Author: turndoozie

Well January has slipped right by. And I haven’t written a blog in January because there hasn’t been enough going on in our lives to warrant a blog post. No inspiration. Writing without inspiration is like fat-free bacon. What’s the point?

Lack of inspiration comes from lack of getting out. January started with some illness taking up residence in my chest. For a week I felt like someone was standing on my chest. It wasn’t COVID, the easy ailment to blame right now. I did get tested and I was negative. Something else decided it needed to live in my lungs. Don’t know where it came from. I wasn’t hanging out in any Chinese fish markets or anything. After about ten days it must have gotten bored with me and moved on to some other hapless victim. 

My little ailment was followed by some truly nasty weather.  We had planned an Eastern Upper Peninsula birding trip. An annual get together with some friends. The plan was to spend a night visiting fiends in the Lansing area and then continue up to St. Ignace for two nights. That would give us time to drive around looking for snowy owls and other winter birds. We got as far as the Lansing area. Then snow, ice, and extremely high winds blew in. Highway closing weather. So we spent a couple nights in Lansing and then headed back to West Lafayette, totally uninspired.

Our aborted U.P. trip was followed by dangerously cold temperatures. Like below zero degrees Fahrenheit temperatures. For a couple mornings the digital thermometer in my shop displayed  a blinking LL until I could get the temperature up to a blistering plus ten degrees. That effort took both a kerosene and a propane heater. Getting the shop temperature up to a tolerable 50 degrees took a couple hours with both heaters running. Needless to say, we didn’t get in a lot of outdoor activities. I had no desire to become Indiana’s version of Shackleton, stranded in some icy corn field hoping for rescue. 

After about a week the temperatures rose into the tolerable thirty degree range, bringing rain and fog. But at least we were out of frostbite range. So after a couple weeks of cabin fever we decided to go to Turkey Run State park.

In 1916 some forward thinking Hoosiers wanted to make Turkey Run Indiana’s first state park. The owner had recently died and his estate was being settled. They raised money to buy the land, but were outbid by a timber company. The group then went back and did more fundraising, eventually raising enough to buy it from the timber company. Because of this delay McCormick’s Creek became Indiana’s first state park and Turkey Run the second. The original acreage cost a bit over $30,000. Less than what a buildable city lot in West Lafayette costs. 

Turkey Run is a beautiful place. In the middle of corn country is a narrow gorge carved out of sandstone by glacial meltwaters. The cool and moist canyon has remnant hemlock trees, ferns, mosses and liverworts typically found in more northern climates. In some places the walls are colored by traces of iron and coal deposits. The light was overcast and dull while we were there, making photography challenging. Regardless, the canyon is an inspiring place. Worth a visit if you get the chance.

The Punch Bowl.

Part of the canyon.

Water seeping through the sandstone walls.

In the canyon.

Wedge Rock.

Intersecting streams. The one of the left is slowly creating a new canyon.

In the canyon.

Veteran’s Day. Originally Armistice Day, the day to recognize the end of hostilities in WWI.  On the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month the killing stopped. The armistice to end “The War to End All Wars”. Somebody blew that one. 

So here’s to those that have served, whether in war or peace. Lise’s father and uncle, both of whom saw hazardous action in WWII.  Her nephews David (Iraq) and Mathew (Afghanistan). My numerous family members. The ones I served with in the Navy. Those I sailed with on three aircraft carriers as a civilian Tech Rep. To those in all the military services that I never met. And especially to Perry, Fred, John, and Brian, Sailors and Marines I served with that died while serving their country. Thanks.

My father, Korean War in-theater veteran, in his boot camp dress whites. 

On to lighter fare. It’s been a busy time for me, with enough travel that didn’t  leave much time for writing. Since my last post we finished up our trip to Pennsylvania and Lewes, Delaware. One of the reasons we really like the Lewes, Delaware, area is Cape Henlopen State Park, a great example of swords to plowshares. Cape Henlopen was part of the original grant to William Penn. Penn declared that Cape Henlopen and its natural resources be an area set aside for the enjoyment of the people of “Delaware County”. Great idea, but sometimes events change the best of intentions. 

Cape Henlopen is the point where the Delaware Bay meets the Atlantic Ocean. Looking about 15 miles across the water from the Delaware side one can just make out New Jersey. Not the end of the world, but probably close. 

With ports, shipyards, and refineries located in the Delaware Bay, the bay entrance became a strategic area needing protection. To protect shipping and facilities during WWII, the Cape Henlopen area was turned over to the War Department. Coastal defense forts were built on both sides of the bay mouth. On the Delaware side it was Fort Miles. 

Fort Miles had 16” (diameter) guns, the same as those on the larger battleships, as well as a range of smaller guns. The 16”  guns could hurl an armor-piercing  2,700 pound shell 27.5 miles. Far enough to hit Jersey should they get too obnoxious over there. 

A 16″ gun at Cape Henlopen (Fort Miles). This is not the original 16″ gun. This is a an identical barrel from a decommissioned battleship.

A 16″ shell and a solid steel test plate punctured by a 16″ shell.

The view across the bay, with New Jersey at the horizon, well within range.

The bunker that once housed a 16″ gun. It is on the highest dune north of the Carolinas. Now a museum.

Eventually the need to protect Philadelphia and Wilmington from the Bismark or U-boats disappeared. During the Cold War Ft. Miles was converted to a listening post to detect Soviet submarines. Eventually that function also became obsolete. In the 1960’s the DOD began turning parts of Ft. Miles back over to the State of Delaware. Eventually the area became the over 5,000 acre Cape Henlopen State Park. A full circle from the time of William Penn. 

The park still has reminders of its days as Ft. Miles. There are bunkers, gun emplacements, lookout towers, and military buildings throughout the park. A non-profit is bringing in typical armaments and restoring some of the military buildings. 

So are the youth primitive or is the camp primitive? Or both?

Typical military structures around the park.

We drove back from Delaware and two days later I drove to Omaha. I spent four days there, helping Mitchell set up his shop. Nothing too seriously weird on the trip except for a stop at the Iowa I-80 Truck Stop. If you’re into oddities, give it a shot. It’s the self proclaimed largest truck stop in the world. And right next door is the I-80 Trucking Museum. Admission is free. 

Not much to say here.

Looks like the groundhog war is at a pause until the Spring offensive begins. We came back from Delaware and the back entrance was still filled in. I seriously doubt they moved on this latte in the season and have likely just gone into hibernation under my shop. Now I have no entertainment until Spring emergence except chasing squirrels off the bird feeders. 

Greeting and salutations from the fair state of Delaware. So called the First State because Delaware was the first state to ratify the U.S. Constitution. We came back east for a quick trip to do a little birding and relaxing. 

We came by way of a stop in Jonestown PA to spend Saturday night with some family. Sunday morning we went on to Hawk Mountain, near Eckville PA. Hawk Mountain is on a major north-south raptor migration  corridor. At one time “sportsmen” would blast the hawks out of the sky as the hawks flew by. Hundreds of hawks were killed each day. In the early 1930s a lady named Rosalie Edge was tired of the carnage and bought the mountain to stop the slaughter. She  kicked the so-called sportsmen off the mountain and established a first of its kind raptor sanctuary. Mrs. Edge turned the mountain over to the Hawk Mountain Sanctuary Association. From those beginnings has come a major research station focused on raptors and raptor migration. Thousands of people come during the annual fall migration counts. Similar counts have sprung up along migration corridors all around the world. The moral is that one person can make a difference. But it does help to be able to buy a mountain. 

The north lookout.

The river of rocks view to the northeast.

The official counters.

We did a couple breezy hours watching hawks migrate past us on the North Lookout. The day we were there a total of 305 raptors were counted migrating through. Of those, 191 were sharp-shinned hawks. It was a slow day. For perspective this year’s single daily high count for sharp-shinned hawks has been 545. On a single day 2,537 broad-winged hawks were counted. 

From Hawk Mountain we headed down to our trailer in Lewes Delaware. We’ve been here a couple days, just playing around, enjoying the ocean environment, and having fun. 

The point at Cape Henlopen. This is the point where the Delaware Bay and the Atlantic Ocean meet.

This evening’s sunset, looking from the Cape Henlopen fishing pier towards Lewes.

A couple of yellow-rumped warblers. The only birds that would pose so far this trip.

On the home front, the groundhog war is in a state of detente right now. At least I think it is since I’m not at home. In the couple weeks since I last wrote, the varmints have become brazen as they fatten up for hibernation. They’re looking like rugby balls with eyes and ears. We had some back and forth battles over the back entrance to the tunnel network under my shop. I would fill it in and they would wait until they knew I left for a couple hours to dig it out again. I finally decided to use chemical warfare. Neither party in this war has signed the Geneva Convention so I figured chemical weapons were fair game.

I filled in the entrance, and dumped a full half gallon of ammonia on it. Totally saturated the fill dirt. Numerous references stated groundhogs can’t tolerate the ammonia smell and will abandon their dens because of it. Apparently these groundhogs didn’t read the same articles I did. They didn’t even wait for me to leave. While I was working in the shop they re-excavated the entrance, using the ammonia tainted dirt to build a nice berm around the entrance. After losing that little skirmish I think the war may have paused until Spring. Before we left I hadn’t seen them feeding in the yard for several days. I’m concerned that they may have gone into hibernation mode and they’re sleeping under the shop until next Spring. I resealed the back entrance yet again and then we headed back east. If the entrance is still filled when we return there are two possibilities; either they left the area, which I doubt, or they are in hibernation. In which case I have to wait for the Spring offensive to start. 

Since last Spring I have been fighting a war of wits against a very worthy opponent. None other than Marmota manax, the common groundhog. Or woodchuck, or whistle pig. I would like to point out that this formidable opponent has been described as incredibly intelligent, and able to work well together in coordinated groups. They have also been described as having a brain the size of a cashew. Significantly smaller than a human’s brain, but slightly larger than most Republican House of Representative members that can’t seem to work together in an organized group. 

Marmota manax eyeing up the yard.

One would think this is a lop-sided fight. A cashew sized brain versus a human sized brain.  Even if I’ve never been identified as highly intelligent or able to work well in a group, this should be a one-sided fight. Somehow though, I seem to be losing. 

The groundhogs do have cuteness on their side. The little monsters can be downright adorable. Especially when a litter emerged from under the shop this past Spring. The babies would come out and nuzzle with Momma or play with each other like some kind of a Disney nature show. I really didn’t have too much of a problem when it appeared they just had a single hole going under my shop. Then more holes started appearing. I now seem to have a multi entrance groundhog condo complex under my shop. 

So I went to work ridding myself of the little scourges. I really didn’t want to hurt them. I’m a live and let live kind of person. I didn’t mind them eating the bird seed. I wasn’t too pleased about their raids on the tomato plants, but mostly I just didn’t want them tunneling under the shop. 

Numerous sources said a humane way to get rid of them was to dump fouled kitty litter or ammonia into their holes. Conveniently we were cat  sitting for six weeks giving us an ample supply of really fouled kitty litter. Given how nasty that stuff smelled, maybe this technique wasn’t too humane, but I was getting desperate. They were starting to invite their friends into the condo complex. 

Sargent Pepper, our source of fouled kitty litter. He was real happy doing nothing but sleeping, eating, and fouling kitty litter.

I dumped kitty litter into the auxiliary entrance holes for about a week. After a while they stopped using those holes so I filled the holes with dirt and poured ammonia on top of the fill for good measure. Once they went several days without digging out the auxiliary entrances I started dumping kitty litter into the main entrance. After about a week I saw no groundhogs or evidence of ingress or egress so I closed off the main entrance and poured ammonia on top. 

The kitty litter seemed to do the job. I saw no activity around the filled in holes or feeding around the bird feeders.  The tomato raids ceased too. A new burrow appeared back in my neighbor’s woodlot and I saw groundhogs go in and out of it. Success I thought. I won. Until a couple weeks later my neighbor started building a barn on his lot and clearing underbrush from the woodlot. I guess that was worse than the kitty litter because the groundhogs are back. 

Right now I appear to be dealing with two of them. Both are fattening up for hibernation. They’re huge. They look like furry tsunamis when they move. Their new  primary entrance/exit is under the woodpile, about two feet from their original main entrance. It looks large enough to be a portal to Hell. And they reopened a couple of the secondary entrances too. 

I managed to get one of the secondary entrances sealed off using the last of our ammonia. Apparently other people may be doing the same thing I am. Ammonia is in short supply around here. I went to several stores and they’re all out of ammonia. I may lose this war because of logistical issues. 

Currently the battle is focused on the only auxiliary hole they have. If I can get that sealed off I can then start working on the main entrance. I really, really want them out of there before hibernation. Unfortunately, things are not going my way. I don’t have kitty litter or ammonia.  I’ve tried using another bad smelling liquid that I produce naturally every couple hours. I fill up a cup and then dump the stuff down their hole for a couple days. At night I can bypass the cup and go right to fouling their entrance. After a couple days of no apparent activity I fill the hole, and dump some more liquid on top. 

Guarding the secondary entrance. (picture taken through the window screen)

A couple times I thought I was successful. The hole would stay closed off for a couple days and I would get ready to attack the main entrance. Then, like magic, the hole would be opened again. They have an uncanny ability to know when I’m gone from the house. The hole could be filled for two days, I leave the house for an hour,  and I come home to an open hole. They not only work well together in groups, they are apparently intelligent enough to track my coming and going.  Maybe I need to give it up and try something requiring less mental capacity.  Like being a Republican House of Representatives member. 

Filled in for a couple days.

What I came home to an hour later.

Sometimes you want to be careful what you wish for.

I haven’t posted for a while because I haven’t had anything to write about. Maybe the muses were on vacation. Maybe I was just too lazy. Or maybe, just maybe, nothing too exciting has been happening in our lives. Sometimes it’s just hard to get terribly excited about where your life is at. That’s been the case for me this summer. We’re here in West Lafayette just doing the daily grind. Doing the things we need to do as a functioning member society. It’s just not nothing very exciting to write about. I just couldn’t get motivated to write.

We’re in West Lafayette because this is where we need to be right now. It’s a family thing. We’ve done some trips, but short trips to places we’ve been before and have written about. Nothing too exciting there.

I did a quick trip back east to Delaware and Pennsylvania. When Molly and Mitchell left Philly for Omaha, they left behind a lot of stuff at our trailer in Delaware. I went back to get their stuff, loading the back of our Honda CRV with a lathe, a router table, a pottery wheel, a kiln, boxes of tools, wood, pottery clay, and a few other miscellaneous things. I had so much weight in the back end of that little Honda I thought the front wheels might lift off the ground. It still managed to get through the mountains of western Pennsylvania. My hat is off to the designers of Honda engines.

Our trailer is in the city of Lewes Delaware. Lewes was once a sleepy little town at the point where the Delaware Bay and the Atlantic Ocean come together. Close to the resort mecca of Rehoboth. Summer was tourist time but most of the town would close in the wintertime. That has changed radically the past decade or so. The farm fields surrounding Lewes have become condo complexes and McMansion subdivisions full of starter castles. The town has gone full blown gentrified. Typified by the docking of the Prince of Tides yacht at the city dock. This 100 foot, many millions of dollars yacht is owned by Pat Conroy, author of the book “Prince of Tides”. Its home port is listed as Telluride, Colorado. I’m not seeing a direct water connection from Telluride, through the Rockies to Lewes, Delaware that this beast could have navigated. The crew must have done some hellish portages on that trip.

If you have a few million to spare…..

From Delaware I went up to an annual family reunion in Pennsylvania. This reunion was for my paternal grandmother’s side of the family. My grandmother compensated for not having cable TV or streaming services by having ten children between two marriages. This is how I ended up with an aunt slightly less than two years older than me. Both sides of my family have been in Lebanon County for many generations. I’m probably related in one way or another to half the county. The reunion started fairly large, but over the years numbers have dropped. When it started my numerous aunts and uncles were the elders. Now I’m in the elder category. Not sure how that happened but it did.

We also got in a much needed six-day trip to Marquette, Michigan. We stayed at our friend Joanna’s cabin on Sand River by Lake Superior. As I have written before, this is one of our favorite places in the world to be. We both love Marquette and the Upper Peninsula. There’s a state of mind that goes with being above the 45 parallel. Especially sitting on the rocky shores of Lake Kitchi Gummi (or Gitchi Gummi).

From the back of the cabin looking down Sand River.

Lise coming up the access point from Sand River.

The raft I put my camera gear in while wading for dragonflies.

Lise on the river.

Along the river.

Swamp spreadwing damselfly.

Female swamp spreadwing.

Mating swamp spreadwings.

Swamp spreadwing ovapositing.

Eastern forktail damselflies mating.

Eastern forktail eating someone else.

Unknown female spreadwind damselfly. To key some of the females out you need a dead specimen and a microscope.

Violet dancer.

A little mushroom family along the Tioga Trail.

Taking a break in the McCormick Wilderness.

The Scout. This poor old boat has been beached behind the cabin for over 20 years.

But these trips only represent a couple weeks out of a couple months. What about the rest of the time you say? How do I account for myself? Well, we haven’t been just watching the corn grow. We’ve been busy with the regular day-to-day tasks that come with life. Cooking, cleaning lawn mowing,….. Lise has been working almost full time for Indiana State parks. I’ve been doing woodworking and just a little photography. We’ve gotten in occasional birding and I’ve gotten out a couple times for dragonflies. But mostly we’re just going through the routine, wishing for something different to shake things up a bit. Well, we got our wish in spades.

Autumn meadowhawk.

Widow skimmer.

Immature skimmer, species unknown.

Immature meadowhawk, species unknown.

Bluet type damselfly, species unknown.

Teneral (newly emerged) female damselfly, species unknown.

After Molly finished her PhD, she and Mitchell went to Europe for six weeks. Good gig if you can get it. We on the other hand got to babysit her cat. A good cat, but a cat. Returning from Europe Molly started a post-doc at the Doorley Zoo in Omaha, Nebraska. Having brought a load of their stuff back from Delaware, plus a load of stuff they left here before going to Europe, we decided to load the trailer and head to Omaha for a few days.

A few days before heading west Lise attended a big event celebrating 100 years of Indiana State Parks Naturalists. Something like 150 current and former naturalists attended the event. About halfway to Omaha Lise was informed that someone at the event tested positive for COVID. Shortly after that initial message a bunch more messages came in from participants that picked up the virus.  Lise felt run down and was having allergy symptoms that she attributed to overwork and walking through a field of ragweed. Wrong. As soon as we got to Omaha we got tested and she turned up very positive. I tested negative.

We decided to stay in Omaha with Molly and Mitchell and use the standard precautions. Masking indoors and near other people, staying outdoors as much as possible, sleeping in separate rooms. The usual stuff. I tested again and came up negative. Then we did an all-day outing to the Doorley Zoo. I started feeling tired and my throat felt bad. A strep throat kind of bad. I tested yet again and came up very positive. We quickly threw our stuff in the car, pulled chocks, and headed back to West Lafayette. As adventures go, it could have been worse. It was not a fun drive with two sick people, but we managed. I guess I can’t complain. We wanted something different from the normal routine and we got it. In spades.

Jellyfish at the Henry Doorley Zoo. I could watch these for hours.

The short time we had in Omaha was fun and we will be going back there, hopefully disease free.

So, after a long hiatus, I hope I’m back to writing on a regular basis. Next up will probably something about the groundhog war. It has not been going well lately.

The enemy within. Within my woodpile at least.

Happy St. John’s Day. Time for fires. In pagan religions, on the solstice fires would be lit and objects burned. Often times piles of bones. These became called bone fires, from which the tern bonfire is derived. Instead of fighting the tradition, the Catholic Church co-opted it and decide June 24 was the birthdate of St. John the Baptist. The celebrations include burning things.

We are now three days past the solstice now and I for one am not happy about it. I don’t mind the changing of the seasons and all that, but I really like the longer photoperiod of the non-winter months. So now we’re incrementally getting a shorter and shorter photoperiod. Not too much I can do about it except maybe spend half the year n the Northern Hemisphere and half in the Southern Hemisphere.

We have been staying busy. I had to rebuild our deck because some boards were rotting out. Not a fun job. I had to remove over a thousand screws and then reinstall that many too. It took me over a week to get the job done. Not a piece of work that will go on my resume. The deck wasn’t built right in the first place. I got it to where it is useable and safe, but completely replacing it was beyond my current capabilities. It should last a good ten years or so. If we’re still here when it needs to be redone it’s going to completely torn our and replaced with a cement patio.

Last week Lise and I did an overnight trip for a business meeting down to Bloomington. While Lise was in her meeting, I drove out to the Hickory Ridge fire tower in the Deam Wilderness. From there I walked the couple miles out to Terrill Cemetery and the large wildlife pond by it. I led many hikes and backpacking trips in the Deam. It’s been 23 years since I’ve been there, but it was still familiar territory.  

As wilderness areas go, the Deam isn’t much of one. It’s a small eastern wilderness, around 12,00 acres. At one time there were around 80 homesites in the area. It was hardscrabble living. Steep narrow ridges with almost no topsoil. Some places just shouldn’t be farmed but they tried. They cut down the trees that held the soil in place and the soil quickly eroded away. During the depression many went broke and either sold out to the government or just walked away from the land. Eventually the land became the Hoosier National Forest and in 1982 12,000 acres was designated as wilderness.

The view from the Hickory Ridge fire tower.

The stones of Terrill Cemetery give some indication of the hard living in that area. Many are just siltstone markers, some with the inscriptions worn off. A number are children’s stones.

Terrill Cemetery.

Headstones in Terrill Cemetery.

On a cheerier note, while in Bloomington we visited a Sycamore Land Trust (SLT) preserve called Beanblossom Bottoms. Lise and I were involved with SLT in its infancy. We helped with the initial land acquisitions in in the Beanblossom Bottoms. Fast forward 25 years and SLT has put together a remarkable preserve. What was failed cornfields is now a major wetland complex. A few weeks ago, I was talking to someone here in West Lafayette. They mentioned that Beanblossom Bottoms was one of their three favorite birding places in Indiana. Makes one feel good to know you were part of something that 25 years later someone is enjoying.

Lise on the boardwalk at BBB.

Watersnake at BBB.

We have been getting out some around here.I haven’t been getting much photography done because of some equipment issues but here are a couple.

Vesper sparrow in the fields near here.

A native orchid, the name of which I can’t remember, at Prophetstown State Park.

Memorial day. A day dedicated to remembering our war dead. At least that was the original intent. Now we pretty much honor all servicemen and servicewomen, regardless of whether they died in combat or not. So, here’s to Perry, John, Fred, and Brian; all friends while I was in the Navy that died while serving. And to the dozen or so others I had some association with that died while serving. And the numerous friends, family members, and relatives that have died since their service. As bad as things seem to be in our country, we still have many reasons to be thankful. The first thing to be thankful for is that we have people willing to serve and sacrifice.

For the past couple decades, I try to make a point of going to a national cemetery on Memorial Day. Since moving to West Lafayette, we visit the cemetery at the Indiana Veteran’s Home. The Home is a State of Indiana facility, started in 1896 to care for Civil War veterans. It is now essentially a nursing home and long-term care facility for veterans. Small compared to the national cemeteries, but the final resting place of servicemen and women answering the call as far back as the Civil War. It’s quiet and peaceful, a fitting resting place for those that deserve one.

The Indiana Veteran’s Home Cemetery.

This is my first post in two months. Multiple reasons for the lag. Trips to Delaware and St. Louis, and entertaining company for a week, eat away at the available time. Trying to learn Gaelic takes a bunch of time. Home repairs take another chunk of time. I could write about my repair adventures, but the language would probably get me kicked off WordPress.

The main reason, however, is that I just haven’t been inspired to write. Writing takes time but good writing takes time and inspiration. And the Muses are apparently bored with our present living situation because they haven’t visited for almost two months. It’s not like we’re just sitting around watching the corn grow. We go out birding. We get in regular workouts. We do family stuff. I’m having fun and learning a lot with woodworking. I’m taking Gaelic lessons and Lise is taking Irish drum (bodhran) lessons. I’m just having trouble focusing on writing and photography. Advice I saw recently said something to the effect of, “Don’t worry about quality. Just sit down and write. The quality will come if you write but it will never come if you don’t write”. So, I guess I have my marching orders. Write.

Sequence of a croaking leopard frog from Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge in Delaware.

Screech owl at Celery Bog, here in West Lafayette.

Spotted sandpiper at Celery Bog, here in West Lafayette.

Far shot of a bald eagle on nest at Summit Lake State Park.

Saturday, April 1, 2023

We are in West Lafayette, trying to get organized after a crazy trip back east. We spent about ten days bopping between Philadelphia and Lewes, Delaware.

We went for Molly’s PhD defense at Temple. Which was great. Time to brag. Molly is the youngest PhD candidate her advisor has ever had. One committee member said Molly’s presentation was the best PhD presentation she has ever seen. After the presentation Molly met with her committee for a two-hour, closed-door session. After the session it took her committee less than five minutes of deliberation to accept her thesis. She had just sat down in her lab manager’s office to wait the outcome when she heard her advisor in the hallway calling, “Dr. Schools, Dr. Schools”. Those are words that have never been heard together before,

Dr. Schools.

Every parent wants to see their children succeed. Success is situational and can be measured in many ways. In some situations, success is staying alive to adulthood. We are lucky that Molly has been in an environment where she could flourish. I fully expect her to go further. As her advisor said, “She has a great future before her”.  Molly has a two-year post-Doc lined up at the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha. She will be doing genetic work on lemurs and going to Madagascar. She and Mitchell will be moving there in a few weeks.

Which means we have likely made out last trip to Philly. Without Molly and Mitchell there as an anchor, it’s doubtful we will be going back. I’m a bit disappointed. Our trips there have usually been only a few days long and busy. I never had time to do much photography while visiting.

I am going to miss Philadelphia. I grew up about a hundred miles east of Philly. As a kid I was taught that Philly was an evil bad place. No good could come of you in Philly. You’re sure to get mugged and drinking the water will probably make you sterile. Some of my siblings still feel that way. Philly has had some rough times in the past, but things are different now. At least the City Center and the historical areas I’m familiar with. If you can’t have a good time, there you can’t anywhere.

Is Philly perfect? Hell no. No city is. Any time you put a lot of people in a small area you’re asking for problems. Molly had a locked bicycle stolen off the street in Philly. But, I had a chained up bike stolen on the campus of Michigan State University. I’m sure there are some bad areas in Philly. But Philly is coming back and coming back strong. I would rather live there than a lot of other places I have been. If you have the chance to go, go. And make sure you try the chicken at Federal Donut.

Philly skyline from the roof of our AirBNB.

City Center apartment building. I liked the pattern.