 Some of my precious Dragon Magazine collection, an old school D&D publication that was also instrumental in the birth of Pathfinder.  The problem with Dungeons and Dragons, as much as people love it, is that it is totally "The Man." TSR, the original publisher was dysfunctional...but the Man. Wizards of the Coast (WoTC)--maker of the Magic the Gathering card game and purchaser of TSR's corpse--is also the Man. Hasbro, who bought WoTC pretty obviously is the Man as well. Yes, they all like games, but the culture of these institutions have been geared toward squeezing the last dollar out of consumers for a long, long time. Now there is unrest among the tabletop gamers. Hasbro/WoTC is testing out a new license for third party producers who use what they feel is Hasbro/WoTC's own intellectual property. Set aside for a minute that this gaming giant picked through other companies' work for many of the tropes they use. Also ignore for a moment that much of what they claim as theirs is derived from myth, legend, and fantasy novels written by people who may have never heard of D&D. Even, for a moment, pretend not to know that WoTC/Hasbro actively encouraged people to write for their game by promising specifically not to do what they are now trying to do; namely monetizing these 3rd party creators' ideas and labor as if it was their own. All of that aside, it still seems strange that anybody could claim to have originated rolling dice and adding numbers, doesn't it? Now, the Man is in temporary retreat, claiming to be misunderstood. They weren't misunderstood. They were just surprised by the pushback. It is in their DNA to take the rest of the gaming community for granted. For further research into this somewhat tedious but very important subject, you can check out any number of stories about the Open Gaming License. Even the mainstream press has noticed. I will cease to belabor the issue here, except to say that there are other fish in the gaming sea. One thing that the Man has done is accidentally energize all those folks who they hoped would fall into line. We are, I think, about to enter a renaissance of gaming opportunities.  This is the sort of mom-and-pop 3rd-party material that was once encouraged and now The Man wants to squeeze. Don't worry about the Man, by the way. they will be fine. D&D is neither the first nor the best game of its kind. In fact, the current version of the game--called "5th Edition" although there have been many more editions than 5--is not the game that they started with. Yes, Virginia, those kids on Stranger Things are playing a very different game. More on that later. Why will WoTC be fine? Their brand name is ubiquitous, so people just entering the hobby won't even know there are other options. I run games in "D&D 5e" because I work with new players and saying "it is like D&D but it is not D&D" is a non-starter for many. If someone decides they want to drink cola for the first time they ask for a Coke. You can tell them that Polar Cola is better but they will not believe you until after their Coke experience. That is D&D. It is Coke. History, culture, and a good ol' dollop of corporate gaslighting have convinced us that Coke and D&D are the best. Of course, the truth is a ton more complicated. Anyway, the church campaign may be the last one I play using a Hasbro product. I play a great many roleplaying games (RPG's) right now and none of the others are D&D. Interestingly I refer to the groups I play with as "D&D groups" because then people know what I am talking about...but we are playing Polar Soda--metaphorically--and loving it. So if you are a tabletop gamer, or interested in becoming one and want to fight the Man, here are five games that are better than D&D.  A cherished set of "First Edition" books that I bought in my early teens after I had played an older edition for a short time.  This is built on many of the same core mechanics and by many of the same people as D&D. Pathfinder Second Edition: This is the true Polar Soda of the gaming world. It is made by Paizo, an independently-owned company that split off the last time WoTC/Hasbro betrayed the public trust in what nerds call "The Edition Wars." The wars--in some sense--are still ongoing...and complicated. Basically, Pathfinder First Edition was very similar to D&D 3.5 Edition. Confused yet? The developers at Paizo had a major hand in developing that system. When WoTC went to D&D 4e, Paizo decided to continue with the previous game. The fallout from that split is part of the reason there is an OGL in the first place. You see, Pathfinder 2e is really as much the inheritor of D&D as D&D 5e. This is a basic truth in the gaming world. It is the elephant in the room over at Hasbro. I should note that when I returned to gaming about twenty years ago I first told myself it was for the kids. Then I settled on D&D 3.5/Pathfinder 1 as my re-entry point. I was one of those people who migrated to Paizo then. The system was super complicated...but there are at least some good memories! Having grown directly out of the split, Pathfinder 2e is built on a very similar platform as D&D. They are cousins, essentially. If you are looking for a good next game. I cannot recommend this enough. Their material is top-notch. Their service of consumers and third-party developers is excellent. In fact, you can get all the rules for free online! Also, they are quite progressive, constantly adjusting their material to make it more welcoming to a diverse fan base. They basically are what WoTC/Hasbro pretends to be. I have played a lot of Pathfinder 2e. I have been in a group that meets online and plays at least twice a month. For a while, when we couldn't leave our houses, it was weekly! We started right before the plague. This is not my "native" system--more on that later--but it is one of my favorites. Like D&D it has many rules for combat and fewer for other areas of the game...but not as few as D&D. If you want to have a game with slightly more numerical meat to it that plays like what you are used to, this is the one. Here is the link to Paizo, where you can see the many different games they offer. Also their two biggest games--Pathfinder and Starfinder--are sometimes the only non-D&D content to be found at general bookstores.  The GUMSHOE game I hope to play someday... GUMSHOE (The Yellow King, Ashen Stars, Swords of the Serpentine, etc): OK, this might actually be my favorite system. The gaming world can be broken into groups that use similar "mechanics." This term includes things like what dice one uses and how bonuses are added to those dice. D&D and Pathfinder both use a "D20" system. Which is to say that the core rolls are on a 20-sided die to which bonuses are added and penalties subtracted to give a number that either hits or misses a target number (Armor Class if you are trying to hit a person, or Difficulty Class of you are trying to do a thing, for example). If you get over the target number you succeed in hitting the villain, or picking the lock, or whatever. If you get under...you don't succeed. The Gumshoe system operates on a single D6, instead. Also, instead of having the many complicated stats and skills that are the hallmark of D20 systems, you have a number of pools of "points" to add to the d6 roll. Those points deplete over time as your character gets tired and weak. It adds some suspense. Also in this system the story takes precedence over the rolls, so combat is less granular. In Yellow King, for example, it is resolved in a matter of seconds in a single round of rolls. Then you tell the story of what happened... I have played two different versions of this game and am itching to try one more. Yellow King is a horror game where people die or go mad regularly. I have played this in an online group that started around the time my Pathfinder group did. We are...theatrical. Ashen Stars is in outer space. I am playing that now in a regular in-person group. Both of them--even though Ashen Stars can be plenty complicated--leave breathing room for the tale. Yellow King--which has very few rolls--also allows for plenty of improv, which isn't everyone's cup of tea. However...it certainly is mine. The final entry in Gumshoe for now is "Swords of the Serpentine." I posted a picture farther up. It is a fantasy setting and looks rather complicated but at some point I will either run a game or badger someone to run it for me. These and other games are published by Pelgrane Press. Check them out! Vampire the Masquerade: Look! Another horror game! This game uses a "dice pool" system. Essentially, as you get stronger in a particular skill, you get to roll more dice. This is different from the other games systems I mentioned. In both d20 games and gumshoe games you roll one die and add bonuses which increase as your character improves. In dice pool games...you get more dice. Otherwise they are the same. The player is trying to hit a target number for success. The system is also simpler than D&D or Pathfinder, which leaves room for roleplaying. Also rolling a handful of dice is very satisfying. My one big complaint about Masquerade is just that it is creepy. In fact, it could be triggering for some people. I will go one more step to say that I do not recommend this game for everyone. It is worth noting that the makers of the game are aware of its creepiness and have a warning page at the beginning. This is not for kids. Vampires are nasty, evil, and highly sexualized in pretty dark ways. When I played this we made sure to keep it campy. I was a lunch lady. It is important to know who you are playing with, to make your boundaries clear, and to respect the boundaries of others. This is true in any game, but in this one it is doubly important. That said, in spite of my reservations...I did end up enjoying myself. Here is a link to World of Darkness, who publishes this game.  While the system is free, I have purchased some material in PDF and put them in binder because of its excellence. RISUS: OK, this is a d6 "dice pool" system that is free and has two pages of rules. I love it! I have run a couple of campaigns in this system, modifying rules as we go. Set up is fast--or can be--and is best when the players are willing to be goofy. The character development process involves selecting a "type" from literature, film, or whatever and then running with it. You have to convince the person running the game that your--for example--"Failed Han Solo 4" should be able to roll all four of his dice to swing across a river, charm a local constable or--less likely--defuse a bomb. Many people think this makes a good starter game. It has very few rules, right? I do not think it does. It is great for people who want to stretch the rules to their breaking point, improv, and roleplay. That, however, takes a certain amount of experience with the genre. Most beginners are trying to learn not just what is written down but the unwritten skills to bring life to their character and the world. Also, not everyone likes improv or understands the same tropes of popular culture. In my experience of teaching these games, true beginners are very focused on a strict reading of the rules. It takes a while to let them breathe. What it is good for, though, is a group who isn't taking things too seriously, knows how to play an RPG in general, and can keep focused long enough to "yes and" (that is...improv) well. This thing can go way off the tracks and people checking out for long periods of time is more detrimental than it is in other systems with, you know...structure. I will play this again some day. However, I will be careful about who I invite to the table. Welcome to the Risusverse!  I bought these in 1982 with my own money. I was 11. These are one of the editions before "first edition" and were the product of a fairly extensive collaboration between an variety of nerds.  This Goodman Games product has two original modules from Basic D&D and a 5e conversion. They had a deal with WoTC but...apparently WoTC wants more... Finally "Original D&D": I use this term advisedly and really to shock my fellow nerds. There are plenty of people who see those words and prepare to fight! However, what I mean here is the cloud of games that have been developed under the banner of "Old School Renaissance (or Revival)." OSR games are designed to replicate many of the earliest roleplaying games. Honestly I haven't played many of the new OSR adaptations, but this is because I have my original Basic rules (above). These are the systems from the 1980's that I grew up with. They are unwieldy, complicated, and sometimes hard to learn. I started gaming around the age of 11. At first, of course, it was mostly just reading the rules and wishing my friends weren't trying so hard to be cool. Gaming was not cool. Parents saw it as being a gateway to drugs, cults, and satanism. At the very least, to be even interested in playing made you a weirdo. It was hard to get a game together and eventually--in high school--I gave up trying for a long time. I was still considered a weirdo, though. I probably should have kept on keeping on. The first books I bought were for what was just then beginning to be called "Basic/Expert D&D." Shortly before I began playing it was just called Dungeons and Dragons but a new version of the game came out called "Advanced D&D." Advanced D&D was similar to Basic but was ostensibly written by one person...Gary Gygax. "AD&D" is what WoTC now calls "First Edition." Why is Basic not "first" even though it is older and all the other d20 games are built upon it? Well Padwan, it is because Gygax didn't want to share profits with his colleagues. Sound familiar? It should. Also, it is unclear who owns this game today. It is that old and was abandoned by the poorly run TSR. This makes it hard to monetize if you are WoTC. Anyway, in a sense when I play a d20 game I am still playing Basic/Expert D&D. All those other books published by various editions and third-party folks? They are supplements to this game in my head, starting with AD&D. Looking back I realized that we just fused on parts we liked to our existing rules, but were never "first edition" players. It was way too complex! It probably annoys people I play with when I resurrect some random rule, or just make one up. Making up rules was a regular occurrence in the old game because the books were so poorly laid out it was easier just to wing it. This is probably why I like RISUS! When I run a game--in any system--I still do this. When someone else is running the game and I am playing, though, I do try--sometimes successfully--to make sure I have a reasonable grasp of what the system demands. Making up rules on the fly is definitely not everyone's way to game. Still...on the inside...I am probably playing something else. The game played very differently back in the 1980's. Modern games have long story arcs and heroes who are hard to kill so that those arcs can be maintained. Characters die fast and frequently in old D&D. The humor is broad. Survival is optional. You try not to get too invested in the backstory of who you are playing. Your characters are like you. They are way outclassed. That said, we loved exploring imagined worlds, gaining gold, and sometimes becoming heroes. We also brought backups. Sometimes when our character died we would erase the name at the top and then, in the next room, the party would find that character's identical twin sister. We drank Polar Soda, or Moxie, or Coke and always had chips and pretzels. We had no idea what we were doing. We were full GenX. Sometimes it was D&D. Sometimes it was something similarly deadly but much more complicated (d100 systems anyone?). The vibe was the same. Each table was basically playing a game of its own making developed through days of micro-negotiation. This, my friends, is what those Stranger Things kids were playing. There are a ton of options here, but I will start by suggesting Dungeon Crawl Classics by Goodman Games. I have used some of their material for my Basic/Expert explorations and other gamers I know like them. One thing to look out for is that some conservative folks gravitate to these older games because they don't particularly like the inclusiveness of newer games. This has given this genre a bad reputation in some quarters. It should be noted that "new OSRs" are frequently just as inclusive as newer games. It is just good to be forewarned when delving in to this area, particularly if you are hanging out on the socials. Also, nepotism is a thing so here is my son's old school weblog...or it will be here once he gets back to me.  If there were six games on my list...this would be number 6 Anyway, there are so many more games I could mention. Some are dead. Others I just wish I had time for. There is a world of roleplaying games out there. There are also "story games." There are also board games that feel like roleplaying games, too. Although those mean buying from Hasbro. Tabletop RPG's have been an important part of the lives of many people. They have been a way to imagine another world. Sometimes that world is dark and sometimes it isn't. Whatever or wherever it is, we can try on different identities and different lives, which is just what we need sometimes. My social algorithms are full of consultants talking very seriously about how "play" can increase productivity. It probably does...I guess. What I know is that no one needs an uptight suit to tell them that these games can increase your creativity and, therefore, your happiness. So get out there and roll some dice! Good luck finding something. I am here to help.  I close with this badass knight of Lastwall on a Pathfinder 2e lore book. The bottlecaps come from a podcast--Glass Cannon--that I support through Patreon.
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 Other people's views from this point are spectacular...I promise. Hiked On January 12, 2023 One of my mentors in ministry told us that on his sabbath days he would put his canoe on top of his truck and drive it through the middle of town. Sometimes he would take his canoe fishing, which is what everyone assumed he was doing. Sometimes he would just paddle around and go home. Sometimes, though, he would drive his canoe to Bangor for a bagel and a coffee with friends...and maybe a trip to the seminary library. He told this story to convey four things. First, that the people of Maine are all pantheists at heart. As a Mainer born and raised I can confirm that this is true. Second, that people may not always respect your "off" time but will do their darndest to respect your sabbath time. Third--and this is where the canoe comes in--in a town of pantheists, a canoe on your truck means you are fishing...and fishing is sacred. Finally, the lesson was that you are best off leaving the parish come sabbath-time. That way folks will not be able to get in touch with you as easily. Also--more importantly--you will be away from the things that draw you back to your labors.  A bit of the early snow. It got more intense before finally trailing off for a while.  The peak of Mt. Grace I thought about that yesterday as I tried my best to tie up loose ends in the morning and hustle out the door for my weekly sabbath hike. "Weekly" is a New Year's goal. Unfortunately, though, I was already on "Plan D" as plans A through C were left in tatters. Mostly the problem was weather up north, but the skies in the Bay State weren't looking so bright either. Little flakes of snow on my windshield indicated that perhaps the northern storm was going to make an appearance after all. Also, my hiking buddy, Andy, couldn't get out of a meeting. So I was left figuring out how far I wanted to travel to hike in the snow by myself. The solution was to leave New Hampshire and Maine well alone and to stay in my adopted commonwealth. A slick and wooly drive down Route 2 brought me to the somewhat obscure Mount Grace State Park and a snow-laden hike up its eponymous mountain, then over to Little Grace, and finally back to the lot. Mount Grace isn't a bad name, but it is a bit unusual. The legend says its name comes from King Philip's War when the daughter of Mary Rowlandson died after being captured by members of the Narragansett tribe. Theoretically the mountain is named after this daughter. It is a romantic notion and ties into one of the major historical moments in and around the Pioneer Valley where the mountain resides. However, there is one glaring problem. Mary's daughter was named Sarah...not Grace. So the name of the mountain remains a mystery. That said, it is a powerful idea to ascribe to this mid-sized monadnock. Somebody in some way found grace here. Maybe we still can.  The water-damaged view from Little Grace. It was raining and snowing by now but I took some time, backtracked to check out some elusive views of farmhouses, then had a snack.  A sign for the New England Trail, a relatively short multi-day hike that I would like to do some day. If you want to be alone in Massachusetts, drive west and go hiking in a snowstorm. There will be no people to bother you. The trail started out relatively flat but that changed quickly. It was quite a bit more elevation than what I experienced the week before. That, of course, was what I was looking for. It was the only part of Plan A that remained. Then the trail went on up along some power lines to the rather impressive fire tower. It was snowing heavily at this point so no view was to be had. Alas! Pictures indicate it is quite nice. I will need to come back some time. I did get startled a bit. When I turned around to descend the tower my long-suffering water bottle came loose and fell about 40 feet. It hit every available truss on the way down making a dramatic noise as it did so. After finding the water bottle that had submerged itself in the snow, I turned south along a row of power lines that marked the shoulder of Grace and continued on to the smaller peak. Little Grace also theoretically offers views. Every once in a while the snow would blow and eddy away. Then I could peer down into the valley where a number of farms were perched looking for all the world like landscape illustrations in the Saturday Evening Post. One thing worth noting is that--while this is indeed part of my "easyish" hiking list--there were a couple elements that made it challenging. First, there was that snow, which made both visibility and footing rather sketchy. This can be remedied by choosing a better day! However the next thing cannot be fixed so easily. The trails are arranged so that if you decide to climb both peaks and loop back to the parking lot, you will be climbing up pretty close to the end. On a traditional morning climb you go up and then down. This trail rolls up and down quite a bit, which might not be everybody's cup of tea. In the end--according to my imperfect calculations and because of some diversions I took--my total elevation for the day was around 1,500 feet. The feet came in installments across the miles instead of all in one massive climb, but that is more than a number of mountains on the 52 With a View list, including the "starter" peaks of Willard and Pemigewassett which I, at least, found easier than this. You can make it...but I confess to swearing a bit when I hit the last climb of consequence. The loop took me down the side of Little Grace and back around to the parking lot. It was a journey of small views, evocative precipitation, and unsure footing. However, I am glad I got out. Once again, for the second week in a row, I had the place to myself. I do not doubt that the pantheist in me appreciates this. I feel like I am keeping the spirits company on a cold, wet, lonely day. They certainly appear to be keeping mine.  My car in the lot. Proof that the place was all mine for the day! The word "grace" has a number of meanings. In common usage we usually think of dancers or athletes, or people who are particularly well-spoken or well dressed. Perhaps those cues are why we tend to think of wealthy people as graceful even when we do not have much evidence to go on. Also, being gracious is what you try to do when someone else is being a boorish. These are all social, societal qualities. However, in the church where I spend my time, grace indicates the unmerited favor of the Divine. For Universalists--and I serve a congregation that is, among other things, Universalist--this grace is extended to everyone. The old-man funny, curmudgeonly, front-door thing to say now would be that grace was hard to feel on a day with heavy snow and no views. I certainly didn't feel graceful...but I won't go there theologically. There was plenty of grace to be found on these two mountains. In the dynamic display of nature going about its business all I saw was grace. Sure, I saw and felt a whole lot of nature, too. Yet the fact that both were present is not coincidental. I do not love winter hiking, but I love this grace that is sometimes hard to immediately locate in people and in the institutions people make. Yeah we all have it, or have access to it anyway. It is "freely given" and I don't mean in some reductive Christian sense. Grace is just present all the time for all of us. Mostly we don't experience this presence. It takes time and the cultivation of relationships to see and feel it around us. It takes the growing of love between each other and within ourselves. This wild morning reminds me of the blessing of grace. Maybe it will help provide the charge forward for another week. I suspect that on those trips to Bangor my old mentor also snuck some work in on his sabbath day. I get that too. After my hike I spent the afternoon wearing out my welcome in a number of warm dry places where I could write. The draft of this post was one thing. Another was the draft of my sermon for Martin Luther King weekend. The morning reminded me that finding grace in ourselves and each other is more than an attempt at personal wellness. It is instead an important attitude on the path toward justice. Grace leads to love and love to trust then on to community...or at least that is the direction the sermon went. May we all find ways to be this kind of graceful; not pretty and charming but bold and challenging as we expand and strengthen the web of connection--the world community--that surrounds us.  The last writing stop, where even the stale donuts were gone...  The whole trip had a soft mist or a gentle downpour. Very evocative...  Rock Tripe has a great name. It is edible, sorta, if you boil it enough to remove its flavor and "purgative properties" but it has indeed saved lives. Also, this one looks a bit like a dragon... Hiked On January 5, 2023 It is hard to get going sometimes, isn't it? Getting ready for church on Epiphany Sunday even my brain felt bloated and out of shape. Two Sundays went by without a service. How do I do this again? Why do I do this? In the end it was fun. I preached about beginnings and about not falling back into the same old ways of last year. After all, the old patterns may not be so hot. The band also did a pretty good job leading Good King Wenceslas. It is ostensibly a Boxing Day carol --"Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen"--but really it's just cool folk tune about the legendary Duke Vaclav of Bohemia. Anyway, hiking is like that too...but worse. I mean, it has been over a month since I put in any really serious reps hiking. I have been to the gym a handful of times and did those Solstice Walks but sometimes I worry that I won't really get back up to climbing shape. This isn't my favorite time. You know this. I would rather hike in "shoulder season" in the spring. Winter is here, though, and getting out is important.  There was no view, really, from the ledges. However the fog accentuated the foreground nicely.  Near where the cliff climber was. On Thursday I concluded that I could probably clear a few homiletical cobwebs as well as partially arrest my downward slide in health and fitness by taking a good walk. Maybe I could shock myself back into action! I put my heavy pack on and drove back out to the Leominster State Forest. There I continued the loop that I started a couple weeks earlier. The total hike was about 3.8 miles and 600ish feet of total elevation. So not a big climb. However, I am out of practice. My knees hurt at the end. The thing about this loop up the Crow Hill Ledges is that it features a short, steep section at the very beginning. I guess it could be at the end instead if one takes the loop the other way. I like to climb up rather than climb down, though. So I always choose the hard part first. After that things roll a bit along a long ledge. There are obscured views through the tree trunks that wouldn't be there the rest of the year. On this day, though, many of them were still socked in a bit by rain and fog. The crisp, clean wintery air had been replaced by, well...shoulder season weather. It felt like early spring.   Still, it was more than nice to be out and about. Parks like this are very popular on nice days, so a little inclement weather meant that I had it to myself for the most part. There was a college kid scaling the massive cliffs and a couple different people walking their dogs on the flat. There was also the constant sound of traffic from Route 31. That aside, though, the fog added a mystical quality to the hike. The landscape--now wet with rain rather than covered with snow--looked very different from the last time I was there. Once again I wandered about a bit, exploring the side-trails and looping around the local swimming hole still holding on to a little ice in spite of the relatively warm winter weather. I felt like I could spend all day there. In the end I didn't spend the day. In fact, it was already pretty late when I arrived! Technically Thursday is my sabbath. However a variety of errands and tasks early in the week--start up stuff for the church mostly--had pushed quite a bit of work into the morning. Once again this made me late. Just like last time I found myself pulling out my headlamp on the way back. The rain had made the journey a perpetual dusk until the dark appeared. Then I drove to a Dunkin' Donuts for dinner and to write my sermon. Still, at least I achieved my goal. I got out and did a thing. I had a small adventure. I cleared my head enough to get the most creative parts of my job done. Maybe this trip will beat back the inertia. Maybe this year won't entirely be a slog after all. Here is that Wenceslas...  My Ginger plant struggling at Christmas. I am having a bit of a crisis with one of my plants. It is a large ginger that sits near the television and is truly quite a looker. This fall I added some houseplants as a way to get some green living things in my life before the snow and the cold made everything bleak. I got them free from a landscaper friend and the others are all in various levels of health. The ferns seem happy. The bamboo...I don't even know how to read but I think it needs water. My two old plants--an ancient Ficus older than my marriage and a Spider Plant--look like the grizzled survivors they are. It is this ginger plant that is bothering me right now though. A few days ago yellow leaves started to appear. I did some reading and I learned that it could be too much water...or not enough water...or too much sun...or not enough sun...or an incurable disease. Good times. After a few days of stress I bit the bullet and watered off schedule. The other plants--except maybe that bamboo--don't seem to need much as long as it is regular. Now I wait to see if I drowned it. I think it is time for a garden roundup. The year has ended and so has the growing season. Maybe it is time to take a look at how things went and consider the future.  All the beds  Moss, lichen, and trees making a heroic stand in the shallow soil of Black Mountain (Benton). This year was a bit of a baseline project. I have pretty much always had a garden in the same way I have always hiked. I do it...but not well. Of course there are differences. Hiking is something with a simple skill set. The living thing you take care of is yourself. The basics--putting one foot in front of the other--are obvious. On a hike you are testing yourself, your physical ability, mental fortitude and skill. Gardening is all of that with added levels of complexity as the ecology of our surroundings have their own ideas. This is the story of the ginger plant. They aren't built to live near a TV in New England. For all intents and purposes the plant--all the houseplants, in fact, and in some sense the outdoors plants as well--is in the same situation as the ones in those tiny alpine ecosystems clinging to the cracks in a rocky ledge. All of them are desperately trying to make a home in a place with limited resources. The alpine plants are actually better situated. They have adapted to live in those environments. The ginger, the ferns, ficus and so on are dependent on the relative competence of a middle-aged practical theologian with no real sense of what they need. So we have to ask ourselves, as people who care for plants, a number of questions. Broadly speaking, How do we make a curated space for growing things? What sort of dialogue between grower, subject plants, neighbor plants, neighbor people, and the local ecosystem--living room, lawn, or garden--can be arranged so as to be fruitful for the season? There are real stakes in this conversation. They are about survival for the vegetation. For me, the stakes are also relatively high. When I was recovering from COVID this past spring my biggest joy was sitting by the garden with my coffee. The same could be said for the time of my back injury. The conversations between these elements is important for all our wellbeing.  Cubanelles and a yellow squash. The peppers ruled the garden. The squash did not. So...this past year it felt like I planted a ton of stuff. The plot is small. However we did add another raised bed to the operation. That may be it for now. One thing I learned was that the whole mess of beds and pots is awkwardly situated for the goal of maximized yield. The elbow of the house gets spotty light, which is good for some things but not others. Also, it has been churned up a couple of times to get to various infrastructure items that we unwittingly planted over. Finally, it is in a tight spot on the narrow driveway. The cars are single file so sometimes one's bumper makes contact with the outermost raised bed while backing over the lawn with the front car in line. Still, I don't think I will move it. It just will be the size it is for the time being. The original site selection was simply because most of the parsonage is exposed to the view of passersby. The garden corner is literally the only spot with any privacy, which makes it a nicer place to sit. Also, gardens are ugly--or can be deemed ugly--sometimes and I didn't need neighbors calling the church to complain. Yes...that is a thing.  Not a globe thistle but an abstract thistle of some kind and the marker at the beginning of the Great Glen Way. Anyway, I planted things and some did well. The potatoes were a successful early experiment. I planted reds, which were excellent and a variety of "Irish" potatoes that were healthy at first but ended scabby. I will probably plant reds in bags next year. Our pepper situation was ridiculous in a good way. Jedi and Padron--grown from seed--made room for Shishito, Purple Bells, Italian Cherries, and Cubanelles, some of which were planted in the potato bed after those were harvested. They all loved the heat of the Global Warming Summer and kept on giving until the cold set in. Herbs like basil, chives, thyme, Greek Oregano, lavender (new plant to replace a prolific old one) and rosemary (same) anchored the herb bed and made good meals better. Salad greens--mostly arugula--were harvested in their "baby" phase and used to spice up older greens from the farm my sons work at. The flowers--mostly in pots surrounding the beds--were much appreciated by me this year. My favorites were the Globe Thistle--a tribute to our Scotland trip--and the abundant dahlias. It was full 1950's for a while with massive blooms lending their color to the brown drought-stricken landscape. I have actually made an attempt to dry the tubers and use them next year. I fully expect failure but it would be fun...and none of the dahlia varieties I grew this year were rare.  Tomatoes in happier times Let's not breeze by the failures. Yellow squash and cukes stood no real chance. We had watering issues and blight. They suffered from our trip to Scotland. The tomatoes were prolific...and immediately eaten on the vine by a rabbit and a chipmunk family before we ever got to use most of them. We lost ton of herbs and strawberries to them as well. We had pointless stevia plant. Finally, that rhubarb now 3 years old continues to not thrive. Alas! What can you do?  A greenhouse at Tower Hill.  Frances Tophill suggests Climbing Onion as a plant to try. I found this one at Tower Hill. Well....you can plan for next year, right? After Christmas Day we took a field trip over to the greenhouses at the New England Botanic Gardens at Tower Hill. This was inspirational. I took lots of boring pictures of healthy houseplants and novelty vegetables. I am looking forward to going back there an learning more as time allows. Also, as I have mentioned earlier, I have been doing some reading. Celia Thaxter's book--that I mentioned in a previous post--is rarely shelved. My Christmas gift to myself also included some intriguing titles. I am almost through "The Philosophy of Gardening" edited by Blanka Stoltz and originally written in German. This collection of essays is deeply wonky and has given me a good sense of the state of the garden movement in Europe as well as some ideas for when I have more space. I have also cracked into two books by Frances Tophill. One has practical advice that I have already put to use in my quest to save my ginger plant. The other is about planning out a garden for the first time. Again, I don't have the space now, but maybe someday. There are a couple of others as well that I have consulted and will consult again.  Artfully arranged gardening books to show I read. Now we are reaching 2023 futures planning. In addition to potatoes and peppers again, I hope to plant some weird things that I cannot get at the store or from the aforementioned farm my sons work at. The space I have does not lead to self-sufficiency really, just life-improvement. I am well into the planning stages and am considering seeds. Our neighbors next door--who are apparently fine with gardens--gave us some zucchini. I actually made a salad from them that I liked. Maybe, just maybe, one plant... There will be flowers, too. Ever since the plague I have valued the aesthetic elements of the garden. It is a somewhat wild spot in the midst of the manicured lawns and the pavement that surround us. I have had a lot of coffee out there and written a ton of sermons. May it continue to be inspirational. We could all use an inspiring year.  More flowers and peek at my sitting spot behind...  Gear is often necessary but also sometimes fun! Here is my brother Dan showing a guy his cool mountain identifying app on Mount Chocorua. He drew quite a crowd.. I got up early the other day and went back north to Maine to visit family. We hadn't been for a while and the personal landscape has changed a bit. Still, it was nice to be home. We only had so much time for a tour of various households. Some relations--like my mom--had moved since we were there last. Others were right where we left them. It was all good. So much in life can feel unstable these days. Everyone I know, it seems, is in transition. Seeing people who you have known forever reminds you that while the trappings are altered somewhat, you still have a place, even if it is more relational than physical these days. I may not have spent a huge amount of time in some of these spaces...but my people are there. This relational feeling is not unlike the one I get from being outside. There is plenty that doesn't quite fit each time, but, still, one is locked into an extended network where a place for humanity--and for individual humans--still exists. Lately it has been hard to get outdoors. It will be for a while longer. Weather, time, work, and the desire to be with family currently create a number of barriers that are hard to overcome. Oh well...it will happen...eventually. Until then there is preparation and staying in shape. One aspect of preparation involves going through my backpacks and taking a look at all the gear I have for hiking. Some of it needs to be cleaned. There are a couple items I wonder if I really need. There are a few that must be replaced. Whenever I get back out it would be best to have the right stuff. Staying in shape, on the other hand, means getting back to the gym and slowly heading back out into the winter world...  Inverlochy Castle outside of Fort William in Scotland. That hike was a peak experience of the year!  Two Gregory Packs in their full glory on the coldest hike of our year up Mount Liberty. You can see some of the extra straps for carrying snowshoes and other gear. Mine is the blue one. Al's is one size up. For the next year-end list I have five pieces of kit that I was super grateful for. Some of this stuff becomes a part of you on a long walk. Some of it may be or feel a bit more of a burden at times. Some of it never does. Anyway, here they are, in no particular order. Backpacks: OK... Maybe there is a bit of an order. You aren't going to get far without a good pack. I actually have four. One--a 40 liter Osprey--is really my travel bag but those straps are super-helpful for pushing through train stations and airports. Another is a 20 liter day pack from LL Bean that folds up super-small. Before my back injury, that was my go to day pack. Post-surgery, everything must have a frame now. I still make use of it. I just take it to the gym. With that out of the way, my current hiking kit includes the remaining two bags. I switch them out seasonally. That said, the seasons aren't even and there are times when I need to carry more stuff than a basic day pack can handle. Usually this means I defer to my "winter"--and most of spring and late fall--pack; the Gregory Zulu 40. A 40 liter pack isn't actually that large. It wouldn't get you much farther than an overnight, but--considering how I hike--this one has fit the bill for a couple years. You need a big pack when it starts to get cold. I found that this year, for example, I had to put my smaller bag away in mid-September. Over the course of our partnership, I have added some after-market straps and usually carry a couple bungee cords. There are always extras, like sandals, wet socks, or snowshoes that need to hang outside. The Gregory has a couple years on it. This year, however, I also got a summer pack for our hike across Scotland. We were staying in B&B's so there was no need for the extra camping capacity. Also--concerned about the longer days and what the weight would do to us--we planned to carry mostly water and one extra layer. For this purpose I used the Osprey Talon 22. At 22 liters it was close to half the capacity of the Gregory. It turned out I could carry quite a bit more than I thought, so I took advantage of the space. There is a partial list of my daily payload in the wrap up--linked in this paragraph--from that trip. However, it is still a slightly lighter frame pack that kept me honest about what to bring. It is best for either when hikes are in fair weather and close to resources or straight up during the summer months.  Me in Scotland with the Osprey Talon 22, just one pole that had the kind of clamp I don't like (see below), and my annoying boots. At least the pack was good.  Wet day coming down the Horn...dry feet. Boots: OK, this is a simple one. Boots are a personal decision based on the shape and size of individual feet. I used two pairs this year with mixed success. I made a mistake in my selection of boots for the Scotland hike. I thought something with a softer sole would help with the hard roads. It did...but the boot was less breathable which was a problem during Global Warming Summer. I would have been better off with something more durable or more breathable. I will not dwell on that. You can check out the post I linked in the last section. The good news is that my other pair are Lowas. I like them very much, though they did need inserts. They are all leather which somehow made them more breathable. Also, they kept me dry under some hideously damp circumstances. Once your feet are wet there is no happiness. I dread having to replace these boots as they have been downright perfect for my needs. Hopefully they are perfect next time as well. Boots are expensive...  Here is an assortment of poles, mostly from REI or Hiker Hunger. There is a beat up one that journeyed on the AT with a thru-hiker but couldn't be taken on the plane. Note the cork handles--to keep your hands dry--and the basic looking clamps for adjusting height. Hiking Poles: Here is a piece of equipment that I didn't expect to rely on as much as I did. Boy, do they make a difference! I was using these a bit even before my back injury. Now I rarely take a hike of any consequence without them. My suggestion is to always use two. That will help to balance you out. I use them both for ups and downs. Some do one or the other. Either way, they take pressure from your knees and make your arms work a bit harder. This is all to the good. Most hiking poles work just fine. Do yourself a favor, though and skip thinking about using ski poles. They are not the same! Hiking poles are adjustable and built for taking a ton of weight for a longer time. These days my go-to poles are from Hiker Hunger. I like the carbon fiber. This is partly just because they are a tad lighter, more durable, and take the shock a bit better. I broke a metal pole by landing on it. That also may have biased me. There are slight variations in design to think about if you want to. I prefer cork handles and a simple clamp for adjusting height. There are some which have sleeker looking mechanisms where you twist an invisible squeeze thing. They look sleeker, but the mechanics on the inside are impossible to repair and more likely to break. With most hiking equipment simplicity is a virtue. It should be possible to tighten the clamp at the joints with a phillips head (that you should bring with you if this is the case) or with your fingers (as on the Hiker Hunger models). If you zoom in on the picture above you will see what I am talking about.  That orange thing that isn't a hat is the Garmin. Bringing that was the wisest thing I did on my solo hike up Jackson and Webster. Garmin Mini: There isn't a ton to say here. this is a device that connects to a satellite to give you directions and communicate with the outside world. We rarely use it, preferring phone apps like AllTrails and actual physical maps that don't need charging. That said, the Garmin has an SOS function which could be a lifesaver if you get stranded in a spot where your phone doesn't work. Some hikes have few to know dead spots. Others--like those in Baxter State Park--rarely have cell coverage. The Garmin gives us piece of mind that we don't have to use. Al and I have one that we share, because...it is pricey.  OK...this was pretty wise, too. These are my Kahtoolas on Jackson and Webster. Micro-Spikes: On the hiking socials there are a lot of arguments about which kind to use. Basically, though, they are chains and pointy things with elastic frames that fit over your boots. This time of year they are super-important to have in your bag. We always carry micro-spikes starting in November if we are expecting to climb. For how we hike, they are even more important than snowshoes (also necessary in some situations). Ice can really mess a person up. There are really only two brands that you want to find yourself depending on. They are made either by Kahtoola or by Hillsound. Do NOT try to save money here if you can help it. There are cheaper brands but I, at least, worry about getting stuck somewhere sketchy with nothing more than a pile of broken elastics. For winter hiking one might also want crampons (big spikes) or an ice-ax. Al and I use micro-spikes and just assume we aren't doing hikes that require more than that. We do like to know our limits! Maybe someday we will trade up. That Jackson hike was an eye-opener. It was the first time I missed having an ax. I have also found micro-spikes helpful on shorter trips where there is little ice but quite a bit of packed down snow. That extra traction keeps one from slipping back and wasting energy. Well that is all for now! Obviously there is a lot of other gear one could bring up here. these are just my favorites. Honorable mentions can be given to my trekking towel, the oft-used water purification tablets, snacks, and snowshoes. Maybe I will get to those later, but these are the big ones or 2022...  One last peek at the Gregory backpack and the Hiker Hunger poles. They were all pretty constant companions this year...  The view off Pemigewasset The late days of Christmas, right? I hope you are all making it work. The Advent season--frequently referred to colloquially as "Christmastime"-- is peak work for people in my trade. Now it is over. In fact, now it is actual Christmastime and things are slowing down. Theologically in terms of December, Advent is the regular season. The twelve days of Christmas are the playoffs. However, thanks to the cultural tendency toward immediate gratification, the secular world comes screaming out of the gate on December first. The playoffs in this tortured metaphor are more peaceful. I am enjoying that. We visited family and right now we are waiting for a few friends to come over. That is about what we are up for. It is enough. In my last post I wrote about how important it is to keep busy this time of year. The dark of winter can turn into a personal darkness pretty darn quick. To stave that off I am planning my spring garden and making year end lists. You have one about my most-used hiking books of the year. Here is my next one. First, let me pull back the curtain on Sabbath Walks a bit. When I am planning hikes I like to take the usual things into account--time, weather, challenge, views and so on--but I also try to consider what the experience of that particular part of the natural world might be trying to say. What can I learn? What kind of questions am I asking? I try to engage with nature mindfully, though it doesn’t always work. Part of that preparation is religious and ritual-based. However, part of it is through study. This list is a product of the study part. I read a lot of books. These are the ones that have spoken to me the most this year...at least on the theme of nature. The first thing I noticed when putting the list together is...it is not a terribly diverse list! I could have curated it a bit and slipped something in, but I am trying to be honest. All I can say is that I see it. I have a number of books in the pipeline for this year that are more varied. These ones are a product of my background and education. I went back to what I know, apparently, which is fine to start but...one can't stay there... Thoreau and Thaxter are old theological and literary companions. I have read and re-read them for years. Burroughs is a new find but from the same era and with similar concerns and interests. Thomas Starr King is a figure from my church and denominational history, but here he is speaking to me as a clergy person who hikes. The one modern is the Scottish poet Hamish MacDonald. Even, he, though, is reaching back to the 19th Century and the work of naturalist Alexander Wilson. Apparently the era speaks to me. Perhaps in the new year I will learn to listen to other voices...or at least that is the plan. Anyway, here they are. They are sort of listed in order but...not really. They are all pretty good.  Essays by Henry David Thoreau, Jeffery Cramer ed. Thoreau, of course, is best known for "Walden" and "Civil Disobedience." My favorite of his, however, is "Walking". In this and other works--divorced from the wishful projections of back-to-basics folks whom I also admire--Thoreau reveals himself to be both modern and a keen observer of the natural world. In addition to the above essays, I found "Winter Walking" and "A Walk to Wachusett" to be particularly moving. I like all of them, however. I used this particular collection to teach Transcendentalism to high school aged "unschoolers". Unschooling is a form of self-directed learning that is frequently lumped in with "homeschooling" for legal reasons. The thing to remember is that the scholars have tremendous control of their time. That they read these essays is quite an endorsement! They also found it to be relatively accessible. A big part of it's popularity comes from Cramer's annotations. If you want the full context of the writing, I would encourage you to get this edition and take copious margin notes.  Shiny picture but you get the idea. An Island Garden by Celia Thaxter Thaxter is an oft-overlooked second generation transcendentalist. An accomplished writer/poet/innkeeper/salonist/gardener, she influenced a large number of artists and thinkers who would visit her inn on Appledore Island, one of the Isles of Shoals in New Hampshire and Maine. That is a pretty rough piece of real estate! Her garden essays are riveting reading if you are interested in how to get the most of your agricultural endeavors in a hostile environment. Her own philosophical inclinations pervade her writing in an engaging way. Her practice of close observation served her well on the tiny islands that help define her work. I have found her essential to understanding how to be mindful when your landscape is circumscribed.  A view of Cardigan from Firescrew, both of which are prettier than a peek at my ipad. The White Hills: Their Legends, Landscape, and Poetry by Thomas Starr King I got this for free on googleplay so there isn't a picture of the cover. Free is nice, though, right? Starr King was a Universalist minister who served both Universalist and Unitarian churches. He is more famous for being a Californian, but his life started in the east. At some point he wrote an early book about hiking the White Mountains. Now a 52 WAV mountain is named after him. He has been a good companion in my explorations in that neck of the woods. I do not think he is quite as engaging as Thaxter but he, too, observes the small changes. His gift is universalizing some of his observations. I found his description of the perpetual change of light and color in the mountains to be particularly engaging. It is a topic I examine more in my post about Mount Hedgehog.  Wilson's Ornithology & Burds in Scots by Hamish MacDonald (Illustrations by Alexander Wilson) I picked up this small volume of poetry in Fort William, Scotland. I was looking for something light to carry daily during our hike of the Great Glen Way. MacDonald's work is set in dialogue with that of Alexander Wilson, a Scottish ornithologist, poet, illustrator and naturalist who is sometimes described as the "Father of American Ornithology". The illustrations in this book are by Wilson. MacDonald's poems are–as the title implies–in Scots so they take a little work, but they fit the bill during the hike and I have found myself going back to them since.  Leaf and Tendril by John Burroughs What is this? Another 19th Century naturalist? Well...yeah. Somehow I got this book. I am not sure how. It is the 13th volume of Burrough's collected works. Burroughs is frequently overlooked. Apparently he sounds like Emerson. Not sure why that is a problem. Anyway, Burroughs is another observer of nature. He wrote most of the essays in this particular collection while sitting in a writing-cabin in the middle of his vineyard. The first essay "The Art of Seeing Things” was particularly helpful as I tried to move from concentrating on achieving the destination--usually the end of some painfully uphill slog--to focussing on the journey and the character of the plants and animals around me.  That dead ship from the Great Glen Way.  The Mighty Quinobequin--also known as the Charles River--as it flows through my neighborhood on the second day of Christmas I commenced the second day of Christmas by discovering the Latin and colloquial names of my houseplants. Then I made coffee. Then I went for a walk. On my walk I started to make a plan for surviving the next two months. As you may have gathered from my previous post, I am not at my best in winter. I must find ways to move from one thing to another, to another... There is no reason to delve too deeply into all that again. It is just a fact of life that requires a certain amount of organization. Organization, however, is something I am very bad at. So I have some time between now and Epiphany to figure out an approach. No doubt it will involve being out in nature. There will be hikes, of course. Also, my Christmas gift to myself was a stack of gardening books so I can solidify my gains from last year. I have a tab open with tomato seeds! For part of the season I will be working at a job I usually enjoy. Then--for a little while at the end when I am most despairing--I will be on sabbatical. So much of this time can feel restrictive. Hibernation-brain is right there picking away at our resolve. The trick is not to keep busy for busy-sake but to find ways to be excited about...something, even though it might take a herculean effort to get going. One of the the things I will try to do is make some "top" lists for the new year that I can share with you. It is actually a big help for me and, maybe, you will enjoy it too. The ranking lists for blog posts and such is canonically around "Mount Roberts Day" when I began this project. These ones are more specific to the background of the project. To start, here are the six (6) most influential books I used this year for planning hikes and walks or planning for planning...if that makes sense. Some are trail guides. Some are practical, and one is historical. They have all been consulted before, after, and during hikes. Some of them are quite beaten up now as they have lived for a time in my backpack. I will hopefully deal with more speculative books and maybe even equipment in later lists....  1) New Hampshire's 52 With A View: A Hiker's Guide by Ken MacGray. Ok so I have talked about the New Hampshire and New England "Hiking Lists". They exist elsewhere of course, but I don't so these are the ones I know best. My favorite list is the "52WAV". They range from relatively easy--you do have to be in shape--to rather brutal. Each one, though, comes with a view. The list is subjective. It is curated by a committee and so far their taste in views has been spot on. Ken MacGray is a bit of an insitution. He has worked on a number of other hiking books and runs the Facebook page for the 52 group. His prose is accessible and clear while also being entertaining. Even though I have climbed more 4,000 footers in New Hampshire--the 52's are a bit of a me project right now and I like to hike with people--this is my favorite book and my favorite list. Five stars, buy it. Start with Willard.  2) Climbing New Hampshire's 48 4,000 Footers by Eli Burakian. Actually there are more that 48 4,000 foot mountains in New Hampshire so--while the 48'ers like to pretend at objectivity--this list is subjective, too. This is the basic book for the task of hiking all those mountains. It contains suggested routes and maps. Maps are a plus, by the way. MacGray's book assumes you have separate maps on you--and you should--but it is nice to have these as well. I have used the routes in the book when planning. Most of the time I have taken the exact route. At other times I have modified my route using another book--in the honorable mentions--and/or those maps. The text is brief and to the point, which I like.  3) Appalachian Mountain Club Guide to Winter Hiking by Yemaya Maurer and Lucas St. Clair. I am in the process of re-reading this book right now. There is a great deal of difference between hiking in winter and hiking the rest of the year. It is imperative that we know at least the basics of what we are doing. I do not camp in winter, but those sections are good to be familiar with as well just in case you find yourself having to be out overnight. The presence of roads into the wilderness sometimes confuses us as to how at risk we are. Just because we can reach the foot of Presidentials in a couple hours does not mean we are strolling on the local rail trail. This book covers the basics that one needs to know to be relatively safe and comfortable in the ice, snow, and dangerously low temperatures. There is some practical philosophy as well. I found the description and use of equipment, tips on reading the weather, and the basics of layering to be the most useful. The authors make you feel like you are part of a team, namely a team of prepared and educated winter hikers.  4) In High Places with Henry David Thoreau by John Gibson This is the history book I was telling you about. It also has routes and maps! I am a big fan of Thoreau's writing--he will appear on a different list--and when I have managed to walk in his footsteps I have found this book to be indispensable. However, this is not a general book. The mountains picked are rather niche, thanks to the subject matter. Thoreau--who walked a great deal--needed to have spent some time writing about them in order for them to be included here. However, my readers will note the Thoreau-heavy blog posts for Katahdin, Washington, and Wachusett. I gotta get back out to Greylock, and when I do...this book is coming with me.  5) 50 Hikes in Massachusetts by Brian White and John Brady Yes, there are hikes right here in the Commonwealth. When I feel like heading out but do not know where to go exactly, this is the book I take. I used it as recently as Thursday when I went to Leominster State Forest. Pretty much any hike in Massachusetts I have taken has been planned using this. It has maps but I often diverge a bit. This has nothing to do with their quality! It has more to do with my confidence with lower elevation hiking. I do, however, plan those alternate routes in advance as well...and I have detailed maps. Spontaneity isn't always a good idea in the wild. Another great thing about this book is that it has many easier hikes. This, alone makes it worth having. Hiking doesn't have to be a toxic race to the highest, most dangerous peak. That is not very sabbath, after all...  6) Field Guide to North American Wildflowers: Eastern Region by the National Audubon Society I picked this up out of envy. My brother Dan--who features largely in many of my posts--is a wildlife biologist. Hiking with him is a hobbit-like excursion where I follow him around as he identifies birds by their song, animals by their poop, and plants by their leaves, needles, bark, and roots. I wanted to get in to the game myself. What a great way to enhance one's dialogue with nature! Anyway, I love this book. It takes a while to figure it out because it relies on the reader knowing at least the basics off what they are looking at. That said, I have enjoyed it during my sabbath breaks on smaller mountains. If you know anything from my various posts, sermons, and so on, you know that it is that it is OK to enjoy something you aren't good at. Also, I think it is helping me get better....  Honorable Mentions: Here are two more that are deserving of note. The first is The 4,000 Footers of the White Mountains: A Guide and History by Steven Smith and Mike Dickerman. This thing is the Bible of the 48'ers. My wife swears by it. When I go off the suggested trail in the Burakian book, I always consult this. It only gets an honorable mention because I don't seem to use it as much. It is dense. There are no helpful maps. However, it has one big advantage that the other book does not; there is a winter description for each mountain. Had I consulted it before hiking Mount Jackson, I might have been more prepared for the icy ledge and the high winds that greeted me. Finally, I wanted to mention the thin book entitled "Guide to the Wapack Trail" by the Friends of the Wapack. I have mentioned this trail before. It begins on Mount Watatic and runs to the Pack Monadnocks straight through some of my favorite landscape in the world. It is a long day hike--21 miles--or can be done in pieces. I would love to take a day and do it this year... Anyway, that is all for now. You got me through my morning! I hope your Christmas is going well... :-)   Singing on Pegan Hill in Natick, I love these people and I love singing. I think Tod Dimmick took the photo though, as I was playing the ukulele at the time... It was winter solstice Wednesday. Solstice is a holiday that flies under the radar in these parts, but not necessarily everywhere. In a way we all celebrate it. It is at the root of all the December holidays. When it does pass unnoticed, it may simply be because it is the rare holiday built on scientific fact. Thanks to the special relationship between the earth and the sun we have a "shortest day". No god in his chariot made this happen. The forces of ecology and personal biology make this a particularly difficult time for may of us. That is the real reason for the parties, the festivals, the light in the dark. Since the birth of the solar system--roughly--there has been the fact of winter. It is a fact that we sometimes grapple with. Often it is a fact that changes and molds us. It deserves a moment of our time, doesn't it? These layers of legend decorating winter solstice, as beautiful as they are, can otherwise obscure a primal element of human existence. The dark comes. So, too, does the cold, the ice, and the famine. Therefore, it is good to find a way to mark the moment when the darkness recedes, even though the winter is just beginning. Doing so helps us to understand our place as part of nature. It also reminds us that the sun--and spring and better days--will also return in their time.  Tod again? I am in this one... For me, this year's observance of solstice came down to two walks. The first of these was on the solstice day, itself. Every year the church hosts some sort of walk to mark the occasion. It is a ritual, but it rests lightly on us. At our most hardcore--a few years ago--we would take a midnight stroll through the outdoor labyrinth at nearby Wellesley College. That was a hearty little group! Since the plague, however, we have erred on the side of--relative--accessibility. Even these days we feel the struggle to gather sometimes. Being outdoors is uncomfortable, but at least we know we can be together. With this in mind, we now hike up Pegan Hill right here in the neighborhood. Instead of midnight we chase the sunset around 4:30. Then we sing carols until it is too dark to see the lyric sheets even with our "vigil candles". Finally we hike down, grab refreshments at a nearby congregants' house, and move on to our own dinners. My job this year was to organize the thing and play the ukulele. The tension is always between formality or informality and we haven't quite figured it out. Is this an earth-centered worship service or a fun carol walk with friends? It is somewhere in the middle, which can make it tricky to plan.  It has been a while since I have been up on Pegan Hill in the light of day. It is pretty then, but for me--thanks to these nocturnal gigs--it is usually perpetual twilight. On a clear day or evening one can see the Pack Monadnocks in New Hampshire. This is one of the benefits of Eastern Massachusetts's flatness. Any rise is prominent. At 410 feet, Pegan is the tallest rise in town. The name comes from a faction of the Natick Praying Indians who farmed it. Though the Praying Indians are still around and sometimes worship at our church--built on the spot of their original congregation--we do not know what happened specifically to the Pegan group. I thought of them Wednesday as I do whenever I am up there. There is so much we miss in history and relationships that we can only speculate at now. The human history that this hill represents is complicated. It is important to recognize humanity at its worst so maybe, as the earth turns again, we can do a better job.  Wachusett from the ledge... The second hike was the next day. It ended up being a small, solo celebration of the promise of more light. After my work was mostly done I drove an hour to the Leominster State Forest and climbed up to the Crow Hill Ledges that look out toward Mount Wachusett. There was snow for this one. It felt like winter, which of course was the point...and also a bit of an obstacle. Micro spikes were necessary and some of the rock faces were quite slick. Still, I took my time even though I knew the dark wasn't far away. Of course the extra light on Thursday as compared to Wednesday was not much. It won't be for some time. That said, it was still a hint and a promise. Snow and ice get pretty old pretty fast for me. In a couple of weeks my animal brain will be living for spring. There is nothing I can do about this; just push forward and find joy where I can. I lingered for a while under the massive cliffs, which were more impressive than the view. Then I put my headlamp on and got back to the car in time to grab some food and go play TTRPG's with friends. Then I drove home from Worcester in the rain.   These cliffs were massive. If you want to replicate these hikes, neither is terribly strenuous. Pegan Hill is probably about a mile round trip and--if you don't go exploring down random trails like I did--Crow Hill Ledges is about the same. The footing on Pegan is solid for a suburban hike. There was some sketchy scrambling on the ledges, though. It would be worth considering before heading out. Leominster State Forest--where the ledges are--seems worth exploring. So you can expect more posts from there in the future! I hope you are all having a blessed holiday and you are getting what you want and need from this time. As I write this the power is out and my tasks are becoming unmoored! Oh well, nature has its say apparently. There are things that just won't get done.  This was our very first live recording of the Ukestra for Advent in 2013. The pictures are of the various ukulele playing members and our music ministries. I used to be really into the ukulele. For a time at church we had a youth-led "ukestra". Many adults played as well. I always found it to be a solid instrument for people who want to sing. It is uncomplicated. It does its job with little fuss. While learning to master an instrument takes a lifetime, it doesn't take long to get a genuine musical sound out the uke. Of course, for some reason many people see this as a weakness. The great Pete Seeger, a paragon of DIY music, lumped it in with the autoharp as "the easiest to get started on and the hardest to continue with past kindergarten". I suspect in both cases his year at Harvard was showing a bit. The fact is, people do play these--and other--apparently "simple" instruments their whole lives while continuing to gain satisfaction from them. In another way, though, he is not wrong. It takes a lot of work to push past their initial limitations. That said, it is worth it. I also have found it to be a sustainable exercise, at least in part because of how good it sounds playing simple things. After getting frustrated trying to do some complicated maneuver on the uke, one can settle into some three-chord folk songs. Then we hear the ukulele say "you're not that bad, you sound lovely now..." It is also worth remembering the importance and the history of the ukulele. A similar and smaller instrument--called variously a Cavaquinho or "machete"--was brought to Hawaii by Portuguese sailors who settled there. the body was adapted to maximize the resonance of the native woods of the islands. The construction methods were also refined. Perhaps most important, "reentrant" tuning--in this case placing the second highest string where normally the lowest string would be--became the dominant style. This gave the instrument its intriguing brightness and "pop," not unlike the 5-string banjo. Over time it was adapted by the Hawaiian people to become their national--even royal--instrument. It still has a place of honor on the islands and the most gifted players live there. Like the banjo, it was born out of adversity and oppression and became something beautiful. I play the ukulele, mandolin, tenor banjo, and guitar. Each has its own strengths and function. I know I will never be all that good at any of them. That said, I find myself drawn to different ones at different times. For me--and I don't really know why--Advent and Christmas are prime ukulele seasons. At our most intense we recorded Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies from the Nutcracker on three ukes. We played it live in Advent 2014.  Here we are last year. Maybe it is the power of memory. The charm of the instrument--its very appearance is charismatic--makes it a good bet for hospitals, nursing homes, and worship. It is, as I have mentioned, good for both children and adults who are just learning. As such it forms part of the soundtrack of numerous public and private carol-sings. It is portable and easy to bring along to events. It is relatively durable (at least the cheaper ones) and can be played outside without too much fuss and bother. Also, it doesn't push itself on anyone which--when we are thinking about the stress of this season--is really nice. When I play the banjo and the mandolin I have to be careful not to overwhelm all the "silent nights" and minor chords. The uke rests right where you want it. It points the way for the singers without racing on ahead. During the late moments of the plague last year we opted for a Christmas Eve ukulele carol sing out in front of the church. We aren't doing that again this year. However, it will remain one of my favorite memories of the season ever. So many people came and so many songs were sung. My biggest regret was overburdening it with readings and such. If I ever get another crack at it we will do much more singing. I say "if" but in a way we actually are doing it again, on the top of a local hill for the winter solstice. It will be fun...I hope. It may be an odd thing for a bunch of New Englanders--accustomed to the frigid-though-globally-warming climate of our winter home--to reach to the warm climes of Hawaii for Christmas inspiration. Still, that is how it is. Somehow it works. That is the miracle of the holiday. It is also the miracle of music. Some things just speak to you, right? Still, it is best for leading Carols. Here we are just this past Sunday on Advent 1! Anyway, I hope you have a good Advent and I hope you play music. If you are unsure, maybe a uke would help. In the past I wrote a "buyers guide". This link gets you to an update of even older posts that can be accessed from it. The ukulele is a great way to get into music at any age. Get Caroling!
 Most of my best pictures were from Mount Webster because I wasn't busy falling down. HIKED ON NOVEMBER 14, 2022 Yesterday was "Thanksgiving Sunday" which is the Sunday before Thanksgiving. It was lovely and peaceful and--at least for me--quite moving. Today, however, I am on screech. Thursday is actual Thanksgiving, then Sunday is the beginning of Advent. There is so much to do. All I see is a long string of tasks stretched out until December 26. This is not unusual for any of us, particularly for clergy, so I am putting my head down and getting on with it. That said, I did hike Mount Jackson and Mount Webster a week ago in a freak snow situation. The weather--which was unseasonably warm--had turned on a dime. Al got sick. I had a reservation in New Hampshire. All this added up to a very beautiful, very cold, very slippery hike!  This stand of trees were on the ridge between Jackson and Webster in one of those quiet places you find even on the windiest days.  One of the many stream crossings that probably wouldn't be that difficult...except for the ice. There are plenty of things that I would do differently. I would have perhaps not gone. I would have done better research (I was planning on a different I hike with Al). However, I did go. I do not love snow but I have done quite a few winter hikes at this point. I knew it would be gorgeous at the top and that the trails themselves would have a lot to offer. The only thing that gave me any pause was that I was by myself. With that in mind, I double checked my pack, put on my microspikes, and went on up. It turned out that--while I passed two people heading down Webster--I was the only one hiking Jackson on this particular day. It is a popular mountain. It is rare to have it to oneself. The sound of the high wind in the trees and the rush of water under (and over) the ice created the background music to my solo climb as I negotiated some deadfalls and, of course, the icy stream crossings. I was careful and took lots of breaks, too.  Taken near where I fell on Jackson. That flat-looking thing to the left is the ridge I took to Webster. Finally I reached the tree line. What followed was a brief period of complete chaos! I was pushed around by the wind. I later learned that the wind chill put the temperature at -2 degrees Fahrenheit. My hat almost blew off. I got turned around and--most exciting--I fell and slid on the ice while trying to avoid the worst spot. It was chaotic but--thanks to the speed of falling and the need to figure out what to do so as not to freeze to death--I kept moving. In fairly short order I found my way to the peak and then started down toward Webster. Those few moments of free-fall, though, became my reflection for Sunday. Every once in a while I have the experience of a sermon, prayer, or reflection coming to me in its whole form. This was one of those times. Collecting myself before trying to stand, the first few ideas came to my head. We humans are always grateful for the peace--in this case an extremely dramatic and windy peace--after a fall. Time stopped while I sat there on the edge of the earth. All I experienced was the smallness of me and the vastness and danger of what was around me. By the time I got to Webster my reflection was pretty much formed. I am sharing it here, both because it tells the story and because it shows how a sabbath walk can have influence way beyond the moment...  The ledges on Webster I did question the reading, though. "Praise Song" by Lucille Clifton is a poem about a child's impression of an elder's suicide attempt. Still, it was the poem that came to me when I was recovering from my spill. Something about being welcomed without judgement, like a child welcomes--or like God does--stuck with me. I leave up to individual theologies as to whether I had to use it. However I did. There are a lot of different ways to fall, after all. Each time we are saved we crave the welcome and assurance. We are grateful for how we made it through the crisis or the climb. We give thanks and praise the acts of kindness and love--from ourselves and others--that we experienced in the darkness.  In a way there isn't much to say, except that the ridge between peaks was spectacular. So, too, was the view--from a much more secure perch--off Mount Webster. On the way down I passed a few more people sensibly just doing the smaller mountain. None of them were by themselves. I also witnessed a beautiful waterfall on the way down. Snow really does its job on the landscape, making it feel other-worldly. This is our world, though. That is another thing to be grateful for. Winter hiking, itself, is beautiful. Solo hiking is special and dramatic. That said, I will keep my solo winter hikes to the 52 With an View list and look for companions on the big mountains going forward. |
Adam Tierney-EliotI am a full-time pastor in a small, progressive church in Massachusetts. This blog is about the non-church things I do to find spiritual sustenance. Archives
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