Lovely afternoon on South Mountain, in the upper 70’s and drying out after the inch of rain we had yesterday afternoon and last night.  We have been running back and forth from York all week.  My (Chuck’s) Aunt Bernie suffered a calamitous fall on Tuesday while making her bed and broke her hip.  She had surgery on Thursday and was released this evening to a nursing home.  She is anxious to get home to Autumn House and resume her peaceful existence there with my Mother and other friends.  We hope she will be there within a month. 

We are tired tonight, but Anne is revived by the Olympic spectacle.  I enjoy only some of it.  So, I write while she watches a hunk paddle about the pummel horse.  We hiked today, walking from the Blue Ridge Parkway down and then up over the summits of Yellow Face Mountain (6,032) and Blackrock Mountain (5,810) before returning up the ridge of the Plott Balsam Range.  I had hopped we would finish off the walk with the sturdy climb to the top of Waterrock Knob (6,292), but Anne had had quite enough when we reached the car in the parking lot near the little visitor center

We relax this warm morning after Sunday breakfast.  We will drive to church at Franklin at 11:00.  The service is too late, in my opinion, but it gives us time to relax on Sunday morning. 

We begin our time in western Carolina this week.  Summer, it is warm and at time sultry, still the mountains are relatively cool.  The sounds are a bit different than at home.  Bullfrogs croak from a small pool at the edge of the campground in the evening.  Carolina wrens sing furiously in the morning.  I pished some into our campsite when I returned from dropping Anne off at the hospital a few minutes ago.  They eyed me suspiciously and then one clucked at me before waving its tail and twittering off as I unlocked the door.  As at home robins make their s

We are home for a second week and have anxiety about it.  Still, we are glad after a fine RV voyage to Michigan and the Great Lakes area.  Anne filled in last week for the physician couple in Gettysburg and diligently exercised her practice skills.  I too worked on a small project for my former employer.  We also do house and rv chores and work on my Dad's probate.  Today I travel to York with a dozen packages for my mother to sign and send to banks and mutual funds to change title and address.  Much work made a bit easier by the Internet.  Anne stays home

Every serious birder must make a pilgrimage to Michigan to see the Kirtland’s or “Jack Pine” Warbler.  This small, lively, song bird breeds in scrublands of Jack Pine that form naturally after wild fires.  The tree is a phoenix, highly flammable, and thriving on arid sand ridges of the upper Midwest.  Its small cones mature and remain tightly closed, sealed by a wax-like resin that melts away when heated to allow the cone to open.  After   a fire the seeds float away from the charcoal branches to reseed the land.  In a few years the young

A fabulous day on South Mountain, and we are preparing to depart for a birding tour of Michigan.  A swarm of hundreds of thousands of birds is moving north across the continent.  The crowd diminishes with distance as many drop out, but those heading farther north often pause at the great lakes.  No wise bird flies across open water without refueling, and most fly at night to avoid nasty predators.  So, the lakefront is a good place to look for birds in May and early June.

Alone tonight, I write a blog.  Anne and I successfully completed some 134 miles on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia finishing up last Saturday.  The walk went well starting out warm and ending up chilly.  The trees in the valleys had greened up, but those on the ridges remained in gray dormancy.  The wildflowers were putting on a show everywhere.  Trilliums and star chickweed were especially abundant. 

Reflecting on our planned two week hike starting on Monday, I realize that the past four months have been  tumultuous.  We enjoyed them but were stressed and separated by the decline and death of my father and also challenged to provide necessary support to Anne’s parents in Florida during January and February.  My return to PA for two weeks in February for Dad’s end made that tougher for both of us.  We sorely missed each other. 

Late morning, I am alone, well rested, and with no pressing matters - at least until three o’clock, when I have to pick up Joe, Mark, and Rob at the airport and convey them to the Estero Island Beach Club.  Anne is taking Mom and Dad Woods and Mom Strehl there now.  I remain at the condominium and should be working on the two-weeks of mail - bills, 1099’s and the like - that has accumulated since I left to go to York for my father’s final days.  Looking at it all and considering my mood of peaceful relief, I decided it could wait a little longer.  I hav