Beautiful day but they just can't get enough Birch Wisdom! Pictured, from the left, are my nieces Celia and Alice, with my sister Alice and wife Chilly P. in the chairs. Oh my my, what is the world coming to? I don't know about the girls, but apparently the ladies are addicted to Craigslist. (Well, OK, I confess, I spend a lot of time on Craigslist myself looking at used trucks). Too bad Thelma's not in the picture--but believe me, she too is handy with the laptop. Anyway, the real point is that I so enjoyed having the family here for a visit, and missed them terribly when they left.

I'm heading back to the AT at 5:30 AM, so no posts until Tuesday. Until then, stay well (and Pop, I'll be thinking about you--with love).

Evie drives the Caddy...

to Jasper Beach...

where we find treasures to help us remember this wonderful day together.

Beauty and the Beach.

First thing you think when you look at this picture of my brother Max talking to my sister Alice about his business plans is probably that anybody who wears shorts as dorky as that has got to be a mogul. A titan of industry who could care less about style; because he's all about substance.

But then you see his "moneymaker," the Robotic Panorama Head, and you (or at least I) realize that this is the same oversized goofball who took apart your Panasonic radio back in 1977. Is there hope? Well, there's always the children...

This spider was blocking a treasure trove of wild raspberries, but I didn't have the heart to disrupt his beautiful web.

After numerous scratches and bug-bites I was able to harvest enough berries for a smoothie--but not enough for a pie. So sad. Still, at least we can add an edible to the list of provisions provided naturally on the homestead.

Now, onto important matters. Apparently there was a Birch Wisdom slamdown in Bridgton, when Max and Richard got together to disrespect my boring, misinformed blog. But I try, right? I try.

Before...


After.

Last night the '92 Volvo rolled into town and out stepped my long-haired son. We went for a walk along the river and as Jake's hair blew in the breeze I thought to myself how I never could have imagined that I'd be a parent who wanted to tell his child to get a haircut. Then, as if on cue, Jake said, "My hair's starting to bother me; I'm going to get a haircut tomorrow."
Good thing, since he wasn't exactly looking like an accountant.
Of course, back in my 70's hey-day my hair was quite long. My friend Deirdre (no idea whatever happened to her) said I had a "Farrah flip." Not a compliment. My friend Erik Sanko (who my brother recently improbably ran into in Hanover, NH) told me: "You'd make the perfect rock star. Too bad you have absolutely no talent." Also not a compliment.
Well, they should see me now, sitting on my perch at Birch Wisdom. Talk about success!!!!

I had this idea of hiking the 10-mile loop at the Bold Coast 10 days in a row this summer, but once Ernie and I put together our AT itinerary I scuttled that plan. However, I probably will end up hiking the Bold Coast at least 10 times in '10 (possibly already have). Today's hike went by in a flash because I so enjoyed the conversation with Matt (pictured above). He used to live in Machias, now resides in South Carolina, and is soon to return to school in Idaho. Yet he can't quite get Maine out of his system and is hoping to make a home here someday. He's thinking of building his own place with a big garden, chickens, the whole self-sufficient shebang. As I told him today as we sat on the flat rocks for lunch, I wish I was thinking that way at his age. Pretty much a happiness guarantee in my book.

Looks can be deceiving. You see LilipaLOSER (now why would her parents name her that?) checking out her Skip-Bo cards, feigning kindness and innocence? You see how you might get sucked in by her cute looks and winsome demeanor? Don't! Don't be fooled again. It's the small package that can be most lethal. I mean, I tried to be nice; and Lili pretended to be nice; but in the end I was the one who was "fat, old and stupid"--though not necessarily in that order. Anyway, while all this psychological warfare was going on, it was Emily "Dark Horse" Salcedo-Watson who won every game we played. I couldn't have won if Skip-Bo cards were raining from the sky.
Nevertheless, loser though I may be, I'm the real winner for having Jaime, Lorena and their "young ladies" (as my mother calls them) for friends.

Man, you never know what's going to go down in Birch Ridge Estates. First it was bats, then bear--now dancing fools. The Big E, as promised, came back to show the Salcedo-Watson clan some new moves to bring back to New York. Jaime surprised us all with his angel-footed locomotion. So finally it's clear what that soul-patch is all about.

Easy was shakin' and bakin' and compostin'. Sounds strange, I know, but according to my mother there's no such thing as mistakes in swing, just new moves. And, as you can see, Chilly P. has quite the devilish look in her eye. She looked so good made me want to have another baby!

Well, that train was outta here quick as it took the soul-man in the pink shorts to slide across the floor.

We did a swing dance lesson with Edith up at camp last night. A good time was had by all, so much so that the Salcedo-Watson's are requesting a return engagement. We took a few ballroom lessons with Jaime and Lorena many years ago, and there is only really one thing that we all remember from that time--and it does absolutely nothing to enhance our dancing skills. But it does have to do with enhancement; at least I believe that's the right word. You see, the instructor had quite the memorable hour-glass figure. But, alas, I can say no more, this being a family-oriented blog and all.

I had the great pleasure today of taking half of the Salcedo-Watson clan for the 10-mile loop at the Bold Coast. It was foggy when we started, then miraculously sunny when we got to the ocean. Once we turned inland, the fog returned. Emily (right) is 13 years old, yet thanked me several times for taking her. Wow, talk about polite. Most kids her age would spend most of their time complaining about being tired and thirsty. Camille (my only link to the Ivy League) truly appreciates all the beauty our fair state has to offer. Both girls duly noted the sweet smell of the pine-infused ocean air. And tonight I get to enjoy Jamie and Lorena's sinfully delicious cafe latte. How the heck can my life get any better????

This man is NOT a follower. What does that mean? Let me give it to you in a nutshell. He is NOT to be trusted; he is NOT loyal; and he's probably NOT a very good dancer. On the other hand, he did introduce me to Walt M. from Ohio--who will hopefully soon be a full-time resident of Roque Bluffs (where the above photo was taken). I've really enjoyed getting to know Walter, and I appreciate the very nice comment he put on my blog. You see, Walt IS a follower. Indeed, he IS trustworthy; he IS loyal; and once on the dance floor he no doubt makes Fred Astaire look like a duffer.

This, I submit, in humble spirit: the path to a happy life: love, nature and a good night's sleep. Love and nature, intertwined, are perhaps impervious to influence. It is more important, as the mop-headed lads used to sing, to "let it be," rather than to try to make it happen; or, "let the game come to you," as the great bald-headed one used to say. A good night's sleep, on the other hand, is essentially based on our daytime behavior. Love and fresh air help, for sure, but so too does our moral compass. To quote some actual ancient wisdom: "my actions are the ground on which I stand."

Whenever people visit us at the lake they ask about the Stone Cottage. Though it's currently in a state of abandonment, it was actually the retreat of the silent movie star Mary Pickford. She took up with a local woodsman who's a distant uncle to Kurt Russell--another movie star with a Maine connection. He was (is?) the longtime companion to Goldie Hawn, who visited Bog Lake in the late 70's and stayed in the cottage. This is all hush hush--of course--so don't breathe a word of it. But one thing remains: the rich and famous just be digging on the 04654.

Eagle taking a break as I paddled around the lake with Jessie's friend Terranova from page school (by way of Alaska). T-Nova got quite the sunburn--even though I told her to put on the sunscreen--so she's now at Rite Aid with Cara hunting up some Aloe Vera. Of course, Cara's always looking for an excuse to go "shopping" in Machias, so it's all good. Hopefully they won't bump into too many bothersome summer celebs.

I was actually able to eat a cherry from the tree we planted last year. Won't be long before Cara's making her soon-to-be-famous Cherry Pie. Speaking of Sweetness, went for a bike ride with my Colby Girl on the Sunrise Trail. Heaven is made of all this...

So now we are settled into summer. We had a houseful of the younger set over the weekend, but then yesterday--poof!--they were mostly gone. We still, of course, have Jessie in her final summer at the homestead. But then she's off to college and we have to make the best of the empty nest. I remember when the kids were babies how so many people would say, "it goes so fast." I believed them, I truly did, but I had no idea that it was really with lightning speed. It's always in my head that the only problem with life is that it's too darn short. What can we do but make the best of each moment?

This is when I was worse looking, before I got better looking, seeing as how this is only day one of our hike, fording our first stream, and, if you've been following here at Birch Wisdom, I get better looking every day, which has been confirmed by Cara, Jessie, Pop Pop, Mitch, my mother, my personal physician and my plumber, and, on top of that, if we don't digress too far from the fact that my last picture was taken on the fifth day (where obviously I was four whole days better looking than in this shot), you will now realize that not only am I criminally good-looking, but I am the absolute master of the run-on sentence. Whew, it's not as easy as it looks...

Wild flowers grow in the crevice of rock on top of the mountain. You wouldn't think anything could grow up there, but here's the one place we can't "pave paradise and put up a parking lot."

As I was descending Avery Peak I spotted a speck of red, which turned out to be Ernie, ascending West Peak on Bigelow Mountain. Not sure if you can make him out in this 8X zoom (poor resolution) photo, but he's up there.

We enjoyed a nice conversation as the sun set on West Carry Pond. Met a woman at the lean-to who used to be a librarian at St. George Library on Staten Island--the very same library where I took out the best book of my childhood: a biography of Willie Mays. Small world.

Self-portrait: Day 5 in the Wilderness. I hadn't looked at a mirror in almost week. Then I had the brilliant idea of taking my own picture. Yep, just as I figured, even in the backcountry I get better looking every day.

Once again, I'm at a loss for words.

I met Cara back in April '84--she remembers the exact date since it was the same day her cousin Michael Avino was born. He ended up being the ring-bearer at our wedding, and is now, by all reports, a fine young man who works for MTV in NY. I don't know why I started calling her Chilly P. back then, but 26 years later the name has somehow stuck. How this carving, on Pleasant Pond Mountain, has adhered to a Birch--which is in the habit of shedding its skin--all these years, I don't know. And what do you think became of Denise and Bill? Have they stood the test of time? Hope so..