Hot and Hazy: And other Rambles, The Series Ends

That heat wave that washed over us this July has ended, briefly anyway, a new one is moving in although with lesser temperatures. When you rise and say, "Thank you, it is only going to be 95 degrees today," then you know how bad the last one was. But since "the hot one" came in as I started this little series loosely connected to it, it is fitting now that we are expecting a balmy high of 88 to end it.

Over on Tamela's Place  she has posted advice on respect between married couples. The last line of the last paragraph is applicable to us all, married or not, in our relationships to all around us.

"Endeavor to be perfect yourselves, but expect not too much from each other. If any offense arises, forgive it; and think not that a human being can be exempt from faults."

From the book: The Royal Path of Life by T.L. Haines 1876

This is not bragging, because I have too many failures to brag, but honesty. I try to live my live to that admonition. It is a quality that seems to lack quantity anymore. People seem pretty quick to offense over even perceived slights and very unwilling to forgive. And who takes blame for their own actions when there are so many others around to point the finger at? To me this bromide should be the foundation of good character and for a Christian, as an essential item of their spirit as the heart is to their body.


Now having recognized we need to forgive because none of us are exempt of faults, we are going to talk about the faults of others. But it isn't wrong to do this either. We may try very hard to overcome our faults, but how do we know these faults if no one ever points them out? And sometimes people have faults that are dangerous or unfair to others. We may forgive them for this, but it doesn't mean we allow them to continue doing them willy-nilly without comment. Otherwise, why have jails?

A couple weeks ago I was doing my daily walk in a state park and across the creek saw a cross. I don't know who put it there or why. If it is a memorial to someone who died in the river it is a big one. I can't tell if there is I any writing on it.


Is it in violation of anything? I don't know. Far as I can determine it is not on the Brandywine Creek State Park property or any of the land under the Woodlawn Trustees purview. Where it has been erected appears to be private property. Was it erected by trespassers or with the permission of the landowners? Did the landowners' erect it? I have not a clue. 


Certainly that big wooden sign board floating in the creek not far from the cross is a violation of something. It is litter of a large scale and a danger to those who raft, canoe and kayak this water. Again, though, I don't know if it is there by intensional design or accident.  I thought a week later it had been removed, but no, it had just floated further downstream.


Strangely, on the same walk I saw the cross, I did take note of several violations of park policy, some serious, some not so much.


The first violations were a mix of the messy and the menacing. 

As I came back up the path from where I had spotted this cross I saw a bag lying in the grass just off the path. As amazing as this may sound, this was unusual. I see very little in the way of trash along the many trails in these parks where I roam. When I do, it is usually a water bottle, which may have been tossed or accidentally dropped by a hiker or biker. I'm not saying I never find stray paper or plastic, just very rarely and hardly as blatant as this bright bag by this main trail.

Coming to the spot I discovered this miscreant wrapper wasn't alone. That little rise just beyond the brush was littered with more debris. 


Here were soda bottles, cracker boxes and candy wrappers strew about.


There was something even worse. The remains and ashes of an open fire.


It was pretty clear persons unknown had built a fire to make smores. This indicated that three violates of the parks' rules had occurred.

First, this most likely happened after dark, when the park is closed and no unauthorized person should be wandering about here. Second, there was much litter in a place that is a carry in-carry out nature preserve, Third, and totally irresponsible, an open fire had been build. We have been in a long dry spell and the fire conditions are moderate to high. A little breeze, a missed ember, and you could have easily had a wildfire here as they have had in some other states recently.


Is there any connection between this fire, litter and that cross and the bill board in the creek? I don't know, other than they all suddenly appeared in the same area simultaneously.

I didn't have to go much further or much longer to come across another violation of park policy. Unleashed dogs being walked. This may be the most common violation I see and I see it on almost every walk I take. It doesn't particularly bother me, although I understand the reasons for it. However, every time I have come upon such dogs they have been very well trained and behaved. 


Now, I admit, when I come around a corner or over a hill and am confronted by a dog I grow very wary if I see no master about. One never knows what a strange dog might do. I also know that even the gentlest dog can feel the same way upon meeting me. It doesn't know what I am up to either and a sudden move could make it feel threatened, and who knows where that leads.


Frankly, the only dogs that ever really scared me on walks were on leashes. I met two Pit Bulls on several occasions on the Northern Delaware Greenway, always restrained on leads, but every time, baring teeth,  they pulled and tugged on their ties trying to come at me. Each time I prayed their owners had a good grip on those leather straps and nothing broke. This did not seem a good place for these animals to be walked, on leashes or not. There are some walkers with children and children are fascinated with dogs and often run toward them without a care. But hey, I guess that is just me, an old worrywart. 


I'll tell you three recent encounters with unleashed dogs.

I was on this very same trail one morning and came to this bridge. Thinking I would set my Flip on the rocks to the one side and film myself walking across here, I was suddenly startled by a large dog leaping right in front of my face from where I was about to place the tripod.


He had seemed to come out of nowhere and was quite alone. He landed on the path and looked at me and I am him.


"Are you alone?" I asked.


He said nothing.


What do I do now. This appeared to be a stray dog. He had to belong to somebody for there was a bandana around his neck, but who and where were they. Moments went by and then I heard a voice from above.


"He's friendly."


I looked up and there was a lady and another dog high up on these rocks. As I watched she came walking down upon them. I had never noticed there was a path that went up this outcropping of stone.


A second dog encounter was actually an expected encounter, but non-appearance. It was when I dared remove my shirt thinking I was in a secluded place and then this other woman with two dogs came up the path. I met the same lady a second time further down the path, meaning she had circled around (probably fascinated by my manly physique and wanted another look). She was coming just up the steep hill, that I prefer to go down rather than up. One of her dog led the way, but I didn't see the second.


"Aren't you missing someone?" I asked. 


She stopped and looked back. Then she called a few times, but the other dog did not appear.


"She hasn't got lost yet," said the woman and went on her way and I on mine.


I went down the steep hill, but no sign of her other dog anywhere before me as I went. I presume it went down the creek side path in the opposite direction and knew its way home, at least I hope so. But I thought, neither dog was on a leash. She wasn't even carrying any leashes. Now one of her pooches was running free and alone through the paths, what kind of violation was that? What might the fine be if she's caught by a ranger?


My third story just happened the other day. I was hiking up the creek path, which is a narrow trail through the woods. At one spot I could hear sounds approaching from behind and in front of me. There was a little side path on the trail and I stepped upon it just as a large Bulldog bounded around a bush and came to me. At the same time, two bicyclists came from the other direction, then came a man with another Bulldog on a leash. 


The first Bulldog was nuzzling my hand as its owner came up and snapped a leash upon it. One of the biker's said to him, "That's what happens when you don't have them leashed. There's a big fine for that, you know?"


"Are you cops?" the Bulldog man asked.


"Yes, we are," said one of the bikers. (I was rolling my eyes at this.)


"Well, thank you for your service, sir," said Bulldog man and the bikers rode away.


Bulldog man and I exchanged glances, neither believing these bikers were cops. Bulldog man, now with both beasts leashed, walked on down the path.


I didn't need to hear any bikers lecturing anyone about trail violations. Next to unleashed dogs, they are the biggest offenders I run into. They speed up and down these trails often giving no warning they are coming up behind you. Not all, but it is becoming more the rule than the exception, sad to say. Use to be bikers would call out, "On your left" as they approached. Now too many just whizz right pass. You seldom hear them coming until they are upon you.

They also go where they shouldn't. Some trails are marked as off-limits to bikes, but they are there. The photo to the right shows fresh bike tracks up on Rocky Run, one of the trails they are not allowed. A couple weeks ago I was on a guided tour on Rocky Run when a forbidden biker came down the narrow trail up on the high ridge. Not only didn't he give warning, he didn't even slow down. We had some old people and some children in the group. There could have been a disaster; there could have been injuries.

Bicycles aren't the only conveyance people are not suppose to ride on trails like Rocky Run. There is something else banned, horses.


Be careful where you step, friend, for this was left not far from those tire tracks, and believe me, no bicycle left this.

Mark Trail and Lost Stuff: Viewing Rockwood

We were on the downward path coming off the big hill. We had just passed a curious stump in which someone had carved, "My Wife's".

These trails around here have been fairly unmarred. Someone cares enough to keep them up. They say that is what the fee goes to. In fact, just today I ordered an annual state park pass from the Delaware Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Control, "Protecting Delaware's Environment for Future generations" and doing a darn good job of it. The DDNREC (or more commonly DNREC and pronounced "den-reck") is kind to we seasoned citizens. We get a nice discount on the pass.

It is amazing how well kept the Northern Greenway and its string of parks is. I never see little blowing about at my feet. Even those covers of fallen leaves have been blown off the walkways. One day as I strolled through Bringhurst I noticed a white truck parked by the side of the road. In a bit two fellows came walking toward me, crossed the lot and drove off in the truck. When I came to the entry of the next road cutting through I met them again. The truck was parked along the curve. They were walking through the path, bit by bit, picking up any stray paper or other offending non-natural object along the way.

Outside of the carved stump I've never seen graffiti blotching up the view either,  not until this morning, that is. There is one of those over-reinforced bridges in Bringhurst and some miscreant spray painted "Mark" at several intervals along the top rail.  You got to feel a little sorry for the dunderhead who did this. What a pitiful like on non-accomplishment Mark must lead to make his mark this way, by marring what someone else built for other's safety and enjoyment.  Mark the Malefactor proves all the turkeys weren't cooked on Thanksgiving. This one is still waddling about, loser that he is.

When I was a wee lad a comic strip appeared in our paper called "Mark Trail". I confess, I didn't read it much as a child finding it a bit boring and preachy. It was about a guy named — gee, who'd a thunk - Mark Trail.  He had adventures along the trails of parks, defending them against villains like Mark the Malefactor and his paint can. He would see somebody like this loser writing his name on anything and proclaim, "What th!", and then he'd go punch them in the nose.

Mark Trail was created by a national forest guide named Ed Dodd in 1946 and he first appeared in a comic strip during April of that year. I would have been four at the time, a couple months from turning five. I haven't seen the strip for a while, but apparently it is still in syndication, although Dodd retired in 1978, five years before Mark Twain gave up his ever-present pipe. That pipe was lost because one reader complained. Mark should have said, "What th!" and punched the guy in the nose.

For a while Mark Trail was everywhere, in the comics of nearly 500 newspapers, in comic books and coloring books, even in two radio shows.

I've had to watch it. A couple times I caught myself typing Mark TWAIN instead of Mark TRAIL.
Both names had meaning for people traveling.  Samuel Clemens took his pseudonym from the calling of measurements off of steamboats on the Mississippi, a cry that told the Pilot the depth of the channel. A measuring line was dropped over the side with indicators along its length. If it was at mark twain the depth of the water was 12 feet (2 fathoms) safe for passage.

Mark Trail doesn't measure length, but it does show safe passage in a sense. Explorers and pathfinders would mark the trail so others could follow. When I was a boy scout this was one of the tasks you needed to pass. The Scout master or higher ranking scouts would go out and mark a trail through the woods. It might be indicated by a small pile of rocks, a broken twig or a notched tree (but seldom "My wife's" carved into stumps), things which didn't harm the environment, but to a careful observer could be followed.

It wouldn't involve spray painting "Mark" every ten feet, either.

Anyway, we have come down off the hill to the main grounds of the mansion. I would divide the grounds into three plateaus. Think of looking at the park as a wedding cake.

The highest plateau is the hill. Instead of a miniature bride and groom on the tip-top there is a gazebo. This layer kind of swirls out of the back of the second layer, beginning with back trails, which bordered that development of oversized homes. After cresting the hilltop, it quickly runs down and into Bringhurst Woods. We have pretty well covered that whole layer.

The rear of middle plateau contains the Mansion and the Carriage House and we thought we were done with this layer too. However, I discovered a few things I had never noticed before, probably because I generally walked down the woods trail by Yuppieville.

Now I see there is a sign ahead saying, "Do not enter". Ignore it. It doesn't apply to us because we are special.

Actually it is for auto traffic coming up a drive to the Carriage House parking Lot. They need to turn off toward the right just before these pillars. Only authorized vehicles and we people of the foot may proceed straight. We are going to go up by the Mansion again and take one of the trails I formally overlooked and look at a couple things back between the Mansion and Carriage House.

We've seen the conservatory before, of course. Usually when I come here to walk I swing off to the left here as I approach the building and go down a path that circles The Yard. This time I went straight by the front of the house toward the far side.

They have been trimming up the trees and grounds with Holiday lights and wreaths the last week. There are light strings on limbs all about. They are having an open house next week just in case you have reason to be in Delaware.
.

ROCKWOOD HOLIDAY OPEN HOUSE: Dec. 3 & 4, 6-9pm; Dec. 5, 1-4pm

* Entertainment * Photos with Santa & Mrs. Claus * Costumed Characters * Holiday Gift Shoppe * Ceremonial Lighting of the big tree & reading of "Twas The Night Before Christmas" on Dec. 3 at 6 pm.

"Deck the hall with boughs of holly, fa la la la la/Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la"

The malls have had their boughs of whatever holiday decor since Hallowe'en. They sing a different song, though:

Deck the halls with mercantile folly            fa la la la la la la.

Lure them in by trick, by golly            fa la la la la la la.

Lure them in with faulty ads            fa la la la la la la.

Relieve them of their money wads            fa la la la la la la.

See the ranting mob before us            fa la la la la la la.

Charging the display case in force            fa la la la la la la.

Grabbing sales goods in rips and slices            fa la la la la la la.

All marked up from last week’s prices            fa la la la la la la.

How we love that merry measure            fa la la la la la la.

Your extravagance becomes our treasure            fa la la la la la la.

Only one thing hinders our cheer            fa la la la la la la.

            Christmas comes but once a year                       fa la la la la la la.

Sorry, a little sarcasm slipped through there.

Anyway, I don't thing I ever walked down this wide gravel path that gave a view of the Mansion from this perspective. I think the reason is it led back to the maintenance shed, which was hardly attractive in its utilitarian facade. 

However, it also connected to this path that went back to another side of the carriage House and here is where I discovered new things.

Well, they are actually very, very old things, one kind of decretive and  all, but they were new to me. It shows how we become creatures of habit and thus miss much. We also misjudge the outer peel of the fruit of life, we fail to peel back the onion and banana and we miss the varied tastes that exist to enjoy. It is a lesson I have to constantly be re-teaching myself.

If I don't watch myself at my age I'll become as out of date and useless s this rusting wagon.

By the way, I wrote that poem a long time ago. I kind of started writing poetry by doing parodies of other poems and songs. It is called, "Deck the Halls". Yeah, I know, nothing witty there, is there? It is in a collection of my take-offs called, In Other Words.

Maybe you can see some of my early influences in this. I was very much a fan of Bob & Ray, Stan Freberg and Tom Lehrer growing up (heck, still am).  Freberg did a great burlesque of A Christmas Carol called "Green Christmas" and his own take on "Deck the Halls":

 Deck the halls with advertising, 

Fa la la la la la la la la. 

'Tis the time for merchandising, 

Fa la la la la la la la la. 

Tom Lehrer had some good ones on the commercialization of Christmas, too, such as: "Angels we have heard on high/telling us to go out and buy!" and "Hark, the Herald Angels sing/ Advertising wondrous things."


You know when I was walking the other day I began channeling a venquilitist and his figure. This dialogue ran through my brain, I'm not sure if my lips weren't moving or whether I was the dummy.

"Wanna sing a Christmas song?'


"Hmmph, it ain't that twelve days of thing, is it?"


"Why, what's wrong with the Twelve Days of Christmas?"


"Mean song, lots of weird things in it."


"Like what?"


"How about that thing about, 'ten lepers leaping'? Ten lepers leaping, wouldn't their toes break off?"

"That's leapers, not lepers. What's wrong with you? You shouldn't use that word anymore anyway."


"What, leapers?"


"No, lepers."


"Bah humbug!"


Here is something hiding almost buried back here where I never went. Now you might jump to the same conclusion as I and nine other leapers who suddenly appeared. At first glance we said, "Oh, a Spring House." We were wrong.

This structure is a Fruit Cellar. Joseph Shipley had it build and half of it is underground. It tended to keep a constant temperature year around and this allowed the gracious host, Joseph Shipley, surprise his dinner guests with things like still delicious pears at Christmas time. Man, I don't think my refrigerator can keep fruit juicy that long.


Obviously, if Shipley built this cellar it has been here all along; after all, he lived here between 1854 and 1867 far before I came on the scene. 

Since I hadn't discovered the old rusty wagon and the Fruit Cellar before, I decided to continue up this trail I had never taken before and see if there was anything else of interest. 


I continued around and crossed to the lane back to the upper parking lot. Here is a view of the Carriage House I hadn't taken before. It gives an idea of the size of the building.


The long roofed passage way pointing this way is off the porch where was where I took a photo of the back path by Yuppieville.

Perhaps you remember a path off of that trail completely covered with fallen leaves. Well, this is that same path from the other side. It has been swept clean of leaves, probably part of the preparations for the coming open house. 


What could this path and this lane be leading to beside the parking lot? 


There is a house toward the back, hidden back in the trees. In summer I wouldn't have seen this building. I had noticed it as I walked the main trail a few days ago, but I had never come up that side path to investigate.

I walk over to the place.


Who lived here?


It isn't a bad looking house. I am thinking some kind of caretaker.


There is an information plate, a large round disc atop a pole, near the front of the structure.


Here is what it says:


Gardener's Cottage

"Built in 1855, this house is called the Gardener's Cottage because Joseph Shipley's English gardener, Robert Salisbury was the first tenant. Shipley brought Salisbury to Rockwood to help him develop the gardens. Baltimore architects Thomas and James Dixon designed the cottage to compliment the mansion in style and building materials."


Now we know Robert Salisbury better for his culinary invention, the Salisbury Steak. (Naw, I'm just kidding about that.)

Okay, I think we have really shown everything we could on the Hill and about the Mansion. The only layer we haven't really covered is the lower one, the pastures and main parking lot area. This parking lot pictured here is the upper lot exclusively for the Carriage House. Now you might say, what is there to see below except grass to one side and macadam to the other. A surprising lot actually, so next time out it will be "The Last Plateau."

[Note: We joked a bit about leprosy, but this is an often misunderstood disease that has had dire consequences for people. The preferred name today is Hansen's Disease and if you are interested in learning a little more please click on the title and read this post, Affliction: Another Influential Person in My Life.]

A Vat of Feral Cats

Maybe I shouldn't even write this. By doing so, am I being vengeful? I hope not. I'm not really a vengeful person, I don't hate anyone and I don't hold grudges. But I do sometimes get frustrated, if not always angry, with people.

I don't think being angry with people who have been cruel to you is wrong. Nor do I think if you could punish the people who were cruel to you is being cruel in turn. There is a difference between being mean-spirited and seeking justice. Seeking justice is also different from seeking revenge.

I'm not generally interested in "getting back" at cruel people. I just want them to stop being cruel.

This has not been a particularly good year for me and mine. I will admit to anger in the last few months and that only adds to the irritation of dealing with cruel people. And I don't even really know these cruel people.

The most disturbing is the egg-man (or perhaps egg-woman), but it somehow seems a more masculine act, although hardly a manly one. After all, the acts were done in secret, perhaps under the cloak of night. The person is a sneak and a coward. It began in mid-may when my son left for work and discovered someone had egged the side of his car. I didn't realize my car had also been egged until after I  finished work that day and was walking back to my car. Then I saw the goo down on the bottom of my windshield at the wiper bin. It had been so low I hadn't even noticed it while driving.

We were egged again during Memorial Day weekend, but this time no egg apparently hit the cars, but there was broken egg in the driveway.

I reported both instances to the police.

Yeah, like they care.

Then in July it happened again, this time eggs hit my windshield just below the roof line and drizzled down over the glass. I spend a good deal of time scraping and washing and scraping again and washing again to get this gook off so I could see to drive. It was hot. Some of the egg actually cooked. I still have traces. It is a hard material to remove. And it can leave a film you don't notice until one day it rains and you turn on your wipers. Swish, swish and you have an opaque smear across your line of sight.

Again I reported this to the police, who I am sure take it as a minor bit of vandalism. But since there is no apparent reason for anyone to do this and we don't have any known enemies it is a random act of terrorism. Who knows if it has stopped or if it could escalate.

The Little Woman has a theory that the perpetrator is not actually egging out cars, but is trying to hit stray cats that may have been wandering about or snoozing atop the cars.  If so, then the miscreant is even more vile, an abuser of animals.

A  _ _ _ _ _ _ _  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ in other blanks.

During the initial eggings we also discovered someone had thrown beer bottles into our yard, probably the same _ _ _ _ _ _ _ again with the possibility they were tormenting  Hobo Joe, who was still just a stray cat at that time.

The beer is the brand that "most interesting man in the world" drinks. I didn't find this action interesting at all.

These acts of cruelty are most personal, directed at us or at some poor creature wandering across our land.

You know what I would do to such a person?

Strip them naked, smear them with tuna oil and throw them in a vat of feral cats. And then throw eggs at them.

Now that would be interesting.