neighbor or family member say that the gypsies were in town. It meant no good; the implication was that gypsies would come to shop lift, swindle and steal all that they could while passing through.

Last week an expected and not welcome visit from some gypsies finally arrived. The many egg casing from Gypsy Moth caterpillar finally hatched and their thousands of little black larva arrived hungry and everywhere. Anyone who hiked Nittany Mountain last year saw the many larva remains and then the egg smuts on the bark of the trees along the way. I had never seen so many.

Last week, I noticed many tiny black larva everywhere I went. These aren't the caterpillars that make the flossy white tents in the branches of trees, they are smaller right now and are sailing around on little threads, landing everywhere. I checked our apple tree last night and they have started eating little holes in every leaf on the tree.

Today, I was able to photograph an airplane making passes and spraying Nittany Mountain. I was able to catch some of the white stream of spray in the one photograph (to the left, halfway down the mountain in the second photo). I have no idea if the breeze might blow a bit in our direction to help our trees. I am afraid it's going to be a year where these gypsies take more than they are welcome to.

Local articles from the Centre Daily Times from May 11, 2008 and May 14, 2008.

Happy Mother's Day!

Don't send Maga11 a lame Mother's Day eCard.
Try JibJab Sendables!

This week I came home to a surprise on the back porch. RGBisMe gave me an early Mother's Day gift of two full sized rose bushes. I have had miniature ones in the past and have done about average for keeping them alive. They are hybrid tea roses called Dream Come True and I am excited to see how they do in our yard.

Roses of that color have always reminded my of my grandmothers. The scent reminds my of lotions and bath salts my maternal grandmother gave me and the color reminds me of roses my paternal grandmother and her daughter always had.

Quehanna

Yesterday morning RGBisMe and I drove up to Quehanna Wild Area to do a little hiking. We chose the Crawford Vista Trail and looped back via Dry Marsh Trail. This has got to be one of the most pleasant and diverse hikes we have ever taken. It was somewhere under 4 miles in length but we were so energized from all that we had seen that it seemed like a level walk through the park all morning.

There were fiddle head from at least 3 different kinds of ferns along most of the trails. Lichen was blooming at Crawford vista. Warblers were darting here and there and we could always hear a Black-Throated Green Warbler somewhere nearby.

As we hiked away from the vista into Elk County we actually saw signs of an elk! I looked at the scat pile and said, "That's no deer!" RGBisMe made me take a photo using his compass for scale.

Dry Marsh Trail was actually elevated on a grade through an active marsh. An interesting thing about the entire 50,000 acres is what was state forest land and was sold in 1955 to the Curtiss-Wright Corporation. They used the area to develope nuclear jet engines and conduct research. The land was returned to the state in 1966 and now is managed as the Quehanna Wild Area in DCNR’s Moshannon and Elk forest districts. There are still traces of radioactivity in the wild area although the stateassures us it is minimal. They did, however, remove all hunting camps from the immediate area. The boundary of the wild area is a symmetrical 16-sided polygon.

The final mile or so along Meeker run was so beautiful. I reminded us of the best parts of hiking back to the geocache called Serenity. We think this was better because there was no road walking nor a camp at the end of the trail. There was an old camp foundation at one point but we now know how long that has been gone and why.

Quehanna is so much closer than we realized too. The trails are less rocky because it is out of Pennsylvania's ridge and valley section and is on the Allegheny Plateau. This is probably another reason why we were less fatigued. I can guarantee that this past Sunday will not be the last time that I explore trails in the Quehanna Wild Area.

Rings 'n' Things and Life Long Dreams (pt2)

Since I last posted, it has since been determined that Satan's daughter would like to be known a Satania. Tracdc says she is so much like her father.

Satania and I got to ride the spinning swings together. My father took a photo of me on a similar ride when I was young and I had RGBisMe snap a bunch of shots of me so that we might do a "then and now" type of montage in the future. There is a cool link called Young Me, Now Me with folks who have done just that.

It was time for the Grand Carousel. Toolman Luke and Satan said "pass" to the spinning horse but that was cool because they got to take some photos of us. We were all lucky to get outside horses so we could have a chance to grab the brass ring. Earlier in the week I had reminded everyone to trim their nails because I usually end up splitting mine badly as my aim is porr when I grab for the ring holder on the outside of the carousel. We were ready.

The carousel started spinning and I was finishing up shooting a couple photos when RGBisMe warned me, "T! The rings!"

They had put the arm that holds the rings down before they hit the warning bell (normal procedure) and I almost missed a first grab but got an iron ring just in time. I turned to watch RGBisMe, Tracdc, Satania and Maga11 each have a go.The ride is not a slow one but there are some employees on the Grand Carousel who have perfected snagging multiple rings on one pass. I talked to a woman who had been able to get two by quickly grabbing and she knew of another employee who was able to get three before the carousel turned too far to reach the arm.

RGBisMe shouted from behind me, "The guy is watching for the brass ring at the bottom, it's going to be soon!" Years ago, there had never really been a real brass ring but for about the past decade, they have added a shiny ring of brass amongst the dull iron ones that come out of the vending arm. Anyone who grabs the shiny brass one gets tickets for another free ride on the Grand Carousel. I assume that because there is only one brass ring, they have an employee stand at the bottom of the arm to watch who grabs it. They then quickly mount the carousel and exchange it for tickets before the rider has a chance to... pocket it? throw it back? think it's theirs to keep? I am not sure but there is never was way to get a photo of anyone who grabs it because they pretty much grab it right back.

I prepared myself for the next pass. The person in front of me made a successful catch of an iron ring and in it's place slid a golden shimmering ring! I steeled myself to focus my aim and nabbed it! I saw a blur as the fellow jumped up behind me to take back the ring but I wasn't going to give it up without showing it off. I whooped in victory, kissed the ring and raised it over my head so he couldn't reach it as I turned. My family all saw it and cheered, "She got it!!"

I knew the employee was probably sweating bullets that he wasn't going to get the ring back so I made it quick and said to him, "Thank you for allowing me my moment." He smiled and we made the swap, the ring for tickets. With my goal met in the Haunted Mansion earlier and this victory it was certainly a brass ring day for me!

We dawdled over to the Killer Bees game and made sure to play the Derby Race game since it was Kentucky Derby Day (also our 21st anniversary for moving to State College.)

After hurting my knee on the Scooters I was ready for an ice cream break. Satania got some Dippin' Dots and RGBisMe shared a cotton candy ice cream while Maga11 & Toolman Luke went into the antique photography display. Tracdc and Satan said that they didn't get to ride the Haunted Mansion together so they got in line to go again while we sat outside and enjoyed our treats. Soon Maga11 & Toolman Luke showed up saying that the photo area was really just a boring olde time dress up place to get your photo taken. They stood with us waiting in front of the mansion for the rest of our crew.

We all cheered when their cart made it out of the the ride. They had both made it through the spooks without jumping out. They smiled and gave each other a little smooch as they got out of the cart. Tracdc ran right up to me waving a HUGE diamond on he left ring finger. Satan had proposed to her in the Haunted Mansion! The spookiest thing of all what that she had said "yes", to Satan, in the Haunted Mansion. HAHA! It really is a lovely irradiated yellow diamond set with other tiny white diamonds to either side. They are going to be a happy family (when Grammy's cactus blooms is the date) and Satania now has us as a bonus family! yay!! We were so glad we could all be together for such a big moment and the best part of the day.

Rings 'n' Things and Life Long Dreams (pt1)

A family trip to Knoebels had been in the works for well over a month. Tracdc, Satan and his girl (gosh - what's her trail name, certainly not Spawn of Satan) planned on meeting Maga11, Toolman Luke and us there in the afternoon. The weather was chilly but we decided to go ahead with our plans because it's rare when our schedules allow us all to get together.

We all saw the nearly completed Flying Turns as we entered the park. We are very excited that the next time we visit we might get to try them out. We all met for lunch at the international food court where family hilarity quickly ensued.


As we munched on our burritos, Tracdc suggested that we all ride the haunted mansion next. It was then I realized that I had enough people with me that I might be able to talk a couple of them into achieving a long time goal.

I first visited Knoebels Grove in the late spring of 1974. The flood, Agnes, had ruined our great local park just two years prior so the annual field trip to reward grade school traffic patrols changed from Kish Park to Knoebels Grove. It was a big deal and I was instantly in awe of the huge amusement resort the moment I saw it. One of the rides that impressed me the most was the haunted mansion. Riders sat in carts that wheels through musty rooms of a very spooky mansion. One room was a vast cavernous area just filled with floating skulls. Farther along the ride corded strings hung down to just suggest something tickling you like a spider. A shocking finalé of a near set of oncoming head lights and and air horn blast made even my preteen non-driver's heart race with the suggested impending doom.

I suggested my family make the trip to check out the park and it became an almost yearly favorite. Each year, the trip was not complete without a ride through the haunted mansion. During my teen years, I mentally plotted how I might jump out and cut loose one of the floating skulls that seems to be energized with light just before my cart busted through the double doors into that chamber. I never could figure out how to do it quickly enough and my aversion to harming the dark ride just left me imagining perfect plots rather than acting on it.

Time twisted on and I shared my love of the park and all of its many wonders with RGBisMe and eventually Ravenboy. As a three year old, he was scared out of his wits by the Haunted Mansion and would not consent to ride it again for years. We found other traditions in the park to take its place, like taking black and white photos in the arcade. Eventually he learned to love it too and as a young High School homeschooler, we arranged a walking tour through the Haunted Mansion given by Dick Knoebel, the owner, himself.

We got to see so many cool secrets about the spooks. I got to look, close up, at the many things that had aways made me shriek in fright. I won't give away any of the secrets but a cool bit of trivia was that the grand ticket booth that stands in front of the mansion was from our dear old Kish Park in Burnham. I also got to see the floating skull room in the light, not nearly as vast and quite dull but filled with mirrors.

Over the past 6 years, RGBisMe and I have gone at least once a year. Sometimes with Ravenboy, sometimes just ourselves. The past few years the mansion rooms have been showing a lot of wear and are looking pretty shabby. Sometimes the light in the floating skull room has been out of sync and come on well before our cart has exited the chamber. Many of the spooks are looking broken and almost taped together; it's scary on a different level.

As we sat around our pre Cinco de Mayo luncheon, I had this idea solidify and whispered it to RGBisMe. He was game and I ran it by Tracdc. She wasn't so sure and was afraid we would get kicked out of the park. I was certain I could pull it off but my plot was foiled in that I needed her to ride after RGBisMe and myself, alone. Satan's daughter, latched onto Tracdc and said, "I am riding with you!" She had no idea what we had been planning but it seemed it was not to be. Tracdc came to the rescue as we approached the Haunted Mansion. She generously bought all of our tickets and said, "T, you ride with Satan." I looked at RGBisMe and he agreed to ride alone after us.

As our cart pulled up, I don't think Satan quite knew what I was plotting but he suspected something was up. I told him to get in first since there was only one way to enter/exit the cart. I needed to be on the outside. As Tracdc and Satan's daughter (trailname TBA) busted through the doors and into the mansion, Satan and I took our seats in our cart. I looked back at RGBisMe and reminded him, "Slide way over to your right." Maga11 and Toolman Luke took up the rear and just before we vanished into the mansion I saw RGBisMe sliding to the far right side of his cart.

Everything was so scary this time and as the skull room came closer, I was almost shaking. Finally, I saw the lights blazing between a crack in the chamber's double doors energizing the skulls. Tracdc's cart must have already exited the chamber. Off the lights went and "bang" our cart busted into the room of eerie glowing and dancing skulls. I couldn't see him but I shouted to Satan over the Spooky music, "Abyssinia!" and exited the cart to my left!

I heard him exclaim something as I sensed rather than saw my cart disappearing in the distance and the spooky skulls danced all around me. I could feel the wooden boards under my feet were a little uneven but I knew to stay clear not only of the track but the greased wheel marks we had to avoid during the entirety of our walking tour years before. I dare not back up too far so I stood in a ballet first position just as I heard my cart depart the chamber with Satan.

The lights blasted on! I felt like I was caught, naked and being very naughty. I cringed a bit to hide myself from any cameras but knew it was fruitless. I was in the skull chamber, out of a cart and in the middle of the ride's operation. I was so in the wrong yet I was being very careful and thinking out my every move. Just as the light snapped off, I knew I would have to stay still but have my hand out to be able to feel where RGBisMe's cart's handle was before it passed by me. I couldn't move my feet because I had determined when the lights were on that they were away from the greased wheel marks. "Bang!" RGbisMe's cart had entered the chamber! Like a frantic Who in Whoville, I quickly shouted over the blaring spooky music, "I am here! I am here!" Immediately I heard coming toward me the voice of RGBisMe repeating back to me, "I am hear! I am here!" My hand touched the cart's bar just at the level I remembered the bar's being and jumped in as RGBisMe pulled me in!!

"I did it! I did it!!" I shouted with glee. I kissed RGBisMe over and over again thanking him. I was thrilled in realizing I had been plotting this moment, in one way or another, for over 30 years. A silly, relatively moderate, calculated risk but it gave me such a thrill. It hurt no one and did no harm to the ride. It was a great moment. As our cart slid past the spooks, ran head long into the oncoming truck and was yelled at by an angry jungleman I hugged my RGBisMe so happily. We came through the final double doors to a small group of very expectant family. Tracdc, Satan and his daughter all gave a little cheer when they saw us emerge together. I shouted in victory with my hands over my head. Maga11 and Toolman Luke's cart soon came out and they were glad to hear how it went too. Maga11 knew that a plan was hatched and very pleased I pulled it off.

I was riding high as we floated from ride to game to ride. It was still chilly and I looked like the uni-bomber with my hood up but it was a good time. The arcade was fun as I embarrassed everyone with my DDR actions but I needed to release some energy. Sadly, the photo booth was out of order.
Beleive it or not the most exciting part of the day was yet to come. - to be continued soon!

Blessed Beltane

Happy May Day folks! This is a busy time of year, everything is growing and reproducing. Spring fever and cleaning has struck us with a vengeance. My back is sore from hefting some carpets to the attic and hoeing the garden. The cats decided to help me out a bit.

Just like Spring, it looks like rain now as I type and listen to the song of the first Oriole of the year. I was able to see it high in our walnut tree but could not get a photograph of it. I am always so pleased when the first of the year Oriole comes on May Day. It make me feel like everything is in synch.

As an added bonus and Indigo Bunting blessed our feeder this morning. This was the first I had seen in years. Construction of Interstate 99 has disturbed the patterns of many of the animals that used to be regulars in my yard. I was glad to have him stop by even if just for the day.

We are preparing the downstairs apartment as best as we can for new tenants. We hope the tiny place will be a friendly home to a couple of elementary school teachers from out of the area.

Miles and Birbanto danced the May pole this morning and Miles even helped me dig some!