Well Hello There American Toad!

Last month, I wrote about the discovery of a common Fowler Toad living in my back yard. It was certainly a welcomed sight; I'm always eager to invite as much biodiversity as possible into my landscape. With all the dozens of species of birds that live in my yard, also having a cute little toad was quite delightful. Today, I was lucky yet again.

While mowing the grass around my garden area, I happened upon this stout American toad (Anaxyrus americanus). Sure, it's just a toad you might say. And yet, this specimen was hefty, roughly the size of my palm. I didn't want to touch it for fear of stressing it out, but I did guide the toad towards a more inviting residence within a garden bed filled with Asiatic lilies. There, it would be safe from my mower. I took note of the area surrounding the American toad. All around were various insects and worms, of which one was crawling out in the open nearby. I suspect the toad was hunting for some lunch. Who can blame him? I'm certain he found a tasty earthworm or grub to snack on while resting among the lilies.

The American toad is a certified success story within the animal kingdom. It has spread all over the North American continent, ranging from the Atlantic coast to the Midwest, then northwards into Canada. They're of the hardy and resilient sort, easily adaptable to almost any environment -- flatlands, forests, mountains, open fields, brush-filled areas and yes, even back yards. With a secure hunting ground for food and a stable hibernation area for the cold winter months, the American toad can live a long and happy life. The oldest known American toad lived well into her thirties. Typical though, an American toad can easily live for 5 - 15 years in the wild, with life expectancy much longer in a healthy captive environment.

Just think... the toad I met today may have lived in my yard longer than I've owned my home.  Perhaps the toad looks at me and thinks "gee, who is this guy on my property?"

An Afternoon Of Birdwatching.

For hours on end this afternoon and evening, Crystal and I sat in our backyard and took note of the various species of birds that came to our home. Many of these birds live in the Leyland Cypress trees surrounding our property. Others travel to eat, then fly back to the surrounding forests. We have five different bird feeders and a bath, so the birds know it's safe to come to our place for a bite to eat. Though the birds have been coming over for many years since we purchased the property, we've never really taken a detailed list of which species are present. Here are the birds we saw (or those that I can verify as having seen previously).

American Robin

Carolina Chickadee

Chipping Sparrow

Dark-eyed Junco

Eastern Bluebird

House Finch

Lesser Goldfinch

Mourning Dove

Northern Cardinal

Northern Mockingbird

Song Sparrow

Tufted Titmouse

White-throated Sparrow

I'm really thankful for these birds coming to our backyard to eat and reside. There's a real joy to be found in watching birds. I can't believe we've never done this rewarding activity before. I hope birdwatching becomes a daily ritual!

You Can't Go Home Again: A Tour Of Lunenburg County.

While traveling to Richmond over the weekend, I took a small detour through the area where I grew up. Lunenburg County has never been the wealthiest of locales. In fact, the county still doesn't even have a McDonald's or a Walmart; that's just how rural the place is. I emerged in Victoria, Virginia; the town where I went to middle and high school. Not too much had changed considering I hadn't been there in nearly fifteen years. Some of the businesses throughout the town had changed names, but many more seemed to have closed altogether. I took notice of so many empty storefronts and factories. Such a shame, really.

I made a stop at my old high school first. Central High was already in fairly run down condition when I graduated from there in 2000. It doesn't seem much has improved. Many of the outlying buildings were in disrepair.

The amphitheater surrounding the old art complex was dreary, with some benches appearing to be scattered or broken. I can recall sitting on that stage graduating, to which I fell asleep in the hot sun waiting for the whole event to be over. The only highlight seemed to be the football field, which looked to have a new fence and seating. This came as no surprise to me, though. Even when I was still a student there, all anyone ever cared about was the damned football team.

I then ventured down to Lunenburg Middle School, which I attended between 1993 and 1996. Unfortunately, I simply wasn't prepared for the dilapidated condition of the campus.

The two buildings which comprise the middle school are in the active process of being reclaimed by nature. Most of the lot, including the sports fields, was overgrown with tall grass and weeds. The old gymnasium and wood shop looked to be suffering roof collapses.

Windows everywhere were broken or missing. Many of the doors were left open to vagrants and wild animals. Had I of wanted to, I could have easily gone inside and inspected the broken down structure. Approaching the cafeteria, I found part of its large window knocked out.

Inside, I discovered trash, animal waste and grime. The old murals which used to be on the walls were painted over at some point after I left. I can still recall my very last day at the school in 1996, waiting for my bus to arrive outside the main office entrance. Such a pity the school has been all but forgotten. I learned later on this weekend that a new middle school had been built recently, but I'm not sure when or where. To see these old buildings rotting away, though... that was a punch to the gut.

Heading on to Kenbridge, I stopped by the Tastee Freez. Much to my thankfulness, I was glad it was still open for business. This was my first job as a teenager.

At the time, I rather disliked working there. But, looking back, it was probably one of the best parts of my teenage years. On Friday nights, we practically served every mouth in the county. It was even worse after a Central football game. Whew... talk about hard work! I am thankful for the work ethic that job taught me, though. Not much had evolved inside the building. The same tables, same booths, same menu board, same ice cream machine -- it was all there! The current employees were really nice and friendly. It was comforting to see that not much had been altered since the last time I was inside; I believe it was 2002.

I drove by my old house on Broad Street feeling perplexed, unable to tell if it was being remodeled or just trashed by the current residents. Garbage and building waste littered the yard. The multiple gas stations along Broad were still open, but stifled by folks in loud trucks, cars with blaring music and foolhardy loiterers. All in all, it was quite depressing.

Coming back as a man, I was taken aback by how much smaller everything seemed to be. Had I grown larger? Or, the more likely scenario... things have the appearance of being so much bigger when you're in your youth. 

Thomas Wolfe writes in his literary classic You Can't Go Home Again:

"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."

The harrowing words of Wolfe pierce my heart like a stinging blade of remembrance. I've avoided Lunenburg County for so long. Never proud of where I came from as a young man, it wasn't a place I wanted to be a part of my adulthood. Seeing Lunenburg's current state, I can say confidently that I made the right choice in leaving all those years ago. There's no hope for the area; no chance of broadened horizons. No likelihood of being successful or noteworthy. No chance of seeing the world or meeting new people. It was important for me to experience where I grew up as a man, though. To understand just how far I've come as an adult, I needed to see firsthand where I started from. In all things, perspective is the key to correctly gauging your trajectory.

With the stale breath of creeping death upon my neck, I left Lunenburg with a greater appreciation of all that I've worked so hard for. None of my success would have been possible had I of stayed there.

That's Just FAN-tastic!

I've lived in my current home for four years. Crystal and I purchased it in June of 2011. In that time, my office has gone without a ceiling fan. It had the hook-ups and wiring pre-installed for a fan, but for some reason one was never put in.

Today, I was determined to change all that.

After looking at the wires that were present in the ceiling, we trotted down to Lowe's and purchased a brand new ceiling fan for $50. Nothing fancy or extravagant -- just something to get the job done.

Upon bring it home, we went through all of the parts and followed the instructions step by step. This was the first time either of us had ever done an electrical installation. One hour later, the fan was installed and working properly. It was miraculous! I found myself asking...

"Why did I wait so long to install this fan? I'm an idiot."

That was easy.

When Crystal and I finished, I asked her as to why I waited so long to tackle such an apparently easy project. She explained that I lacked confidence in my own abilities for many years, only having recently come to understand how able-bodied and inherently talented I am. Crystal also said that I should continue to believe in myself and not fear future projects.

I think she's right. For far too long, I doubted myself and what I could do. These past few years have been a really healthy period for me. Every step of the way, I'm improving and becoming a more whole human being. It's like I'm earning back the pieces of myself that I gave away over the course of twenty plus years. Every time I look at that ceiling fan, I'll feel a bit of pride.

The funny part? We're thinking about moving in a year. I really should have installed the fan a long time ago so I'd get to enjoy it more!

I Secretly Want a Walk-In Bathtub.

I must admit... I secretly want a walk-in bathtub.

No, I'm not retired. No, I do not have a physical handicap. And no, I do not have any grey hair. I envy those keen and clean silver-age scamps who get to enjoy their walk-in tubs free from harsh criticism. Sure, I might only be 32 years old, but I'll be darned if I haven't wanted a walk-in tub for years!

These tubs are the epitome of comfort. You get to sit down in a jacuzzi-like enclosure and enjoy the warm water of a bath cresting at your shoulders. There are pulsating jets of water that shoot at you from every angle. Some tubs allow for you to inject special aromatherapy oils into the water. Others feature built-in radios and app-friendly programming. Everything about a walk-in tub is designed to provide the most relaxing experience possible.

We've all seen the commercials for walk-in tubs on television. How many times have you awoken to an infomercial at 3 AM to see the ever-youthful Pat Boone trying to sell you one? I know I have! But, this is one of the very few instances where I actually have been sold on a product featured in a paid advertisement. It almost makes me eager to become a senior citizen!

I've looked into the cost of owning a walk-in tub... and they vary wildly in price. Ultimately, one could expect to pay in the range of a few thousand dollars on up to $20,000 for the most advanced models. That's a pretty steep price to pay for some exquisite at-home comfort, but I hope to install one at some point in the future. Perhaps I could crowd-fund a walk-in tub for my home and write new articles from within it!

I guess it's not a secret anymore!

My Apple Tree Is Finally Flowering!

I was pleased to discover over the weekend that one of the fruit trees in my yard was finally blooming this year. Hurray!

This apple tree is one that I started from a seed in late 2008. I pulled the seed out of an apple that I'd eaten and dropped it into a bucket with some dirt, just to see if it would grow. Sure enough, it did! The apple seedling stayed in that bucket until I purchased my home in 2011. At that point, I was able to transplant it into the ground. Nearly seven years later, the apple tree is finally flowering for the first time. The sad part is that I don't know what kind of apple tree it will be -- I never took note of the apple variety I claimed the seed from. I guess it will be a surprise!

I also have two other apples tree growing in my yard which I also started from seeds. They're approximately a year younger and probably a different variety. I hope to see them flower for the first time next year. Two peach trees stand in my yard which were started from seeds as well. They've produced fruit for the past few years, though are still fairly immature.

Going Home.

I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted to write about today. A few potential subjects popped into my head - the dinosaur ankylosaurus, celtic music, robots, even how glow-in-dark items work. While I do want to write about these things, today just didn't feel like the day. Though, in my heart, I knew I had to write. Nay, I am compelled to put words down.

So here I am. I'm letting the words lead me to where I need to be.

While trying to decide where this blog post would go, a certain piece of music started playing that reminded me of a feeling. Remember when you would get dressed in fancy clothes as a kid and take a trip to see family at the holidays? I know for me, the most exciting part about Christmas was going to see my maternal grandparents. Even though it was not my own, the sensation was like going home for me. The cookies, the turkey, the PRESENTS! Oh my... the entire season was just so wonderful. It goes much deeper than silly gifts and stuffing my face, though.

I realize the holidays aren't quite here yet, but bear with me in this moment.

If I sit here very still and concentrate, I can remember even the smell of my grandparents' house during the holidays. It's a memory I certainly can't describe to you with mere words, but I'm positive you can appreciate the invocation. Even better was the glow of ornaments and decorations.

A series of silver bells hung over a large mirror in the living room. They would light up and give this strange, but comforting aura as they rested above the mirror's reflective surface. 

My favorite seat in the house was Grandpa's chair. In my mind, I can still feel it.

To the left, a small coffee table with a beautiful lamp. The base of the lamp was bulbous and had an internal light, which was great for use as a nightlight. A beige rotary telephone sat underneath. Oh, how I miss rotary phones. The table itself was always full of great catalogs and magazines to browse through. To the right was where the Christmas tree would always sit on glorious display.

Curled up next to the Christmas tree, with the lights turned down low... that sensation of being at home is still with me.

The shine of the tiny light bulbs on the tree would echo and bounce across the room, making everything sparkle in the darkness. Little wooden ornaments adorned the tree, representing all manner of creatures and people. You just don't see old wooden ornaments like that anymore.

As we grow old and change, I think we all try to copy that feeling of home in our own lives. It's a very difficult feeling to copy, much less copy well.  Even still, if we are able to capture the aesthetic of home, many of those we love so dearly can't be there with us. Sure, they're there in spirit, but to be able to speak to them? To hug them? To get grandma's big sloppy kisses? To feel grandpa squeeze on you one last time?

Times change. People come and go. Memories are all we have.

I must admit -- I'm slightly teary-eyed as I finished that last sentence.

We spend our whole lives in search of going home. For each of us, it's a different road, a different destination. Yet, what we want is the same. The unfortunate part? Some of us get there and some of us don't. What a terrible thing it must be to never get back home again. The empty faces we pass on the street, huddled under soiled blankets and boxes. Surely, those poor souls just want to go home, but somehow lost their way in the fog of real life. What about the lowly inmate, locked behind bars for crimes against their fellow man? Did he or she not start out with good intentions? Did they not want to just feel loved a little bit longer? To find a little bit of solace in the storm? No matter their crime, they too were at one point in their lives just an innocent child. What happened to lead them away from home?

The journey back home is about finding those things that make us feel whole again.

One more meal with those we love. One more hand shake. One more toast to the cook. One more bottle of wine. One more Christmas carol. One more hug. One more moment of knowing the outside world doesn't matter.

As much as it can hurt at times, I'm thankful I've never forgotten these things.