Why is the grass greener?

Harvest time is beginning in Vermont.
Berry crops have been showing up in advertisements on the shoulder of the roads for the past month. The lettuce and beans in my own family garden plot have officially passed, and I am left with the kale my wife planted (and I won't cook), a bumper crop of basil, and the dreams my overflowing pumpkin plants now inspire.

Farmer's markets are in full swing, and a regular town event. If you ever want to see and be seen, dedicate a night and go down to the farmer's market for dinner. Eating your way through the various stands of raw and prepared foods is an awesome task, but somehow, eating more than a mouthful at a time before stopping to chat with a neighbor is the biggest challenge.

The question that prompted this week's post (after a well-deserved vacation south for this writer) was overheard being said by a non-gardener. "I wanted ____ and I thought I said it way back when, but we don't have any ___ now. I guess they didn't like my suggestion."

A children's story my daughter owns came instantly to mind. it is about a little industrious chicken who lives with a lazy dog, gabby goose, and a vain cat. Each of her roommates allows the chicken to cook and clean for the household without lifting a finger to help. When she finds wheat kernels along the road in springtime, she plants them and tends them by herself hearing only the chorus of "Not I" from her roommates when she asks for help.

Our unnamed non-gardener fits that bill to a tee.  "Not I" said he when the seeds were started indoors."Not I" said he when the garden needed weeding. Now, as the vegetables come in, he enjoys local cucumbers and the rest, but he still finds the time to look over the fence and wonder aloud why there are no pumpkins growing in his garden this year.

Well, in good taste or not, I should relate the rest of the little chicken's story. She weeded, then she cut and thrashed the wheat. She carried it to the Miller and brought back home the flour. She was the one to bake the loaf of bread in the fall, and it was she alone that ate it in a house full of the smell of fresh bread. The lesson my daughter takes away from the story is to lend a hand when asked.

For me, I think the message is to keep your mouth shut if you don't plan on helping out along the way.

The last time I was down in the farmer's market, I overheard someone comment on the high price produce was fetching as compared to the supermarket down the street. Growing it is not an easy task. Time and energy are valuable commodities. If you are willing to invest in it, a pumpkin can be had for the cost of a seed. Otherwise, just pay what the farmer is asking for it.

Don't mention it.

The bumper sticker that had obviously resided across the back of the rusty Honda for some time read "I'm a Vermonta, I do what I wanta."

Originally, it called to mind all of the other classic Vermont sayings. "You can't get there from here." "Go right up the road a ways... you can't miss it." And the like. But this one was different. It called to mind the individuality and independent nature of Vermonters. We might just be the most stubborn state in the union.

We really do what we want to. We saw a need, and passed first-in-the-nation same-sex spousal benefits. When Governor Davis saw the clutter and trash lining Vermont's roadways back in the 70s, he shut down the interstate and motivated the entire state to clean itself.

Vermonters way back in history have really done what they wanted too. We were not one of the thirteen original colonies, we were still making up our minds at the time. Most folks don't know it, but Vermont is one of two or three states that was at one time its own country. The Republic of Vermont was a short-lived, but important part of the state's history of independent-mindedness. For more information, a trip to Windsor, Vermont, would be in order.

That independent nature really shows its head in the little things. A recent trip to the lake with a friend on his new-to-him $500 speedboat shows it well.

Of course, the boat started when he first tried it, but then it sputtered and wouldn't start again. The boat's battery was dead, and getting a jump start on the water is a bit more difficult than in the Wal-Mart parking lot. So, while his first mate made a run for a second (hopefully fully-charged) battery, he was left literally holding the boat alongside the dock, hoping to not be in the way as others used the boat launch.

The first mate's trip was only fifteen minutes or so, but that left a lot of comings and goings at the boat launch. Everyone who passed by was concerned. One couple coming in off the water loaned a spare battery and the boat came alive again. He ran it for a minute to charge the first battery, and gave it back.

"Don't mention it," they said. "We've been there before. That is why we carry a spare battery."

A concerned husband and father was milling about, waiting for his wife and kids to get back on their maiden voyage around the lake in a new paddleboat. A friendly conversation sprang up which led to an offer to go out on the powerboat and have a look around the lake, once the first mate got back.

Now, no one would suggest that a new boater on his first time out in a new (and very used) boat would be the best candidate for a rescue mission after a paddleboat, at dusk. But, we were testing the motorboat anyway, and keeping an eye out for the yellow boat was not too much trouble. We saw them at dusk, still quite some ways from the boat dock. They were tired, but still moving.

We exchanged messages and tried to tow the little boat, but ended up pulling it sideways and almost swamping it. It was tense there for a minute, but we untied in time and everyone was still right side up. The little boat paddled to a landing nearby, and we continued on our way, making one last trip around the lake testing the steering and pumps.

By the time the motorboat pulled up to the boat launch, the family was safely ashore and they stopped by to say thanks. We didn't even recognize the boaters without their life jackets, and were caught off-guard when they approached us. We were busy trying to get the boat situated on the trailer and out of the water in the dark. For us, I think the chance to help had been a failure.We almost swamped their little craft and they ended up paddling in themselves. For the boaters, however, we must have seemed like a lifeline, with lights and a motor as the sun was going down.

As we were tying the boat down safely on the trailer before heading home, a teenage boy in a too-cool-for-me ball cap abruptly called out, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," we said, hardly looking up from our work. It wasn't until later that it really sunk in. For him to come up to total strangers like that really speaks volumes. We were only doing what any Vermonter would have. We were just doing our part. That night, it made a difference.

Busy Busy Busy

Summer is here, and the time is right, but why on earth do we do it to ourselves? We literally get so excited with the warm weather that we try to fit it all in.

Lots of folks get so caught up in the longer days and welcoming heat, that they run themselves ragged. Up in the morning, they run out for coffee, then back home for breakfast and to read the paper, before gathering the family up for a bike ride, or trip to the lake catching lunch on the run somewhere in between. Then it is off to dinner and a movie. It is manic, but it is summer, right?

Wouldn't it be better if we treated an average weekend like we do vacation? I'm not talking about a 'bicycle trek across Russia' vacation, I am talking about a 'sit by the pool' vacation. For our family, when we go on vacation, we plan a few activities over the course of a week, but we also schedule a lot of inactive down time too. That is what recharges our batteries the best, a little good for nothing time wasting and enjoying the moment.

So why do we feel the need to fill every moment with another activity, another something to run across town to? If the key to relaxation is actually relaxing, why not relax? When the heat is on outside, why not sit in front of a fan and act like it was a tropical breeze? Sure, you would need to use your imagination, and the kids would surely start complaining after a few minutes, but then a beautiful thing would happen (I hope). They would begin entertaining themselves. They would all of a sudden get up the gumption to drag out the hose and water the yard as they jump through the sprinkler. Sure they would drag grass into the house on wet feet, but we are relaxing. As soon as it dries, we can sweep it up.

Its summer, the heat costs you nothing, and if you have ever torn a muscle or been to a physical therapist you know, heat relaxes. So, give in and get with the relaxing. Let yourself.

Be a 'Giver'

Time is a funny thing. It is the commodity of our life. It can be spent in exchange for money. It can be spent in exchange for pleasure. We bargain with our time, and divide it between things that are important to us. The most difficult thing may be balancing our time.

Balancing our time between what we want to do, what we need to do, and what we should do is a constant challenge. Is it even possible these days to make time for others? Giving away our precious time for other people, even strangers, is perhaps the most valuable gift we can give, especially if we do it right.

The TV evangelists and charitable organizations might beg to differ. They might say that giving our money would be better. I disagree. I would even say that if we really cared about a cause or an organization, we would volunteer our time.

The best thing about giving away our time to a cause we care about is that we invariably don't do it alone. Nobody really wants to go be with a bunch of strangers, even if the folks you meet volunteering are just about the friendliest bunch ever. That is why we bring the whole family, or at least a good friend with us. Bringing someone along makes the volunteer time more fun personally, and it doubles (or even quadruples) the amount of work that an organization can get done. It is a Win-Win! All of a sudden, what we thought of as a nice way to give back, becomes a fun time for us and our friends or family.

I started thinking about it last week when some Jeeper friends of mine let the off-road community know about a trail system in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom that had been over-used. The Vermont Jeep Association (Group of Jeepers who care) is a member of Tread Lightly! We adhere to their goals in order to keep environmental impacts of four wheeling as low as possible.We do not over use trails, we do not just spin our tires in the mud. We do, however, still get out there and have fun.

When the club learned about the overuse and trash that had accumulated, the volunteer spirit came out. All sorts of folks volunteered to make an organized date, bringing pickup truck beds to fill with trash, and work gloves to repair the trails. It is not too often that the off-road community steps in to work on public land, which is what makes this special.

What we do for the land is also great, but no matter what net impact we might have on the land, giving our time is the greatest show of support. It shows that we really do care about the land, and Tread Lightly! ideals. Just making time to do what we can is the best way to give back to the communities we live in, and love. We are choosing to spend the time for others, not playing golf, or swimming with the kids.

But ya' know what? We'll have just as much fun doing work as we would have at a barbecue. The food might not be as good (PB&J vs ribs), but spending that time with friends is the important thing, and the best way we can give back.

Difficult Decisions

Andy Gibb (of Bee Gees fame) during his solo career once said, "Love is higher than a mountain, Love is thicker than water." He was right, of course. Love really does hold us all together, and it really does make the world go around. Love has certainly kept my head above water, and kept me moving in the right direction on more than one occasion.Were they only dependent on love, many decisions would be a lot easier to make.

I was talking to my father the other day and he told me the story of how their beloved cat died. Tigre' was a fun-loving tortoiseshell tabby that my sister got when she was still a girl. It was her cat, and even though there were two russian blues in the house as well, Tigre's outgoing personality really made him the center of attention. He had been diagnosed years ago with diabetes, requiring insulin injections daily. 

As my father put it, the insulin was no big deal. Catch the cat with the needle in hand and it was over in a second. It guaranteed his health. It was an easy thing to do. When, Tigre oddly stopped eating, the family kept a close watch on him to see when his appetite would return. A day passed, then two. Finally he brought the cat to the vet. 

Let me stop here and say that I have tremendous respect for veterinarians and vet-techs for their training and expertise. They are important members of our community, and I value their advice and the care they provide our pets. 

In the case of Tigre, the vet ran some blood tests and did everything possible to find out why Tigre was not eating. They sent my dad and the cat home feeling better, but still worried. He was dead the next morning. Everyone was hurt by the loss of a beloved member of the family. Tigre will be missed. 

What won't be missed is the vet's bill. The final visit ended up costing nearly a thousand dollars. It did not change the outcome. It couldn't. Still, they needed to be paid for the work they did. And they should be, it was owed to them. But it left my dad wondering if it was right.

Some of the most difficult decisions we ever have to make are regarding our pets. Pets are not people, of course. They are covered with fur, have tails and cannot speak and tell us what is wrong. They are animals, and we love them, but they are animals. 

MACY

Because they are animals, I have never been comfortable treating them like they are people, whether they are a loving member of the family or not. I have endured doggy-breath, never taking the vet's advice and having their teeth cleaned. I know that lots of folks swear by the process, and that is their right, but I have never, and probably won't in the future. When my dog locked jaws with a pit bull and proceeded to break her teeth, the vet offered to take them out, but sensing no suffering in the dog, I declined that as well.

I always make sure my dog, Macy's, vaccinations are up to date. I always give her heartworm treatments in the summer (it is Vermont - no bugs in the winter). I have kept tabs on her weight, and made sure she got plenty of exercise. I do take care of Macy, but I am forever conscious of the fact that she is a dog.

So when she got a lump on her chin, I did my homework, looked online and followed the home-therapy advice. I cleaned it and disinfected it, and watched it to make sure it did not get worse. It did. So I took her to the vet in town to get it checked out. They recommended just removing it before it got any worse, and I agreed. Then I got the bill for the visit, and the estimate for what it would cost to have the procedure done.

Wow. (That just about covers it.) The estimate was between $400 and $700 to take a thumbprint-sized mass off of her chin. It was a difficult thing to see as the receptionist went over it with me. Our family is not sitting on so much disposable income, that a bill like that is easy to pay. In shock, I went home to talk about it with my wife.

The vet had said that it might be cancer, and that they would have to send it out to be tested to make sure. They needed to keep her for the day, give her pain medication and put her under for the mass removal. We were forced into the discussion of what we were willing to pay for our dog's health and comfort. We discussed her age (10). We talked about whether or not we would actually give her cancer treatment should the lab tests lean that way.

It is hard to talk about restricting care for someone that you love, but, unfortunately, love is not the only thing to think about. Am I a villain? Is it wrong to vary healthcare by species? Will I be looked down upon by those who might use feline acupuncturists or doggy dentists? Perhaps my view, that my dog is a dog first, then a member of the family, is antiquated. My view might date back to the time when euthanasia of an old dog might be carried out in the back yard with a shotgun. I am nowhere near that savage, but I must admit that paying the bill after losing a friend seemed wrong when my last dog needed to be put down.

Pets are blessed with short (relatively), happy lives full of catnaps and bouncing balls. They are treated like the emperors of the household. They never have to work, or worry. They only need to love us. If care for elderly animals were dependent on only love, they would have enough stored up in the bank for specialists to be brought in from abroad. Unfortunately, it isn't. Unfortunately, these decisions also factor in money and life expectancies. Does that mean that we love our pets less, absolutely not. Does that make us mean?
Maybe.


To let you know, Macy is undergoing the mass removal, but we don't want to know if it is cancerous or not. We decided to let her live out her remaining days with as much happiness and love as possible, and meet her end, if God decides, naturally. We are having the lump removed once. If it comes back, we will love her just as much with it on her chin.

What is appropriate?

It might not have been your first thought, but I am really talking about road uses.
This topic came to me this morning when a couple things happened.

First, I caught the President's comment: "I am looking for whose ass to kick" in relation to the oil spill. That got me thinking about whether that was appropriate or not... Actually, I liked his bravado. It was very John Wayne, very American. We all are pissed about this, and he is merely voicing it. Was it appropriate? perhaps not. Should the leader of the free world be able to say "ass"? I think so. Others don't.

Then, There was a report of a Town of Moretown, VT road meeting last night in which the town selectboard discussed the use and keeping of several Class IV roads. For the uninitiated, Class IV roads are the bottom of the barrel, unmaintained roads that are still legal roads for all sorts of travel. They may only look like dirt paths or horse trails, but anyone with a bicycle or pair of shoes is legally able to travel these roads.

So what? you say, we can also travel on the area's bike paths, and recreation trails. Ok, you are right. but did it ever occur to you that many of them do not really go anywhere? Class IV roads connect towns by unmaintained roads. You can actually go over the top of the mountain to get lunch in the next village. You can take a hike to go someplace, rather than walking along the shoulder of the busy roads. If you have never visited one, you should. They are (thankfully) mapped clearly on the good topographical Vermont book maps, and readily identifiable driving around (if you see Road X East, and Road X West, they connect via the Class IV road).

These connector trails / Class IV roads are really a gem, but for the past few years (like 5) the towns and the state have been trying to decide whether each of them should stay on the roster of town roads. On one hand, they cost nothing, hey are unmaintained. On the other, neighbors who might have been misled by a real-estate professional who did not know any better, do complain when people use them. These folks have camps or live next to a road that might only be used one day a week when folks are out of work and have time on their hands. It might only be used once a month. The rest of the time, they mow across it, or park their cars on it, and never have a second thought.

Until, that is, somebody comes riding through on an enduro motorcycle, or walking by their kitchen window unexpectedly using the Class IV road. "How dare they?" the person might ask. "They didn't even knock and ask first," they might exclaim.

Even though the use might be unexpected, on such an unfrequented road, I argue that it is appropriate. The thing is, when these people have such a knee-jerk reaction to travel on such a road, they might yell at the user, or yell at the town. It is a matter of perspective, from their perspective it might seem like folks are just willy-nilly riding bicycles or driving through their back yard. That is a legitimate concern. If they are crunching the vegetable patch, that could be even worse.

The thing is, that even though they might mow it, it is a road. Just like other roads, it is subject to travel. Travel by anyone, or anything legal for travel along the state's roads. Use is to be expected. Use is why they are there. Towns have been wary of eliminating them because of the potential for some eventual benefits of use down the line.

In city neighborhoods, there is use that is unwelcome. Residents are woken by late night motorcyclists, and early morning garbage4 trucks. Just because the garbage trucks tend to use different roads, does not mean that they should be prevented from using Class IV roads. Neighbors of these thoroughfares need to understand that what is appropriate use, and what they might like to see, might be two different things.

That Barack Obama wants to "kick some ass" is his right as an American. That others would have preferred that he sugar coat the message before saying it on TV, does not make it inappropriate.    

If you support the position to keep Class IV roads open to free travel, please let the Town Clerk know.

Summer in the Springtime

Spring is here in Vermont, but it sure does feel like summer. Temperatures in the 90s do a lot to get folks outside and enjoying the Vermont landscape.

A trip to get creemees after dinner really drove the point home. Of course, we were not the only ones with that plan in mind. I decided to drive the (recently through rehab) Willys Jeep down with the family in tow. Driving with the top off really was the only way to stay comfortable int he car without AC.

I wasn't the only one with that idea either. In the village, while we were struggling to catch ice cream drips before they hit my son's shirt, we witnessed one of the better things that comes back with the warm weather.

It seems like everywhere we looked, we saw motorcycles, convertibles, and classic cars out enjoying the warm weather. I talked for a few minutes with a fellow who had just bought his wife's uncle's 1970 Cutlass Supreme. It was a beautiful orange convertible with a 350 and like-original whitewalls. It still purred through its untouched mufflers; none of the growl I would have added to turn heads in town.

The car was a sight. It had white leather upholstery and brown carpet on the lower half of the doors. The owner had it out to take the kids to the creemee stand, just like us.

This time of year really makes living through the long, cold winter worthwhile. Vermonters can enjoy the outdoors, although slathered in bug spray to ward off the black flies, once again. We come out to plant our gardens. Some of us come out again to re-plant out gardens which were killed by the late snowfall last month. We come out to recreate, perhaps bringing a picnic to the park. We come out to swim, though the water is still a bit cold for my tastes. Most of all, we come out to be with those we love. Adding the summer cars to the mix just makes it that much better.