Mazurland Blog

Unnaturalist

I'm sitting here on a cool Saturday evening enjoying a piece of Christmas fruitcake and a cold pale ale. That may seem like an unnatural pairing, but the strong flavored, heavy sweetness of the fruitcake goes well with the floral hoppiness of the Tröegs brew. Maybe having fruitcake in late May seems a bit odd to you (maybe having it at all seems that way), but my wife makes damn good fruitcake. I was once one of those who thought of fruitcake as an inedible oddity best used as a doorstop. But my wife turned me on to her mom's fruitcake when we were dating, and nearly 30 years later I still love the stuff. Of course, I get my own loaf of it, which I tenderly supersaturate in brandy, and then let it sit and stew, sampling a piece now and then through the year.

Fruitcake seems like an unnatural thing, but it is a way of storing tasty and very calorie-dense food for months (some jokingly say for centuries). My wife's keeps very well in a tin in the garage, with or without the brandy "preservative". Beer is another unnatural food. It's a way of storing excess grain in a pleasing liquid form for many months, with only hops as a preservative. Whoever invented it was a bloody genius.

Living in semi-rural Pennsylvania, I've become something of an armchair naturalist over the years, though I do it in keeping with a Mazur's genetic dilettantism. I love to run on trails in the woods. There is a large tract of Pennsylvania State Game Lands just a few miles from my house. State Game Lands 176 is about 10 square miles of trail-studded woodland surrounded by the suburbs and farmland near State College. I run there at least twice a month, even in the winter. I've gotten to know the Game Lands very well in the last few years. Using my Garmin GPS watch, I've made a map of the trails I've run for my local running club. And I lead trail runs there. The runs are a little slower than our runs around town. There are rocks and tree roots to watch for. And there is plenty to see, particularly this time of year.

As soon as the snow and ice disappears, usually by late March or early April, the woods start to change. Ferns begin to unfurl. Buds appear on trees. Chipmunks emerge from their burrows. The changes start slowly, but by May, the woods are a riot of sound and activity. May is my favorite month to run in the woods.

I led a 7-mile run in the woods on Saturday morning, a kind of guided tour of the flora that is peculiar to May. So the run was slow, with frequent stops to examine what was blooming, or listen to the sounds around us. The first thing we stopped for was a patch of may apples. These plants go by various other names, including "umbrella plants". They are low to the ground with large leaves (see photo at left). And only recently did I learn that these big leaves conceal a small treasure. In May, a small flower appears, invisible from above. Some call the flowers "mayflowers", though that name more commonly designates another May-blooming flower. The flowers are only there for a short time, after which the plant produces a fruit about the size and shape of a small Roma tomato. The photo at right shows a may apple flower with the beginnings of its fruit. The fruit is yellow when ripe, and edible in small amounts, tasting lemony. The whole plant is toxic, but its parts were used medicinally by American Indians and early settlers. The rhizomes (underground stem system) contains cytostatins that can be used to treat viral and genital warts.

A few steps down the path was a patch of another flower often called mayflowers. They are also called may-lilies (photo at left), or false lily of the valley. Continuing, we ran past the last falling flowers of wild honeysuckle that two weeks ago had filled the woods with its saccharine scent. Now the flowers of wild berries, particularly raspberries and strawberries, are coming into bloom. And the sweetness in the air comes mostly from the wild roses in the more open, sunny areas. Soon, the narrower paths will be draped over with thorned rose and raspberry stems, lashing the careless runner or hiker.

As we headed back into the darker woods, we came across a colony of pink lady's slipper orchids (photo right). This rare flower lives in a symbiotic relationship with the fungus in the soil, and is therefore difficult to transplant and cultivate. It prefers highly acidic soil, which abounds in the Game Lands. This type of soil also encourages some of my favorite woodland shrubs and berries, such as low-bush blueberries, teaberries, red vibernum ("american cranberries"), and others.

The acidic soil in my area also favors plants in the genus rhododendron. Because of the favorable soil, most homes in my neighborhood have muscular rhododendrons, with bowers of enormous flowers, and azaleas in a ridiculous array of bright colors. But the wild, woodland varieties of these plants are more staid, subdued, and delicate. The wild rhododendron blooms later, because it is found at higher elevations in shady groves, and produces fewer flowers. Also higher up the slopes of the neighboring hills is the mountain laurel, the State Flower of Pennsylvania, which profusely produces white flowers with small details of pink and yellow. Mountain laurels are in the same family as rhododendrons. But in the lower elevations of the State Game Lands, there is a small patch of a variety of wild azalea that blooms for just a couple of weeks in May. The "pinxter azalea" is a delicate pink and white flower, with long, delicate stamens and a mild scent (photo below left). They attract bees and hummingbirds. The pinxter has very specific requirements to flourish: very acidic, sandy soil, and the only spot it grows on the trails I run has exactly that.

I took the pictures for this post last Sunday, six days before my guided tour. Many of the flowers shown here are now in their last stages of bloom. There were very few azaleas left. June will bring new blooms, and some of the first fruits of May's flowers. But May, and its blooms, are almost gone.

I'm very much a beginner at this naturalist game. I couldn't identify most of the birds I heard on my run (though I did hear a catbird). I wouldn't bet a liver transplant on my knowledge of mushrooms. Euell Gibbons I'm not. But stop by in July and I'll show you where there's a great blueberry patch in the Game Lands!

To Fight Or Not To Fight

Barack "Hussy" Obama has made his pick for SCOTUS in the form of (let's be honest here) racially and sexually convenient Sonia Sotomayor (that's SOE-duh-My-ur).  Of course Obama will appoint a liberal activist to the court; that's what this whole election was all about, as I've said at great and repeated length.  But now the debate rages over whether or not (or how strongly) conservatives and Republicans (oh, that they were one in the same!) should oppose said nomination.  The major "sticking point" here is supposedly that, if Republicans strongly  fight against the nomination, they will be labeled as anti-Hispanic, and lose that ever-expanding portion of the vote in the upcoming and future election cycles, so it would (again, as the argument goes) be in their best interest to just lay down and let it happen. 

Are Republicans stupid?  (A rhetorical question, I think, given recent history)  Do we really think that the Democrats will give us credit for even the tiniest shred of "good will" that we exhibit by giving their preferred candidate a pass?  That would be the height of "burn me twice" stupidity and naivete, and  yet it seems to be the course toward which the Republicans in Congress are currently headed!  It's too late for a unified "we support your affirmative action decision" facade; enough notable conservative pundits have already mouthed off about their disdain for his choice.  Let's face it; all it would take is a single prominent conservative name saying anything even remotely negative about her in any context for the Democrats to smear all conservatives with the broad brush of racism politics.  So we (conservatives) will be labeled as racists when it comes time for the next election cycle (aren't we always?), particularly with the "hispanic vote", so, really, we don't have anything to lose!  It's time for some scorched-earth politics.

On the other hand, if she's as lackluster as even some of the people on her own side of the aisle have mumbled, maybe letting them have their Harriet Miers is a good thing.  And no, I don't buy the "secretly pro-Life" thing for even a heartbeat.  It's much easier to believe that the White House has let some convenient rumors fly through their ever-willing PR arm known as "MSM" than it is to believe that the man who thinks partial-birth abortion is okay by him would let someone in who wasn't lock-step behind him on one of the most pressing social issues of the day.  On the other hand, I will pray to God that He makes it true.  That sort of thing doesn't seem to be happenening much these days, though.

Fun

I'm not a "fun" guy. Just look at my picture on the About Us page. Oh, I like socializing and joking around. But my idea of fun isn't the same as that of many "fun people". I like certain kinds of parties, but I don't like "to party". I don't like theme amusement parks, events with big crowds, or Vegas. I would not enjoy a cruise (except the Mazurland Cruise), and if I were younger I wouldn't be one to go out "clubbing", except maybe baby seals. And I don't like dancing at weddings beyond the minimal required amount. I don't think that sentiment resides with this couple. They seem to have taken the obligatory and gone somewhere new with it. It looks like they had fun.

[HT - Amy]

People Think Bloggers Have Too Much Time On Their Hands...

As much time as it may take me to produced 10 to 15 finely crafted blog posts a month, it is nothing next to the time it took to produce this seven-and-a-half minute animated graffiti. Very inventive. Visit BluBlu.org for more.

[HT - Andy]

Mazur Slice

After Hank's serious post about the loss of a true friend as well as this being a somber day anyway, I figured I'd try to lighten things up as we head into the shortened work week. Oh yeah, there's something going on in North Korea (*sigh*) too to make us worry.

One of my friends that I used to work with, Shawn, could coin a term for anything, and I mean anything. These terms he coined tended to have staying power. One quick observation and bam out comes something like manjaw or fumble-ina. There is a litany of names he gave me and people still use them. I am known as Mazur Cat (meow), Meowzer, Mazursaurus, Giganto, Giganto Pithicus, Big Cat, Kroger Ogre, Silverback, Big Ape, and Sasquatch to name a few. One term has taken on a new life. It's mazur slice or sometimes just slice. A mazur slice is the extra portion or slice of something that you know you shouldn't eat but you eat it anyway. As soon as you're done, you're sorry and are usually miserable for hours afterward. The term originated when Shawn and I went out to lunch and we each had a foot long meat stacker sub at Quizno's. We were sitting in a food court and the table we were at was next to a pizza shop. In the window was a picture of a very handsome slice of pizza. When I let my intentions known to Shawn he said, "Mazur, don't do it, you'll be sorry". Well, I didn't listen. I got the slice of pizza, gobbled it down and was sorry I did the second I finished it. I promptly confessed to Shawn that he was right. That slice of pizza is now know as the mazur slice. So now if any of us know there is an opportunity to overeat like a pot luck lunch we will ask each other, "Are you going to mazur slice it"?

RIP, Brother

Late on May 23, Rich Thomas-- my brother, shipmate and friend of 32 years lost a brief battle with liver cancer at his home in Maiden, NC.  He's survived by a brother and 4 sisters, his 3 daughters, a grandson, an ex-wife and his current partner Lisa, who is IMO the only woman he  was truly happy to be with. He also left behind his pets: His livestock, his faithful St.Bernard "Outlaw" ,a 20 foot python called Jake, and a collection of Harley Davidsons and farm tractors.

I first met Rich in April of 1977 at Navy Field Medical Service School, Camp Johnson North Carolina. He was in the class ahead of me and ready to graduate.  A guy in my class said he was going to New London, CT which was where I was headed after I finished the school.  So I went over to talk with him.

All I was looking for was someone in the place that I had at least met before.  It's always good to have someone who can tell you who the assholes are, who to watch out for, who the snitches are, and which officers to avoid if possible.  If that sounds like what might be the thing to do if you were going to Prison, you just learned something new about the military.

Rich didn't seem much interested, but I told him I'd check him out in July when I got up there.

New London/Groton was, like any other Navy town, a shithole politely called "Rotten Groton." Rich was already unenthused with being there, and I guess when I arrived  I became the most recent distraction, and we hung out some.  My room-mate in the barracks told me he thought Rich "Shifty" and told me to watch myself in any financial dealings. Never saw a guy end up more wrong.  After over 3 decades, if one of us owed the other 40.00, it would have been a lot.  And we had literally hundreds of transactions with each other.

We only lived in the same off base house together for about 3 months, but always were around the corner or up the street, so association became normal. When you work long hours at low wages together, you can get real close to your shipmates. That happened with us.  When I flew back into Hartford after my father died, Rich was waiting for me at the airport.   I had just called the hospital and asked for one of my friends to come and get me. The day I got out of the Navy after 10 years, before going to New Orleans where the family was, I went to Charlotte for my getting out party, and Rich was waiting for me at the airport. Regardless of the situation, we were there for each other.

It's impossible to sum up a 32 year friendship in a blog post. But these two things will tell you a lot. 

When you have someone besides your wife who you can tell what they're saying when they're not speaking a word--just by the way they're looking at you---or when they use a certain phrase you know it's either good news or bad news just by the words, you've got someone who understands you as you do them.  And that's a very rare thing.

My father once told me this about my friends:By the time you're in your 40's,if you have 2 people who you can go to when the chips are down and they're there for you---ya done pretty good--better than most.

Rich was one of the two. I loved him like a brother, and I'm sure as hell gonna miss him.

Rest Easy, Ride Free.

Chatterbox

Last week, I had the dubious pleasure of listening to a nonstop chatterbox for about a half an hour as I smoked a cigar in my yard. And then again, for the next two mornings, for about an hour near dawn each time, the same talker spewed his breathless nonsense into my drowsy ears. My talkative friend was a gray catbird, and he was the most loquacious of those birds I'd ever encountered.

I first came across catbirds when I stayed in a cabin in a state park near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania some years ago. It was midsummer, and there was a flock of them, including females and young, in the bushes that surrounded the cabin. There, they lived up to their name, making cat-like mewing sounds all day long. That's their call, which I presume they use as signals of danger, annoyance, reproach, etc. It's what you hear most often when there are several of them around.

But catbirds are very prolific mimics, Their taxonomic family includes mockingbirds and thrashers. The males of the species are the ones that do the most mimicking, perhaps as part of their territorial stake-out and mating behavior. They can mimic dozens of sounds, mostly of other bird species, but sometimes of other sounds, even machinery! And their song is fascinating, and in some ways maddening. They are unlike the mockingbird, which will repeat a sound in its repertoire several times before going on to the next sound, and which, though energetic in its vocalizing, comes up for air occasionally. Catbirds chatter away for many minutes at a time, often going through their entire repertoire, randomly pairing and mixing mimicked calls, doing the calls once or twice, and then moving on to the next one with barely an intervening heartbeat. As you listen, you might here a robin, a chickadee, a starling (the catbird's enemy), or any number of other species. You'll hear it once. If you think, "Was that a robin he just did?", and wait to hear it again, it could be a minute, or it could be ten before he does it again.

Here's a short clip of some catbird songs, followed by its mewing call. Imagine listening to the song for about 60 times as long. At 5 in the morning. Then a break for a breath. Then another 10 minutes of random improvisation. This page contains some more samples. The birds are amazing.

The catbird that talked my ear off perched rather openly in my dogwood tree, which is a bit unusual. Catbirds usually like to hide deeper into the foliage of a bush or shrub. They were once more plentiful, but their numbers have declined due to habitat loss and the depredations of nest-stealing birds like starlings. (Catbirds also steal the nests of smaller birds.) And that is probably why I never heard them the first several years I lived in Pennsylvania. My neighborhood was infested with starlings, which kept the general songbird population down. Starlings are social birds, and they flock together for Spring and Fall migrations in truly stunning numbers. My stand of maples played host to literally hundreds of them during their great Fall roosting days for a couple years in the mid 90s. But the starlings' numbers are now greatly reduced for a number of reasons, and many songbird species are coming back. Every Spring I hear titmice, cedar waxwings, chipping sparrows, orioles, and other species that were once more rare in my area. And I hear the catbirds. Annoying little buggers. But better than starlings!

Non Performing Blog

4 Authors, with one on a month's soujourn---may be longer as they're introducing a new ERP software system at Steele, and the Sales Order entry and suchlike is a mess. I will  need to spend extra hours learning to manipulate this system to bring effective customer service.

So, Three Authors. Since May 1st , NINE POSTS, 7 by Marty, and 2 by Ben, likely under some pressure from Marty.

This isn't gonna cut it fellas.  This kind of blog will not generate hits, interest readers, or scald a hog.

I realize I'm a Woodpile Mazur brother, so I have deferred to Marty to light fires under the asses of his siblings to produce posts for the blog. 

From what I've noticed over the last 8 months or so, Marty seems to be the only brother with an interest in posting at a level that is needed to keep the blog fresh.  My contributions and his keep the blog supplied with fresh posts.

Since the "Come to Jesus" meeting of the brothers appears to have fallen flat on it's face, I make the following proposal.

CHRIS---Turn over the "Keys" to Marty.  You've got young kids, a wife, and a demanding job. You now seem to have too many irons in the fire.  

POO----Time to shit or get off the pot. I understand if you're not interested in this "brothers" project, as you may also have too many demands on your time.  Or you don't give a crap.  You're certainly entitled to both.

Proposal---Turn the blog over to Marty and I as of July 1.  Re- name it. The 3 trout waxers can be considered "guest bloggers" whenever they get motivated to post something, they can.

As we say in the Marines---LEAD--FOLLOW---GET THE F**K OUT OF THE WAY.  Those are the only options.  Time to let the leaders lead, and the rest of you can either follow or just stay out of the way.

Personally, I'm appalled.

And Now For Something Completely Unnecessary...

I'm heading to Philly to get my daughter on board her plane to Spain. While I'm gone, I've gotta do something to keep traffic up on this blog. (The other authors seem to be at a giant trout wax convention.) I've already tried the cheesecake angle, without much luck. Tonight, I'll try a different tack. Maybe this evening's post will spur Ben to complete his next in a series of "I Hate..." posts. And it may give him something to add to that list!

Here, for your enjoyment, is Marty in a TuTu. Actually, in my case it was a "ThreeThree". The picture was taken by Katie Visco during her recent jog through State College. She has posted more enticing details of her visit on her blog. I'll do just about anything to amuse a fetching lass...

Going The Distance

Katie Visco has a passion for running. She'll need to draw on that passion over the next seven months. At 23, Katie is trying to be the youngest woman ever to run across the United States. She started on March 29 in Boston and wants to reach San Diego before Christmas. Katie is doing this for two reasons. First, she loves running and has, since she was a little girl, always wanted to run across the country. And second, she wants to spread confidence, empowerment, and enthusiasm to young girls. Katie lacks none of the aforementioned qualities. She's confident and effervescent. After graduating from college, she worked to save money to enable her to do this trip. She got a sponsor, Fruit₂O, which provided publicity, a support vehicle, and some expense money. She set up a web site, and once her trip started, booked interviews with major media in New York, and speaking engagements at schools along the way. Part of Katie's project is to raise funds for Girls on the Run®, a non-profit  program that encourages preteen girls to develop self-respect and healthy lifestyles through running. 

Last week I got an email from Katie. I hadn't heard of her project yet. She contacted me because of my affiliation with the Nittany Valley Running Club, one of the largest and most active running clubs in Pennsylvania. My email address is all over the Club's web site. Katie was going to be running through town and wanted some company, some routing advice, a contact for a place to stay, and tips about what to see while she was here. Over the course of the next few days, I and the Club organized a posse to greet and escort her through town. It turns out that her planned route after passing through State College would have taken her on a limited access road that does not allow pedestrian traffic. Since that road is one of the few roads over the next two ridges of mountains, the Club worked out an alternative plan for her. We also wanted her to get though State College without having to run on the busiest street in town.

It turned out Katie was going to be passing through on Graduation Weekend for Penn State. She wanted to see the school, so we planned a route that took her through part of the campus. Katie lives in Boston but is from Illinois and went to Carleton, a small college in Minnesota. Our 50,000 student mega-university was a jaw dropping experience for her. After her jaw relaxed, her escort took her on a quiet, wooded rail-trail to the far northwest suburbs of town. She called it a day there. Time to have her support driver take her back to town for a shower and a trip to see the local sites.

When I first met up with Katie, I'd already seen a couple of her media blitz interviews, so I felt like I already knew her. And she is exactly as she appears in these interviews. I got to talk to Katie for some time during the run. She is enthusiastic, energetic, with a goofy sense of humor. After her long trip is done, she wants to start a career where she can meet and help people, especially young people, figure out what they want to do in life and then go out and do it. With the gifts she has, she should have no problem doing just that.

There's a photo album of Katie's run through State College on Facebook. There are plenty of pictures and videos from Katie's media blitz and from various stops on her run at her web site, Pave Your Lane.