A letterboxing adventure, part 2

A letterboxing adventure, part 2

July 5, 2014 / 1 Comment

In an effort to dare myself to experiment more, I’ve set about about following Lu Ann Cahn’s example of engaging in fun and daring “firsts.” This is my list.

One of these planned firsts involved going letterboxing, which, according to Atlas Quest “is an intriguing pastime combining artistic ability with delightful treasure-hunts in beautiful, scenic places.” You can learn more about it here.

Last weekend, I put together a small bag of supplies (a rubber stamp, ink pad, letterboxing notebook, my cellphone) and piled into the car with M and our dog Duncan. The first park we visited turned out to be the wrong one, but after looking on the map for the actual location, we drove outside of town and parked next to a picnic pavillion. Then, the three of us trekked into the woods in search of the mysterious letterbox.

Following the clues left on Atlas Quest, we climbed over trees, pushed aside leaves, stumbled over rocks, swatted away a million bugs and sweated buckets. Unfortunately, after about an hour of searching, M and I had reached the proverbial X on the map, but there was no treasure to be found.

That’s right, our first letterboxing adventure was a total bust.

I know there are people reading this who will say: “It wasn’t a bust. It’s the journey that matters, not the destination.”

To those kind but delusional folks, I say PISH. If I could have teleported to the exact location and found the treasure, trust me, I would have. And I would have ended up a lot less hot, sweaty and annoyed.

The only good thing about the whole experience was the end, in which we left the park and drove straight to Fast Eddie’s, one of our favorite ice cream stands. M and I both indulged in double scoops and Duncan cooled off with a small soft-serve vanilla in a cup.

Despite this minor setback, I will not be deterred. Although our misadventure technically counts as a “first” and thus deserves to be crossed off my list, I plan to try again, because damn it, I must obtain at least one stamp!
Earth laughs in flowers

May 4, 2014 / No Comments

The night-blooming cereus is the comet of the floral world, the vampire, the queen of the night.

Known as the selenicereus grandiflorus, the night-blooming cereus looks like a dead bush for most of the year. But for one midsummer night, just as darkness falls, its stunning white flowers open to the applause of stars. The blossom emits an exquisite scent that reportedly resembles sweet vanilla and warm gardenias. Then, when the evil sun rises in the morning, the flowers close and disappear.

This amazing plant tends to grow in desert climes, so I’ve not had the good fortune of viewing its one-night-only appearance in person. Others have, though, and were kind enough to share the event online:

Closer to home, I’m thrilled to experience a similar show in the early spring. The large plant in front of our living room window, which I’m told is a Rhododendron bush, blossoms for only a few days each year. Soon after the peepers begin singing for mates, the bush will burst into delicate purplish pink flowers.

During this short spell, it is not uncommon to see large, fat bumblebees flitting from blossom to blossom, gathering nectar and pollen and taking their riches back to the colony. Since bumblebee species are on the decline, I’m always happy to see these creatures return to feast on the bush’s bounty.
Summer is here – Bah! Humbug!

June 23, 2013 / 2 Comments

I know I’m in the minority on this one. But I can’t stand summer. When the solstice arrives, the only thing I celebrate is the promise of darkness’ return.

I hate the bugs. I hate sweating. I don’t care for skimpy summer clothes or sticky, hot car seats. I loathe not being able to bake, and paying out the wazoo for air conditioning. Sun-tanning? Gimme a break. Unlike Superman, I am not solar-powered.

Sure, grilling is great, unless you’re the person standing over the hot coals. Going to the beach is fun, except when the beach is a two-and-a-half hour drive each way. The one saving grace is ice cream, but even that is something I have to limit to a weekly treat rather than a daily one.

Summer days are too bright, too warm, too humid and too long. Worst of all, they’re filled with pain. Because for me, summer is migraine season. Yes, I get migraines all year long. But three of my biggest triggers — heat, humidity, storms — occur most often between May and September.

For the uninitiated, migraines = misery. Imagine the worst headache you’ve ever had, now triple the intensity. Localize the pain to a single location, as if someone is stabbing you in the right eye or at the top of your neck with a rusty ice pick. Toss in exhaustion, nausea, dizziness and extreme sensitivity to light, sound and smells and that’s almost what a migraine feels like. Now imagine having all of that for 8, 10, 15, 24 hours at a time. Two or three times a week. Such is the case for me each summer.

Yet that’s not even the worst part. The worst part about having migraines is that they murder time, they literally steal your life away. When you have a migraine, it’s nearly impossible to work for 10 hours at a stretch. Or be creative in any sort of capacity. Or hit the gym for a daily workout. It’s beyond frustrating.

Summer has just begun and yet I’ve already had three migraines this week. One lasted 20 hours, the second 14 hours and last night’s was a 15-hour doozy. Post-migraine, my body and mind are utterly exhausted from the effort of fighting off the pain. And I dread leaving the confines of my air conditioned and barely lit office for fear of getting another one. Yes, I am not a happy camper, my friends, so let me apologize in advance for any grumpiness I may exhibit. I’ll be better when Autumn returns. I promise.
Sting v.4

February 5, 2013 / No Comments

This is what I’ll be doing on June 20th:

Now Bangor, Maine, is a five-hour drive each way from my home, but getting the opportunity to see one of my favorite artists in an outdoor venue is just too good to pass up.

The first time I saw Sting perform was at Jones Beach on Long Island, a beautiful amphitheater right on the water. While most of the audience sat contently in their seats, I spent the entire concert dancing in the aisle.

The second time I had the chance to see Sting was during the “Today” show’s summer concert series. As soon as I got off work on Friday morning, I raced over to Rockefeller Center and arrived just in time to hear him sing two songs before the show ended. Although incredibly brief, the performance put me in a fantastic mood all weekend.

The third time I saw Sting in concert was on a hot summer night in Central Park. I managed to arrive early enough to find a decent spot near the stage, and when he sang “Moon Over Bourbon Street,” I was entranced by the both the song and the stunning full moon that rose up behind the stage. I was in the heart of Manhattan, but the combination of the music, the moon, the heat, the humidity, the crowd and the hours of dancing made me feel as though I had been magically transported to New Orleans. It was wonderful.

So even though I generally dread the arrival of summer, I have at least two things to look forward to this year: attending the next Society of Professional Obituary Writers conference in Toronto and seeing the amazing Sting again.