Wednesday, March 31, 2010




This sounds like one of those How-do-you-know-you're-a-redneck? type deals, but I've sometimes thought I wouldn't mind having an old beauty like this parked in my yard. Not so I could dream of doing a restoration or anything somewhat sensible like that, but just for the art of it. I mean, really, look at the palette of color on that door. You could never produce that in a studio. Like I've mentioned before, I love old iron.

Whenever we go on a trip we have that long drive home through the willy-wags and we're tired and frazzled, but then we turn onto Ridge Rd in Marshfield and get that warm feeling of belonging (even though we're "from away"). This truck has been in the same spot--well I don't think it's going to start up anytime soon--and it's become something of a landmark in my mind.





Monday, March 29, 2010

Pouring rain and I have a bad cold so I've done nothing all day but slough around in my pj's. Mustered up the energy to run out to the mailbox in my anti-style rain suit to collect a couple more acceptance packages (BC and Carnegie Melon) for Jessie. Perhaps it's unseemly, but I just can't stop myself from bragging. She is one smart cookie!!! (I know what you're thinking, and I agree: she didn't get it from me).

Happy birthday Alice!

One unhappy note: it has recently come to my attention that the Richard E. Cirillo Fund for Grandfathers without Jobs is a sham. I discovered this when he used embezzled funds to treat us to breakfast at Tim Horton's. Although I surely enjoyed my breakfast sandwich and coffee (let's not talk about the donut), it saddens me that I am complicit in this sordid affair. If you have unwittingly donated money due to requests made on Wisdom in the Birches, please drop me a line and I will forward a like contribution to the charity of your choice.

Visiting hours for Richard at the Bridgton Penitentiary will be posted at a later date.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Headed into Boston to celebrate the 50th of this man--Kevin Mann--my cousin and an inspiration to me in my youth. We spent the summer of 1975 listening to Born To Run. I'd like to explain the impact of that, but I'm still trying to figure it out. Kevin is pictured with his son Jackson who looks more like the Kevin I remember than Kevin himself.

The co-celebrant at the party was my beautiful sister Alice, whose age I do not believe I'm at liberty to disclose. All I can tell you is that the detox (from sugar, flour, caffeine) is working: she positively glows. Now my brother Max, pictured beside her, does not glow, but he is my best friend on this earth. I could not ask for better siblings.

That's me, the Chief Executive Officer of Wisdom in the Birches, presenting another happy follower with her dollar for providing witty commentary. Her husband Chris stands in the background, clearly plotting how to get his hands on the loot. Hey Chris, if you married my sister for her money you're barking up the wrong tree.





Saturday, March 27, 2010



Last night we spent the night at the Howard Johnson's in Portland. Barely slept a wink with the drunken revelers outside our window. I actually had to put on my NYC voice and tell some people to please be quiet please. Never takes much to make me appreciate our love shack at the end of the earth.

But, it's worth it because we're spending the weekend with Eve. Who knows, maybe we'll find some really "valuable" junk.

Speaking of valuable, Jessie Sweet got into Colby with a monster scholarship. She'll hear from the rest of her "reach" schools on Thursday--though of course there's nothing she can't reach for, seeing as how she's hitched her wagon to a star.

Before long I'll be posting Tales from the Empty Nest. One thing's for sure: I won't be complaining about the peace and quiet.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

The spring run-off has begun so it's time to break out the canoe or kayak or whatever floats you down the river. Did you know that the Machias River has a "cult" following among canoeists, or at least so says a guidebook I read some years back. For all you city folk out there, that is NOT the Machias River pictured above, just some snowmelt in Marshfield. I had my one true near-death experience on the Machias River--which has some class V rapids this time of year--but it owns my heart. Maybe actually that's partly why, since I made a deal with the Lord that day. Oh, and to think I'm the same person who asked the priest who married me and Cara not to mention God.

People change. Matter of fact I know a guy who used to be an anarchist and now he has a wine cellar. That's the American Dream, baby, pure and simple.

Happy birthday to my mother Edith, who may or may not read her son's blog. I know I have a new follower (even dozen now) because she left me a comment that almost brought me to tears. Thank you so much Camille.

I've known Camille since she was an infant, known her since she was kicking around in her mother's belly. And now she's a student at Columbia; that's right, the Ivy League. Yeah, ol' Birch Wisdom is moving up in the world.

Anyone else interested in leaving a comment please know that I will donate a dollar in your name to the Richard E. Cirillo Fund for Grandfathers Without Jobs.

And Jake--you true Rottersman, you--if you deign to read the words of this madman, give your daddy a call, I've got a lot of new crazy stock market ideas (uh oh, he's thinking, there goes the inheritance). You see, originally this blog was going to be called Tao/Dow--or something like that--and I was going to reflect on the battle between my spiritual and money-grubbing sides. But, in the end, what's the point? Like Janis Joplin used to say--well, actually I'd rather not say what she used to say.






Tuesday, March 23, 2010

American Tao -- no. 16

Free and clear
you owe nothing
yet your heart
does not abandon
its responsibility.

Hello. Welcome back
and make yourself
at home.

Traffic is a killer
and you want off
at the nearest exit.
Even one better:
concrete gives way
to the mossy
pillow of the forest.

Now, let's talk about
who you truly are
because when you are
with me you don't
have to prove a thing.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

We just returned from a birthday bash in Bridgton. "Pop" Cirillo celebrated his Seven-oh! with surprise guests Fred from Portland, Jimmy and Nancy from Long Island and Hamish and Susan from Rhode Island. Local color was added by Greg from Naples and Betty and Janet--the girls next door. Debbie put out a spread that will take me a couple of weeks to work off in the woodlot. Delicious!!!!

It was also the birthday of the beautiful girl pictured above. She's a grown-up minus one (17) and we are very proud of her. She has come a long way and she is healthy, happy and, I've got to say it again: beautiful. Her special guest was her boyfriend Ron. He's a nice young man--and how can he not be, he does his own maple syrup!

I mentioned a few posts ago how much I love the old junk I've found for free here and there. Evie is holding a water company drain cap we found on the side of the road in Bridgton. I will display it prominently and it will always remind of this time when my hope has been so fully rejuvenated.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010


At the age of five I had already lived in Los Angeles, London and Manhattan. Sounds like I was on my way to an interesting life, right? Well, for reasons inexplicable even to my parents, we then decamped to Staten Island (odd that I should grow up in the "Forgotten Borough" and now reside in the "Other Maine.") At any rate, being that we were moving to NYC's quasi-suburb, my father decided we needed a car. I can still remember standing on our Manhattan balcony looking down at the 1966 Dodge Dart parked below. The car came to be known as the "Blue Bomb" and I don't think I've ever seen my father more excited and happy then on the day it was stolen. He came into the house exclaiming, "they stole the blue bomb, they stole the blue bomb!" Alas, it was only teenagers taking it out for a joy ride. It must not have been too joyful because they left it only a block from the house, the keys still in the ignition. But that car did give us some memories. On one trip to Florida, my brother Max bought a smoke bomb at a roadside stand. He lit it in the car and chucked it out the window, but unfortunately the wind blew it back in--that was not my father's happiest moment.

But it was also on that trip (prior to the smoke bomb incident) that we stopped at a diner and Max ate 15 slices of French Toast. It was quite impressive and one of the few times in our childhood where I was jealous of the big oaf. Let's face it: 15 slices: that's prowess.

Wondering what all this has to do with the picture above? Well the French Toast in the picture is a testament to the local food movement. The eggs I used are from Marshfield chickens, Cara made the bread, and you know where the syrup came from--my backyard!!! It was so good I ate 27 slices. No, not really. But if Max was here I would have done it just to settle an old score.

Enjoyed a little stroll in the beautiful woods after my quota of wood-tossing.

This is the work of the woodpecker that continues to elude me. I could hear it today along with the hoots of an owl, but never got close enough for a photo. It'll happen though because I'm on the prowl.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


View from the center of the woodlot. I'm thinking now that we have enough wood stacked into mounds to provide three years of heat to two households. Pretty cool. This shot was taken from where the seed tree stands, so, as you can see, plenty of sun for the new growth.

Thanks Matt for the links to the other blogs. Some really awesome stuff. Where do people find the time? It looks like a full-time job.



My lady love came out to enjoy the sunshine, then ended up tossing some wood with me. I pretty much doubled my output, needing to show off like some 7th grade boy on the playground. Hey, I've still got a crush on Cara--what can I say?

Sunday, March 14, 2010


Have you noticed how few bumper stickers there are out there these days? Probably a result of the unfortunate demise of the chrome bumper. I liked Kill Your Television, but probably my all-time favorite was Hard Work Must Have Killed Somebody. But what's with all the killing? If you have an old favorite, let me know what it is in a comment.


Weight-lifters often design their workouts around total weight. So 10 reps of 100 pounds equals 1000 pounds. A workout can be intensified by increasing reps, sets or weight. In this example, the goal would be to lift more than 1000 pounds in total, say by doing 11 reps which would (obviously) equal 1100 pounds. The woodpile pictured above easily weighs more than 1000 pounds. Each stick of wood had to be lifted, carried a bit, then tossed into the pile (medicine ball style). Quite a workout--at least that's what my sore back is telling me.

I know my sister is doing Hot Yoga and running with a brain surgeon at 4 a.m. (She should have her own blog, I know). If anybody else has any interesting work-out stories, please share them in a comment.

Lastly, if anybody wants a dollar, just leave a comment and I'll send you a buck (one per customer).

Saturday, March 13, 2010

No photos again: bad blogger! Jessie took the camera with her to visit friends at UMaine, which I guess is her right since it's her camera. Too bad though because first Cara and I encountered a mess of wild turkeys, then today I could have had a close-up of a beautiful woodpecker. We've been having one sunny day after another, so the future photos will be without snow. When I started this here blog we were buried; now it's nothing but birdsong and joy. (Actually, happy though I may be, people seem a bit frazzled to me. Do you think the economy is wearing them down?)
We'll jar two more pints of maple syrup tonight. Progress at the woodlot has been slow but steady. Cara informs me that she just finished four loaves of bread. Oh, the happy homestead! Man, I just might be the kind of person known in the trade as a... bore.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

First post without a photo (my apologies); but I just can't keep up with the sap. I've got it on the boil right now on the back deck, and I think I'll be going until midnight with it tomorrow. Anyway, all you health freaks out there, this stuff might just make you live forever.

Sunday, March 7, 2010


What a fun and glorious day we had making our first batch of maple syrup. It is heavenly, I'm telling you, and so far we've only licked it off our fingers. We're going to make french toast--as promised!--for dinner, so Jake got home just in time from visiting friends in Bangor for a special Sunday treat.

This is an action shot of the final boiling off of the 5 gallons we started with (pictured below) to make exactly one cup.


But as I mentioned yesterday, the sap is really running now, so tomorrow after work I plan to double today's output. Hope all is well out there in the wide world, but I sure am enjoying our narrow slice of heaven right here at the end of the earth.

Saturday, March 6, 2010


Finished this year's cutting this morning, so now the clean-up (I'll have to get W. down here to take care of all the brush!), hauling and splitting begin. I'm feeling pretty sore--in a good way--and just got back from a nice walk on the Sunrise Trail (photo) with Cara. While I was doing the firewood she baked half-a-dozen loaves of delicious bread, so the homestead is in good order. On top of that, the sap is running. We're thinking of doing a trial run tomorrow, boiling down what we have for a french toast feast. Tonight we're off to a concert in Ellsworth, so it might be a sleeping-in kind of Sunday. That means we might not get up until the slothful hour of 6 a.m. !!!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010


This is the seed tree around which we cut a 120 foot circumference. New growth will have plenty of breathing room, and hopefully maples will far outnumber birch and softwoods. I can't believe how lucky I've been, every day perfect for working in the woods (not too hot and not too cold). Pretty soon I'll be hauling the wood up to the shed for processing, but first I'll need to take the plow off the 4-wheeler (which takes all of a couple minutes; still, it's the act of removing the plow that pretty much guarantees we'll get snow).

American Tao -- no. 15

The great man
is not on TV.
Brains and heart,
sinew and muscle,
quiet --
he stands back.

He will hold
your hand as you
cross the icy stream;
he will walk and
he will listen
as you unburden
your mighty soul.

If the air is clean
and the water clear
you have found
the end of fear.

The price of admission
is your tranquility
and at this banquet
all are welcome.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010


The sun sets after a pleasurable happy hour at the Chainsaw Bar & Grille.


I decide to hunt moose tracks in what remains of the snow deep in the woods, but make a much more rare and magnificent find. This, for you lay readers, is undoubtedly a print of the Mighty Jake. A basement-dwelling mammal, the Mighty Jake is rarely seen in daylight. When he does appear, you can see him but he will not necessarily see you as his eyes are often covered with a shock of brown hair. Like his ancestors, he stays up all night long doing God-knows-what, then spends the day sleeping or simply spread out on the couch. If I'm fortunate enough to encounter him in the flesh, I'll say hello for all of my faithful followers.