Monthly Archives: November 2023

A Word About Bugs: WMR Pt.9

Summer 2023

I don’t want to make our retreat in the White Mountains sound too idyllic.  The reality is, that we all, at some time, have to accept fate and succumb to the reality of bugs. Midges, mosquitoes, gnats, no-see-ums, creepy spiders, cobwebs, the dangerous millipedes and scorpions (actually not a bug).

How many countless times, that I’d rather forget, were stricken by a hoard of bugs? Picnics having biting ants invite themselves, or visiting mosquitoes inviting themselves and not realizing that I’m not on the menu.  That one pesky fly that continually pesters, thinking that it needn’t get its own plate; you know that guy.

How many times, when my lovely day nude in the sun got dashed by attacks? Me, having to take refuge under clothing on a sweltering day. Me, anxiously grabbing, and IN GRATITUDE, a bottle of poison to slather all over my defenseless body. Me, spending ridiculous prices for natural topical solutions, with their scented cakey result everywhere, and where there is no shower to wash before wrecking the sheets. Thank Heaven for Sssting-Stop!

This guy just crossed my foot looking like an early Disney movie, but one in the past gave my bare hand quite a smart.

I remember what could have been a lovely stay for my future wife in Jamaica, but for the 42 well scratched red gushers upon just one of the legs of her merely five foot stature. They loved her more than me; I was fine. They discriminate!?!

So, our retreat in the White Mountains wasn’t perfect. We had a few flies during the day, but we moved our lightweight folding chairs around from sun to shade as we felt. The sun chased us AND kept us away from flying pests.

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Bug Spring South

2023-08-23

DF is driving us up the scenic Mt. Lemon Highway. This is a rare occurrence. It’s been many decades since I have not been the driver on Mt Lemon. The views are fantastic of course, but today, I am seeing details, as if for a first time. The mountain air is flowing through the windows; I’m barefoot all over.

Approaching the parking lot, there is a biker in very low gear aside the road. I figure that he will arrive as I’m getting out of the car to put on my wrap-around cover. I also see another biker, who is just standing in the parking lot when we arrive, but he is on the driver side of the car and I’m a passenger. So, I wait a moment and focus on putting on my hiking shoes.

The biker arrives and then pedals up the steep hill to the kiosk and trail map, while I change out of my fully nude outfit. I simply place a kilt across my lap. He looks at the map with his head sideways, squinting.  He then pulls out a quick vape and leaves.

From the parking lot, I see him through a break in the trees on the slope above. He is taking our planned trail. In front of us, I see that he is walking his bike up the steep long hill climb. I wonder if he will decide to come back in defeat. It is quite an initial climb. I keep the kilt on.

This is the long haul that I remember from our last visit. When DF realizes that we are only half way up the hillside, her eyes widen and then a look of disappointment crosses her face, before resolve.

I trudge on step by step, determined to at least get to the top before I have my impending heart attack. I begin to feel it in my calves and my hard breathing in the center of my chest. I’m not used to this. I haven’t been getting enough of these challenges.

We pass the Guadalupe rock formation, so I know that we are nearing the top and the end of the arduous climb. I tell DF that one day, I’d like to climb up there and place a solar light in that slit. It would glow for miles. It’d probably be in the newspapers as a miracle before anyone got up in there to investigate.

I look for the place where a uniformed forest volunteer got off of the beaten path during our previous trip. Perhaps our shorter hike will be there, investigating his mysterious route. But, after looking, I seem to have missed it.

We will have a shorter trip, no doubt. There is a chance of rain from the north side of the mountain range after 2pm. In the meantime, it gives us a nice cloud cover. The air is cooler because of the elevation here. It’s probably high 70F’s give or take, with a breeze and wind gusts. It feels good in just the wrap kilt, but of course I want more freedom. 

We have reached the top of the hill. The highway has become very tiny way down below us and as it winds up the mountains across the valley. My breath and the vista, bring me away from the goal and into the grander sense of the moment. I unwrap the kilt, slip off the pack and enjoy the breeze.

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Germs

I remember when my 8 year old son came home terrified of the kitchen counter. I seriously mean “terrified.” Germs! The most contagious, vile, slimy, gross, dangerous pile of germs on the planet can be found on a kitchen counter! He had been taught in school and larned (sic) it well. As I stood making dinner, he stood keeping his distance.

I’ve been studying microbiome the last few weeks. It is germs. Trillions of them, we are ten times more germs than genetic material, in these bodies, which are 60% water. Water has memory. A study found that after a run of anti-biotics the microbiome was still disturbed, six months later. A bunch of doctors are pointing to studies and making conclusions.

The natural interfaces with our world have been disrupted and guess what has been in the way?

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