Around the Burg

The Burg took the back seat, or the non-existent seat, the past two months --and not for a lack of good weather. The bike mobile is dangerously in need of some repairs and I made the executive decision to hold those repairs until my funds recover from Christmas and the pre and post birthday activities (Mom, PTB, Pook, and Livy all sandwiched around the holidays... that's a lot of birthday cake).  So we've been spending a lot of (read: way too much) time trapped at home.  We only ventured out into Trumansburg once since Halloween and (because the blog also ranked low on the priority list) I never got around to recording the venture.  So here you go: Around the (almost forgotten) Burg.

The date:  November 29, 2009  The temperature:  55 degrees 

The place:  The Gorge at Taughannock

Let me just say now that a November trip up the gorge sans snowshoes is not typically recommended.  A waterfall with free-flowing water following the 1st of said month is almost unheard of.  Winter was trying to be humble this year, or maybe just feeling burnt out from its October 16th debut.  Instead of complaining or worrying about the possibility of a brown Christmas, we took advantage.  We packed up our kids, a sister, some fleece, and our stroller and headed to the base of the trail where we found a parking lot bursting with the cars of hikers who had the same bright idea:

Taughannock Falls.  

I know I've mentioned this place at least a few times before and you might as well expect to hear about it again in the future, because it is one of my favorite places.  On Earth.  I know that's a bold statement and I'm really not that well traveled, but I love it anyway.  Standing at the base of Taughannock is truly an extraordinary experience.  The kind that one of my petty descriptions would never do justice.  So I won't describe it.  I'll just give the facts followed by an invitation to come try it yourself and call that sufficient.

The flat trail is only 3/4 of a mile.  It's not physically demanding.  It could even be enjoyed on a bike or in a wheelchair.  I'm telling you, this is a place for everyone! The trail is marked with unobtrusive benches for the weary and signs supplying more information than I could ever offer on my blog.

It runs the length of a post-glacial valley which was carved over a long period of time by a meandering stream.  The stream is still present.  In the summer months, visitors can hike the length of the valley in water shoes.  The stream offers plenty of its own entertainments: slippery rock, crayfish, snakes, minnows, small waterfalls, skipping stones, other stones, a slight current, beauty.

Near the trail's beginning is a lower (nameless??) waterfall, good for jumping off of or taking pictures in front of.  The pool at the bottom is frequently used for fishing and smelting.

  (this is the only evidence I have of it, taken June 2009)

The trail is, as I mentioned before, in its own special little valley, surrounded on both sides by 400 foot cliffs.   Trees reach their roots across the vertical face of these rocky cliffs and miraculously grow thick, tall trunks while tenaciously hanging on to whatever they can.  This stoic plant life provides habitation for some pretty amazing birds -owls, falcons, hawks, etc.

And then you meet Taughannock.  One of the tallest single-drop waterfalls east of the Rocky Mountains,  it stands 215 feet tall (33 feet taller than Niagra).  It is beautiful and powerful.  The experience of standing at its base is almost magical.  You can stand right there and feel its wind and mist and listen to its roar and be absolutely enchanted.  Well, I am, at least.  Come try it.  You may never want to leave.

Sweet and Sour

(the sauce he used to glue the fortune to his forehead)

Here is my sweet little boy, Gerret.  I'd like to tell you that he isn't typically this dirty, but that wouldn't be the truth.  His affinity for the unclean is just one of the many characteristics he inherited from his odd-ball mother (or so his father claims).

I love Gerret.  He makes me smile and laugh.  He makes my heart jump into my throat at least once a day as he performs near-impossible stunts.  I kindly thank his split personality --Mr. Hyper with that one very wild bone and Dr. Pookyll who is pure, cuddly goodness.  With Gerret, I'm never quite sure what to expect, only that it will either make me smile or scare me to death.

And now for the sour.

Gerret is maturing far past any semblance of a baby.  Today, for the last time, I mention his age exclusively as a number of months: 23.  And now I will stop counting, because next month he will turn two years old.  Can you believe it?  Does that taste sour to you, too?  I'm finding that both the happiest and saddest moments come from watching my boys grow up.

Cake O' Flames

I remember listening intently to Ronelle's description of her mother's 50th birthday cake as it burned gloriously with 50 lighted candles.  I believe she applied the term "forrest fire".  I clung to that story, recognizing that such opportunities for intimate light shows do not present themselves often, and nearly fantasized about my own mother's 50th birthday cake.  Today was the day I've waited half my life for and I made sure we had 50 candles and a suitable cake on hand.  I detected some reluctance, but assured my honored guest that it would be fantastic, or at least memorable.  She complied and the show ensued with only minor hitches --like the fact that we didn't count the candles until we had already placed 41 or the conundrum of getting all fifty lit in a safe and efficient manner.  Everything worked out and we had our show --flames danced atop candles placed so close the small flickers melted into one large glow and moved frantically across a (sweating) vanilla floor.  It was fantastic (or at least memorable), but the evening was really for my mother, who is more fantastic than any 50-candled light show.

On a more serious note, I feel inclined to say something about this person who has had a significant hand in shaping me.  My mom is an extraordinary woman.  In so many ways, I hope to become like my mom.  I admire her integrity, the way she works so hard, the way she cares for people, her resilience, her creativity, her compassion, the way she stands for truth, her love of family and of the Gospel.  I'm grateful for all that she is to me and grateful for the past 25 years of knowing her and watching her.

Mom, Nolan, Elise

birthday banner and a little goober saying "cheese"

a three-man job


the cake, pre-candles

                                           the decorated-ish kitchen              the flowers

decorations

Visitors from Arizona

My brother and his wife flew in this weekend for my grandpa's funeral.  Though a sad occasion for a reunion, it was so nice to see them.  We have so much fun when they visit.  My boys adore them.  I'm always left dreaming about Arizona, wondering if I could survive without bone-chilling winters.

When Weighty Things Happen

There are a handful of days in a person's life that have a lasting effect on all of the rest.  These days wake up many, many slumbering memories and cause a deep kind of reflection and remorse and rejoicing as the mind handles each one.  These days beg you to consider the meaning of life and the significance of death.  They beg you to reconsider what is most important and what is less.  Emotions, questions, assurances, hopes, images and stories from the past -these all flow in and out, around and through, day after day after day.  Eventually you feel completely drenched and weighted down, yet they just keep coming.

I had one of those days this week.

Whether a few seconds, or a few decades, this life is short.  I'm grateful to feel so sure that there is more.  There has been more and there will be more.  This understanding makes all the difference.



As published in Ithaca Journal from December 3 to December 4, 2009:

TRUMANSBURG - Kenneth W. Murray, of 3112 Jacksonville Rd., Trumansburg, passed away peacefully at home on Wednesday, December 2, 2009, at the age of 79.


Born on July 18, 1930 in Montour Falls, Kenneth was the son of the late Robert and Florence (Conover) Murray. He enjoyed spending time outdoors. Having been raised on a farm in Reynoldsville, his love of animals was carried through in the raising of cattle and horses at his home in Trumansburg. In the summer, Kenneth could be found camping across New York State, while in the winter he gathered with friends and family to go snowmobiling. He was an avid snowmobiler and looked forward to the first snowfall of the winter.


During the Korean War, he served in the US Marine Corps. Kenneth and his brother-in-law, Don Stevens, were owners and proprietors of Stevens and Murray Service Stations in Ithaca. Together they worked tirelessly, establishing many gas stations throughout the Ithaca area. In later years, he traveled extensively across the United States. Kenneth was a lifelong member of the American Legion Post #770 in Trumansburg.


In addition to his parents, Kenneth was preceded in death by his wife, Ruth, on February 16, 1993; two brothers, Robert and Donald Murray; and a sister, Kathleen Stevens. He is survived by three children, Carol (Tim) Megivern of Coco, Florida, Ken (Laurie) Murray of Trumansburg, and Ted (Karen) Murray of Trumansburg; eight grandchildren, Jeff, Sara, Lindsay, Jordan, Olivia, Elise, Tyler, and Shauna; two great-grandchildren, Nolan and Gerret; brother-in-law, Don Stevens; sister-in-law, Helen Murray; companion of the past 10 years, Pauline Dubock; and many nieces, nephews, and friends.


The family will be present to receive friends on Saturday, December 5, 2009, from 12:00 to 2:00 p.m. at the Ness-Sibley Funeral Home, 23 South St., Trumansburg. Funeral Services and burial will be private.

Brothers Extraordinaire

Nolan and Gerret, November 2009

They make for a pretty phenomenal pair of brothers.  Yes, they have their moments of grabbing and tattling, crying and complaining about the other, but their days are mostly full of sharing and hugging, sitting side by side and audibly adoring one another.

One Small Example:

I am sitting on the bench at our kitchen table, eating lunch with my two sons.  I am seated on the end with Nolan squished between Gerret and me.  As we are finishing up, Nolan turns to me and says, "Momma, will you get another baby?"  He asks that quite often.

"Yeah, maybe someday."

"From the hospital?"

I assure him that if we get another baby, it would come from the hospital (not K-mart or Wegmans).

With this assurance, Nolan turns to look at his brother and asks, "This baby came from the hospital?"

"Yep, he did."

Nolan continues to study his brother who is nonchalantly eating his lunch.  Then Nolan reaches out his hand and pats the top of Gerret's head.  With a tone laden with fondness and adoration says, "I really love him."

Moments like this melt my heart.