Life in the Bristolwood

Hmm….

In thinking back, a few years ago, we got a call from a neighbor about half a mile up the road.  They had seen a bear walking on their property and it ws headed in our direction.  They were calling to make sure wedidn’t have our Scotties outside.

Our neighbor immediately up the hill from us called one February afternoon to say that they saw a bear walking on their driveway towards our house.

While house sitting a house not too far from us, a bizarre thing happened.  I had noticed a large nest of paper wasps living under the deck. I didn’t think anything more about it until a couple of weeks later.  As I walked around the house,  I noticed a hole in a board on the deck.  I went down and looked…sure enough, the wasp nest was gone.  The hole looked like “something” had scratched it.  Upon looking around,  I discovered a small pile of animal waste.  It looked rather “seedy”, so I took my camera and photographed it.  Sure enough, when the homeowners came home, the husband (a hunter) said the photo was of “bear scat”.

One day when I talked to our neighbor across the road, she said she awakened one night.  In looking out the bedroom window, she saw something very large moving down below.

How could all of our neighbors have seen bears and I’ve not seen one?  Not fair, say I!

Well, if all of the above is just heresay,  how about this?

I took these photos “just around the corner” from our house.  Our land isn’t too far away from DEC land. (Department of Environmental Conservation)  Yes, the map above says it all.   Our area is prime for bear hunting. 

Gosh, that makes me feel so much better!  Here we were, traipsing about all over,  wondering if we would see a bear in the Adirondacks and we have them living in our own backyard!

Being the mom of two energetic young people,  I am sometimes asked to do things beyond my limits. Beyond my abilities. Just for the sake of saying that I did not turn my kids down, I press on. Such was the case on the last day of our visit at the campground.

We were staying at a state campground called  Whetstone Gulf State Park.  How the term “gulf” got put into the name is beyond me, as I thought one had to have a great body of water in order to have a proper gulf.  Perhaps a better name would be Whetstone Gorge State Park.  The gorge I am referring to is deep and…well,  I would definitely use the word “treacherous”.   The park offers trails that run along the gorge, full of signs warning about the cliffs.  There are two trails, one north and one south. 

Ben took the south trail the day before we left the campground.  Mark wanted to take me up onto some roads that were open to ATV riding,  and Ben assured us he would meet us at the end of one of the trails.  He had been up with Mark previously, so he knew where the trail ended.  Mark handed him his cell phone and Ben was off.  After waiting what seemed like an eternity for Ben to emerge,  we called Mark’s cell and Ben answered, sounding rather breathless.  He told Mark about all the “danger” signs posted along the trail and how there are no fences to hold people back from the sheer cliffs.  You cannot imagine the relief as Ben finally made his way out of the woods!

Okay, so back to the last day we were at the park.  Ben wanted Michelle and I to hike the trail, as he saw a sign that showed another path to a lookout.  I never checked the map, but somehow got hoodwinked into this hike to see a lookout that Ben had mistakenly thought was a fire tower.  And so, we began our ascent.

We walked up. And up. And up.  Oh, my aching calf muscles just thinking about this (painful) hike.  The signs not only warned about the cliffs, but also admonished hikers to be aware of the many pine roots on top of the ground that could easily trip an unsuspecting hiker and hurl them over the cliff.  Oh, and rocks. Beware loose rocks. Not only could they send one over the cliffs, but they might fall from above and land on top of you, sending you over the cliffs!   Did I seriously need this walk?

Yes, this sign was located in a good ways, and I was shaking not from fear, but because it seemed like we had been climbing upward far too long!

It really doesn’t appear that steep, does it?  Believe me, it *was*! 

Another poor quality photo of Ben….sitting right on the edge of the trail…More shaking and trembling!

We kept walking and walking until we finally came to this sign!

No outlet?  Did we really want to see this “tower”, anyway?  Seriously, I was having a little trouble breathing, so I wondered about going back. The kids encouraged me to stick it out, so I did.  I suppose they thought they would miss out if I left, because they would feel obligated to walk back down with me!

The trail leading down to the lookout tower made me suspicious.  What kind of “tower” is built below the highest point?  I remember going up and looking out of fire towers when I was a kid….they were always constructed at the highest point,  not below! Note the trail….all the wonderful pine tree roots!

Michelle decided to strike a pose while I stopped for a second to catch my breath!

With all of the forestation, it is impossible to view the cliffs leading down to the gorge.  Instead, one can see far out into the distance whenever there was a break in the trees!

The trail leading to the lookout was pretty as one could peek through the trees every so often and see farms and land below in the distance!

We finally reached the lookout and Ben was a little disappointed.  He and Michelle did indeed look out, though….

As the kids sat observing,  I decided to begin walking back to the main trail.  I knew the kids would be moving a great deal faster than I, so I jumped on the headstart!

Up, up, up, yet again.  But, there was satisfaction in knowing that the walk back was going to be downhill! It felt good to be heading back down, as the day was heating up.

Along the way, we saw some spider webs that were so eye-catching as they glistened in the sun.

We made it back down to the beginning of the trail.  As we walked away,  I turned around and saw this!

Goodness, seein a BEAR would have been the icing on the proverbial cake!  Also, there were signs warning that hikers were not to begin any of the trails after 3pm.  As you could see in some of the photos,  it gets dark in the woods….getting lost in dusk could be rather scary!

After we left the trail for our little explore, the kids teased to go over to the swimming area at the park.   It was just a short walk.  The beach was closed…I guess this was a “pinch” in the governor’s spending cuts for the state.  We walkeed about and I took photos.

The rest of this day, I was certain I would never be able to walk again,  but as it worked out, my legs weren’t the least bit sore.  I guess all the walking Mark and I had done earlier this yea paid off well for me!

This park is on my list of highly recommended!  It is so beautiful!  It is limited as far as electric hookups go,  but tenters would find this a real gem! It is located near Lowville and not too far from the Adirondack Mountains.  (which can be seen in the distance from roads in Lowville)

Seeing all these photos  made me long to return…We had last visited this area and park four years ago….I sincerely hope it will not be that long again!

When I first began sanding the front porch,  I had to do some heavy duty work.  I began on the west side which is where the patio table and chair set normally sit.  Because the table and chairs act as protection, there was a great deal of stain to be removed.  The western end of the porch took forever (or, so it seems!) to sand.

As I worked my way across to the east, most of the sanding was just to “brighten” up the boards….they had been pretty well “self-sanded” by feet with gritty dirt and gravel!  Perhaps it was because I wasn’t concentrating so intensely upon the task at hand that my mind began to stray….

I remember when we built this house. Mark, my father, and my brother, Randy, were the main players in the build.  Mark and I designed the house and although he had second thoughts at first,  Mark went full-bore building every evening after work.  We were living in the city in a house he had purchased a few years before.  The house was in a neighborhood that was less than desirable for raising a family.  (When Mark bought the house, he had thought the great emphasis on city revitalization meant the area would be improving…Because home-ownership seemed so fantastic to a young twenty-something man,  he failed to notice that many of the homes surrounding his were rental properties.  This, unfortunately, meant there were a great number of drug dealings and the sordid accompanying activities involved surrounding his home at all hours of the day.  The year we moved to our new little home-in-the-woods, Mark’s dad told us there had been, *I think*, five shooting deaths within a two mile radius of our home in the city. One can thus understand my haste in moving from the city!)

When Mark became unsure of himself,  he would arrive home  a little later than usual in the evening,  arms loaded with books from the library!  It was so funny seeing him glean through the books and the light going off in his mind.  He would mainly look at the diagrams and his formal education as a mechanical engineer would kick in….he would smile and then advance to the task at hand.  In the end,  Mark became so enamored by the entire building process that he seriously thought he might one day enjoy becoming a general contractor!  (Having stated this, it was about five years after the completion of our home that he built our very large garage!)

After building the house in the Cape Cod style I had long dreamed about,  Mark decided that a fine country porch would be a very nice addition.  Before the outside of the house was finished,  Mark had begun the work on the porch. Although it “detracted” from the Cape Cod styling,  Mark convinced me this would be a good idea.  It turned out to be better than good. Maybe even great!

As I sanded yesterday, my mind was flooded with memories of little feet pattering across that porch.  The kids and I played, read, ate, and napped on that porch for many years.  That porch has been the site used for many celebrations and parties as well as a place to wind down after a hard day’s work.

I remember when Michelle was a toddler, we bought her a tiny wagon that had a handle at her shoulder height.  She could push the wagon as she walked and when Ben was born (she was two years and three month old) she insisted the new baby be placed in the wagon so she could take him for a walk.  Up and down the porch little Baby Ben would ride, compliments of Big Sister Michelle!

As the kids got a little bigger, we would snuggle in a blanket on the porch, reading books until I couldn’t read any more!  I remember when I told the kids to “get a book”, they would each return with several in their tiny hands. I never told them “no”, so we would spend endless hours, snuggling and reading.  They especially liked the fact that I would change my voice for the various characters in the books.  Ah, the memories.

I think the kids and I lived on that porch for their first four or five years before they graduated to playing in the woods.  On rainy days, however, they could indeed be found playing, once again, on the porch.

Well, I shan’t continue on rehashing old stories and memories.  Suffice it to say, the porch is a place that has hosted a good many times and has been a valuable asset to our family.  I certainly appreciate that porch and am glad Mark did have the foresight to include it when he did!

This morning, when I took the Scotties out,  I looked back at the porch.  I had turned on the  light to look at my sanding job and forgot to turn it back off.  As soon as the Scotties were back inside,  I went in and got my camera to show my readers just how “cozy” and inviting that porch is!

I spent about eight or nine hours, total, sanding the floor.  Not too bad.  I can’t stain today, as the weather report is calling for a slight chance of rain today.  The thought of rain splattering on the freshly stained floor does not appeal!

One thing I have resolved….I will never let that porch get so worn before I restain again!

While at Ganondagan, there were many activities going on throughout the entire day.  It would have been easy to spend countless hours just wandering and absorbing everything!  So much to see. So much to do!

We spent some time watching Native American dance and let me tell you,some of  it was rather lively!  I am not going to elaborate, as the photos speak for themselves! Not all of the photos feature people dancing, but I wanted to show the beautiful vibrant colors of the costumes. They were so gorgeous!

I mentioned in my previous entry that  Carly, Jeff, Sarah, Erin, and I went for a walk while visiting Ganondagan.  Our walk actually began when we went along a path to the Longhouse.

Of course we had to take a look inside!  The first photo is of the “ceiling” structure, looking up!

There are signs located all throughout the park.  Many explain how Native Americans used  various elements found in nature.   I am posting a few of the signs I thought were interesting.

Following are some random photos taken while on our walk.  What an awesome place Ganondagan is…it is as though with just a little imagination, one can be whisked back to another place, another time.  

As though to lend just a bit of an air of authenticity, a Great Blue Heron flew overhead!  There was also a hawk hovering nearby,  but I didn’t get a good photo.

Ganondagan…a really interesting and very wonderful place to visit!

While we were out for Erin’s birthday on Saturday, Carly told me she and Jeff were going to go to Ganondagan on Sunday for a Native American Art and Music Festival.  I turned green with envy, as I saw signs for this event every time we passed Ganondagan on our way home from Victor.  This was something that really sounded so appealing to me.  When Carly asked if we cared to join her,  I was thrilled!

Here is some info on Ganondagan.

Mark and the kids were interested in the festival, but not enough to attend.  Boy, did they miss out!  I am going to break our visit into a few posts as there was just so much to see and do.  I cannot remember when I enjoyed something so much!

I will begin my Ganondagan entries with one that was one of the main reasons I wanted to attend!

I arrived on Sunday morning before Carly and Jeff and the girls did.  This gave me a little time to survey the grounds a little and visit some of the vendors.  Of course I had the Nikon with me,  hoping to capture some good photos of the festivities.  The last vendor I visited had an interesting man visiting.  He was dressed in a bright yellow shirt and he and the vendor were having a very animated discussion. When the vendor gave him the merchandise he selected, I knew this guy “might” be someone interesting.  It was then I noticed the patch sewn on the sleeve of his shirt….he was a Navajo Code Talker!

Not wanting to interrupt for a photo,  I pulled out my cell phone and opted to take a couple of photos that way.

The man was soft-spoken and just very likable!

Since I had forgotten a lot of the information about the Navajo Code Talkers,  I was happy to find a tent offering some explanation.

After awhile, I went to the main event tent and realized the man I had encountered at the vendor tent was the main speaker for this festival!

Carly and Jeff and the girls came and we wandered around,  checking out merchandise and walking over to take a look at the Longhouse.  We discovered a nature trail so we went for a nice walk.  We arrived back in time to discover we were in time for a parade.  It was a small parade, but it was to honor Mr. Bill Toledo,  the Navajo Code Talker from World War II.  The parade was lining up and the honored guest was going to be ushered in via a golf cart. I spotted two veterans speaking with Bill.  One had the word “historian”  embroidered on his hat, and I suppose he was gathering some pertinent information.

As a young serviceman in 1942,  Bill was a part of the US Marine Corps.  To honor him on Sunday, a color guard was sent from the Marines.

Several people were scurrying about, getting ready for the parade!

Yeah….Carly wondered aloud to me how the fellow with the feathers on his seat was going to sit in the golf cart.  Well, the answer was easy…..he didn’t, but rather, hitched a ride!

At this point, I must make mention of the fact that G. Peter Jemison was the man in charge of all the ceremonies.  (Emcee)  Mr.  Jemison is an eighth generation descendant of Mary Jemison,  the White Woman of the Genesee.  I had talked about her in my post about Letchworth State Park.

The parade began and all eyes were on the beautiful and colorful garb of the veterans participating in the parade to honor Mr. Toledo.

Goodness, as these young Marines passed by, the tears just began running uncontrollably from my eyes.  I thank God for the young men and women who actively serve our country.  I really like the saying, Freedom isn’t Free.

The parade participants moved into the huge main event tent and we sat for over half an hour as Mr. Toledo explained the inception and workings of the Navajo Code Talkers.  He is 86 years old and I can testify he had no need (other than to honor him) to be driven in a golf cart!  He is very capable and sharp as a tack!

Mr.  Toledo told stories of the war,  explaining that to keep the Japanese from breaking US code,  Navajo words were used as code.  He told us a hand grenade was called a potato.  He also gave insight into how the code was used and how each code talker was not allowed to discuss their mission or service; they could only say they were involved in communications. 

I think the bulk of people could have listened on and on for hours, but Mr. Toldeo ended his dissertation with a beautiful rendition of the US Marine theme song sung in the Navajo tongue.

If anything, this man really made everyone’s day! What a terrific speaker and we cannot thank him enough for the very vital part he played in service to the United States and the war effort!

is what calls us to further examine places and people we have met along life’s many paths we have traveled.  We often feel the need to dig a bit deeper,  try a bit harder, or just study further that element that has drawn us back to take a second look.  Such was the case when we revisited Letchworth State Park this past Friday.

As far as state parks are concerned,  sizewise Letchworth isn’t all that big.  Compared to the expansive acreage of Allegany State Park,  Letchworth seems a drop in the bucket!  Like all of New York’s parks, Letchworth is somewhat “rustic”, but perhaps a bit more refined than others. It certainly is one of New York’s most beautiful parks, hands down.

As we entered the park,  Mark and the kids spotted a train beginning to cross the deep gorge.  Mark hurried to the parking lot and dropped me off so I could capture a photo of the train.  By the time I got there, however, the train had already begun crossing.  Not sure of the length of the train,  I took photos as I walked the path to the bridge and falls.

Yes, although the bridge is short across, it *is* deep!

I finally got a fairly scenic shot.

I talked with a couple watching the train as it crossed. They said the beginning of the train had three engines, so it was probably quite a long one.  I didn’t think to count cars until much of the train had passed, and I counted about 35, and that wasn’t to the end.  My guess is that it had over 100 cars.  It sure was neat seeing a train on the bridge.  To my amazement, as soon as the train was across, people began walking out over the bridge.  I think my heart nearly stopped, but the couple I had spoken to said it is okay. In fact…the wife wanted to walk across.  The husband, well, he wasn’t so sure!  Me?  My knees nearly gave out thinking about it!

I took another path that leads to another falls. This one is a bit deeper than the first, and very impressive!

Letchworth State Park was named after William Pryor Letchworth, a wealthy businessman from Buffalo. Letchworth was born into a Quaker family that emphasized a good work ethic; by his mid-thirties, he was quite well to do.  When he first saw the area the park is located at,  he knew he needed to buy some land there for a get away from the busyness of life.  Over time, Letchworth acquired more land, and in his latter years, bequeathed the land to the State of New York.

Mr. Letchworth bought the land with a structure already built and he had contractors use the house that was already there.  It is located between the two sets of falls, in a wondrous setting!

The house is now an inn and restaurant, called the Glen Iris.  A small pond with a fountain is furnished with koi in its waters.  Its simplicity speaks volumes of the simple elegance found throughout the entire park.

Okay, I rarely take photos of the kids, but I made them sit by the “big” tree.

Did I say “big”?  That tree was huge!

Just a stone’s throw from the Glen Iris Inn is the William Pryor Letchworth Museum.  We walked into the museum at precisely 4:53,  being reminded by the attendant that the building closes at 5pm.  That meant we had all of seven minutes to look around.  Needless to say, we need to go back when we have some time!  The museum has all sorts of artifacts not only from Mr. Letchworth and his family,  but from the general area.

One of the reasons I wanted to return to the park was because of a story I heard about when we first went to Letchworth.  The story involves a young woman by the name of Mary Jemison.

Mary was born on the Atlantic Ocean as her parents were heading to America from Northern Ireland.  The family arrived in Pennsylvania and spent time there.  During the French and Indian War,(when Mary was about 12)  the family was killed, save Mary.  She was taken into captivity by Seneca Indians and was eventually adopted into the tribe.  She ended up marrying a chief.  When word came that captives would be released from the Indians,  Mary fled to the area where the park is now located.

When Mary Jemison was ofered freedom from her captors, she chose not to leave.  Over time, she became known as “The White Lady of the Genessee”.  (The river running through the gorge is called the Genessee River.)  Mary passed away at the age of almost 91, in 1833.

Mr. Letchworth, being very concerned about the welfare of the Native Americans,  was fascinated by the story of the white lady.  She had left the area just a few years before her death, and was buried in a reservation located near the Buffalo region.  When members of her family grew upset that her grave was being desecrated, Mr. Letchworth had her casket and marker removed from the area and brought to a ridge above his Glen Iris estate.  It was here Mary Jemison found her final burial place. 

Mary Jemison’s original grave marker is now placed in the Letchworth Museum as Mr. Letchworth had a marble monument made to replace it.  He had the original inscription written upon the marble marker.  A few years later, an artist made a stunning bronze statue of Mary carrying  Thomas, her firstborn, (named after her father) on her back.

The statue is so very beautiful! (It was made in 1910)

It was so interesting reading about Mary Jemison’s life.  What a strange turn of events in her life….

We had to leave the park as the kids were beginning to grumble about being hungry. But there were still beautiful sights to see!

And not too far away was a lovely monument built to honor soldiers of the Civil War.

I just love the sunlight illuminating the flag in this last shot.

As we were leaving the park, Mark asked if I saw the fox?  Fox?  I said….

Not entirely sure he looks so healthy.

We left the park and everyone was fed. We stopped in Geneseo and Mark and the kids shopped at WalMart while I waited in the truck.  On the way home, we passed Conesus Lake and it had the most awesome yellow moon over it!

And, over the telephone lines a little bit later. (I was too tired to get out of the truck and we were on a highway and Mark feared someone might run over the crazed lady with the camera!)

Wow, so many beautiful things to see and not very far from home at all!

I had some “blasts from the past”!

Have you ever noted the thoughts and such that pass through your mind as you push the mower?  My mind sometimes wanders in a million directions….from making mental notes on things I need to do, to thinking about photos I should take for the day…well, it’s all in a day’s work and a yard’s cutting!

As I began to mow the upper lawn where the swingset is located,  I noticed some tiny red wild strawberries peeking out from the weeds.  I stopped the mower and ran inside the house to grab a little bowl to place the ruby treasures in. I picked the berries for a few minutes only, as I am quite certain mosquitoes live in those weeds!  I suppose if I were more diligent, the booty would have incresed, but I was happy with my pickin’s.

Can you say sweet? Now if I could just find enough of these to make a batch of jam….which reminded me of a summer long, long ago. 

My friend Lori and I used to walk twelve miles “around the block” about three times a week.  One summery afternoon, we came upon a patch of the same tiny wild strawberries growing alongside the road.  We spent hours gleaning as many berries as we could!  I chuckled to myself,  wondering if Lori remembered that afternoon, too.  Funny thing is, I got on Facebook this afternoon and she was there.  She seldom posts, so I wrote to her and asked if she remembered our strawberry spree and she said yes, she did!  I love good old memories! All the more memorable when shared!

I washed the strawberries, then placed them in the refrigerator.  I really needed to get back to the job at hand, mowing the (very tall!) lawn.  I had to mow so slowly in order to do a good job.  The (mostly weeds!) lawn had grown so thick and long with all the rain we have gotten this spring.

Once again, I began to mow.  I was getting into the “swing” of things when I spotted something orange moving along on the ground.  Oh my goodness….could it be?

Yes! It was a minuscule Red Eft.  Now thinking about these tiny newts takes me back a long way to when I was a litte girl.   My one favorite spot to be in the summer was at my Great Aunt Vera’s cabin in the woods of Pennsylvania.  That camp was a place that holds many, many memories of walks though the woods with my tiny great aunt.  My older brother and I used to turn rocks over, looking for these brightly colored newts.  We would capture them, then try to persuade our parents to allow us to transport them home.  Between the newts and lightning bugs, we kids had a lot of “work” to do at the camp!

Well, fortunatley, I didn’t run into any other “memorabilia” as I mowed. Oh, and yes, I did indeed run right inside the house, climbed the stairs, and grabbed the Nikon for the photo of the newt!

A  couple of weeks ago, I saw one of my old friends on Facebook, so I began a live chat with her.  She wrote and told me she was heading out for dinner and would get back to me later.  The next day,  I received an email from her saying she has been diagnosed with cancer.

My first reaction to the email was to feel like sitting down and crying my eyes out.  When I first came to the Rochester area back in 1988,  this friend and another invited me to come and live in their spacious three bedroom apartment.  I was thrilled and we certainly had some fun times! And so, I wondered, what can I do?

Well, I bought a book over a year ago that has patterns for “prayer shawls”.  The book includes both crochet and knit patterns to make shawls and throws for people going through a change in their lives…mostly medically.  There are prayers included in the book.  Well, since I am rarely at a loss for words,  I have been working on the prayer shawl and as I work, I pray for my friend. 

I haven’t knit in so long, but as my neighbor used to tell me, there are *only* two stitches…knit and purl! How right she was.  I am working rather slowly on this piece,  but that’s okay.  I figure when my dear friend receives the shawl, she will certainly be covered in prayer!

Yesterday afternoon, Michelle had reserved the racquetball court at the YMCA so she and Ben could play, along with their friend, Jacob.  Mark took the kids and Angus and headed off to Canandaigua.

I found myself relishing the quiet and peacefulness of having no one around, other than Murphy.  Murphy, being a Scottish Terrier, is reserved and quiet. The only time Scotties *really* make their presence known is if they are hungry, want water, or some”thing” or “one” is disturbing their territory. Thus, we enjoyed the calm….

The weather  has been rather splendid lately, with blue skies and generous amounts of sunshine….a somewhat rare commodity normally, this time of year.  I had a small fire in the woodstove, however, as the temperature has been diving to very cold at night.  I was enjoying the sunshine coming through the windows but was rather disturbed by the ugly blackened doors on the woodstove…..

until I saw this, reflected onto the homely rust-colored corduroy couch that had been my father-in-law’s.

Awesome….I couln’t help but wonder what that would look like if it was on the wall, as opposed to fabric, but I sat there, dumbfounded, by the sheer beauty of it.  A real “stained glass” reflection! I felt as though I was sitting in a fine cathedral!  You just never know….