March 2008 Stories from The People's Press

Stories March 2008

Plant Daylilies for a Colorful Garden, Says Wallingford Gardener

Daylilies are the perfect perennial, providing a profusion of color with little care, Wallingford resident Richard Howard told Wallingford Garden Club members at their February meeting.

Howard, a former engineer with the Department of Transportation, got interested in daylilies about 12 years ago after he moved to a Wallingford home with no gardens and a friend brought him some daylilies to plant. Today he has about 1,800 varieties on his property and is immediate past president of the American Daylily Society.

His blooms range in size from one inch to 14 inches. They include such beauties as “I Remember You,” a deep purple flower with a silvery edge and a deep green throat, “Pure Indulgence,” a red daylily that he produced with yellow edges and a green throat, “Clark Gable,” a double ruffled red flower, and Webster’s Pink Wonder, a 13-inch rose colored daylily. The forms of daylilies are also diverse, ranging from round, or double, to spidery flowers, and really unusual types like Autumn Minaret, with star-like yellow flowers, that grows five to seven feet tall.

There are about 50,000 different varieties of daylilies. They bloom from May to early August, depending on the variety. I They are drought resistant and need only about an inch of water a week. They won’t bloom in shade and require four to six hours of sunlight a day. Howard says daylilies are also pretty disease and insect resistant, but spraying them with a hose will usually get rid of insects like aphids and mites on the plants. Fertilizing with a high nitrogen fertilizer or compost is recommended when the growing season starts and after the plants finish blooming.

Howard now produces his own varieties of daylilies through hybridization and he showed garden club members how easy it is to do. You just scrape off some pollen from the antlers, the male part of the plant, and put it on the pistil, the tube-like female part of another plant. If the pollen takes, a seed pod will form in 40 to 60 days. When it ripens and turns brown, pick the pod and remove the seeds. They can be planted right in the ground or in a pot to be buried in the ground. But be patient. It takes two years to get a bloom.

“Seeing a daylily bloom that I made gives me an indescribable rush,” says Howard. “The fun is that you don’t know what it will look like. It’s like Christmas.”

Howard has about a dozen perennial beds, a greenhouse and about 2,000 pots of daylilies planted on his property a 76 Anderson Road. He received Display Garden approval from The American Hemerocallis Society in 2003 and welcomes visitors to his gardens when the daylilies are in bloom. He requests that people call first at 203-294-9520. He also has a website at www.ctdaylily.com ad sells daylilies.



The Recovery Wing

A wounded woodpecker, a flycatcher with a broken wing, and orphaned barn swallows are among the hundreds of birds cared for and returned to health by Jayne Amico of The Recovery Wing, who spoke at the Wallingford Garden Club’s January meeting.

Amico founded The Recovery Wing 10 years ago and runs it with the help of volunteers. Located on her property in Southington, it is comprised of a small clinic building to treat and house birds until they are recovered, and three large flight cages outside to condition the birds and prepare them for release. It is dedicated to the rehabilitation of orphaned, sick or injured migratory songbirds, their return to the wild, and preservation of their habitat.

Although she specializes in caring for migratory songbirds, she also rehabilitates injured or abandoned swallows, woodpeckers, hummingbirds, chimney swifts and other birds, but not large birds. In 2006 alone The Recovery Wing cared for 283 birds from 49 different species. Of those 176 recovered sufficiently to be returned to the wild.

Amico got into rehabilitation of birds by accident. She was working as a hairdresser when one day she kept hearing a bird chirping somewhere inside the building. She and co-workers searched and finally found it on a rafter above the salon. She was the one to reach up and retrieve it. When no one wanted to take it home to care for it, Amico did, and bird rehabilitation became her lifelong passion. She had to study all about it, work under a licensed bird rehabilitator, and fill out state paperwork before establishing The Recovery Wing. Now the birds seem to know her, chirp when she comes out, and a black-capped chickadee even takes food from her hand.

Birds can be injured by car collisions, striking windows, cat and dog attacks, poisoning from garden chemicals, and bird netting. To help prevent injuries she advises pulling blinds or shades and putting decals on windows, keeping cats indoors and dogs on a leash, and using organic products.

For those interested in attracting songbirds to their yard, she recommends planting trees and plants with the berries and seeds that attract them, such as crabapple, mulberry and cherry trees, viburnum, honeysuckles and berry bushes, and flowers such as purple cone flower, Shasta daisy, coreopsis, black-eyed Susans, asters and sunflowers. And don’t forget to provide water for birds in times of dry weather.

Anyone who finds a sick, injured or orphaned bird can call he Recovery Wing at 860-276-8433. Further information may be obtained from its website at www.therecoverywing.org.



Please Help Mama Gypsy

It saddens me that I have to write an article in efforts to try and find Gypsy a home, but doing so is a clear reminder of how fast paced our society moves and how quickly tragedies are forgotten. Gypsy and her three puppies were newsworthy, coverage appearing both on television and in the papers back in September. Their story is a sad one, but in the end it was the cruelty they endured that helped fuel their rescue. Somewhere in Georgia, Gypsy and her pups, were living outside in crates meant for indoors. They were provided little water or food, even during the heat of a Georgia summer. A neighbor residing next to Gypsy and her pups took video footage of the 9 yr old daughter of Gypsy’s owner picking up the pups by their small necks and dropping or tossing them to the ground. The footage also captured the girl hitting the top of the cage where Gypsy cowered, with a big stick as well as yelling and screaming at her and pups. To say that this child had not been taught how to handle animals properly would be an enormous understatement. In my experience, children emulate what they see adults do so I believe this child’s actions represent what these animals endured from most of the humans in their lives. After taping the footage, the neighbor posted it on youtube hoping it would get the authorities attention, and luckily it did. After authorities intervened and media pressure mounted the mother of the girl agreed to surrender Gypsy and her pups to Fulton County Animal Services where they were brought and put up for adoption. Unbelievably though they sat at the shelter for three weeks in Georgia and Gypsy nor her pups found a home. Having seen all of them in person, I am personally shocked because they are some of the most adorable dogs I’ve ever seen, who can resist a puppy anyway? In the south where kill rates in shelters are incredibly high, any dog older then 10 weeks old really doesn’t stand a chance and Gypsy and her pups are a perfect example of that. Luckily the media attention also caught the eye of Fred Acker the Director of the CT SPCA located in Monroe, and he offered to take in Gypsy, her pups and approximately 25 other dogs from the Fulton County Shelter. Transportation to CT was made possible by Southern Hope Humane Society out of Atlanta.

So off Gypsy and her pups went on their 1,100 mile journey to Monroe where they were not only greeted with open arms and kind words, but also by reporters and cameras from Channel 3, Fox 61, and Channel 8 news. This little family of four was as good as in a new home, or so all of the staff and volunteers at the SPCA thought. Actually it was true for Gypsy’s pups, who all found great homes that weekend, but unfortunately Gypsy herself wasn’t so lucky. She was very sick when she first arrived so it was good that she had some time to be treated and recover from her poor health, but as the weeks went by and the buzz died down both Gyspy and her ordeal seemed to be forgotten by the public who just weeks earlier was so interested in her story. Here we are now in February at the start of new year, Gypsy has spent the holidays and the cold days of winter at the SPCA continuing to wait for her forever family to come for her. It is truly heartbreaking as a volunteer to watch this same scenario happen time and time again- people rush in for puppies and walk right past the mothers leaving them behind, both puppyless and homeless. Gypsy is a wonderful dog- sweet, attentive and willing to please, she is a beautiful brindle and white and her size is perfect at approximately 50 pounds. Her only issue is that she does not like other dogs, which may have stemmed from protecting her pups while they lived outdoors. However, with a dedicated owner and the proper training Gypsy may be able to overcome her issue with other canines. But one thing is for sure- we’ll never know while she is sitting in the shelter! For a full story on Gypsy and her pups check out the article in the Monroe Courier titled, “Abused dogs in a better place,” or you can look up the you tube video which was labeled “Young female Michael Vick abusing pitbull puppies.” And if you are that special person out there who thinks they can give Gypsy the wonderful home and life she deserves, please contact Fred at CT SPCA at 203-445-9978 or via email at TSVSI@aol.com. Thank you for reading this article. Nicole Giannetta

“Sheltering an Animal’s Perspective”
by
Gregory M. Simpson

If you love cats - all cats - you need to know about these letters – TNR. They stand for Trap-Neuter-Return and represent the most humane steps to assisting feral cats. But what is a feral cat?

The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) defines feral cats as the offspring of lost or abandoned pet cats or other feral cats that are not spayed or neutered. They are not accustomed to contact with people and are typically too fearful and wild to be handled. They also do not easily adapt or may never adapt to living as companion animals. A stray cat, by contrast, is a lost or abandoned pet cat. Strays are used to people, are tame, and may be reunited with their families or adopted into new homes.

Thousands of feral cats live in Connecticut; perhaps as many as 300,000 – 400,000 according to the Animal Welfare Federation of Connecticut (AWFCT). At a Connecticut conference on feral cats sponsored by HSUS and the Petco Foundation, Bryan Kortis, executive director of Neighborhood Cats in New York City (www.neighborhoodcats.org), offered wryly, “In Connecticut, you’re like a lot of people; running around with teacups trying to empty the ocean.” With so many feral cats, clearly a widespread application of a proven method is needed.

TNR basics consist of humane trapping (the “T”), spaying or neutering with a vaccination minimally for rabies and typically ear tipping for identification (the “N”), and the return to the colony from which the cat came (the “R”). Daily monitoring of food, shelter, illness, and trapping of new arrivals is the work of a long-term caretaker. This monitoring constitutes the additional unsaid letter “M” after TNR.

Besides caring about cats’ welfare, there are public health reasons to promote TNR. Remember that all of these issues were present with feral cats prior to TNR. The approach does not cause these public health concerns. They would still be there without it.

Since feral cats interact with raccoons which are the most common vector wildlife for rabies (along with bats and skunks), it is important that feral cats be vaccinated against this disease.
Kortis notes that since 1975 there has not been a single case of a person contracting rabies from a cat, however.

Cats that are spayed/neutered, vaccinated, and monitored do not present the same nuisance issues such as the caterwauling due to fighting and mating, the strong smell from unaltered males spraying to mark their territory, and the deadly, emaciated or sickly animals seen in non-maintained colonies.

With TNR, experience shows that a colony with a 70% spay/neuter rate will exhibit stabilized numbers. Once a 90% spay/neuter rate is reached, colony attrition is fairly assured.

Connecticut was the first state to award grants to feral cat groups for the purpose of spay/neuter, through its Department of Agriculture. Connecticut is also the state with the lowest euthanasia rate, however largely because most animal control officers and many private shelters do not take in feral cats. In the rare instances where they are picked up, they are typically euthanized. So what are the options when finding feral cats in one’s community?

There are four approaches for addressing feral cats. The most prevalent is to do nothing. Another is to trap and remove the cats, but that usually amounts to a death sentence, since finding alternative living arrangements such as barns are rare. Even with relocation that necessitates a three week confinement to assimilate cats to a new territory, only slightly better than two-thirds of cats typically will stay on site. Thus, trap and remove usually means trap, remove and euthanize. Even then, unless one is willing to pay a significant amount of money for trapping, removal and euthanasia, there is no one who will do it. In addition, it’s difficult and time consuming to catch all the cats in an area. What usually happens is some cats are left behind and they, along with any new cats which show up, quickly repopulate the area.

The third approach is a legislated feeding ban, based on the thinking that removing the food source will lead to feral cat attrition. This is universally unsuccessful, however, since it is impossible to prevent caring people from feeding hungry cats. Cats also will not leave an area that has provided food and shelter, because cats are territorial. Regarding feeding bans, Kortis asks legislators, “Can you pass an amendment that it won’t rain on Sundays? Because that will be as effective.”

The fourth, and only humane approach, is TNR.

TNR needs to be a community-wide approach and not limited to one site in order to be most effective. Otherwise, as the size of a colony declines, it’s possible that unaltered ferals from adjoining territories will move in to take advantage of the extra food and shelter. Roger Tabor, in his book, The Wild Life of the Domestic Cat, first documented this “vacuum effect” which occurs when ferals are removed or eliminated from a location only to be quickly replaced by new cats.

Using a community-wide approach was successfully demonstrated in Newburyport, Massachusetts, which went from three hundred feral cats on its waterfront to six. On Rikers Island in New York City, Neighborhood Cats, working with other groups, noted a 50% decrease in the population over the course of five years through adoption of friendly strays and sterilization of feral cats.

TNR is not new. The practice goes back to at least the 1950s in Great Britain. In the U.S., Ellen Perry Berkeley wrote the first extensive report on neuter and release in Cat Fancy. This 1984 article was entitled, “Controlling Feral Cats.” She has also written two books on the subject, Maverick Cats: Encounters with Feral Cats and TNR Past, Present and Future: A History of the Trap-Neuter-Return Movement.

Those helping feral cats share two purposes: reducing the number of feral cats over time and humanely treating feral cats. A secondary goal of maximizing colony caretaker participation is also essential. Optimum is having a statewide feral cat council. Since Connecticut already has the statewide Animal Welfare Federation of Connecticut (AWFCT), this is a reachable goal. The council should include not only feral cat advocates, but also members of the wildlife community, public health agencies, and animal rescue groups and shelters. An excellent model is the New York City Feral Cat Council (www.nycferalcat.org), part of the Mayor’s Alliance for New York City’s Animals. Other models include those in San Diego (feralcat.com) and Seattle (feralspayneuter.org). Kortis counsels, “Being a feral cat caretaker means also being a community activist.”

For more on TNR, contact HSUS (www.hsus.org/feralcats) and the ASPCA (www.aspca.org), the two largest U.S. animal advocacy organizations. Other resources include Alley Cat Allies (www.alleycat.org) and these advocacy organizations: www.azcats.org and www.petsforlife.org For veterinarians in your area that spay/neuter feral cats, contact SPAY/USA at 1-800-248-SPAY or Friends of Animals at 1-800-321-PETS.

Feral and stray cats produce about 80% of the kittens born each year. They are the principal source of cat overpopulation. Address cat overpopulation at its source by both effectively and humanely aiding feral cats through TNR.

For the animals, Gregory M. Simpson

Gregory Simpson’s animal welfare involvement spans over 25 years, having provided leadership for several Connecticut organizations, as well as having served as state advisor to the national Friends of Animals. Chosen by CAT FANCY magazine as one of the ultimate cat lovers in the U.S., he is also a member of the Cat Writers’ Association.


Castle Runs

David Radcliffe Part 2 – Continued from our February Issue

On the northern, back side of the hill, the last ½ mile to the Castle didn’t get the memo about Spring. The road, clear until that point, was still covered with ½ foot of snow and ice. This part is shaded with trees, and the sun doesn’t reach this side until much later in the day.

I was good and warm by the top, and took off my shirt on the way down. Parts of the walk down the front side of the Castle were in a deep, cold slush – quite the sensation given how warm the rest of me was.
April 15, 2007

So much for that false spring on my last Castle run. The next 24 hours, so says the news, will deliver one of the largest storms of the past 20 years. It’s not quite cold enough for snow, but there will be a good four or five inches of rain and plenty of howling winds. This has to be the final transition storm of the season, doesn’t it. Spring can’t be more than days away, even though it’s been unusually cold.

In this stew I went up to the Castle. No one else there. When I arrived I sat for a bit and listened to the rain pound the top of the car. In front of my bumper were two geese. If geese can look glum, these were some glum geese. They were just standing there in a puddle, looking very sad. The wind was stirring up white caps on the reservoir. Raw, but not freezing except on my hands which turned lobster red and got quite stiff with the cold. Incredibly, I ran past a woman who was walking slowly up with no rain gear, only a winter coat which was drenched. This is perfect hypothermia weather, hope she has a good plan to get back down.

Today I only had to survive an hour in the elements, no biggie. Some heavy wet flakes near the top. Meriden was partly visible, but plenty of fog to be sure. On the way down I saw a turkey running – to where? - near the old carriage house. At the bottom, a stocky man with a broad-rimmed hat, umbrella and cigar was walking a dog. He took a look at me, shook his head and said, “You’re crazy.”
May 31, 2007

My plan for my May run up to the Castle was to do it under a full moon. Today would have been a full moon, and I’m sure under the overcast sky it was. There were less than five hours left to May, however, so to get in my monthly run I couldn’t wait for another May day.

Left at about 7:30 p.m. The sky was somewhat bright, as the cloud ceiling was still high. There were rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightening. There was rain, but it wasn’t steady. I carried a flashlight with me, which I ended up not using. I know the way very well. Saw a fox at the start of the reservoir, and came within a foot or two of squishing some fist-sized frogs on the hill up to the Castle. Comfortable evening after a day that hinted of the summer to come. At the top, a fuzzy light haze hung over the city, with lights popping on all over in anticipation of dark. Surprised on the way down to see the work underway to renovate the carriage house – I stood looking at it for several minutes as the rain picked up. This construction in the middle of the woods seemed so out of place. There was now some new clearing so you could see up to the Castle and some of Meriden below. Looks really cool.

The darkening woods don’t bother me at all, I’m comfortable there. As the night settled around me I reached my car, the last in the lot.
June 20, 2007

I wasn’t particularly inspired to run up to the Castle today, but run up it I did. I didn’t have my contact lenses in – my right eye has been bothering me – so I hand-held my glasses, which were too sweaty and slippery to wear. So I didn’t get to see much detail on my way up. And I was hungry. I didn’t have much of a breakfast, and my lunch of peppermint patties wasn’t giving me much of a boost.

The run was pleasant enough, warm but not hot with a touch of humidity. The tree-lined road was much more leaf-covered than last time, with only a small bit of light reaching the forest floor. It was a dark, lush tunnel of green. And with the recent passing of a weather front, it was a very crisp and clear look. I ran the whole way up without stopping, but I wasn’t thinking much at all about the run itself. I thought only about my irritated eye and my labored breathing.
July 18, 2007

I ran up to the Castle today, my 7th consecutive month. There was a steady rain – not heavy, but very even and persistent. I was struck by the noise of the traffic from I-691 on this early day, but noticed by the time I reached the southern end of the reservoir that the sound of the rain won over the hum of cars. There were few people, and they all had umbrellas. By the time I reached the far end of the pond I felt like the entire 1000 acres were all mine.

My run was fair, not the best but very steady, like the rain. By the top the rain was heavier, and as in earlier runs this year Meriden was completely covered by thick clouds. Beyond the Castle, there was nothing.

I continued down the front path of the Castle. Just past the old carriage house, I walked and noticed a person 100 feet off the trail with a small black umbrella, baseball hat and camera tripod. It was Bob Pagini, the noted local carpenter, photographer, and man of the outdoors. This isn't the first time I've run into him at odd times at the park. He, like me, goes to the park when no one else does. A couple of years ago I ran up on a very icy and white morning. There was just one set of tracks in the snow - those of Bob! Today I followed him back down a trail - a new one to me - that an 'old timer' had shown him some years ago. I doubt anyone but Bob knows about it, and now me, but I can keep a secret.

August 18, 2007

Castle run tonight. I went up with my wife Chauce. Not exactly a romantic way to celebrate our anniversary of last week, but a run up this hill sure reminded us that we were alive! We started about 6 p.m., and already the sun was low in the sky. By the time we reached the top, it was at tree level. And what a feel today! A wild storm and cold front came through last night, erasing weeks of heat and humidity. Today was cool and comfortable, and the sky was so clear it was easy to make out Long Island sound from the top of the hill.

It was a very quiet run, but for our chatting and footsteps. The woods were still, but for a chorus of crickets that followed us up. And Chauce felt surrounded by squirrels, squirrels that she swore were throwing acorns at her. The water in the reservoir was glass-still, broken only by a sudden water bug of one kind or another.

When the hill started it’s steepest climb I ran up ahead, easily and with power. It felt really good. I didn’t have to wait long for Chauce at the top. She was huffing and puffing, but did an awesome job.

September 8, 2007
Castle run today. Chauce and I ran together again, leaving at about 8:00 a.m. Construction well-under way for the new playscape at the parking lot.

Even at the early hour there were good numbers of people on the road. Some had to have left fairly early to be as far along as they were.

The running today was sluggish. The weather has a summer day beach feel to it, very warm and humid. Still, summer’s days are numbered. Already there were some leaves of color on the road. And the cliff along the reservoir had a certain golden look to it as dots of early autumn color begin to overtake summer green. At the northern end of the reservoir there was a small batch of white and grey birch trees, leading the charge to Fall with brilliant yellow leaves. I saw some beech trees too with yellowing leaves. That made me wonder if trees near the front of the alphabet start things off for the season. I got excited the more I thought about this, but my research hit a giant pothole when around the corner on the steep hill I saw a rouge sugar maple, already apple red. Oh well.

Breezy at the top and crickets were noisy. A few minutes later Chauce came along. We sat together and caught our breath, then went back down the front side of the Castle, walking carefully over loose traprock.

First Lady Laura Bush, the news told this morning, is having surgery similar to mine – she has a piece of bone pushing into her spine, neck-high. Similar symptoms.
October 2, 2007

It was downright cold this morning at the start of my Castle run. I was in shorts because I have faith in the sun, but wore long sleeves because I also had some doubt. I started by walking a bit, arms crossed and shivering. There were, as most days, several dog walkers on the road. Today they were all returning to the lot which made me wonder if I was heading in the right direction.

Fall was about 50% upon Hubbard Park, plenty of green still deep into October now. Lots of lemon-lime reflected in the reservoir. Very quiet and still day, some renegade crickets and an occasional bird chirp.

The run was good until the last 1/2 mile, then I ran out of gas. I was really hammering up until that point, but I guess my mini-dinner last night and tiny breakfast today caught up to me. Remember that Bill Cosby commercial back in the mid-70s, where there are a bunch of kids on the gym floor pretending they're cars? Then they start to sputter and conk out because they hadn't had breakfast. That was me. But it was good, and when I reached the top I wished I'd had a chair so I could sit there all day and watch the world below.

October 21, 2007
What a day today, the weather is outstanding! A sky as blue as blue can be. And while the leaves really haven’t changed much for this time of year, there’s just enough variety to really make for a striking scene, a sort of rusty gold. The paper today reported that there’s a sense that leaves are not quite as colorful this year, perhaps due to increasingly warmer Falls like the one before us. The trees need some cold to really change deeply. So we’re seeing more green to brown and on the ground, in terms of leaf changing. On the other hand, says the Vermont Tourist Bureau, these naysayers are just nostalgic and that the colors today are as good as ever. No matter your perspective, it was a good day for a Castle run.

Today, there were no paths less traveled by in Hubbard Park. With this weather and 75 degree temps, there are gobs of people out and about. Dog walkers. Picture takers. Bike riders. And drivers, plenty of them – a veritable parade of cars up to the top to leaf peep. This day is easily the busiest of all the days I’ve run the Castle this year.

I ran well today. Near the top, a car slowed next to me and the driver said, ‘Did you really run all this way?’ Between breaths I replied, ‘Yes, sir, I did.’

November 12, 2007
Cold, grey day today. I didn’t have a high level of motivation to run up to the Castle. No work what with Veteran’s Day, and the kids were home from schools. Hanging out. Woodstove toasty warm. Still, my mountain awaited me.

It was in the high 30s when I started, calm. Not many people at the park today except for workers on the new playscape, which since I was last there has sprouted up many supports and platforms that will next Spring be busy with kids. I wore long running pants and shirt today, with a hat. Wish I’d had gloves the first mile. My eyeballs were cold too.

Still a surprising number of leaves up in the trees given the calendar. In some spots there were still more in the trees than on the ground. Dull colors mixed with vibrant golds. Ran lightly around the back of the reservoir, where I could smell someone else’s woodstove at work. The woods were dry. The reservoir was several feet below normal level. And the squirrels hopping about on the dry leaves on the forest floor made loud crunching sounds, making the little creatures sound more like giant black bears.

Turning the corner to the top is never easy, and today was, well, not easy. I didn’t have much energy and my lungs were really heaving, maybe some from the cold air. I became aware of the thumping of my heart and really wanted to stop and go back home. But on I chugged to the top. When there, I laid down on a cold rock to let my breathing catch up.

December 8, 2007
Last night left an inch of ice and snow in Hubbard Park. I know, because I was in it. The paper reported 64 accidents in Meriden. I was almost one of them, doing an unintentional 360 near Maloney High, on my way to pick up my son from track practice. We live just under two miles from there, and I’m not kidding it took a full two hours to get home.

But all was peaceful in the park today. It was just 40 degrees, but it felt balmy compared to the artic cold we’ve had the past week or so.

The going wasn’t easy today – my 12th month of Castle runs in a row - so I took it slow to the Castle. At the top there were two others there, hikers. That explains some of the footprints I saw on my way up.

The snow isn’t much for keeping secrets. You can tell a lot about who – or what – passed this way by looking at the tracks left behind. Looks like at least a dozen people had trekked out along the reservoir by mid-morning. Several dogs. And tracks from raccoon, squirrels and a deer or two. Quite a busy morning all told. It’s amazing to think about all of the people who’ve traveled this way over the centuries. People long gone, before the park was even a gleam in Hubbard’s eye. And imagine over the next million tomorrows just how many more – many not yet born - will also come this way.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Today, more than a year and a half since my surgery, my neck is fine and I feel great overall. There is a slight line where the incision was to remind me. After the experience of the surgery and these Castle runs, I’ve settled on three take-home messages. The first is that Hubbard Park is quite a great place. If you haven’t been out there lately, go. And if you haven’t made it up to the top under your own power to look out over Meriden and beyond, do it, at least once in your life.

Second, the experience with the neck and this year of Castle runs through all the seasons gave me pause to remember the good in life and to savor the 80-90 seasons we each have on this Earth. Make the best of those.

Finally, if you’re ever driving up to the Castle and see me running up, will you offer me a ride? Please?


MY WALK IN THE WOODS- Part 2 of 3
By Bob Fowler

In 1999 I began to think about my retirement that was coming up in spring of the coming year. I would think of what this new chapter in my life would bring. I knew that it would afford me more time to do a lot of projects around home that I had put off. I knew it would allow me to spend more time with my grandchildren and family. It would also give me more time to go skiing and fishing. I started to think of other things to do and one of them was to hike the Appalachian Trail.

The Appalachian Trail is a foot path marked by white painted 2” X 6” rectangles called blazes, it starts in the mountains of northern Georgia passing through fourteen states as it follows the Appalachian Mountains north ending in Maine. Its total length is 2170 miles.

In 1987 I had read an article about the Appalachian Trail, in National Geographic magazine. I wrote to the Appalachian Trail Conference and requested information on hiking the Appalachian Trail. I received a pamphlet called, “Walking the Appalachian Trail, Step by Step”. Reading the pamphlet ignited a spark, but the spark soon faded. I filed the pamphlet away, but whenever I would come across it I would read it again and the spark would once again glow. Hiking the trail from one end to the other in one season is called a thru-hike and each year 1,500 folks start out to do a thru-hike but only about 300 succeed.

My son in law and his brother were backpackers. They had asked me to go on overnight hikes with them several times. I declined to go because I had little of the required equipment for overnight camping. One day I purchased a backpack at a tag sale thinking that I could acquire the rest of the needed equipment and if I was asked again, I could go. They asked me to go hiking over the Columbus Day weekend and I accepted. I pieced together what gear I had and borrowed the rest from them. We hiked in southern Maine, sleeping out under the stars for two nights- I was hooked.

I thought more and more about hiking the AT after I retired. I bought hiking boots and started to take local hikes to break them in. I started to read books about hiking the AT and also brought a video about thru-hiking. I wondered if this was something that I could do. During the summer of 1999 I decided that I would attempt an AT hike after I retired. I told my wife, Donna, about my plan but I don’t think she realized the true impact of me hiking the AT. When Christmas came I asked for the additional equipment I would need. A tent, new sleeping bag, backpacking stove, water purifier and other hiking equipment. I set April 17, 2000 as my starting date. I purchased an airline ticket to Atlanta.

I retired in March and spent most of my time getting ready. I took local hikes with my pack loaded with everything I would be taking. I practiced setting up my tent. I would pack and repack my gear until I felt I had everything I would need and was ready to go. I was ready to start my adventure. I considered it an adventure that would be for a duration that was unknown to me. I did not know how long I could endure being on the trail and away from my wife and family. I decided that I would hike until I could not do it physically or got tired of my adventure.

Donna and her friend Peggy drove me to the airport. I kissed my wife goodbye and told her I would call her when I could and that I would be careful. I arrived in Atlanta and took a train to Gainesville, Georgia. I checked into a motel and spent a restless night. In the morning I hired a taxi to drive me to Amacola Falls state park. At 7:30 on April 18, 2000 I started walking the 10 miles up Springer Mountain to where the AT starts.

I began to wonder, had I made the right decision, is this going to be something that I would like, would it be too physically demanding, could I endure not having the daily contact with my wife and family. These were the thoughts going through my mind as I hiked to the top of Springer Mountain.

The days that followed were full of seeing new sights, meeting new people and experiencing the trail. It became a vast learning experience not only about backpacking but also about myself. It became a new way of life for me and I found it enjoyable. We would sit around our camp, after the day was over, discussing the events of the day. I soon learned that we were all experiencing the same joy and hardships and we were all on the same learning curve. It was hard work but rewarding. I commented, “Hiking the AT was the hardest job I ever had.” I decided I loved what I was doing and would stick with my hike as long as I could.

Most folks who hike the AT for any length of time tend to leave the real world off the trail behind them. For many it becomes a new life for one reason or another. Most hikers give up their real name and identify and adopt a new name. It’s like a nickname but is referred to as your trail name. I decided to be known as “Grampie” it is what my grand kids call me and I did that, sort of, in their honor.

I met hikers of all ages. I met a young boy 17 years old. He entered Columbia University at the age of 15. I met him carving on a stick. I asked him what he was making and he said a spoon. “I forgot to bring one.” He became known as Craftsman. I hiked with a hiker from New Zealand. He had a business back home, making woodenware including spoons. He took the trail name of Spoonman. I met an Indian woman who was called Woods Walker. Some folks pick their own trail name and others are assigned one. It doesn’t matter what age, gender or what you did before. The AT has a way of making all equal. Eventually you fall into hiking with the same group of people. They hike at the same pace as you and at the day’s end you camp at the same spot. As you talk you begin to learn more and more about these new friends and long lasting friendships develop.

Everything was going good. I had hiked for over 100 miles. One day after hiking some hard uphills my knees started to bother me. It became worse and worse. I realized that it was something more than just doing too much. When I reached Fontana Village, I took a day off from walking. My knees didn’t feel any better. I decided to go into a near by town and see a doctor. I found a clinic and saw a doctor. He thought that my problem was from overuse and gave me a prescription for some medicine. I took the pills and rested for two more days. I decided to try and hike again. The section I was about to enter was the Smokey Mountains National Park. Access from the trail is limited and the next road crossing would be 40 miles away. I knew if I had a problem and had to leave the trail It would be difficult . I started back into the woods. My knees hurt as bad as before. I sat down on a rock to decide what to do. All the friends that I had been hiking with had gone ahead. I would not be able to catch up with them. I had tears in my eyes. I would have to leave the trail and give up what I had learned to love.

After returning home I saw an orthopedic doctor. He examined me, took X-rays and sent me for a MRI. The results were that I had a bad stress fracture in my left leg. The pain in my knees, he thought, was caused by overuse. He said that the stress fracture would heal in six weeks and that the knee pain would go away with time. I rested for six weeks. My daily thoughts were of the AT. I missed it a lot and I was hoping to get back out hiking.

That didn’t happen. My knees still hurt and I was not able to walk any distance without pain. I went back to the doctor. He took new X-rays and said the fracture looked fine. He now thought that I had arthritis in my knees. He prescribed physical therapy. My daughter Amy is a therapist so she prescribed an exercise program to straighten the muscles that support my knees. I also started to take glucosamine and chondroitin. I also would swim a lot. By fall my knees were feeling better. I decided to finish the AT in Connecticut.

With a new feeling of hope I began to make plans to return to the trail the next April. Hiking the AT was in my blood. I continually thought of it. It is hard to explain what is so addictive about hiking the AT. It is just something that if you like it, it becomes an addicted desire. I became addicted. I knew that I had to return to try and finish or at least give it another try. I would continue from were I left off. I still had 2000 more miles to go.

On April 9, 2001 I flew into Knoxville, Tenn., got picked up at the airport and returned to Fontana and resumed my hiking north. I passed the spot where I had stopped before. I paused and was thankful to be back again.

My plan was to hike short days and taking a day off from hiking to rest every five days or so to allow my body to get back into hiking shape. While on the trail, a day not hiking is referred to a “0” day. I hiked that day to the first camping area. A shelter five miles from where I started. It was quite warm for early April. The leaves were not on the trees yet. I had set up my tent and was talking to some other hikers when a tall somewhat overweight guy came hiking in. He introduced himself as “Texas Jack, Dallas fire department retired”. This was the start of a long friendship.

The AT passes near several towns that are accessible from the trail. Most of these “trail towns” offer services that hikers need. Many have inexpensive motels or hostels that you can stay in. A hiker will usually go into these towns to buy food, supplies, wash cloths, take a shower, sleep in a soft bed, eat a meal or two and stop at a Post Office to get or send mail and make phone calls to those back home. Depending on the distance between these towns I would do this every four to seven days. Arriving into town in late afternoon doing what had to be done and leaving town the next morning or spend two nights and take a “0” day to rest. As you progress along, on your hike, you begin to plan around and look forward to going into trail towns.

Texas Jack and I just sort of fell in to hiking together. His plan was to hike the AT to lose some weight and to get into better physical shape. He had started at Springer Mountain and had hiked 170 miles when I met him. We would hike together sometimes I would break camp and leave before he did but he would soon catch up to me and we would hike together. He was quite knowledgeable about the outdoors. He knew about birds, flowers, wild plants and much more. As we walked he would comment on what was around us. He had many stories about his life and his experiences as a firefighter. His tales would entertain me for hours as we walked together.

A typical day on the trail would go like this; wake soon after sunrise, have something to eat for breakfast, pack up my gear, decide on a destination and start hiking. In a good day I would cover 10 to 14 miles stopping along the way to rest, enjoy the views, eat a snack or get water. Reaching my destination around four in the afternoon, set up my tent, get water, clean up as well as I could and cook some supper. Sometimes there would be a campfire to sit around and talk to others about the day’s hike and what was ahead. As it began to get dark most hikers would turn in for the night. I found that I was easily sleeping 10 hours each night. This process went on day after day. Seeing new sights, meeting new people and experiencing the wonders of the AT.

Along the trail, every 8 to 12 miles there is a camping area with what is known as a shelter. A shelter is nothing more than a three sided, roofed platform where six to 12 hikers can sleep out of the weather. It’s first come first serve and during bad weather they fill up fast. I would try to sleep in a shelter if the weather was wet. I hated to put up my tent in the rain and pack it up wet in the morning. It was normal for me to sleep in my tent. I sometimes snore and upset others if I was in a shelter.

I had been hiking for five days and needed to go into town to resupply. I was at Newfound Gap, the highest part of the whole AT, a met a guy hiking with his son. The weather was cold rain that soon turned to sleet. He offered Texas Jack and I a ride into the town of Gatlinburg and we accepted. Jack and I shared a motel room. Quite a few other hikers were also staying at the motel. We took showers, went to the laundrymat and had a nice supper. We had decided to take a “0” day the next day. Gatlinburg is a real tourist town. It reminded me a lot of Lake George. We spent our day walking around town and checking out the sights. It was a sunny warm spring day. We made arrangements to have a taxi take us back up the mountain to the trail. We called to be picked up and were told that the road up the mountain was closed because of heavy snow and would probably open later in the day. I called back around noon and was told that the road was still closed due to a bus sliding off. We ended up renting a room again and spending another night. We talked to some hikers who had come down into town that day and they told us there was 8” of snow in the mountains. The taxi picked us the next morning at 7. He drove us the fifteen miles to the trail to a winter surprise. It was about 20 degrees, snow on the ground and the wind blowing. We took refuge in a rest room and put on all the warm cloths we had and started to hike. Our destination was a shelter five miles away. Hiking was difficult. Snow would be knocked from the trees by your pack and would fall over you. The marked trail was hard to follow and the footing was slick. We reached the shelter, Ice Water Spring, in mid afternoon. The temperature was falling. I found a spot in the shelter, took off as much of my wet cloths as I could and got into my sleeping bag. It was the coldest night I would spend on the AT. It was 8 degrees in the morning. The cloths that I hung to dry had frozen and my boots were also rock solid from being wet the previous day. I did not want to get out of my sleeping bag and have to put on cold damp clothes.

The weather soon changed and all the snow melted after a couple of days. The tempeture climbed into the 70s, spring finally arrived in the Smokey Mountains. I learned a lesson, it doesn’t matter how bad it can get, it will soon improve.

We hiked along daily clicking off the miles. Walk for 4 or 5 days, go into a town, resupply, have a couple of good meals, clean up yourself and gear, sleep in a soft bet and call the loved ones back home to let them know how you were doing. The longest time I ever went between phone calls was six days. Now and then I would find an Internet connection and send e-mails to some of my friends. I had settled well into this life of a nomad. I had left behind all the cares of everyday life away from the trail. I was enjoying myself on the adventure of my lifetime.

Texas Jack was having a problem with his boots coming apart. He called the store in Texas he had brought them from and they said they would replace them with a new pair.

He had them shipped to a post office in a town up the trail we would reach in about a week. Jack went in to town and picked up his new boots. Walking with the new boots, not broken in, caused some severe blisters on Jack’s feet. He was having a bad time. I could tell that he was not enjoying himself. He started to talk about leaving the trail and going back to Texas. We had hiked a difficult day, a lot of ups and downs his feet were really bothering him. To top it off we got caught in a downpour. We got soak and wet. We arrived at a full shelter and had to tent in the rain. The weather cleared during the night. In the morning Jack was not stirring in his tent. I went over and asked him if he was all right. He said,”Grampie I’ve had enough. I’m going home.” I thought that he would change his mind and I would see him up the trail. I packed up my gear and headed out. We had hiked together for ten weeks and I didn’t believe what he was saying. I hiked all day without seeing him. I camped that night and some other hikers that we knew, told me that he hiked to the next road and got a ride into town and was going home. It saddened me to lose my hiking buddy. I had enjoyed the time we had spent together but I understood. The enjoyment of a thru-hike had faded for him. He had had enough.



EARTH TALKFrom the Editors of E/The Environmental Magazine

Dear EarthTalk: What is the impact of all the littering that individuals do, largely from their cars and on highways? What can I do to help clean it up? How can we strengthen laws to prevent it?
-Won’t litter in Norwalk,CT

Environmentalists consider litter a nasty side effect of our convenience-oriented disposable culture. Just to highlight the scope of the problem, California alone spends $28 million a year cleaning up and removing litter along its roadways. And once trash gets free, wind and weather move it from streets and highways to parks and waterways. One study found that 18 percent of litter ends up in rivers, streams and oceans.
Cigarette butts, snack wrappers and take-out food and beverage containers are the most commonly littered items. Cigarettes are one of the most insidious forms of litter: Each discarded butt takes 12 years to break down, all the while leaching toxic elements such as cadmium, lead and arsenic into soil and waterways.

The burden of litter cleanup usually falls to local governments or community groups. Some U.S. states, including Alabama, California, Florida, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Texas and Virginia, are taking strong measures to prevent litter through public education campaigns, and are spending millions of dollars yearly to clean up. British Columbia, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland also have strong anti-litter campaigns.

Keep America Beautiful (KAB), the group known for its “crying Indian” anti-litter TV ads of bygone days, has been organizing litter clean-ups across the U.S. since 1953. KAB has a strong track record of success in litter prevention, though it has been accused of doing the bidding of its industry founders and supporters (which include tobacco and beverage companies) by opposing many mandatory bottle and can recycling initiatives over the years and downplaying the issue of litter from cigarettes. Nonetheless, 2.8 million KAB volunteers picked up 200 million pounds of litter in KAB’s annual Great American Clean-up last year.

A more grassroots-oriented litter prevention group is Auntie Litter, which started in 1990 in Alabama to help educate students there about the importance of a healthy and clean environment. Today the group works internationally to help students, teachers and parents eliminate litter in their communities.

In Canada, the nonprofit Pitch-In Canada (PIC), founded in the late-1960s by some hippies in British Columbia, has since evolved into a professionally run national organization with a tough anti-litter agenda. Last year 3.5 million Canadians volunteered in PIC’s annual nationwide Cleanup Week.

Doing your part to keep litter to a minimum is easy, but it takes vigilance. For starters, never let trash escape from your car, and make sure household garbage bins are sealed tightly so animals can’t get at the contents. Always remember to take your garbage with you upon leaving a park or other public space. And if you’re still smoking, isn’t saving the environment a compelling enough reason to finally quit? Also, if that stretch of roadway you drive everyday to work is a haven for litter, offer to clean it up and keep it clean. Many cities and towns welcome “Adopt-A-Mile” sponsors for particularly litter-prone streets and highways, and your employer might even want to get in on the act by paying you for your volunteer time.CONTACTS: Keep America Beautiful, www.kab.org; Auntie Litter, www.auntielitter.org; Pitch-In Canada, www.pitch-in.ca.

GOT AN ENVIRONMENTAL QUESTION? Send it to: EarthTalk, c/o E/The Environmental Magazine, P.O. Box 5098, Westport, CT 06881; submit it at: www.emagazine.com/earthtalk/thisweek/, or e-mail: earthtalk@emagazine.com. Read past columns at: www.emagazine.com/earthtalk/archives.php.

Inspiration Monday
PART TWO-Katrina S. Axelrod

“They prove their mousey worth, to overthrow the Earth, their dinky, they’re Pinky and the Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain…”
Two little lab mice, plotting to overthrow the Earth. Pinky, the blissfully-unaware-of-the wider-circumstances-mouse and Brain, the EE-VIIL, resentful mouse who plans are no less than world domination. I adored that cartoon when my kids were little and watching it. Someone with more-than–enough-whimsy had the Brain character voiced as ’Citizen-Cane’-voiced Orson Wells. It was just delightful.
I am supposing that many people who read this read it at work. And, aren’t supposed to spend a lot of time doing reading the internet. This makes for great reading but no doing.OK, jeg forstor, as we say in Norwegian, I understand.
But, truly, our attitudes are crucial to making positive changes, so the whole read/do dichotomy isn’t so important. It is what we do when we know is right for young people and making sure that we do it when the opportunity arises.
I’d love to start an e-mail list of people who would like to receive a bumper-sticker for heartsinthearts.com but that won’t be to successful, the logistics won’t work out to anyone’s easy benefit.
So, I propose this, let’s do it by town. Is your town Arts-Friendly? Mine is to a degree and well, it will be in a few more years. Patience—oooh—oohhh, Ick. Need something else.
School-by school? Superintendent by Superintendent? Board of Ed by Board of Ed? I suspect that that would be a ‘busman’s holiday’- doing the same s thing on your free time as you do at work. Nope, that won’t do, either.
No, I think it boils down to our State legislators- the House and Senate. Some of you just froze up. No, no storming the gates of the state capital. Maybe an e-mail to the legislators from home? In Connecticut it is cga.ct.gov . GO visit!
And tell them this: (that means that you can cut and paste for you who would like to do so-)
Dear Legislator- (please put the name here, thanks!)
I am a teacher (administrator, student, parent of a child/children) in the public schools. I love my job and kids. My job is as hard as nails to do, but I love it and am sure that what I am doing is making a positive difference in children’s lives. But you know, something else needs to happen. We need to increase the number of Arts programs in the public schools and enhance the programs that we do have, in order to teach our children the innovation, creativity and forward-thinking that our nation needs right now. They just aren’t receiving enough brain training in creativity and innovation in our current curriculums. Besides that, the Arts can be combined with any other subject, and we can have some very good teaching and learning in interactive, interdisciplinary subjects and programs.

A Schematic
Supporting more Arts programs and Arts Education will teach creativity and innovation. For your information, heartsintherts.com will be leading an effort to convince our State that the lack of enough Arts programs is hurting our children’s creativity, innovation and inspiration. Nothing teaches these as well as the Art, Music, Dance and other Arts. Please support efforts to increase funding to Arts programs in the Connecticut public schools from pre-K to our CSU system. Please visit heartsinthearts.com, to read more about why it has over 1,700 hits in just a few weeks.
It is TIME for creativity, it is time to look to inspiration, it is time to put the Arts back into the public schools so that all of our citizens will be served by the creativity and innovation that the Arts teach our children every day. Thank you very much for your time and attention, Sincerely,
Or, you write your own. But, could you please do it? How about writing a snail mail letter? Did you know that if a legislator gets five letters on a subject, they consider that a lot of mail and start paying attention? It is absolutely true- I worked in a Congressional office for a while- you would be shocked!
So, let’s soften up the ground by writing and telling our legislators that what we want and then those of us who want to, can follow-up with the Education Committee and whatever Committee your/my favorite legislator is on.
It is not just jobs in the Arts, although it is that, it is not just kids singing, playing an instrument and, writing, composing, sculpting, dancing, although it is those, too. It is kids winning over obesity (dance and theatre), it is kids off the streets, it is kids thinking outside the bubble, outside the box, to the innovative, the creative, the scientific, the technical, to achieving to the next level of competence. The kids learning Math in the language of music- it is kids wanting to come to school, it is so much of what we want in our public schools. It is TIME for the Arts in public schools.
OK, the soap box is getting hot- more later!

DIABETES AND ME
By Sil Patterson

“Oh, that’s OK; I know a lot about diabetes; I can deal with it.” I remember thinking and intimating these words to my doctor when, at age “50” I started the rocky road of treating my diabetes. Twenty five years earlier, my blood sugars heightened during pregnancy but leveled out after each of six pregnancies. My beloved father suffered but managed this disease. He made it seem easy. My background as an R.N. also contributed to the assumption that diet alone would be easy to change and I would avert using medication. How naïve; how stupid of me!

I have taken meds throughout the last 25 years, at first starting with oral, then switching to NPH Insulin and Regular insulin injections, then switching to metformin oral med, again switching to NPH and Regular. For a short time I took Avandia before the controversy about its possible complications became public. My feet, ankles and lower legs swelled with fluid so my doctor abruptly stopped this medication. Back to NPH and Regular Insulin injections until my doctors suggested Lantus, a long acting insulin injection along with two separate injections of Novalogue, a fast acting insulin. At the age of 73 I dared to believe I had conquered diabetes. How naïve; how stupid of me! I stay at about 135 or a hemoglobin A1c of 6 to 7). There are a few exceptions to this rule; some are abnormal blood cell aging process, recent blood loss, hemolytic anemia or genetic differences in the hemoglobin molecule. I gave myself 7-8 units of Lantus before breakfast along with a separate injection of 3 units of Novalogue insulin and before supper I gave myself 3-4 units of Novalogue insulin.

Sometimes, you deny or ignore your body reactions and most of all, you don’t want to bother doctors.
That’s how I acted: it was a self defeating and often a dumb way to cope. Often I became sweaty and shaky about 10AM and at first grabbed candy or peanut butter but compensated too much – taking more than enough carbohydrates. Then I started taking a glucerna bar routinely at 9:30 AM to prevent a hypoglycemic attack. When I was able to test my blood sugar during one of these hypoglycemic events, it usually was 60 or above, rarely in the 50’s. My internist made me see the light; she realized that I should not be fighting low blood sugars and that my injections should change. “Don’t you realize that you can die from low blood sugars,” she said.

Only then did I contact my endocrinologist and he has been on the phone with me weekly for the last month. I no longer take fast acting (Novalogue) insulin in the morning and I take less Lantus. However, by afternoon my sugars are approaching the 200 mark so I give myself 3 units of Novalogue insulin before supper. My morning fasting blood sugar is usually at a therapeutic level (from 90 to 110). I am fortunate that I have escaped severe complications so far, but I know that I really have to control my diet, especially with the decrease in injections of insulin. The substitutes for high sugar food often have equal amounts of carbohydrate. It pays to read labels and to study the correct intake of carbs. I’m glad that I love salads. I do take a small glass of wine occasionally and I haven’t seen a rise in blood sugar from it.

I am very grateful for my doctors’ concern and help. I feel much better throughout the morning without the worry of hypoglycemia. I’m also counting my blessings when I can exercise daily. My dog, Chipper, and I walk around the block, the post office or Stop & Shop nearly every day, and really enjoy hiking the paths at Lufberry Park. Diabetes treatment can only be beneficial if I take care of myself and continue to face the changes every day. It’s not easy, but I still think that God and I can deal with it.


The Last 23 Days – The Story of Sir Babe

Little Babe came into the world on Memorial Day, 1996. He was the runt of the litter and had a hard time getting enough milk from his mom, Rocky. Rocky’s humans called him Runter. I first went to see Runter when he was about seven weeks old, and he was so tiny, I was actually afraid to take him home. He had a couple of sisters and a brother, all a normal size, but Runter was very small. I told his owners that I needed to think about it for a while before I made a decision. I waited another week before I went to take a look at him again. I love black cats, and Runter was all black, although in his early days you could clearly see stripes in his fur. (Did you know that all cats are descended from tabbies?) With some hesitation, I picked the little guy up, and decided to take him home. Within a day or two, I renamed him Babe.

At the time I had one long-haired, very large female cat named Kitten. She had spent her first six years as the only cat in my apartment. When I brought Babe into the house, Kitten was not happy, and spit and hissed at him and flung her paws in the air menacingly. She was so large a cat that I was a little worried about Babe. He was so darn cute, and tried to play with Kitten every day, but she would have none of it, and she was kind of mean to him. At one point I was so distraught that I called my vet and asked what I could do. He recommended I give Kitten shots of Valium. I actually went to his office and picked up the needles and Valium, but I never did give her any shots. I just waited. Believe it or not, it took a good six months for Kitten to finally accept this intruder to her home. I thought the day would never arrive, but at last they became friends and started to play with each other. Although Babe had been the tiniest runt of a litter I ever saw, as the days passed he grew more and more until he resembled a sleek panther with strong muscles. He was very athletic and could jump very high indeed. Kitten was so heavy, she had a hard time jumping up onto the bed. I think sometimes she looked at Babe in awe when he was sitting on top of my armoire.

After Babe turned three years old, I started noticing a change in his face. He was getting a mature look. He was also starting to gain a bit of weight, having been neutered quite young, and I guess you could say he was a little bit overweight. However, he was very strong. I could never hold him for more than about 15 seconds when he would start pushing his legs against my body until he was free from my arms. When he was a baby, he would lay on my lap while I was at the computer. I would turn him over on his back and take his two front paws and clap them together saying over and over, “Yea, Babe! Yea, Babe!” It was a little game we played. As he matured, he became very independent and almost always wanted to be outside. He was always my special boy, and I worried about him constantly when he was outside. In the beginning I would walk with him around the circular driveway, making sure he never ran into the street. I was a little overprotective of him, but I worried about his well-being. I hated to leave for the day if I could not get him inside, but sometimes I couldn’t, so I fretted all day about him until I got home again. What is odd is that I never had any concerns for Kitten. She seemed self-sufficient somehow. One day I opened up my back door to the kitchen, and there on the little stoop was Kitten and a big raccoon. Eeeeeekkkk. I don’t even think Kitten noticed, and evidently the raccoon thought she was a relative of his. She was kind of happy-go-lucky with nary a care in the world, whereas Babe was serious and pensive, a more studious fellow.

The seasons came and went, and the years passed. In October 2002, a little sweet kitten came dashing across the greenhouse floor at Vinny’s Home and Garden Showplace, meowing her head off the whole time. I picked her up, and she hugged my neck with her two front paws. It was the cutest thing to experience. I wound up taking her home, “just for the night,” and Belle has been here ever since. Now it was Babe’s turn to be out of sorts. By this time Kitten was 12 and mellow and slow, and she did not seem to mind that yet another cat had joined our household. It took Babe a while to accept Belle into our lives, but before long he discovered he had another cat he could play with, and they would tear around the apartment. I think Babe missed playing, as Kitten was not as active as she once was. I believe Babe knew he was my special boy, and the fact was, he was.

And then one day in August 2004, Kitten was showing signs of distress, like she couldn’t breathe very well. She had been having problems swallowing her food, but she always managed to somehow. She had passed a geriatric exam with flying colors just three months earlier, so I could not imagine what was wrong. My vet was out of town, so an assistant took a look at her and said that she could have a tumor in her throat or many other possibilities. The tests to determine the problem would have cost about $400, and even if they ran the tests, then what? Could I afford to have exploratory surgery done only to find a malignant tumor? I really couldn’t, and my heart of hearts told me that of all the possibilities presented to me, Kitten probably had cancer in her throat. The vet said I could consider euthanasia, but she wasn’t that bad, so I took her home. She did okay for another three weeks, but then one night she was having a rough time and threw up on the bed and also defecated there, and I knew the time was coming. The next morning I made an appointment for the euthanasia at 2:40 that afternoon. Kitten was still okay even at noon. I was making a sandwich, and as I was doing so I could hear her little paws on the floor as she entered the kitchen, as she had done thousands of times before. I threw a piece of meat down on the floor, and she sniffed it, but she did not eat. Around 2:00 she got very uncomfortable and was having a terrible time breathing. I put her into the cat carrier and decided to leave early for her appointment. She was thrashing around in the carrier, and by the time I got to the bottom of the steps, she had passed. Oh, what a sad day that was on September 9th, 2004.

Babe, Belle, and I had to move to a new apartment at the end of November, 2004, and I knew Babe would have to become an indoor cat there (there was no doorway that led directly outside from the second floor). I also had to make a decision whether or not to take my ex-landlady’s cat with me, Mimi, who she had abandoned months earlier. I decided to take her, and this led to another difficult adjustment for Babe. He spent at least two weeks snuggled up inside the back of my sleeper sofa, basically hiding out. I don’t know how he squeezed himself in, but somehow he did. Mimi was in paradise in her new indoor home, having been an outdoor cat for her entire 14 years of life.

I now fast-forward to January of 2006. All three cats had grown to accept one another, and Belle and Babe chased each other from room to room, frequently jumping onto the living room rug and sliding across the floor. Wheeeee! All was well. On January 27th, Babe played with Belle as usual, ate his food as usual, and drank his water as usual. It wasn’t until about 5:00 in the afternoon of January 28th that I suspected something was afoot. I was eating some chicken in the kitchen, and both Mimi and Babe came to the chair to share my dinner. I tossed a little piece to Babe, and he looked at it, and then turned around and left the room. He had never done that before. He had thrown up a tiny bit twice that day, nothing to be concerned about. I thought, “Maybe he has an upset stomach for some reason.” I realized in the next few days that Babe no longer played and was not attempting to jump up on a chair, my bed or sofa (and he never did again). He must have felt dizzy or unsteady. The 23-day vigil had begun, although I did not realize it. The 28th was a Saturday. Babe stopped eating and did not drink any water. By Tuesday I was getting frantic, so I went to the vet. He was already looking dehydrated, his eyes a bit sunken, coat not shiny. The vet took him from Wallingford to Meriden to run some tests, and told me to call back in a couple of hours. I did, and he had bad news. According to the tests, Babe had severe diabetes and kidney failure. What? The only treatment option he could recommend was a 24-hour hospital in New Haven that cost about $1,000 a day, and there was no guarantee they could cure him, so I went to Meriden to make a decision about what to do. They were fully expecting me to say, “Go ahead and put him to sleep.” Instead I asked to see him. So they took me to a large cage in a back room, and there was Babe, not looking too happy. I talked to him, but at the same time I was trying to figure out where his carrier was. I finally spotted it above the cage and dragged it down, and set it inside this very large cage. I opened the door to the carrier and said, “Babe, do you want to go home?” He got up slowly, a bit wobbly, and walked right inside the carrier. There, that was the answer. So we went home.

The vet had not started Babe on IV fluids as he had promised to do, and I was very concerned about his lack of hydration. On the way out of the office the receptionist had given me an eyedropper to try and get some fluids into him. I sat him on my lap and shot this tiny bit of water into his mouth, and he basically gulped it down. I then thought to myself, “Why didn’t you bring a bowl of water over to the table so you could refill the eyedropper? Now I have to get up and put him down again.” So I put Babe down, went to the sink, and to my surprise he walked over to the water dish, and for the first time in three days drank water and kept drinking. He was very wobbly by this time and had a hard time balancing to drink. A diabetic friend of mine had told me that he would get worse because it is almost like being drunk, the sugar level is so high. So I built Babe kind of a tower so that his very own bowl of water was probably a foot off the ground. In a way it was comical to see him walk. I don’t know how he made it from one room to another, but he traversed the entire apartment. Strangely enough, he compensated somehow for his dizziness, which he had to be feeling, and before long he was almost walking like normal. I couldn’t believe it. He used the litter box faithfully, stepping carefully over the edge and then carefully stepping back out. He never missed the box, never had an accident, and never lost his dignity. He did not eat though, and as the days passed, he was losing weight.

I was fortunate indeed that I had very little work that February. I consider it a blessing. I spent many hours a day with Babe, whether lying on the floor beside him, picking him up and putting him on the bed and lying with him or out in the sun room and holding him in my lap and rocking him like a baby. One day while I was rocking him in the sunroom it almost sounded like it was raining because the snow was melting off the roof. Babe turned his head, and in walked Belle. I had not even heard her coming. Babe remained alert to the end, very aware of his surroundings, and he was still purring every time I stroked his little head.

I joined an animal communication forum on Yahoo! on January 30th, the third day Babe did not eat. I received a lot of advice on what to do, whether to have him euthanized or not, what to try to tempt him to eat. I had been crying uncontrollably for days, sobbing in Babe’s presence, when I received some wonderful advice from someone on the forum. She spoke to Babe, and it doesn’t matter to me if you believe this or not, and he told her how much he loved me, but it was making him very sad to see me cry all the time. The communicator asked Babe what he would like me to do, and he said to hold him in my lap and sing to him. The communicator relayed his request and asked me to try very hard not to cry in his presence. This was good. I started singing to him as I held him in my lap, just making up songs about Babe. When pets are dying, they like to be reminded of all the happy times they spent with their people and love to hear how much they are adored and will be remembered. With the help of some members on the forum, I came to trust my instincts, and I knew that Babe wanted to die at home. He was not suffering. I know my pets, and I knew Babe, and he was not suffering. As the time grew closer and closer, his breath was really chemical smelling, but I didn’t care. I held him for hours. Belle and Mimi, although at first were kind of afraid of him and hissing at him, had come to accept the situation, and I often found all three of them curled near one another. Every so often when it was time to eat, all three of them came into the kitchen, and I would put a little something in Babe’s bowl, which of course he never ate. Three days before he died, I got the canned food out of the refrigerator, and he came right over to the open refrigerator door and stood there for some time. I told him I would not forget how he used to come to the refrigerator and look inside. I closed the door and put food in Mimi and Belle’s bowl, and Babe walked right over to his bowl, so I put a little bit in his bowl. He smelled it and looked at it, but he just could not eat it, and that just broke my heart. Babe spent a lot of time under my bed, and I can’t tell you how many times I got down on my knees to check to see if he was still alive and see his head held slightly up, his tail gently swishing, and his ears alert. He never lay fully down with his head on the rug. He was almost in a praying position, is the best way I can describe it.

I knew Babe could not live much longer with no food and all his organs no doubt shutting down. On Sunday evening, February 19th, I was getting ready to go to the store for just a few minutes. (I tried not to be gone for long during the entire 23 days.) I went into the bedroom, it was 7:35, and there were all three cats close to each other on the rug. That particular bedroom entrance is right next to the hall, a short distance to the kitchen. I bent down to give Babe a pet, told him I loved him, and I was going to be gone for 15 minutes. “I will be right back. I love you, Babe.” I turned, took the few steps to the kitchen, had just reached for my coat when I heard a slight thump. Oh, no. I tore back to the bedroom, and Babe was on his side facing in the opposite direction he had just been in. I picked him up, and he was totally, completely limp, and so light compared to just three weeks earlier. My Babe was gone. I went into the kitchen, sat in the chair, and held him for a long time. I tried to hold back the tears because I knew I had to go to the convenience store and get a box to put him in until Monday when I would take him to the veterinarian for burial. I found a nice towel, put it on the kitchen floor, and laid Babe on it, and folded it over him. I was sure Mimi and Belle knew exactly what had happened, and I spoke to them, of course. After I got the box from the store, I put Babe inside with the towel and placed him in a curled up position, and stroked his fur, and his body was still warm. I stroked his fur a number of times throughout the night. It was hard to believe he was gone after our remarkable journey of 23 days.

Babe was with me about nine and a half years, not nearly long enough, but it is never long enough. A friend of mine held a memorial service for Babe a week later. I had photos of him spread over the rug, and she lit candles, burned sage, had beautiful music playing in the background, and asked me to talk about him. I cried through the whole thing, but it was a lovely gesture on her part. I grieved for months. Babe did visit me a few times, something I had never experienced before. There was one time when I could feel his breath on my face and another time when I felt him rubbing my hands. I had never had as close a bond with a cat as I had with Babe. He was a truly special fellow. A friend of mine dubbed him Sir Babe before he died, and I like to remember him that way: dignified, regal, and courageous to the end. “I love you, Sir Babe.”

Barbara Sherburne (2/12/08)
barndt49@yahoo.com



Slick
Slick
By:Brandon DiMichele
10 years old

One stormy night, a lonely creature was roaming a dark alley. It was looking for food to cure his hunger. It is not ugly, creepy, or horrifying. It’s just cute! A cute…PUPPY!!! It was white with brown on his head. He galloped out of the alley and walked on the sidewalk. Up ahead, speeding on a bike, was a little girl. She was about 7 years old and she had silky short black hair with bangs, a pink streak, and a blue butterfly clip. Her skin was so soft like baby’s skin and she wore a red tank top with black shorts. She also had shiny black boots that covered her feet. Her name is Jade. Both the puppy and Jade were startled, so she screeched to a stop until she was an inch away. The puppy was shaking like heck. “Awww!” Jade said. “You are such a cute puppy! Well, I guess we have to bring you back to your owner. Let’s see your collar.” Jade picked up the dog and looked at his bare neck. “You don’t have a home? Well, I’ll have to take you to mine” she said. Jade put the dog in her basket on her bike and strolled home. When she got home, she climbed up the stairs to the kitchen. Her mom was making a cake for Jade’s birthday. “Mom! Mom!” screamed Jade. “I found a puppy with no home because he has no collar! Can we keep him? PLEASE!” Jade’s mom said, “his collar probably fell off.” “We will put up signs to find its owner and if he doesn’t have an owner, then we will keep him, but don’t get your hopes up.” “YIPPEE!!!” hollered Jade. The next day, Jade and her mom went out and taped posters on every corner that said, FOUND DOG. GO TO 306 EMERSON DR. TO RETRIEVE IT. By the time they got home, it was 9:00pm, so they went to bed. Five days have passed and no one came to retrieve the dog. “I guess you can keep the dog” Jade’s mom said the following day. “But it is my birthday present to you.” Jade shouted like before, “YIPPEE!!!” Later in the day, it was Jade’s birthday party. She realized that she still hasn’t given him a name, so she named him Slick. She didn’t get any dog supplies for her birthday because nobody knew about Slick, so they went out to get the supplies including dog food because they could tell that Slick was getting tired of human food. From that day on, they had a happy life.

And that is the story about Slick. Hope you enjoyed it!
The End


Dear Housewives - Central Connecticut's Know it ALL Gals!

Dear Readers,

Do you have a question regarding family life, budgeting, customer service issues, DVD or book reviews, or home organization? We will give you our candid advise from a family perspective. Contact The Peoples Press by e-mail or phone with your confidential question and we will answer it in the next issue. Let us all make a positive difference in the world in 2008.

June and Flora

Dear Housewives,

I want to go back to college. I am middle aged and priced Master Level classes at one of our State Colleges. Wow, was I surprised at the fees. One class would run me over $1250 and that does not include books. We can't take a loan out for this. I am mixed up as what to do. What do you housewives have to say to someone who needs a change but can use some spare change to make it happen.
Sticker Shock in CT

JUNE: It is always good to go back to school but not at the risk of getting into big debt unless you are going into a field which will make enough money to pay it back quickly. You could get a part time job to cover the expenses. You didn't say if you are married, I am assuming so in which case you have your household bills covered and anything you earn could go for school. If you already have a job, check to see if they have any reimbursement programs. Some company's will give you some money toward furthering your education. Good luck.

FLORA: You did not share with us on the type of career you are interested in. You can always see if there is a way to volunteer in that field to pick up some skills and if you find a fit at a company, they may take you on for pay and pay your way to college.

I am glad that you are not taking a loan out. To obtain a Masters degree at Central Connecticut State University will run you over $12,000. You don't want that debt hanging over.

You can also set up a college fund and save for it for a later time. Look at your expenses and see where you can cut back and put that money into your college fund. Keep us posted.

Dear Housewives,
I read an article about middle schoolers drinking energy drinks as part of their school lunch. What are your thoughts on families buying these sugar laden - caffeine pumped up drinks for their children?? What Happened to Milk in Wallingford

FLORA: My thoughts are that it seems that parents are caving in way too much. Energy Drinks,Cell phones, ATM cards. Retailers love it but Flora does not. First of all, what in the world are parents thinking? It is equivalent to them having a large extra sweet coffee with a shot of espresso. It is not good for the body and I wonder how it effects their concentration level. I wonder how much of a nutritious lunch these kids are having after being pumped up on sugar and caffeine. Stop it parents. These are children; build them up with good healthy life choices. Energy drinks are not part of that equation.

JUNE: Flora, you ask "what in the world are parents thinking?". Well, parents are not thinking. Parents are afraid of their kids, parents buddy up with their kids and parents are setting bad examples for their kids. I find many parents to be more immature than their kids at times. If the kid wants it, the parent is giving in to shut them up. I have know parents who think it isn't a big deal for a kid to have some coffee. I am with you on this one for a change, parents need to "man up" and start parenting again. Be an example for your kids and stop giving in to whatever fads or excesses they want to indulge in.

FLORA: I want to start a fad. I have found that giving your kids Vitamin Water instead of juice boxes you are decreasing the sugar, carbohydrate and calorie content by almost 1/2.

Hi-C 6.75 oz. Juice Box has 90 calories, 25 grams of sugar, 25 grams of carbohydrates
Vitamin Water 12 oz. has 75 calories, 19 grams of sugar, 19 grams of carbohydrates.
Notice the juice box is 6.75 ounces and the Vitamin Water is 12 ounces. BJ's has a 24 pack of 12 ouncers of V.W. for a fair price.

Dear Housewives,
Why do children expect their parents to pay for college when it is hard enough for them to save for their own retirement? Broke in Meriden

JUNE: Hmm, I think because parents brought the child into this world and push them and set them up to go to college. Children probably feel that the parent has had ample time to prepare and since they are 18 or 19 they certainly do not have the money to go to college on their own. I think the better question would be, why are colleges so expensive? I think it is absurd to think a private college is about $30,000/ year. That does not include housing (usually), food, books and other living expenses. Yes, there is financial aid but that usually has to be paid back and sometimes is only available to the poorest people. So the very poor can go or the well off. The middle in the country get the shaft. Something should be done.
FLORA: Very interesting June. I never thought of it the way you do in that "they certainly do not have the money to go to college on their own.". I went to community college for 2 years then onto a state university to get my bachelors degree. My parents paid for my associates (back then it was $440.00 full time/semester) and I worked full time and paid the rest at the university on my own. I found that quite fair. I never once had the desire to attend college 'away' and live on campus. If I did, I could not afford it.

I do strongly believe that parents should fund their retirement accounts first and foremost before ever paying for their child to go to college. Young adults can get loans and repay them at a lower rate over ten years but seniors cannot take loans out on their retirement.

The discussion of college should start when the child is young and middle school is not too early to share to 'Johnny" that Ma and Pa are not footing a $100K 4-year degree. Kids, earn some money and SAVE it instead of blowing it on I-Pods and the latest camera phone.

Just Chat
Hey Flora, I have been watching this show called "Dexter". It is about a serial killer who kills serial killer. I really love it. I believe it is in its second season, I just got it from Netflix and really like it. It is also available on regular TV. Check your TV guide.
Also, I am glad the writers strike is over. I can't wait for our shows to come back. "Lost "has been fantastic and we really like the new gladiators. One of my little June's just loves it. Are you still hitting the bible at night?

June, yes I am still hitting the Bible. I am in Leviticus right now. Oh, the laws back then were so, how shall I put it? Stringent. I really enjoy Proverbs though. And the NIV version of the Bible is awesome!
But as for TV, as a family, we watch and enjoy American Idol. It is clean entertainment. My husband and I also watch "Celebrity Apprentice" on Thursday nights. We have enjoyed that show for years. As for DVD's we are in the middle of watching "Wal-Mart The High Cost of Low Prices". I may review that in the future.

JUNE: Yikes, Flora, I was just kidding. Is "Wal-Mart the High Cost of Living" really a movie? Is it produced by Walmart? Sounds like a barn burner. Well, we do love celebrity apprentice too.

FLORA: Vacation Week: We saw "Game Plan" at the Meriden Public Library this week! It was so funny and good. You've gotta love the library! We also enjoyed going to the Wadsworth Athenaeum followed by lunch and fun at Cabela's in East Hartford. Most art museums have treasure hunts for the kids to go on. They have to search the paintings for various items. Our kids searched for animals and checked them off the list. Cabela's has so much to see and do. We had Bison Burgers in their cafe, had fun at the shooting gallery and even tried some archery! And we had fun with friends too!!

JUNE: Sounds like fun!! We liked Cabelas too.


Aviation Profile of Dave Pepe

I was born in Meriden, Conn. at a very early age and had many visits to Meriden airport after church in the 40’s on Sunday mornings.. Most of the airplanes were military types or Pipers and the like. But we did visit and watch the activities going on…and I looked hard. My dad always joked that airplanes were too
heavy to fly, but we all knew that they did.

In the 50’s, I built and flew rubber-powered Monogram and Guillow’s balsa/tissue airplanes and actually
won a contest for a WW1 Spad biplane.. around the same time I was given a gas-powered free-flight model, and we flew it at the old Southington airport, before ”progress” and development took over the
land use .You had to pay particular attention to the wind direction, or watch your plane disappear…

Four years in the USAF in the 60’s working on B-52 heavy bombers piqued my interest further in flying machines. I had the opportunity to get flight instruction @ $4.00/ hour but at the pay I got, I didn’t go for it

I messed around with radio control for many years, concentrating mostly in helicopters and sport
Flying in the 80’s, but grew weary of flying around in “circles”, and started flight instruction in 1991 and earned a private license in 1993. Jeff Davenport suggested building an airplane, and I started attending EAA-27 meetings, and after a ride and a half with Jeff Fiscus, embarked on an (8) year RV-6 project. With the help of myriad EAA members, I first flew my own creation November 1,2003, and boy!, what a feeling…so far, after 200 hours, I have flown at 12,500 ft high between mountains of clouds and at 240 mph ground speed….I fly sport aerobatics and give lots of rides, but the plane also affords a novel way for me and my wife Kathy to fly to an airport near our Lake Dunmore house near Middlebury, Vermont….

Life and flight can begin at 60!!!!!

See, Dad, they really do fly, but watch your airspeeds!!!!
Dave Pepe


Soil Survey March 17th (a true story)
Dorothy Gonick
January 18, 2007

It began as an ordinary workday on the lovely spring day of March 17th. Walt, a Soil Scientist with the US Department of Agriculture, had been assigned to survey and make maps of the soil types found in a swampy area near Norwalk, CT. In general, Soil Maps will indicate if the best use of the land is for farming, development or just left as nature had created it.

Walt had been given permission to use the parking lot of a nearby nursery school. When he arrived, the playground was filled with laughing, shouting children, and the two teachers supervising the group. Since the swamp was soggy and filled with sharp brambles, Walt donned his green waterproof suit. He then gathered his knapsack, shouldered his spade and auger, and made his way across the parking lot to start down the slope toward the swampy area.

The children began shouting and grew excited, and he soon heard commands of “Come back! Don’t go down there! Come back! Come back!” Turning around, he saw a lively group of small children eagerly approaching him, followed by the teachers madly waving and calling for them. The children were pointing at Walt and excitedly calling, “We’ve found him, we’ve found him! We’ve found the leprechaun!!!” That green suit and the shovel were evidence enough that they’d found a leprechaun on his way to burying a knapsack filled with gold. Two of the bigger boys ignored the teachers and had caught up with Walt, and began begging for gold coins. They wouldn’t believe that Walt was not a leprechaun. And of course he had no gold coins to give them.

Throughout the day, Walt could be heard chuckling about his ‘ordinary’ workday.


Home Country
Slim Randles

It was the sun that did it. The sun returning, making little things want to be big things, making frozen things want to be liquid things, making sleeping things want to be stretching things. It was the sun.

That’s what we figure, anyway.

That’s why our resident bunkhouse cowboy, Steve, started buying nails and two by fours and going to work behind his pickup parked there on the ranch where he works. It was the sun, warming that part of the backs of our necks that stimulates the “go” process. We went over and helped him saw and nail boards together and before a week had gone by, he had an interesting looking stack of framed wall sections stacked up there.

We all knew about his obsession, of course. Steve has always dreamed of building a little cabin somewhere. It’s not an unusual dream for a man whose way of life generally leads to living on other people’s property and taking care of other people’s livestock and other people’s fences.

“I’ve been wanting a place,” he told us one morning over coffee, “where I can go and nobody can kick me off. Nobody can fire me out of it or divorce me out of it, or anything else. A place that’s paid for and I can just go there and stay there and starve if I have to. You know … a hole-up place.”

Oh, we knew. He’s not the first guy to dream like that, and he won’t be the last.

But nailing boards together on someone else’s place didn’t seem to fit the plan. We had always pictured Steve hewing away at a forest with an axe and notching up logs. But framing, it seems, is much faster, and, as Steve says, you can insulate the cabin better.

“So when are you going to put the cabin up?” said Doc, looking at the stack of nicely hammered frames.

“As soon as I get a piece of land,” Steve says.

Some dreams just won’t wait for escrow.
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Brought to you by your local tackle shop, if you’ll promise to take a kid fishing with you this spring.



Winter Ideas for Fun
By Shirley Bloeth

It’s still cold and the snow will fly--sometimes a lot and sometime a little. But with winter still in the air, how do you plan activities that most of the family and just about anyone can do? Does the family want to get involved in winter outdoor activities? What is there to do??? Let’s start with the really simple and fun things with very little or no cost other than warm clothes and mittens!When the snow flies and it is deep enough to play outside, it is so enjoyable for all ages to make snow angels (lie in the snow and move your arms up and down and get up carefully to see your angel). Snow forts in the front or back yard are a great activity everyone can participate in. Be sure to have waterproof pants and gloves or mittens for everyone. Remember a hat will keep the heat in your body and keep you warm even if you get your clothing wet.Other activities that will cost just a few dollars are tobogganing, skiing, and snowboarding. And if you have a couple thousand dollars to spend there is always snowmobiling.
Ice skating on ponds and rinks in many towns in Connecticut is available when it has been cold enough for long enough. Ice fishing and snowshoeing are fairly inexpensive and enjoyed by many outdoor enthusiasts. There are many trails that are made for cross country skiing and snowshoeing in the state forests. New England has many ski areas with groomed trails for cross country skiing which is much less expensive than downhill skiing. The equipment and ticket price is considerably less also. Some golf courses allow cross country skiing on their property.
The above activities all require some kind of appropriate clothing and /or equipment.Beginning with clothing, you want to get the best you can afford for the activity you are planning. There is quite a difference in quality of not only materials, but workmanship in different brands of winter and outdoor clothing and boots. Be sure to compare apples to apples when checking prices either online or by phone. Stay away from cheap items-- they never make it through the winter AND you will be cold and/or WET!!The less expensive snow pants or ski suits will usually be water resistant but not waterproof unless it says so on the label. There are many great lightweight materials on the market today that are waterproof as well. It is helpful if you have a plan for the activity and can also use the item(s) for more than one sport or activity.Many jackets, pants, sets or one piece units can be used for multiple activities. I wear my ski suit for sledding, skiing, ice skating and snowmobiling. Wear layers too. I bring along extra gloves, and mittens whenever I am out just in case it gets very warm or very cold while participating in that activity. A neck warmer, hat and goggles in my carry bag for extreme temperature changes. If feet or hands get chilled because of these conditions, be sure to have heat treat packets with you. They are inexpensive ($2-3) for a pack. Get a few and keep them in the car for the winter in case of a breakdown.Specific clothing for snowboarding is waterproof and quite warm since boarders are on the snow more than skiers. Ski clothing is always water resistant, but not always waterproof, so read the labels to be sure of what you are purchasing and that it is consistent with what you are paying for.Ice skates and the materials they are made of make a difference in how well they will fit and form to the foot and also how warm your feet will be while skating, especially if it is outdoors on a pond. Leather and special linings in higher quality skates provide the best fit and warmth. It is important to get skates that fit properly. If the skate is too big or too small, the feet will get cold quickly. A proper fit allows the toes to move about slightly in the skate so that blood can circulate, but not too much that the feet are sliding in the skate.When you go ice fishing, warm boots and spiked crampons are the ideal resource to get you on the lake where you want to be. If there is lots of snow, you may prefer snowshoes. Socks that “wick” away the moisture in a warm boot are going to keep your feet warm and comfortable all day. Be sure to bring or wear a hat too. Special gloves with a mitten overlay work very well and keep the hands warm while allowing the ability to work on gear.Tobogganing and sledding are great fun and can be enjoyed by the whole family from 6 months to 60. Getting up the hill is the hardest part. Be sure to watch out for trees!!!This promises to be a snowy winter and like a good boy scout, it is good to be prepared. Start looking for winter clothing and gear early for the best selection and pricing. Many consignment and closeout shops have their stock in before the big retailers even start advertising. So, make a list, see what no longer fits, and start before it gets cold and you will have an affordable and enjoyable winter with all the appropriate clothing and equipment for the entire family. The end of the season is also a great time to shop for good deals. Many stores need to replace their goodsfor the next season. Happy Wintering!!!