Friday, September 24, 2021
Sunday, September 19, 2021
|A lovely cache guardian at "Chapel Hill|
|A dapper Ms. B. on the Bolin Creek Trail in Chapel Hill|
|The old homestead at the Rich Fork Nature Preserve in High Point|
|Natalie and Old Rob look on as Scott tries to stop the brain from leaking out. Not sure it worked, Scott.|
Monday, September 6, 2021
|Do you see the cache? It's right there, in the picture....|
|A view of the old cemetery in Clare|
|Alleyway art behind Cops 'n' Doughnuts in Clare|
|Big-ass weeping willow, little Ms. B.|
|View of the hidden trail that leads toward Stratford Woods Park|
|Heading for the cache in Stratford Woods|
|Ms. B. in front of "Santa's House" in downtown Midland|
Friday, August 27, 2021
Diefenbaker signing the logsheet, moments
before he dropped it into the water below
|Mount Pilot's very own Bigfoot|
Sunday, August 15, 2021
I received my contributor copy (trade paperback) of Fright Train yesterday, and damn, what a gorgeous book! This one features my new short story, “Country of the Snake.”
Saturday, August 14, 2021
I spent last night at the old homeplace in Martinsville, working like the devil on a new short story that is past its deadline. I made good progress. But as I had managed to fit in very little strenuous exercise last week, the craving to hike after a geocache had settled heavily upon me. The complication here is that, over the past thirteen years, I have found almost every cache for fifty to a hundred miles in every direction. Still, I thought maybe I could figure out some place to go this morning not too far from Martinsville.
Well, I checked the map and saw a few in the Rocky Mount area, about thirty miles north of Martinsville, one of them in Waid Park, where I have hiked and cached several times in the past. This one, called “Alas, Poor Yorick,” has been live for a few months, resides a good ways out in the woods, and no rain was predicted for the morning. Temperatures are in the high 90s this weekend, but, regardless, I set my sights on Yorick for a relatively early solo outing. I figured while I was out there, I could make a little side trip to visit the Ferrum College campus, my old alma mater.
When I left Martinsville, the thermometer read 83℉, and the humidity hadn’t yet reach its oppressive heights. I ended up taking a back road I don’t believe I have ever traveled before, which turned out pretty cool. I always enjoy exploring unfamiliar backroads. Anyway, when I reached the park, the temperature had hit 90℉, and the air was just turning to soup. I set out on the trail, which, since it was mostly shady, proved not too uncomfortable. But the hike was lovely—not too long, not too short, and in places a bit rugged. I found the cache readily, and this made for a most gratifying morning, I can tell you.
Sure enough, afterward, I drove over to Ferrum, about five miles west of the park on Hwy 40. I cruised around a few of my old haunts, which I enjoy doing every now and again. I must say, the campus is considerably more attractive and well-maintained than it was then—not that it was ever not picturesque. I did happen by the site of my first alcohol-related disaster, which is the reason I don’t drink white wine (see “Why I Don’t Drink White Wine”). Actually, I do drink white wine on rare occasion, but it’s not my favorite. Oftentimes, far from it.
Anyhoo, I got in a lot of writing, got in a bit of caching, and there must yet be more writing. So much time, so little to do....
Wait, reverse that.
|Now, who do you suppose that is watching me from over yonder?|
Why, it's Yorick! As Yorick is not looking so well, I figured I'd help
keep him from spreading
so much death around.
A view of the Pigg River from the trail. I spent a lot of time at the
Pigg River in my Ferrum Days,
mostly engaged in unfamily-friendly activities, about which I shall say no more.
|Old fellow on the trail. Almost as old as Yorick.|
Tuesday, August 10, 2021
|A portion of the new look at Casa de Rodan|
|Kitchen backsplash being installed. Almost done.|
Sunday, August 8, 2021
|Old fart in a jon boat. Photo by Linda Enders Roberts|
|Heading out on Lake Holt|
Friend Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom) claims his 17,000th
geocache find on the lake.
I wonder whether friend Tom goes geocaching a lot.
|Friend Colleen84 (a.k.a. Colleen) whizzes past poor schmucks in jon boats|
Friends CJZimmie (a.k.a. Cheryl) and
Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) about to get lost
in the tall grass surrounding one of the lake’s islands
|About half of Team KC88|
Tuesday, August 3, 2021
From Crossroad Press — my latest entry in Elizabeth Massie’s Ameri-Scares series for young readers: New Hampshire: Ghosts from the Skies!
Late one night, a brilliant, blood-colored light wakes thirteen-year-old Heath Sutton from a comfortable sleep. Outside his window, he sees a huge, brightly lit object hovering over the nearby woods. The saucer-shaped craft lowers something into the trees and then, in an instant, vanishes without a trace. To his shock, Heath realizes that he has seen a UFO — an actual flying saucer!
The next day, Heath and his friend Patrick venture into the woods, hoping to discover whether the UFO left behind any evidence of its existence. What they find is a shining metal rod jutting from a tree stump, as if it has somehow grown there. Suddenly, the rod emits an unearthly musical sound, which causes the boys to feel dizzy and disoriented. In terror, they rush out of the woods. Heath recovers quickly, but Patrick seems different — more like a cold, menacing stranger than Heath's best friend.
Now fearful, Heath visits his grandfather, who claims to have once seen a flying saucer himself — a saucer that carried his younger brother away into the skies. As his grandfather relates his disturbing story, Heath believes he sees a shadowy figure lurking outside his grandfather's house. And when he returns home, he receives the greatest shock of all: something weird — something not human — is waiting for him inside!
Sunday, August 1, 2021
It has been too long since the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars all got together for a geocaching outing. Today, at last, the usual suspects — Ms. Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie), Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob) and I — headed over Mebane way to Lake Michael, where a couple of relatively new caches awaited our attention. The temperature wasn't as awful as it often is this time of year, though we still had plenty of heat and humidity to go around. We found our two target caches, failed to find a lonely puzzle cache (the last find was in 2014, so it's probably missing), successfully completed a very nice multi-cache at a very old graveyard, happened upon what might have been some kind of Lovecraftian monstrosity lurking along the trail, and knocked out a newish hide in Burlington on the way home. For lunch, we opted for our customary Mexican fare, this time at La Fiesta in Mebane. Pretty danged good, it was.
Seemed like old times, it did. Next week, we're hoping to target a fairly new tunnel cache in Hillsborough. Been a long while for one of those, as well.
A few shots of today's sights follow.
Friday, July 30, 2021
The camera lens rarely conveys the scale of the interesting things that often appear in the sky. The other day, on the way home from Ms. B.'s house, this lone, very tall cloud came drifting into view. You'd never know it from the pic, but it appeared massive, its vertical contours distinctive against the horizontal bands of clouds behind it. It struck both Ms. B. and I as worthy of a photo, at least.
If last week was a heavy-moving fest, this week was attempting to put things to right inside Casa de Rodan (oh yeah, it's still gonna be Casa de Rodan even if Brugger and her attendant felines are now permanent residents). If anything, it seems as though the more we work and organize, the more the house succumbs to disorder. I know this is kind of the way of things, but two full households merging into one poses unique challenges — as opposed to young newlyweds building things up for the first time, or divorcees arranging new domiciles in place of the old. I'm sure things will eventually come together, but right now, the only word to describe home is Chaos, with a capital C.
Now that the one-year anniversary of Mum's passing has past, I am having to begin the accounting phase of the estate, which poses unique challenges for a soul whose experience with accounting has never been harmonious.
A nice upside is that the office has reverted to Summer Hours, meaning that on Fridays, we only have to work half days, without making up any time. Love that!
And at Pleasant Hill in Martinsville — it's tree-clobberin' time. One of the old cedar trees that had been next to the back stairway since I was a kid had begun leaning damn near to the point of collapse, so I had to have it taken down. Hated that, since it offered so much nice shade, but if it had fallen, the damage might have been severe. Kinda sad, though.
Anyhoo, till next time around.... toodles.
|All that remains of once-towering cedar|
Sunday, July 25, 2021
With the majority of the renovations at Casa de Rodan more or less completed, Ms. B. and I officially merged households this weekend. For days, we have been hauling her belongings over with a truck borrowed from our friends Terry & Beth, steadily filling the house damn near to its bursting point. Yesterday was the toughest day, with multiple trips to pack up and bring over her heaviest items of furniture. At the end of it all, the four of us rewarded ourselves with wine and yummies from Yummy Hibachi delivered by Doordash.