For Wordless Wednesday.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: hospitality.
Our delightful hosts in Maryland over Christmas. This was the day after we arrived, on the Metro, headed for the escape room. We had a grand time, many thanks again!
For Norm2.0’s Thursday Doors.
We walked on the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Park while we were visiting Maryland and Virginia. It is 184.5 miles. I’ve biked it twice, starting at the West Virginia end and ending in Georgetown.
The locks that we went by were not functioning, but you can still see where the gates were. Those are doors to hold water back, aren’t they?
Parts of locks are still present and some still are functioning.
This bridge building was used for flood control.
When the river was flooding into the canal, boards were lowered into the slots that diverted high water away from the canal and back to the river.
It was a beautiful day. We all enjoyed the sun.
For Wordless Wednesday.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: segue.
My daughter and I hiked at Deception Pass yesterday. We went up Goose Rock. Neither of us had hiked it before and the views were fabulous. I only had my cell phone.
My van is dead, cracked head block, so now I want to move the tow to my scion. Then I can tow the little Panda Minimum trailer. It is becoming clear that we all need to reduce airplane travel as part of our carbon footprint, so I will explore my Washington State Parks.
Have a very happy New Year’s Eve: and be careful out there.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: dirt.
What worries a skier about the opening photograph?
Yesterday the introverted thinker and I went water skiing. On Mount Baker. It rained the whole time. Cold! And the introverted thinker’s knee hurt. We bagged it once I had ice puddles in my ski boots and could squeeze a stream out of my ski gloves.
On the very first lift ride, I realized that my wrist pocket was unzipped. Cash was still in there but the car key wasn’t. We skied down and I checked each place I’d been. No key. We got back on the lift and watched. There were a lot of small black specks. We discussed how much fun it would be to wait for AAA on the top of the mountain.
We skied down, going very slowly right under the lift.
Whew. After that neither of us whined. We skied until we were soaked. Her knee was being uncooperative and she was skiing warily. I couldn’t wear goggles because then my glasses fogged too much. Neither of us could see much through the rain. We went up a higher lift and then it was heavy wet slushy snowing. Then we really couldn’t see. Both nearly crashed skiing by proprioception, when a dip was invisible. I stopped at a sign and then fell backwards, visual cues just weren’t working for balance. Unhurt.
And what does this have to do with dirt? I started skiing at age 9 on the east coast, in upstate New York. We would go from Johnson City and meet my uncle and cousins at the small Labrador Mountain ski area. It was a family area. The snow was often awful. We skiied on ice, slush and dirt. Patches of dirt would show through and we learned to avoid them and avoid the rocks. The first time I skiied powder in Colorado I was mystified: I didn’t know how to ski it. But slush on top of hardpacked moguls? No problem.
So skiing Baker put me back to my tweens. The conditions were so familiar. My body was so comfortable with really crappy snow. The ungroomed parts had so much water on top that skis practically stopped. If I had been dressed in foul weather gear I could have skied most of the day.
But soaking wet is another matter. We turned in the skis and ate a late lunch. Happily used the car key to get dry clothes. Changed and drove back to Bellingham. We had a fabulous dinner looking out over the bay with a wonderful sunset.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: cottage.
My family has cabins on Lake Matinenda in Ontario, currently in a trust and jointly owned.
In 2012 my sister died in March. In August my daughter and I went to the lake. No one could bear to stay in the cabin that she had used the most the last few years. My daughter and I spent a day facing the mice and clearing. The mice had made nests in anything they could use.
My daughter helped me and bless her. I was still feeling paralyzed with grief. We garbaged bagged the mouse nests, went through all the fabric, loaded the trash, recycling and empties into the boat and took them to the dump and to town. Then we bought half a dozen plastic containers and put every fabric thing and shoe that didn’t have a mouse nest into containers.
I went back this summer and a friend and I worked on the roof. The books and the glass containers are sad now, not doing well as no one has used that cabin since 2010. I didn’t think to box up the books, except for the log that my mother started.
This summer my daughter and I took four large containers in the boat and then by car to the laundromat. We washed everything and donated most of it to a local second hand shop. I put a wool blanket back in a container and moved some of the dishes my mother made in another container to a cabin that is in better shape.
Our cottages are full of memories.