anchorage.

We made it to Alaska last night at 1:30am Louisville time, 9:30 here. 

From the airport in Anchorage we took off walking in the direction of a hostel I found on google, and within 200 yards a guy in an suv pulled up in front of us to give us a ride. I already love AK! 

I’m not judging, but the guy was smoking a cigar and smelled like vodka. 

That aside, he drove us to a hotel where we got a midnight meal and some local brew (Alaska Amber), and wished us luck. 

We finished our meal and walked about a half mile to Spenard Hostel, set up our tent, and slept like logs (after unzipping someone else’s tent…the lady that runs this place had said there would be a tent waiting for us…woops). 

So much for the “packing list” we forgot the tooth paste but luckily Mols found baking soda under the sink in the hostel (YUM). 

This morning we drank some coffee, packed up our stuff, took showers and are waiting on the owner so we can pay; apparently Alaska time is a lot like Africa time. 

Wish us luck getting to Homer today, we’ll either get a ride from someone (hopefully not yet intoxicated) or take the shuttle.

Cheers from the land of the midnight sun.

B

packing list:

clothes--no more than one warm-weather outfit--packed into one dry bag each
headlamp
sleeping bag
thermarest
stove
tobogan
gloves
dry food
fly rod
flies/tools
2 knives
bear spray
2 nalgenes
water pump
first aid bag
keen boots

chacos

spoon
bowl
coffee mug
coffee dripper
2 books each(To Have and Have Not, As I Lay Dying, The Bible, Tracks)
Moleskine
Pint of Bourbon
Denali guide book

tooth brush/paste

am i forgetting anything? 

moose pic

silent workhorse.

Darkside Of The Lens from mickey smith on Vimeo.

dear friends

Please keep me posted on The Voyager 1. 

If it inches beyond the stagnation layer & out of the solar system, 

please please please tell me. 

I don't want to miss this while I'm in Alaska. 

Thanks.

-M.  

photo

pickles.

there are so many cukes in my garden.

last night i finally did something with them.

it's pickle season y'all. 

yield: 

Makes 4 pint (500 mL) jars

ingredients:

8-10 small pickling cucumbers (about 3pounds/1.5kg)

2 cups (500 mL) white vinegar

2 cups (500 mL) water

2 tablespoons (25 mL) pickling salt

4 heads fresh dill or 4 teaspoons dill seeds (20 mL)

4 small cloves garlic

print a shopping list for this recipe

preparation:

1. Cut a thin slice from the ends of each cucumber

2. Meanwhile, combine vinegar, water, and salt in a saucepan and bring to a boil.

3. Remove hot jars from canner.
Place 1 head fresh dill or 1 tsp (5 mL) dill seeds and 1 clove garlic into each jar; pack in cucumbers.
Pour boiling vinegar mixture over cucumbers to within 1/2 inch (1 cm) of rim (head space).
Process 10 minutes for pint (500 mL) jars and 15 minutes for quart (1 L) jars

tip:

1.Garlic may turn blue or green in the jar.
Nothing to be alarmed about, it is only the effect of the acid on the natural pigments in the garlic.

2. Pickling salt is free of the additives found in table salt, which can discolor homemade pickles.
If you use regular table salt, the pickles will taste fine, but they may turn dark, with cloudy liquid.
Do not substitute kosher salt, as the difference in texture can result in incorrect measurements.

recipe

pickles

wheelbarrow.

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends

upon 

a red wheel

barrow 

glazed with rain

water 

beside the white

chickens. 

William Carlos Williams

wash.

Today.

 I'm inspired. 

Bon Iver - Wash. (Deluxe) from Bon Iver on Vimeo.

see ya soon. 

zambia.

It's been four years since we've been to Kitwe. 

So much has happened since we've been there. 

I still think about the early mornings making nshima with the amazing Zambian women.

Watching Ben play soccer barefoot on a dirt field.

Meeting beautiful people.

Loving on children that didn't have have parents, a second pair of clothes, or food to eat on the weekends.

I gained so much perspective on that trip.

Ready to go back. 

Ryder: The Beekeeper.

I wake up everyday when I hear Arnold crow. I think it sounds like a scream. He must not like to wake up, I do though, so I howl a little bit, but only so Dad will wake up and come get us out.

First thing I do is check and see if Kola has any food pieces in the floor of her crate...she usually bites me but I don't care.

Next thing is to check and see if there are any food pieces on the floor. Usually there aren't any so I go outside to pee and to poop, but sometimes I can't poop until after breakfast.

When we go inside I check to make sure Mom's alive in the bed and I smell her eyes but she tells me to get out, so I go lick Dad's face while he puts on his shoes.

Then he feeds us...this is the best part of the day. I eat mine first and then finish Kola's when she's not looking. 

Most days we take a nap while Mom and Dad are at work.

When they get home I either watch dad do projects, bark at people and their dogs, chase Kola, sniff for food, or do my new favorite thing...beekeep.

Mom and Dad think they're beekeepers, but I check on the bees everyday, they only check once a week. I get stung sometimes,but I know they're just trying to hug me. Someday I think I'll get some honey and that's why I check on them, to see if they dripped any in the grass or anything.

Right now I feel like swimming, or eating pepperonis.

See ya.

-Ryder.

Father&Son.

Father and Son from William J. Meyer on Vimeo.

horologium florae

How well the skilful gardener drew

Of flow'rs and herbs this dial new;

Where from above the milder sun

Does through a fragrant zodiac run;

And, as it works, th' industrious bee

Computes its time as well as we.

How could such sweet and wholesome hours

Be reckoned but with herbs and flow'rs!

Carl Linnaeus, father of taxonomy, divides the flowering plants into three groups: 

the meteorici, which change their opening and closing times according to the weather conditions; 

the tropici, which change their opening and closing times according to the length of the day; 

and the aequinoctales, which have fixed opening and closing times, regardless of weather or season. 

Linnaeus notes in his Philosophia Botanica that if one possessed a sufficiently large variety of aequinoctal species, it would be possible to tell time simply by observing the daily opening and closing of flowers. 

He comments, to the consternation of several local horologists, that his floral clock is so accurate that it 

“could put all the watchmakers in Sweden out of business.” 

horologium florae source

marvell poem source

photo sources:

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to the conservationist.

Please don't take your Prius to the drive-thru.

 

 

 

"Why should conservationists have a positive interest in…farming? 
There are lots of reasons, but the plainest is: Conservationists eat. 
To be interested in food but not in food production is clearly absurd. 
Urban conservationists may feel entitled to be unconcerned about food production because they are not farmers. 
But they can’t be let off so easily, for they are all farming by proxy. 
They can eat only if land is farmed on their behalf by somebody somewhere in some fashion. 
If conservationists will attempt to resume responsibility for their need to eat,
 they will be led back fairly directly to all their previous concerns for the welfare of nature. ”

Wendell Berry

Conservationist and Agrarian
picture sources:
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thankful

"Some ships are big, and some ships are small, but the best ships are friendships so here's to us all."
-Clark Dalton: Kanakuk Kamp circa 2006

Two of my best friends are birthday twins! 

Morg turned 23 & Hank turned 26.

We celebrated on Bek's land, The Harvest Table Farm.

Over the fire we cooked hotdogs, beans, & corn on the cob.

Great cookies & cakes. 

An awesome crew showed up & we had the best time. 

So many laughs, amazing food, and wonderful people.

Some of us stayed the night & camped. 

Woke up and made cowboy style breakfast around the campfire--pancakes & bacon--oh my.  

too much goodness.

"A man's growth is seen in the successive choirs of his friends."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

alps.

Summer feelings from sebastien montaz-rosset on Vimeo.

woolly bugger

Fly tutorial

In the last few years we've been attempting to get back to the land, to harken back to an older way of doing things. 
Ben has made a huge effort, in the last two years, to learn all he can about fly fishing… So I had him write a short tutorial about it.
Step one: buy a good flyrod. If you want to fish for trout and bass as I do, something around 9 feet will work and make sure it's a 4, 5, or six weight. Just talk to the old-timer at your local fly shop ( probably someone with a bushy white beard) and he'll explain what the differences are.
Step two: get the old-timer to put on your fly line. It will be long, heavy, and brightly colored, and just so you know, it's purpose is to carry the tiny fly through the air to the fish's mouth.
Step three: find a stream that has trout  in it, and do your best to mimic Brad Pitt from a river runs through it, casting  upstream and letting your fly drift across a hole.
Step four: get more gear. Molly chooses to wear keens and a gardening hat, I like the old man felt hat and chacos… Whatever you choose make sure it's comfortable, because for a while it will take you all day to get a bite (at least that's how it happened for us).
Step five: read "big two-hearted River" by Ernest Hemingway, stock up on woolly buggers and San Juan worms, and keep your lines tight!

picture sources:

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sweet carolina

over the weekend we took a little road trip to South Carolina.

it was perfect.

while on the road we stopped at FiveGuys & Ben had me laughing so hard ketchup was coming out of my nose
 it was only the beginning.

we needed a vacation together so bad.
woke up early and kayaked, after taking a short nap on a little inlet we paddled next to family of dolphins, it was magical. 

stayed at the dinner table until 1030pm because conversation was so good. 

 went to the beach, i got to watch ben in is element. he is the cutest beach dude I've ever seen. 

laid by the pool.

lots of big breakfasts.

ate at McCrady's.
coffee at Hope & Union.

walked and held hands.
so simple. so sweet.
i am thankful.  

thoughts.

i can only think about my garden lately.

i love spring and the sweet cultivation.

soon there will be so many cucumbers for pickling.

5

Five years ago I said "I Do" to the most amazing man.
We've done so much over the years:
 trips to New York
 Serving in Africa
 Backpacking Europe
Hiking on the AT
Climbing Mountains
Working, Saving, & Playing Hard.
Yesterday we tried to pinpoint our top five favorite memories we've made over the years & it was too hard to choose but here is what we came up with:
Hers
1. Watching Cedric sit on your shoulders in Zambia. You had your shoes off for the whole two weeks, he gave you ring worm & you didn't care.
2. Wandering around Florence & stumbling upon the quaint Italian Bistro. We ate so much & I laughed as you tried to talk in Italian to the server.
3. Our first Christmas morning together. I woke up & finally appreciated that ridiculous holiday. I knew I didn't want to spend another Christmas with anyone but you.
4. You held my hair back for me as I puked on the Spanish streets. You held me & cared for me so well.
5. Third night in the backcountry in Glacier--we were so cold, we ran out of food, but you still managed to make me cackle so hard my belly hurt. I love cold nights in a tent with you.
His
1. Watching you help make shima with the ladies in the Zambian kitchen. Your smile as Ford and the others did front flips off of that rock that was shaped like a pyramid.
2. The look on your face when I finally convinced you to jump off the cliff in Cinque Terra.
3. Those cigs--one a night--in Glacier that we shared. Your essential oils had spilled and they tasted like lavender.
4. Your sass after we got our bag stolen in Barcelona. You oscillated between wanting to bust some heads and wondering if whoever stole our stuff needed it more than us...I love that.
5. Waking up on June fourth 2007 to realize that I was set for life.

The Bee

 

 

 

The Bee

by: Emily Dickinson

Like trains of cars on tracks of plush

I hear the level bee:

A jar across the flowers goes,

Their velvet masonry

Withstands until the sweet assault


Their chivalry consumes,

While he, victorious, tilts away


To vanquish other blooms.

His feet are shod with gauze,

His helmet is of gold;

His breast, a single onyx


With chrysoprase, inlaid.

His labor is a chant,


His idleness a tune;


Oh, for a bee's experience


Of clovers and of noon!