weather adventure

How do you know your adventure days are behind you? Read the rest of this entry »

shade trees and ringing bells – yars

I actually heard birds singing, and people were calling me from far away. Read the rest of this entry »

peds — yars – horse pill

Terry was late thirties to our twenties, owned his own business and drove a big white Cadillac convertible and cruised down the highway with the radio blaring as we headed for Detroit. A big second row he stood about six foot five inches and if his best years were behind him he was still a dangerous player. You might get hit late and hard, but he’d smile as he helped you up. Read the rest of this entry »

dare to ride — horse

Sometimes we try things and they don’t always work out exactly as we planned. Read the rest of this entry »

watch out for bears – horse

My youngest often rides a horse bareback as we explore the mountain trails. Read the rest of this entry »


The parachutes are military surplus, giant silken umbrellas with a choice of colors as long as you favor camouflage green. I realize trust is getting into an old beat up airplane with a parachute packed by someone else. I hope they were having a good day.

Used boots from the pile
lace them tight and high my boy
jumping off of tables

Little turtles with our shells upon our backs, training completed and ready to go. Just like jumping off the table, hit and roll, not much to it they comfort us. Oh – and try not to land in the corn field, makes our neighbors mad. The equipment is old and worn, but the people here are proud and have prepared us well.

blue and white Cesna
little airplane tired and worn
one little motor

About five or six of us are in the plane as like the “little engine that could”, she groans to life and rumbles down the runway. Once airborn she transforms into a graceful swan soaring over the countryside. I am the first and at about 3,000 feet the pilot tells me to unlatch the door. Reaching out the door whips up as the wind nearly pulls me out of the plane. I glance back at the pilot and he smiles… Position he yells, and out onto the strut I go, the cold wind howling in my face as I stand, one foot on the strut one up, two hands holding the wing brace ready to push off on his signal.

No graceful exit
from the last safe tiny perch
Not swan, bowling ball

I look up and….

silky brown flower
windblown peaceful drifting day
tasting the silence

without a parachute

The year is 1976, a good year to jump out of an airplane. I am twenty, Tim and Al are a bit older and seasoned, Al being a Vietnam Vet, tough but a good guy, and Tim a bit of a prankster. We load into Tim’s 1974 cobalt blue Cutlass Supreme and head out to Garretsville, Ohio to the parachuting club. It is morning in Amish country and black buggies pulled by brown mares share the roads with us.

Row upon row of corn blocks our view and when we round the corner and discover the airfield, all the joking stops. With a sudden intake of breath, three men as one, we gaze in terror upon the plane. It is the oldest most dilapidated Cesna I have ever seen. The car is stopped, we are all thinking of turning around when Al barks out “At least we don’t have to risk landing in it”. We all laugh and head in.

It is funny how joking stops when a tall blonde is describing how to open your emergency parachute in case your primary chute is a tangled mass of spaghetti.
Al asks, what happens if our primary chute tangles, and she replies “Open your secondary as I have been showing you”, then Tim asks.. “But what if our secondary parachute is tangled, what do we do?”

She stops for a second, looks at us one by one and says “Then cross your legs like this”, overlapping her legs with her toes pointing down. “Why” we ask together puzzled?

“So we can screw you out of the ground”


Things are going well, I am pounding the calcium ( I may pee a stalactite )  and was out this weekend riding my mountain bike along next to my daughter on her cross country skis.

Riding  in the snow is fun.  You drop your tire pressure way down and get in a nice low gear. Seek out line where the snow is shallow, and when you hit the drifts, put your weight back so the  rear wheel doesn’t spinout.  Even so,  you make turns like an ocean liner, nothing sharp, and end up sliding a bit and shifting your weight to stay up.

If you live in the snow, why hate it?  Embrace it,  play in it.

Life is an adventure. I am lucky enough to have spent some time out of my comfort zone.  How about you?