Got the grape trellises in. I’ll do the wire tomorrow and maybe plant the pair of vines on Sunday. It’s going to have to wait until after I get back from an overnight camping thing with the youth group. On deck after that are the elderberry cuttings, a replacement climbing rose, and the long-delayed raised-bed rebuild.
Beautiful morning for a 5K. Negative splits, too! I’ll take that any day of the week.
Expanding our orchard! Today we picked up a pair of Arkansas Black apple trees, along with a Cortland for pollination. Also grabbed a Keiffer pear to replace the one we lost a few years ago. Finally, a pair of muscadine grapevines: ‘Tara Bronze’ and ‘Triumph.’
I’ve wanted to try grapes for awhile now, so it’s high time to dive right in. Lot of holes to dig tomorrow.
Currently reading: Purgatorio by Dante Alighieri 📚
First pawpaw blooms!
Swarm trap
Top-bar hive
For the perpetual excuse
of Adam for his fall — “My little Eve,
God bless her, did beguile me and I ate,”
For his insistence on a nurse,
All service, breast, and lap, for giving Fate
Feminine gender to make girls believe
That they can save him, you must now atone,
Joseph, in silence and alone;
While she who loves you makes you shake with fright,
Your love for her must tuck you up and kiss good night.
— Auden
Here’s how we can be more like St. Joseph, whose solemnity we celebrate today.
Books: dug out a collection of short stories I haven’t touched since college - Stories of the Old South, edited by Ben Forkner and Patrick Samway, SJ. Last night I read “Athénaïse” by Kate Chopin. I could have sworn I read The Awakening at some point along the way, but I’m looking at plot summaries and I’m either mistaken or I’ve forgotten every bit of it. In either case, I want to read more of her work.
Still working my way through Benedict XVI’s Jesus of Nazareth and trying to get caught up on all the magazines which have landed.
Dick Hoyt, who inspired thousands of runners, fathers and disabled athletes by pushing his son, Rick, in a wheelchair in dozens of Boston Marathons and hundreds of other races, has died, a member of the family said Wednesday.
He was 80.
I'm a runner and have been on and off since high-school. I got into it because my father was a runner. Never serious, no events or anything like that. It was just something to do. I drifted away from it and came back in the years since then. An idiotic accident at home wrecked one of my ankles and I was told that impact-stuff like running was basically off the menu for me. At about the same time, I became aware of some middle-aged doughiness so I took up cycling. I loved it and built up to a couple of century rides. Then my wife started running, then we both started cycling together, and then we settled on just running, so that's what we do. The ankle seems to have healed over the years and other than a slight shortening of my stride, the effects are minimal.
We're fortunate to have a beautiful greenway trail system nearby, which lets us run along the local river without having to worry about cars. We've each done a couple of half-marathons and have settled into a nearly-year-round habit. For me, it amounts to 10 miles/week. This seems to be enough to keep the my endorphins going, heart healthy, and weight in check.
I can't say I love 100% of every run while I'm doing it. Some are better than others and I feel like I could go all day. Others are a fight for every step. I always like the way it feels to be done with a run. I say all that to say this: I have, occasionally, wondered what it would be like to complete a full triathlon. I know men my age (I just turned 50) who have done it, so I have a passing familiarity with the training regimen, and that's where it stops for me. I don't have the time, and even if I did, I'm not sure my joints could take it. So I balk at the training.
Dick Hoyt completed 6 full Ironmans, 234 other triathlons, and 67 marathons. Oh and he also ran/biked across the US.
And all of these while pushing and pulling his son Rick, who is quadriplegic and has cerebral palsy. He'd push him on a wheelchair, pull him in a raft for the swim, then sit him on a two-seater bike.
His son, who doctors insisted should be institutionalized - "he'll be a vegetable for life," but who went on to attend public school and graduate from Boston University.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace.
Currently reading: Stories of the Old South by Ben Forkner 📚
