I haven’t been there for years – but I again found the place in the woods that I had visited many times since my parents first brought me there as a child.  This time I brought my three youngest sons – their first time.

The roads are different, but the same, the trees older but still familiar.  The bends in the path, the lay of the land - the collection of all of my visits.  Like an old friend, farther and closer at the same time.  My course was precise but uncertain until I found them again – the pines.

An outdoor cathedral – the pines, we called them.  Still quieter than quiet - still other worldly. 

There’s undergrowth now.  Weakening at the top, light calling the next forrest, the vast openness and clarity were alas only temporary glories.  Complexity, transition, aging.

In my life too.

The car was stuck in the snow in the drive way.  I turned down the fan and the radio and opened the door so I could hear and see the tires – so I wouldn’t spin them too much as I rocked out of the snow.  My sons were outside digging away at the snow under the car and behind the tires.

Yes!  I was starting to make it!  I was moving, faster, faster…     CRUNCH!!

I forgot to close the door, which was now wedged in the snow bank.  It was working just like the barb on a fishhook.  Now there’s a big hole in the back side of the snow bank – just big enough to, say, close a car door.

I have an aquarium in my office now.  Frequently I’m distracted by splashing.  Every time it is the same thing – one of them – I call him the “bully fish” – is chasing the other fish around.  So, the other fish all cower in the corner behind the heater until the bully fish gets bored.

As the person in charge of food supply and environment control – as the source for everything this nasty bully needs to live – it angers me that he has the audacity to make use of my provisions to go around an make life miserable for his cohabitants and at the same time ruin my enjoyment of my aquarium.

Just who does this little oppressor think he is?  I’ve got a mind to….

My 2nd daughter’s car alarm went off twice in the night and told the whole neighborhood that it was really windy outside.

My two oldest daughters have rejoined the household. 

My little kids are on Eastern Time and my older kids are on Pacific Daylight Saving time, which leaves my wife and I in the “no time” zone.

My 11 year old son and I have the system down.  I create the flood and he runs the whacker.

We’ve gotten three in the past week already.  Spot em digging, flood em with the hose, whack em with the shovel when they come out, and bury em - but don’t simply bury em – cuz if they ever “come to” again – burying a mole is like throwing Br’er rabbit in the briar patch.

So, we decided to try “big boy” underwear on our two year old – again.  Maybe this time he would figure it out. 

Alas, he and/or his body have responded to this assault on their combined freedoms with a full powered stomach sickness that completely overwhelmed his big boy underwear, his diaper(s), and for that matter his entire bed several times last night.

Signs of my ultimate demise increase at the same rate as my inability to read them.

A few years ago I was making flight plans (or driving) and navigating my way over, around, and through all manner of air space, city and town.  Now I get lost walking through an airport.

Noting this is, however.

It’s what a 2 year old gets at a petting zoo (last summer).  He still points to his finger whenever he remembers it.