This is a tree from my archives: in front of my apartment where I lived 1995-96, in West Philadelphia, on South 43rd Street.
The apartment was a dump. But I really loved that neighborhood.
Arthur and I got the boat out of the water, up the ramp, but parked outside the boathouse for now – Arthur wants to clean it off, debarnaclize it. And it started raining quite hard in the afternoon, so we both became demotivated with respect to outdoor activity.
Here is a tree.
Below is a tree from the archives. It is a tree in front of the house in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, where Michelle took her own life in June of 2000. The picture was taken in 2009, when I stopped by there at the behest of Michelle’s ghost, who sometimes makes requests.
Today, Arthur and I took the boat in for its annual service (Arthur calls it “winterizing” but that’s not quite accurate – nothing will be different about the boat once the service is complete, vis-a-vis its adaptability to the climate).
We put the boat trailer on the Blueberry (the car). I drove that into town, while Arthur drove the boat into town. Arthur took his time getting to town, this time – normally this “race” takes each of us almost the exact same amount of time, but this time Arthur took an extra 20 minutes to get there. Apparently he took a slight wrong turn at Cemetery Island.
We pulled the boat out of the water at the public boat ramp down by the fuel dock (north end of town), and drove it to the boat store for its service. I took a picture of the boat on its trailer at the boat shop, with an accompanying tree, to meet my tree-photographing obligation.
Today we had our neighbor-from-down-the-road, Aaron, stop by and I paid him to help us clean the gutters. Just like last year, Arthur was ready and eager to simply do it himself: go up on the 32′ ladders, all the rest. Fearless. Last year, for gutter cleaning, Arthur fell from a ladder and was briefly unconscious, and it was a truly horrible day. Yet he emerged from that experience without apparent long-term injury, which thus left him confirmed in his own belief in his indestructibleness.
This gutter-cleaning is an utterly winless situation for me. If I let Arthur clean the gutters, at best I deal with the excruciating anxiety of him falling from a ladder. At worst, he falls and breaks his neck or dies – a more real possibility than he’s willing to admit, given his vertigo, his stability issues, etc. And in what happened instead, where I insist that he NOT clean the gutters, well, he glowers with obvious resentment of my overcautiousness, of my “supervising” him, all the rest. He grits his teeth and lurks judgmentally on the margin, unimpressed with my presumed incompetence and displeased with my own evident anxieties around heights. It’s emotionally painful.
I simply can’t win. Therefore this new tradition emerges, as I move into my second year here: The Worst Day of the Year: Gutter-Cleaning Day.
Aaron did a good job.
Here is a picture of a cleaned gutter, with a tree, so that I can meet the tree-picture criterion.
Arthur once again tried to catch a halibut. He actually caught one! It was very, very small: a “baby halibut.” Not much bigger than the bait we were using. We threw it back. Sadness ensued.
I took this picture of the hillside at Caldera Bay reflected in the calm, smooth sea. You can see some leaves and other things floating… Pick a tree, any tree. That’s your daily tree.
I spent the day working very hard, putting insulation in the “dog house” at the well-head, and burying some pipe that I placed.
Here is a tree from my archives. It is a tree inside Bukhansan Park in Seoul, beside a stairway up to a Buddha in a cliff-face. I took this picture in October, 2013.
I got my CLEP textbook yesterday. Now I can take my studying to a new level. CLEP is a formalized “exams for college credit” system. Since UAS is requiring me to fill in some holes in my undergraduate transcript of 30 years ago, taking a few CLEP exams seems the most efficient approach. We’ll see how it goes.
Here is a tree.
Work proceeded apace on my effort to complete my application to UAS. I have just two remaining things to complete – one more essay and an old college transcript request.
Meanwhile, outdoors, the rain proceeded apace.
Arthur is doing his annual “re-paint the boat rails” project. These are the rails that sit down in the water, that underlie the trolley that pulls the boat out of the water and into the boatshed. This project fills the house with petrochemical fumes. I have a theory that Arthur either cannot smell petrochemical fumes, or actively enjoys them – every time he fills his kerosene heater that lies in the boatshed, the house also fills with a similar smell. Today he did that, too. So I sit in the attic on my computer bundled up with both windows wide open, to get a cross breeze and ventilate the space.
Here is a picture of a tree from the archives. The picture was taken in August, 2007, in Mexico City. There are actually two trees, I admit. But the building (although there are two facades, in fact it is a single building inside) is notable: that is the building I lived in, in 1986. The second floor window near the center is onto the hallway in front of my bedroom.