The Road Rose Up to Meet Us

It was 1 o'clock when we loaded Lucy into the car after a romp and a swim at the amazing dog park from Saturday. "We should have left earlier!" Heidi scowled.

The sky was blue, the sun was warm, and the air was cool. We had stayed for a late breakfast of BLTs, stopped for coffee, and given Lucy a chance to exercise before being cooped up in the car all day. "What's the rush?" I shrugged.

"I don't want to get home in the dark!" Heidi continued.

"It's summer!" I said. "The light will be with us all the way."

And it was. Because we were leaving from a little south and east, the map app sent us a new way home. As we rolled through emerald hills we saw lots of farms and lots of wind farms, too. We drove up and down mountains, past reservoirs and rivers, through battle fields and shrines. We hit zero traffic, and finished our audio book exactly 10 minutes from home. The sun was just setting as we pulled in to our parking lot.

Home!
Our destination was as warm and welcoming as ever.
Our journey?
Was, too.

You'll Always Know Your Pal

We were back from the falls by noon, and I was restless by 12:30. A lazy search on my phone turned up a promising activity.

"Who wants to do a cave and underwater boat tour?" I asked. Maybe it was the unfolding drama in Thailand or perhaps it was just a lazy Sunday, but there were no takers.

Finally Heidi broke the crickets. "I'll go with you, Babe," she offered. And away we drove, 30 minutes to the north to a town called Lockport, the first big stop on the Erie Canal for eastbound traffic. And why was it such a destination at only 35 miles or so from the big city of Buffalo? Well, the answer is in the name. The canal drops 520 feet from Buffalo to Albany, and a full 60 of them are in Lockport. That means six locks, which could originally accommodate one boat every 3 hours. So the average back up at Lockport was three days, which was very good for the economy.

In addition, the excess water that came from constructing all those locks was redirected through a chase that went around the canal, providing enough hydropower to run three factories-- the first fire hydrant plant, a farm equipment production line, and a pulping mill.

It was those tunnels that we toured today; not an actual cave at all, but hand-excavated subterranean passages blown through the dolomite by miners and Irish orphans working as powder monkeys. Our guide was a young man by the name of Ben who was pretty knowledgeable and had a school presentation style that I found both familiar and endearing. His favorite interactive device was to introduce topics with an invitation: Anyone care to guess... how deep the water is? ...what happened to this factory? ...how many boats could fit? etc. It was simple, but effective, and he did a great job leading our group of 19 adults and 3 children.

"How old are you Ben?" Heidi asked him after slipping him a five at the end of the tour.

"Sixteen," he said.

"You were amazing!" I told him.

In 1918, an updated lock system opened, one that speeded 10 boats at a time through in less than an hour. In addition, electricity meant that the raceways were no longer necessary to power the factories, which closed or relocated, and the tunnels were drained and abandoned.

Lockport's economy declined for the next 100 years. The canal still operates today, though, mostly for leisure vessels like tour boats, house boats, kayaks, and canoes. And this year? In honor of the 100th anniversary of the new locks? Passage through Lockport is free.

And well worth the stop!

Dog Day

"Let's do something with Lucy," Heidi suggested today, so I consulted a trusty local website to find the best things to with dogs around here. They pointed us in the direction of a state park which was the former farm of the Knox family who, along with their in-laws, the Woolworths, made their fortune in the early variety store business.

The weather was glorious and the park was perfection for pups-- we started at an acres large grassy off leash area where 20 dogs ran and played. Down one of the rolling trails was a sunny little pond where Lucy could swim, and we strolled through shady woods and across fields, past old farmsteads and houses and through a wedding until we returned to the parking lot, but not before we had fresh squeezed lemonade and baked this morning lemon madeleines at the dog friendly cafe on the premises.

Come to think of it, the park was pretty perfect for people, too.

Cardinal Rules

Heidi's folks have worked hard to create a lovely garden-like atmosphere in their back yard, and our summer visits always include lots of time relaxing outside. Of course many birds also enjoy the yard, and one of the frequent visitors this week has been the strangest looking cardinal I've ever seen. The poor little bird is completely missing her crest and the rest of her head feathers!

Her baldness gives her the appearance of a tiny vulture.


She gives the impression of being healthy in all other respects, especially her appetite, and the internet assures me that she is probably just the victim of a bad molt.  It seems that most birds lose and replace their feathers a few at a time all over their bodies during molting season, but on occasion, for unknown reasons, something goes haywire and all the plumage in one area falls out at once.

She should be back to normal in 8-10 weeks, but until then? She definitely stands out in the flock.

Salty

Heidi's parents invited us to a salt cave experience this afternoon.

Touted for improving respiratory health, anti-inflammation, and general relaxation, we were surprised that Gary and Louise wanted to go, but we were definitely along for the ride. Upon entering the unassuming strip mall shop front, dim lights, soothing music, and pleasant incense met us. We had to sign a few waivers and acknowledge a page of rules and disclaimers, but even the paperwork was not really a buzz-kill. The place was welcoming in an artificial Disney sort of way, and staring at the heavy door guarding the entrance to the faux cave, I suggested an escape room for our next activity.

When three blissed-out people in their 70s floated out and proceeded to make follow-up appointments, I was definitely intrigued, and craning my neck to catch a glimpse inside, I was more than ready to take my foot-protected self right into the cave. Our turn came soon enough, and after picking our way across a beach of loose salt and settling ourselves into zero gravity lawn chairs, we
listened to the story of how Polish salt miners and their super health revealed the benefits of time spent in such a chamber and learned how we would soon be enveloped in an invisible blizzard of micro salt particles.

In perhaps the most stunning turn of events, we were informed that no talking or even whispering was allowed during the 45 minute session. And then the door clicked closed and the relaxing music seemed to grow louder, so we pushed back our reclining chairs, grabbed the fleece blankets, and stared dreamily at the aura lights twinkling from the ceiling.

The Fourth of July

We spent our day surrounded by family at a holiday picnic with dogs and toddlers splashing in the pool and tumbling across the shady lawn.

What a privilege!

Happy Birthday, America.

What Daddy Likes

Heidi and I both have Upstate New York roots: she grew up in Buffalo and my dad was a Little Falls boy, born and bred just a couple hours east. It makes for a compelling cultural confluence; there are just so many vaguely familiar elements to the time we spend up here that something almost always seems to conjure up my dad.

For example last night we were talking about food we ate as children and lost family recipes. "My mother made a goulash that Gary loved," Louise told us, "but we've never been able to recreate it. He's always excited when he sees it on the menu, but he's always disappointed."

This conversation came at the end of a story about how the family was so poor when she was growing up that Louise's mother made spaghetti sauce first with ketchup, and then with tomato soup. "The first time I had real spaghetti I couldn't stop eating it," she told us."It was so much better than anything we ever had!"

"My dad used to love goulash when I was little," I said, "and it was made with, guess what? Tomato soup! I wonder..."

"Oh my gosh!" Louise interrupted. "Maybe tomato soup was the secret ingredient!"

"It makes sense," I replied. "I do know how to make it. It was one of the first things I learned to cook, along with creamed chipped beef, because they were my dad’s favorites."

Guess what's on the menu for Thursday?