It appears that the questions are at least entertaining a few folks. Not a lot of responses but I'm getting 700-1000 views!
Do people ever get "bushy" on the island? My older brother lived in Hawaii for several years and sometimes complained about hitting water everytime you drove 40 minutes in a direction. Any funny stories about people needing to get off the island?
If my questions are tiresome just ignore or tell me to crawl back under rock from which I slithered.
People getting bushy?
Moderator: Gillespie
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Frank Solle
- Posts: 139
- Joined: Thu Apr 19, 2007 9:52 am
It's still a bit early for this one, but you get the idea:
(actually, I went for a nice, early-morning, sunny, near-zero snow
shoe through the woods this morning - it's all in how you approach it.)
A Winter Malaise
A winter malaise has settled in,
what with an early christian Easter
come and gone,
with morning temps still hovering
near zero and snow,
melted and frozen so many times
itâ??s now a solid crust through and through,
enough for aimless wanderings through the woods,
holding forth a foot in depth,
while a few sunny afternoons, teasingly warm â??
as much so as the low forties can be â??
have turned all roads and drives to pure ice,
turned walking into a pathetic shuffle
geared only to the fear of falling,
regardless
of age or physicality â?? ankles, hips, wrists,
all fall subject to quick and painful breaking
upon hard, cold contact â??
so we snigger back and forth
while trying to make progress
in and out of
the grocery store, the post office, the hardware
smiling at one another although
we no longer mean it,
the commonality of survival having elapsed
into the more trivial pursuit of just getting by,
our intent now much less directed at civility but more so
bent on arriving at the true end of winter, a winter
longer than the most recent, longer than expected,
just longer, damn it,
and why isnâ??t it over, why doesnâ??t it let us go â??
weâ??ve paid our ransom with shovels and plows,
with cords of wood sacrificed at the altar of heat,
frozen fingers and toes, frostbitten noses, our tongues
have ached to touch the tempting goddess of icy steel,
yet weâ??ve resisted;
weâ??ve dealt, weâ??ve coped, weâ??ve taken
winterâ??s best shot, jabbing and bobbing
and weaving our way to today,
knees nearly buckled, one eye swollen shut,
yelling cut me, cut me to our corner man,
but still we stand, gloves up, our courage
present but sapped, our spirit staggered,
our will and well-being shaken
by the long bout,
still, we wonâ??t give up, wonâ??t give in, wonâ??t quit,
even when quitting seems prudent,
so we carry on, we wayward children,
carry on, knowing our effort will carry forth,
carry us into the loving embrace of the sun, and long through
the pending weeks of mud and muck and mire,
and, eventually, finally, into the green unfolding
that is spring, with life, in all its myriad and abundant forms,
bursting forth,
bursting from within our very bosoms,
returning the earth, returning our beings, returning
all to the warmth of sanity, the warmth of sensibility,
and our spirits will again soar, just as they did
when we welcomed the change into winter, oh so long ago,
for we all embrace change, we all embrace the lack of stagnation,
for it is just such stagnation that leads us, inevitably
to discomfort, lassitude, and yes, malaise.
(actually, I went for a nice, early-morning, sunny, near-zero snow
shoe through the woods this morning - it's all in how you approach it.)
A Winter Malaise
A winter malaise has settled in,
what with an early christian Easter
come and gone,
with morning temps still hovering
near zero and snow,
melted and frozen so many times
itâ??s now a solid crust through and through,
enough for aimless wanderings through the woods,
holding forth a foot in depth,
while a few sunny afternoons, teasingly warm â??
as much so as the low forties can be â??
have turned all roads and drives to pure ice,
turned walking into a pathetic shuffle
geared only to the fear of falling,
regardless
of age or physicality â?? ankles, hips, wrists,
all fall subject to quick and painful breaking
upon hard, cold contact â??
so we snigger back and forth
while trying to make progress
in and out of
the grocery store, the post office, the hardware
smiling at one another although
we no longer mean it,
the commonality of survival having elapsed
into the more trivial pursuit of just getting by,
our intent now much less directed at civility but more so
bent on arriving at the true end of winter, a winter
longer than the most recent, longer than expected,
just longer, damn it,
and why isnâ??t it over, why doesnâ??t it let us go â??
weâ??ve paid our ransom with shovels and plows,
with cords of wood sacrificed at the altar of heat,
frozen fingers and toes, frostbitten noses, our tongues
have ached to touch the tempting goddess of icy steel,
yet weâ??ve resisted;
weâ??ve dealt, weâ??ve coped, weâ??ve taken
winterâ??s best shot, jabbing and bobbing
and weaving our way to today,
knees nearly buckled, one eye swollen shut,
yelling cut me, cut me to our corner man,
but still we stand, gloves up, our courage
present but sapped, our spirit staggered,
our will and well-being shaken
by the long bout,
still, we wonâ??t give up, wonâ??t give in, wonâ??t quit,
even when quitting seems prudent,
so we carry on, we wayward children,
carry on, knowing our effort will carry forth,
carry us into the loving embrace of the sun, and long through
the pending weeks of mud and muck and mire,
and, eventually, finally, into the green unfolding
that is spring, with life, in all its myriad and abundant forms,
bursting forth,
bursting from within our very bosoms,
returning the earth, returning our beings, returning
all to the warmth of sanity, the warmth of sensibility,
and our spirits will again soar, just as they did
when we welcomed the change into winter, oh so long ago,
for we all embrace change, we all embrace the lack of stagnation,
for it is just such stagnation that leads us, inevitably
to discomfort, lassitude, and yes, malaise.
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Tim Keeney
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Feb 04, 2009 2:49 pm
Having never spent a winter on any island I probably shouldn't comment, but I'm not known for my good sense.
I check the Power's Hardware web-cam every day (usually several times) and have noticed that the snow level appears to be virtually the same there as it is in Lansing where I am. It usually is warmer there too!
We're having a moderately hard winter this year. Is this winter normal there or not? I made my first visit to the island last summer so I have no idea. I'm looking forward to many more visits.
Anyway, I always suffer from cabin fever or "bushiness" this time of year. C'mon spring!!!!!!!!
I check the Power's Hardware web-cam every day (usually several times) and have noticed that the snow level appears to be virtually the same there as it is in Lansing where I am. It usually is warmer there too!
We're having a moderately hard winter this year. Is this winter normal there or not? I made my first visit to the island last summer so I have no idea. I'm looking forward to many more visits.
Anyway, I always suffer from cabin fever or "bushiness" this time of year. C'mon spring!!!!!!!!
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John Bolton
- Posts: 374
- Joined: Sun Nov 11, 2007 1:07 pm
- Location: Sioux Falls SD
Island Thoughts
I stood in the surf today.
All day
In the morning the wind was rare, being from the East,
bringing warmth from the inland empire .
the sun was warm to the back of my ears.
I was alone. North Coast Sunday morning.
Everybody had stayed home to watch the football gladiators, not realizing that today was a wonderful reminder of what spring was going to be on this East side of the Pacific Ocean.
I strained to see Japan, China, even the Islands Midway.
By afternoon, with the shifting of the sun
the wind too, decided it should go back
to it's well worn path.
Wind. sun and surf faced me directly.
Not fierce like when the storms out of Alaska scream down, but rather long and thoughtful as if they too, had been thinking hard about their life as they made the journey's end across the big pond.
I casted out past the rip curl, hoping to be awakened by the delight of the sudden slap-slap, tap to my presented lure .
Hours. Thoughts. Casts. Thoughts.
the tide changed now, the sun was low.
No fish had bothered me in over 7 hours.
I thought about a lot of things
I thought about how I was as peaceful now as when I am rowing across Barney's Lake in the twlight.
Then, right in front of me, just beyond the first rip tide, the tap jolted me out of my trance. Hey Buddy! your fishing, wake up!
Surf Perch. They are to be caught and eaten, The blue gill of the Pacific
The sun was getting lower now, not many degrees off the horizon.
Two more, in quick succession.
The sun was racing me to the finish line
I was determined to outlast it though I had been there standing in waders in 47 degree water since early morning.
Last cast. thump. tap- tap set the hook! A small on, but a token gift, giving me hope that something out there appreciated my tenacity.
I drove back down the coast and through the monutain pass in the dark.
Home, I turned it on to find out that thankfully, my desolation was because Tampa Bay was where everyone's attention had averted to.
Fried surf perch for breakfast.
Life is good.
Spring is near, here.
I stood in the surf today.
All day
In the morning the wind was rare, being from the East,
bringing warmth from the inland empire .
the sun was warm to the back of my ears.
I was alone. North Coast Sunday morning.
Everybody had stayed home to watch the football gladiators, not realizing that today was a wonderful reminder of what spring was going to be on this East side of the Pacific Ocean.
I strained to see Japan, China, even the Islands Midway.
By afternoon, with the shifting of the sun
the wind too, decided it should go back
to it's well worn path.
Wind. sun and surf faced me directly.
Not fierce like when the storms out of Alaska scream down, but rather long and thoughtful as if they too, had been thinking hard about their life as they made the journey's end across the big pond.
I casted out past the rip curl, hoping to be awakened by the delight of the sudden slap-slap, tap to my presented lure .
Hours. Thoughts. Casts. Thoughts.
the tide changed now, the sun was low.
No fish had bothered me in over 7 hours.
I thought about a lot of things
I thought about how I was as peaceful now as when I am rowing across Barney's Lake in the twlight.
Then, right in front of me, just beyond the first rip tide, the tap jolted me out of my trance. Hey Buddy! your fishing, wake up!
Surf Perch. They are to be caught and eaten, The blue gill of the Pacific
The sun was getting lower now, not many degrees off the horizon.
Two more, in quick succession.
The sun was racing me to the finish line
I was determined to outlast it though I had been there standing in waders in 47 degree water since early morning.
Last cast. thump. tap- tap set the hook! A small on, but a token gift, giving me hope that something out there appreciated my tenacity.
I drove back down the coast and through the monutain pass in the dark.
Home, I turned it on to find out that thankfully, my desolation was because Tampa Bay was where everyone's attention had averted to.
Fried surf perch for breakfast.
Life is good.
Spring is near, here.
If we do not all hang together,
we will all hang separately,
Ben Franklin
we will all hang separately,
Ben Franklin