Summers, years ago, when my great-uncle The Bishop would open the house for two weeks, we used to bathe with Ivory in the Opequon Creek below the family home near Kearneysville, WV. Three generations pitching the soap back-and-forth and back upstream to let it float down for the others. Women first, so they could dry their hair before dinner, and then the men would go down…
I thought I had a photo of all of us down in the “crick”, but…
This is a watercolor of what was the swimming hole in the 1930s, before the dam washed away. When I was a kid, one of the big sycamores had fallen in the creek, and created an 8′ deep hole right off the far bank there. We had a 30′ wire-rope swing from the right bank with an old steering wheel on it.
Trust me, you did not want to fall short of the hole. You ended up with trunks full of shale, and scrapes to match. Strangely, nobody ever broke any limbs… couple of sprained fingers, but no breakage.
Here in America, this is Thanksgiving Day. I’m thankful for my heritage.
My friend Steve insists that he has not been holding out on me but….
Steve’s Island, owned and managed by the Maine Department of Agriculture, Conservation, and Forestry. Part of the cluster of islets between Stonington and Isle Au Haut.
Now… THAT’s the “way life is supposed to be”!
Bet I could find a pair of trees to hang my hammock on that lil’ baby… might never leave.
In Western culture alone, they carry “a vast network of associations including such distinct and even contradictory significances as childhood, crop, doom, elves, fear, habitat change, idyll, love, luck, mortality, prostitution, solstice, stars and fleetingness of words and cognition,” wrote Stefan Ineichen, a firefly researcher in Switzerland, in a 2016 paper published in Advances in Zoology and Botany.
Short documentary Brilliant Darkness: Hotaru in the Night
“Quechua speakers in the Andes call fireflies añañahui, or “ghost eyes.”…
I just call them a beautiful wonder in the night…
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The way of transcending the world
Exists in passing the world right through.
It is not necessarily in severing ties
With others and fleeing the world altogether.
The means of understanding one’s mind
Exist in using the mind completely.
It is not necessarily in cutting off from desires
And turning the mind to ashes.
– Hung Ying-ming
If one purifies the ground of one’s own mind
and beholds one’s own nature,
There remains no Pure Land for which to hope,
No hell to fear,
No passions to overcome,
No duality of good and evil.
One is free from the cycle of rebirths.
One will be born in every life as one’s mind wishes.
A drum, a banjo, a nice rug and table, Hudson’s Bay trade blanket, ash-woven pack basket and kerosene lanterns, Filson waxed hat…. THIS is old-school camping at its very best!
It’s what I love about canoe camping… you can take along a lot of luxuries. The funny part is I have the same hat, the same [but really, really old] blanket, a banjo, the same table and a close approximation of the rug!]
My man on the Tumblr, Puzzld calls this “Sniffing Dry Erase Markers in the Mountains”.