Bamboo Box

The Earth Dragon Shop: Goods for you and the Earth 

[Note: Don’t forget to visit the host site, www.earth-dragon.net, to read other articles and reviews. Also, remember to visit the other Earth-Dragon-hosted blogs, “Antichrist in the Kitchen,” the “Pan-Dimensional Universe,” “An Apple A Day,” and “A Hill of Beans.”]

Sunday morning, the weather was sunny, clear, and crisp.  I love these sorts of Winter days, even though my first choice is snow - and lots of it.  Of course, Sunday morning was the perfect time for a short hike in the forest. 

I’d read about Jerusalem Mill at Gunpowder Falls State Park, and I was curious to see a bit of it first hand, so, early Sunday morning, the wee family plus a willing friend were all off to the forest.

Maryland has lots of great state forests, which is a good thing, since Maryland is also one of the few states in the union that does not have any national forests (unless you count the small portion of the Appalachian Trail that runs through the state).

The Gunpowder River winds its way through the state, and much of its length is part of the Gundpowder Falls State Park.  These areas have relatively easy and picturesque hiking, following along the banks of the river, and, sometimes, branching off into the surrounding countryside.

At Jerusalem Mill, the park has the added attraction of some historic buildings from the 18th and 19th centuries - some of which have been restored and preserved, and others that still serve as private residences.  Not far from the mill, visitors can also drive across a wooden, covered bridge - not much to see, really, but an interesting feature from a by-gone era.

On Sunday morning, we set out for a brief, one-hour stroll along the river.  The whole circuit in this area is about five miles, but we only had time to cover about three. 

Despite the lack of snow, the scenery was a living Currier & Ives greeting card.  The combination of the low-sitting, morning sun shining through the bare trees and sparkling on the river, the period buildings, and the nearby open meadow, provided ample escape from the modern working week.

We started our hike by finding an easy-to-remember parking space in the crowded lot (later, this would prove to be a good idea, as we had some trouble finding the car on our return — ; )  — ).  Once we were all prepared (and my wee boy snugly packed up on my back), we started down the trail.  We first headed toward the blacksmith’s shop, and then turned toward the trail head. 

Once on the trail, we had to watch our steps carefully: since the temperature was not quite below freezing, the conditions were a bit muddy, and several horses had clearly “passed” by recently, leaving heaps of evidence (this prompted me to wonder, out loud, why dog owners have to pick up after their pets, but not horse owners?  Certainly, dogs leave much smaller calling cards). 

Dodging the equine contributions to the scenery, we picked up speed, and continued along the river - following the white trail blazes - at a rather brisk pace.  I felt quite energetic in the cool January air, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself.  My wee boy and I were chatting, pointing out different things - birds, rocks, trees, the river, and so on.  One of his favourite ploys is tell me to look at something, or he’ll point something out, such as, “there’s the water.”  I’ll say, “I don’t see the water, do you?”  To which he’ll inevitably say, “I don’t see the water.”  Ah, the two-year old sense of humour.

We continued on our way, eventually reaching a split in the trail.  At this point, we chose the blue blazed trail, which took us back toward the mill.  After a few hundred yards, the trail led us into a large, open meadow, covered with golden brown grass.  The meadow was bordered by forest on all sides, except for one that had the mill village.  Once we were far enough into the meadow, the wee boy had a chance to run around in the open space.  He has a decent yard, but whenever I see him out in a spacious field, he seems extremely content to be surrounded by so much open space.  I must admit, suffering mildly from claustraphobia as I do, I find these open spaces comforting as well.

Back at the mill, we walked around outside of the buildings.  It wasn’t quite noon on a Sunday, so most of the buildings were not open for tours yet, but we were able to admire and study the stone architecture.

Hopefully, we’ll be able to go back soon and complete the entire circuit hike.  If you have a chance to get out into the forest, take it!  The benefits are many, and you’ll be amazed at how relaxed you’ll feel afterwards.

[Note: Don’t forget to visit the host site, www.earth-dragon.net, to read other articles and reviews. Also, remember to visit the other Earth-Dragon-hosted blogs, “Antichrist in the Kitchen,” the “Pan-Dimensional Universe,” “An Apple A Day,” and “A Hill of Beans.”]

This morning, while driving to work, I heard a news report that, I must say, really pissed me off.

Some group of misinformed, and clearly uneducated, so-called, “Christians,” have decided that the largely secular holiday, which Americans refer to, out of convenience, as “Christmas,” doesn’t have enough “Christ” in it.  In this case, they pressured the home improvement chain, Lowes, which had chosen to market its holiday trees as “family trees,” into changing the marketing name to “Christmas Trees.”

Two minutes of research (clearly a concept totally unknown to such wankers) easily produces several well-documented facts about so-called “christmas trees,” such as the following:

• The tradition was in full practice by pagans long before Christianity ever reared its ugly head
• decorating a tree in midwinter (around the solstice) celebrates fertility and rebirth (that is sex and pregnancy - in more survival related terms, a good crop).
• the earliest European immigrants to the USA - the first white, Christian Americans - didn’t celebrate Christmas by decorating trees; it’s place in the Christmas customs of Americans didn’t really catch on until much later in the late 19th century.

So, anyone who could choose to accept the truth would clearly understand that what we refer to as a “Christmas tree,” in fact, has little to do with Christmas and is an ancient pagan custom.  Furthermore, as Christmas has become increasingly secularized, more and more pagan traditions have crept back into the celebration (early Christians, for example, considered it a sin to celebrate anyone’s birthday - particularly that of Jesus Christ).

But hey, let’s let ignorance reign over us here in the glorious USA.  To adopt and accept half-truths and falsehoods is, after all, so much easier for us, it makes us so much easier to control, and it gives those who would profit from our ignorance that much more opportunity to do so.

And, our collective, unbelievably high level of ignorance would also be humourous, if it weren’t so horrifically expensive and cause so much suffering.

Good times.

[Note: Don’t forget to visit the host site, www.earth-dragon.net, to read other articles and reviews. Also, remember to visit the other Earth-Dragon-hosted blogs, “Antichrist in the Kitchen,” the “Pan-Dimensional Universe,” “An Apple A Day,” and “A Hill of Beans.”]

In the United States, this past weekend was the extended National Eating Holiday; this is the day each year when the world’s most gluttonous consumers gather together in small groups - typically with relatives - and try to surpass their usuall ravenous behavior by stuffing themselves with obscene amounts.  Afterwards, most of the males fart and pass out in front of a television while supposedly watching important programming (a.k.a. “American style football).

My little family did its part to uphold the sacred traditions of the National Eating Holiday.  We travelled, stayed in a hotel, and participated in the feast - although our consumption rate was somewhat handicapped by a lack of vegetarian-friendly fare  and a need to attend to our wee one.

Our true celebration, however, took place on either end of the time set aside for the National Eating Holiday, while we were at home.  Prior to departing on our eating journey, and upon returning home, we brewed beer (and cider)!

I’ve written about previous brewing events, but this one surpassed all previous efforts.  Allow me to elaborate:

(1) PURCHASING SUPPLIES: To prepare for this celebratory weekend of creating intoxicating libations, I journeyed to my nearby Mecca - the Thirsty Brewer.  On this particular visit, I procured new re-usable bottles (that’s “re-usable” not “re-cyclable” - in other words, all I have to do is clean the bottles and I fill them, again and again, with more beer).  And I also purchased enough raw matierials to make four different batches of delicious stuff:

• fermented apple cider (using an English style yeast)
• belgian style ale (modeled after Corsendank)
• hefeweizen
• india pale ale

(2) BREWING THE CIDER: This is so easy.  An accomplice of mine procured freshly pressed apple cider (the kind you might give to children, but I like it too!).  We heated it a little and added two pounds of brown sugar - in an effort to boost the alcohol content (we were quite successful - 8% - ha!).  All we really had to do, though, was put the cider in a clean fermenting bucket and pitch in the yeast. Our amped-up batch has been quietly fermenting for about two weeks.

(3) BREWING THE HEFEWEIZEN: This one is also easy.  Typically, it involves nothing more than heating up some wheat malt extract, then cooling it down and pitching the yeast.  This time around, we tried a fancier recipé, which included cooking some hops alongs with the malt.  I did make a bit of an error during the brewing process - I put some of the malt into the brewing pot before adding the water and before boiling the water.  The result was that some of the malt burned on the bottom of the pot and this flavour was introduced to the wort.  The jury is out on whether or not this (a) ruined the beer or if this (b) added an interesting dimension (probably “a” but only the conclusion of the fermenting process will tell for sure).  The hefeweizen is getting its ferment on as I write.

(4) BREWING THE BELGIAN: This was, by far, the most complicated beer I’ve ever brewed.  The grains included malt extracts, raw grain, rock sugar, and powdered malt.  The flavourings included hops, coriander, Irish Moss, and orange peel.  Strangely enough, when the wort was ready for the yeast, you could taste everything.  Belgian ales take a few months to reach full potential, so we won’t know the outcome for quite a while (late February - maybe even April), but the ale is fermenting slowly.

(5) BREWING THE IPA: This was fairly easy, but this particular recipé, modeled somewhat on Ireland’s Smithwicks, had quite a few little ingredients to mix in, including the aforementioned Irish Moss, along with the usual suspects (malt and hops).  I brewed this one last night, and funnelled it into a five gallon carboy for the fermentation stage.  It’s now all cozy in the keller, wrapped in a dark t-shirt to keep out any harmful sunlight.

(6) BOTTLING THE CIDER: After getting the IPA all tucked in, it was time to bottle the cider.  When I opened the fermentation vessel, the cider released some glorious aromas.  I resisted dipping in a big cup and having a glass right then (but boy I wanted to!).   You may not know this, but after the first fermentation stage, the wort has plenty of flavour and alcohol; the only thing it doesn’t have it sparkle (a.k.a. carbonation).  So, it’s ready to drink, and it’s ready to deliver and sought after after-effects.  The second fermentation stage, aided by some priming sugar, is what creates the carbonation.  This part happens in the bottle.  Last night, I sanitized two, half-gallon jugs, and about 30 16-ounce re-usable bottles, then I dissolved some priming sugar into the cider wort, and finally I filled up all the bottles and jugs.  I usually like to wait six to eight weeks for the brew to mellow and mature, but we may be opening some of this at Christmas.

[Note: Don’t forget to visit the host site, www.earth-dragon.net, to read other articles and reviews. Also, remember to visit the other Earth-Dragon-hosted blogs, “Antichrist in the Kitchen,” the “Pan-Dimensional Universe,” “An Apple A Day,” and “A Hill of Beans.”]

I was up early this morning, and yet I was surprised at the general warmth outside.  What’s going on?  The date is 13 November, and I would, typically, expect the weather to be a bit chillier.

I left my house at about 6:30 am, and the sun was not yet fully up.  As I drove my 45 minutes to work, the sky didn’t really lighten much - in fact, I think it became darker.  This was a sure sign that a storm system was moving into the metro area.

Sure enough, as I arrived at work, the rain began.  Luckily, the full onslaught of the coming downpour held off until I was able to get inside.  Normally, I wouldn’t care about such things.  I make it a habit to be somewhat prepared for things, like rain, and I might even venture out into a storm - time permitting.  This morning, however, I was teaching a class, and I had a large box of textbooks and papers with me, and I didn’t fancy having all of that get soaked.

So, I managed to make it inside, and into the classroom, by about 7:15.  Shortly thereafter, all hell broke loose.  Actually, it wasn’t so much hell, as an enthusiastic cloudburst.  I didn’t notice any thunder or lightning (the Thundergod must have been busy elsewhere!), but the rain was quite strong.  After preparing for my 9:00 class, I had a few moments to contemplate the rain.

Dark and brooding skies have long been my favourite; even when I have to be somewhere I’d rather not, an active sky can add a tiny sense of adventure.  And, having a poet’s soul, so to speak, stormy skies remind me of a phrase that I’ve been carrying around for decades: Adventurous Sky.

Somewhere inside my creativity, I have a poem, a story, a song, or something, beginning with the concept of an Adventurous Sky.  I’ve tried to bring it out of me a few times - always unsuccessfully.  That is to say, I created something, but it was always something less than I’d hoped.

I have, over the years, found that I can easily generate a good idea, but then filling in the details is not so easy.  Sometimes, I’ll have a creative idea, but then I’ll have to carry it around for a while before it blooms into a full creation.  My “adventurous sky” idea has been with me for a long time.  I’m still hopeful that I’ll find the proper vehicle for it.

In the meantime, unlike many, I enjoy being under the grey, and I look forward to the approach of Winter.  With any luck, and despite the warmer November, Baltimore will get a bit of snow before the official first day of Winter.

[Note: Don’t forget to visit the host site, www.earth-dragon.net, to read other articles and reviews. Also, remember to visit the other Earth-Dragon-hosted blogs, “Antichrist in the Kitchen,” the “Pan-Dimensional Universe,” “An Apple A Day,” and “A Hill of Beans.”]

Regular readers of this blog (bless you!) will know that I have been fascinated, of late, with the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns.  He was an earthy fellow, by all accounts, and definitely lived by my code: “I can sleep when I’m dead.” 

As he recorded frequently in his own poetry, he was always up for a good time - no puns intended.  If you’ve read nearly anything by Burns, you’ll know that he had a sharp wit, which he wasn’t afraid to use, and a gra for hops, malts, and barley, which he wasn’t afraid to indulge.

Beyond that, he was also quite a “player” in the modern, American sense of the word.  The man had serious game, which, I believe, grew out of his genuine appreciation of women.  He had many great and famous flings and affairs, as well as deep loves, throughout his all too brief adult life.  Yet will all of the highs and lows of his various relationships, he never seemed to have become hateful towards women.

In one case in particular, Burns championed, in poetry, a famous prostitute, who happened to share his last name.  The following account of Margaret Burns comes from the site, “www.robertburns.plus.com:”

Miss Burns
Cease ye prudes, your envious railing
Lovely Burns has charms, confess!
True it is she had ae failing
Had a woman ever less?

A most interesting lady of the night. Probably the day as well!

Burns makes reference to her in a letter to Peter Hill dated Feb 1790, in which he chastises mankind for their selfish appetites which may have stopped her becoming the lovely and faithfull wife and the affectionate mother. The portrait under which Burns wrote the lines is understood to be an etching by Kay dated 1785.

Margaret Burns was a native of Durham and came to Edinburgh 2 yrs before Burns arrived in the capital where she became the reigning beauty of the pavement. Because of her beauty and her education her clients were among the more respected gentlemen and nobility.

She disappeared suddenly in 1787, (back to England) and reappeared in 1789 setting the whole city agog.

She became the subject of oppressive magisterial proceedings and Bailie Creech ( the same Creech of publishing fame ) banished her from the city.

She filed a reclaiming petition in which Hon. Henry Erskine was her counsel. Lord Braxfield was the judge and in a turn around Creech was Black-balled. (Creech had a notorious disregard of women)

Miss Burns died of decline in 1792 at Roslin. A headstone records her name and date of death.

According to James MacKay, editor of Robert Burns, The Complete Poetical Works (1993), Robert Burns “deplored [the] harshly puritanical treatment of his namesake. This ‘epitaph on a certain frail sister’ was composed a year before her death:”

To the Memory of the Unfortunate Miss Burns 1791

Like to a fading flower in May,
Which Gardner cannot say,
So Beauty must, sometime, decay
And drop into the grave.

Fair Burns, for long the talk and toast
Of many a gaudy Beau,
That Beauty has forever lost
That made each boson glow.

Think, fellow sisters, on her fate!
Think, think how short her days!
Oh! think, and, e’er it be too late,
Turn from you evil ways.

Beneath this cold, green sod lies dead
That once bewitching dame
That fired Edina’s lustful sons,
And quench’d their glowing flame.