The Wonders of Winter

 My driveway is almost 100 feet long.  This past Saturday, I required my almost-43-year-old elbows to shovel 4 inches of snow off that driveway, and I was hurting by the time I finished the chore.  Back when said elbows were 18, their biggest task was to sit defiantly on tables while I practiced looking fashionably bored.  The elbows participated in creating a whole persona of the trendily angst-laden adolescent with Depeche Mode on the Walkman.  Ah, but that's just another injustice of life: increased responsibilities come at the same time as decreased capacities, like failing joints.  I'm just grateful for the winter, and if it means shoveling snow, so be it.  

Last winter was a disappointment.  Soggy, gray, snowless, chilly, but never really cold.  It was like 90 bleak days of late November, whose beauty grows old after about three weeks.  This time around, it looks as if a good, respectable winter will be with us for the foreseeable future.  And I'll begin the New Year with an early morning trek.  There are few things better than the woods under snow.

The Fifth Day

I hope you're not done celebrating Christmas already.  Today's just the Fifth Day, which we spent at yet another extended family celebration up North, in a spot that--in the winter--seems only slightly less bleak than Yakutsk.  

1846 Spring House, Raccoon Creek

Before Lincoln was assassinated....

 Before the Battle of Gettysburg...

 Before slavery was abolished in the southern states...

 While the potato famine ravaged Ireland...

Someone laid the stones of this old spring house, now located in Raccoon Creek State Park.  This thing was constructed in 1846, the year the Mexican-American War started.  And here it sits.  It's well off the trail, but visible through the trees when the leaves are gone.  Imagine the labor and expertise that goes into erecting a structure like this.  The old forest road near here is also lined with very good stonework, which makes me think there must have been a grand farm on this spot.  

Christmas in the 70s

 "Where's Merlin, where did he go?"  He's in a toy museum...in Rochester, New York.  I found him under the Christmas tree, circa 1978.  It was a little disconcerting to rediscover him in a museum in 2012.  Has the apple really dropped so many times since those days?  

 At one time, America was completely fixated with (and traumatized by) the big, campy shark...so much so that Saturday Night Live lampooned the fixation with a skit about a land shark.  I discovered this guy beneath the tree one year, too.  And I've been catching glimpses of him in swimming pools, and lakes, and bathtubs, and hot tubs ever since...

To this day, one of the best Christmas gifts I've ever received was a Green Machine.  It's steered with levers instead of a wheel.  Way cooler than a Big Wheel!  I used to ride mine in the parking lot of the church next door.  I loved to take corners at top speed and skid off the pavement.  But alas, here it is behind glass...

A White Christmas in North Appalachia

 It was nice to get away from the city and up into the North Woods for Christmas.  This is my wife's family's old homestead in Venango County.  The field in the distance has been strip mined twice, and the family is trying to get a lease with the damned frackers, too.  The land's been jabbed, and poked, and ripped apart, poisoned, laid bare, and pushed back together so many times, but they're still not ready to let it rest.  

 Rural Venango County is definitely Appalachia, and my father-in-law has the guns and yard debris to prove it.  My wife's people are deeply rooted to this locality, as unappealing as it is to the outsider.  I call these level-to-rolling stretches of scrubby ground "The Sadlands."  Things get prettier to the north and east.

 In Pittsburgh, our snow all melted off several days ago, but there's still plenty up north.  When my kids go swimming in grandpa's above-ground pool, I mockingly call it "Appalachia Beach."  

People make do with what they've got in the strip-mined lands alongside I-80.  The grandchildren's swing set doubles as a rack for butchering deer.  And hell, just leave the carcass out there for the coyotes to clean up... It'll be gone before the kids go back out to play on the swing in May.

Dude, I think that was Rudolph!  

Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad Station

 Our second great railroad station is located just across the Smithfield Street Bridge from downtown.  Unlike Penn Station, the subject of a previous post, trains no longer stop at this place.  Nevertheless, it is home to a very good restaurant and some upscale office space.  

I didn't get an interior shot, but they're not too hard to find on the Net.

Negley Cemetery

 In an out-of-the-way corner of Highland Park, in Pittsburgh, behind the uppermost reaches of the zoo, there's a monument that marks the site of an old cemetery for settlers.  It's essentially fifty unmarked graves sharing a single headstone on which only the two most prominent personages are named.  On side of the monument reads:

 "Sacred to the memory of those noble Christian pioneers who moulded the character of this community in its struggling and formative period.  This monument marks the center of a burial ground located on the former homestead of Alexander Negley, where are interred about fifty early settlers of the East Liberty Valley." 

It seems strange to refer to East Liberty as a valley, when it is one of the city's very few plateaus.  The opposite side of the monument reads:

"In memory of Alexander Negley, born in Germany 1734, of Swiss ancestry, came to Eastern Pennsylvania 1739, served in the war of the Revolution, settled on site of Highland Park 1778, died Nov. 3, 1809, and his wife Mary Ann Burkstresser, born in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, June 20, 1741, died June 17, 1829, both interred here.

Erected by their granddaughter, Sarah Jane Negley Mellon"