Blog-azic

Of late, what do I read? Surely is it those writings by Tom Brown Jr . In my backyard, I've assembled a make-shift drying box. First, I built up inch-thick sticks (6) two-by-two, crossing each pair. Upon this, I laid a large old screen, and upon that a fitting glass window. I will use this device to dry leaves and roots (perhaps fruit and vegetables, even). I was upon a rock outcropping at the point of a hill. Ahead was the long finger of Dow Lake ; it streached away to my right, where it met another finger before joining the lake proper. This spot felt right, so there I finished my necklace. I first started weaving dogbane a day before, though at that time I was away up the hollow, under a shelf guarded by trillium . I wove. Then, I built a fire . The woody parts of Dogbane were fuel for a flame before they were ash. Before they were ash, I tempered my cord.

From the Sunday edition of the Athens Messenger: Case closed, gang.

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Friday night I slept on the living room couch. [I've been sleeping around lately - around my house. I particularly like sleeping on our porch.] Normally, the birds and sun awake me about 7:30 a.m., but it was the sirens of firetrucks today. It must have been about 5 a.m., which is early, but I had need to rise that early anyways. For on Saturdays I awake not as Chris Tomazic , nor as the Knight of the Gnarled Beard, but as Spin-ie MacSpinSpin Beard Spin Beard, DJ at large, in charge, on a barge, next to Marge, Spin Beard . On my way to the studio, I took a shortcut behind some frat/sorrority houses. On the shortcut, I saw the fire the sirens were screaming about. That's it. Just saw it and kept walking. Then I found five dollars.

Note: I began writing this story intending it to mock the Lost and Found post. I have not written it to the conclusion I had in mind when I started it, but, because I will write no more, you may want to read it. Upon a fine day early in spring do we find Don Tomazic, the Knight of the Gnarled Beard, and his droll squire Sanza Poncho a-trekking through the forest as teacher and student studying the bountiful table that does nature spread before the man who longs - as did Sir Leopold - to gather his meat from God. "Take heed of this delicate flower, O Poncho, which the Wise name spring beauty for it harbingers the arrival of that season of birth, and, like all heralds of good news, is a thing fair to behold. The coin-shaped corm buried inches in the dirt is a hearty starch like unto a potato." "Surely do I know this flower and its starchy root for as a boy did I spend many a springy afternoon digging these from the ground. But, the corms are so small as to be of little w

I plan to camp into the woods soon - as the moon waxes to one quarter . I know of a hollow with a narrow ravine where streaked coincaps grow under an old tree trunck dead and weathered, where devil's urn (deemed a "true harbinger of spring" by Kent and Vera McKnight ) sits on the bank of a run listening to a stream that wanders back and back, higher and higher until water falls over a sandstone shelf. Here has Stream cut Earth creating steep slopes on either side of the shelf. Trillium is screaming from the slopes, "Here I am! It is spring!" Soon I will visit Ravine that flows in Hollow.

I have neglected to recount on this blog the Adventure of the Impounded Poncho . I have neglected it for the adventure was not completed until this past afternoon. Nearly one month ago, I made a camp in the Wayne National Forest to celebrate the Equinox. I built a lean-to from pine boughs and covered it with a poncho. Though I left the woods, I left my camp and continued to return to visit it. I left a note in the lean-to foretelling my return, and I signed it with my initials. The camp was located within the Burr Oak Cove Campground, owned and operated by the Wayne National Forest. This site was suggested to my by forest rangers. They informed me that camping was free on the grounds when water was shut off at the grounds (which it was until April 14). They also gave me paper documents with the same information. So, I was surprised when I returned to the camp one day to find the poncho gone and the lean-to scattered about the forest floor. Tied to a pine tree was a note from Ranger Joe

My Easter weekend was actually not pleasant. I ate very much sugar (think: chocolate covered oreos) and slept away much time. Wonderful things did happen, though. I performed at Donkey on Friday night to a small but attentive crowd. I went to the Farmers Market on Saturday to play guitar and sing to a bitter cold wind. I saw friends and they sang along with me. A passerby tipped me with a ball of delicious, oregano goat cheese. Still, I felt as if my head was swimming in a sleepy sugar sea yesterday as I left work . So, after a brief stop at my home to pick-up supplies and shop at the grocery store, I went to the woods of Strouds Run State Park. I wound my way back into a hollow with a flat, floodplain bottom. As I followed the creek back (southwest) and up, the landscape became chocked with honeysuckle (a non-native plant that takes the form of a vine and a bush) forcing me west of the creek and up the hillside where I saw an opossum briefly before he quietly stole away. The honeysu

I'm back from my meeting. I keep a compass on my person. I examine the sun's position with it. I also orient myself to the earth's magnetic field. Since spring came to me many weeks ago, I have kept open my windows. It's cold right now (20's and 30's). I have not liked my cell phone lately. 4 real. I want to remove it from my life. I am reading Tolkien's The Silmarillion . West and East are prominent directions in the book.

I woke up early today, which means I awoke a half an hour before I did last Tuesday. As I brushed my pretty hair in the bathroom mirror I wondered what to do with all my extra free time. RIDE-MY-BIKE-TO-WORK DAY! My ride was splendiforous! I saw two yellow butterflies. I was chased by four dogs (though, they were pretty wimpy looking). A man was whacking the weeds in the Hilltop Cemetery. The school buses were transporting children at 11 o'clock in the morning. My wheels spun as I peddled up hills chocked with gravel. Garlic mustard is awake and rising. The manure is on the fields. ......uh oh. gotta go to a meeting.....