The season’s reason
Was pagan Germans’ marking
Winter’s equinox
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
30 November 2018
09 February 2018
haiku 9 Feb 2018
Kalt, der Winterwind
Der über den Hudson zieht
Wie ein böser Hengst
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
Der über den Hudson zieht
Wie ein böser Hengst
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
08 January 2018
haiku 8 Jan 2018
Tightly packed, their hive
Stores heaped to last the winter
Yearning for springtime
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
Stores heaped to last the winter
Yearning for springtime
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
08 November 2017
on warmer feet
Following the recent onset of winter, and after relinquishing a blanket to its rightful owner, I noticed that my feet were getting and staying cold during my daily writing sessions. Previously, I would rest them on a bunched-up comforter; it did a good job of shielding my lower extremities against the uninsulated flooring panels that drag heat down into the frigid earthen cellar below.
In an attempt to mitigate my current discomfort, I threw down a single, thin sheet of cardboard, which provided little relief. Since today is recycling day, however, last night I walked repeatedly past a bin overflowing with cardboard. I took from it various sheets, cut them to size and taped them together at the ends (to keep out debris and bugs), making a block of cardboard roughly one inch thick upon which my feet now rest.
Unlike before, my feet are now far less likely to shed body heat into the linoleum tiles beneath them as I sit in an unheated room within an uninsulated house smithing lies, putting words on paper. And all it took was a pair of scissors, a few feet of tape, and a pile of rubbish.
americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan
In an attempt to mitigate my current discomfort, I threw down a single, thin sheet of cardboard, which provided little relief. Since today is recycling day, however, last night I walked repeatedly past a bin overflowing with cardboard. I took from it various sheets, cut them to size and taped them together at the ends (to keep out debris and bugs), making a block of cardboard roughly one inch thick upon which my feet now rest.
Unlike before, my feet are now far less likely to shed body heat into the linoleum tiles beneath them as I sit in an unheated room within an uninsulated house smithing lies, putting words on paper. And all it took was a pair of scissors, a few feet of tape, and a pile of rubbish.
americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan
21 February 2014
on the super-sprint
The coldness has hampered, my bicycle's gears, in truth things are worse than I have seen in years. To counter this error, of worn-out old grease, of wires that freeze and dérailleurs that seize, I've sampled and tinkered and finally found, the configuration that gets me around. I call it the super-sprint, because it's fast, allowing me quickly to mount every pass, allowing me also to rush across town, both neighbors and strangers think that I'm a clown. To enter the super-sprint I with care place, the rear-most dérailleur three gears up from low, then adjust the forward gears to climb or race, and scamper and hurry through ice, wind, and snow. The back gears keep skipping, far less than before, at least now I'm not being thrown to the floor, or vexed by a jumping chain while oscar mike, while braving the season of snows on my bike, while riding through blizzard and lasting darkness, feet going like crazy with sweat on my chest. If you pass a bicyclist pedaling hard, then give her some breathing room – more than a yard – then wave to her briefly or give her a nod, for she is a champion chosen by god, to prove to us others that sacrifice counts, that each of us by any means should renounce, the slavery that automobiles demand, the titles and payments that slip from our hands.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
26 December 2012
on the sickness
As the year 2012 draws to a close and flurries of snow fall fitfully from the darkened skies, the sickness that plagued me this past week now infects a half-dozen others. I cannot help but blame myself, in part, for getting them sick: my self inflicted quarantine was too short, and my desire to be in their company was too strong, for me to have effectively denied the disease access to additional hosts. It has been years since I felt so ill that I had to skip work; I shall remember this sickness fondly.
The character of the disease included infection of the sinuses and bronchial tubes, which then produced steady amounts of thick, tenacious mucus. I also suffered from weariness, confusion, and decreased appetite. Such was my inability to think clearly that I resorted to editing and posting old texts instead of writing new ones. (I was not surprised to find that many of my previous blogposts were riddled with grammatical and contextual errors, which has lowered my already low opinion of my abilities.)
As the malaise abates and my faculties begin to spin back up to speed, I welcome the opportunity to reappraise the routines and habits I formed this past year. With a bit of foresight and a lot of luck, I may just change them for the better. Mahalo.
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
The character of the disease included infection of the sinuses and bronchial tubes, which then produced steady amounts of thick, tenacious mucus. I also suffered from weariness, confusion, and decreased appetite. Such was my inability to think clearly that I resorted to editing and posting old texts instead of writing new ones. (I was not surprised to find that many of my previous blogposts were riddled with grammatical and contextual errors, which has lowered my already low opinion of my abilities.)
As the malaise abates and my faculties begin to spin back up to speed, I welcome the opportunity to reappraise the routines and habits I formed this past year. With a bit of foresight and a lot of luck, I may just change them for the better. Mahalo.
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
21 November 2012
on solar elevation
The swift onset of winter caught this whorphan woefully off guard – his solar panels no longer spend time in the sun. Instead of basking and gulping in full exposure, they sip spare photons while lounging in this little house's lengthening shade. While preparing and splitting piles of wood for the wood-stove, he neglected his solar setup; while raking and composing mounds of leaves for the garden, he overlooked the realities of diminished daylight. Oh, how quickly it occurred, how rapidly our planet tilted on its axis, the sun now rising a few compass-ticks south of due east and, after noon, avoiding fully the front yard's short run.
What is a lowly solar farmer to do? Does he relocate his 2 sets of 3 solar panels? In order to do that, he'd have to move the entire battery bank along with both inverters and run some new wire into the house; besides, positioning the panels closer to the drive would put them at greater risk of getting struck by a passing car. Does he raise the sets on bamboo poles clustered and woven together so that they share the weight? This has both advantages and disadvantages. Among the advantages are these: if the panels were raised to a height of eight feet and lashed firmly to bamboo poles, they would be exposed to direct sunlight for a longer period of time during each day (provided the sun were to shine); they would be completely out of the wet grass; they would be at lesser risk of being broken from thrown or falling debris; if run into accidentally by a vehicle, the poles would splinter and bend while the panels above them would remain safe (this is an assumption), whereas if the panels were to be struck by a vehicle directly, they would be ruined totally. Among the disadvantages are these: the panels would face only in one direction and could no longer be manually rotated to track the sun; the wire cables with which they feed electricity to the battery bank would have to be run through a tube or otherwise secured against tripping and entanglement; they would be lashed to bamboo poles, which disintegrate over time, with either rope or some form of metal bracket – either way, the poles and lashings would have to be replaced every few years.
The third option is, of course, to do nothing, to adjust to a diminished charge in the battery bank, and to resign myself to my panels only getting full sun between 0830 and 1030 in the morning. I do not like this third option because it forces me to choose between recharging all my electronics batteries and firing up the 750 watt inverter to watch a full-length movie (a luxury I plan to cut out of my life anyway, as I have seen too many movies of late, and read too few books); it sees me standing by the window each day hoping that the sun will shine when I want it to. Therefore, the third option is off the table; I will raise the panels to a great height, lash them firmly to their mounts, secure all loose cables, wash the mud off my tools, put them away, and go watch Caddyshack for the umpteenth time. Mahalo!
(p.s. Upon further consideration, I have changed my plans. I shall not raise my panels on platforms, and I shall not drag them up to the roof. Now, instead of risking the panels causing damaging to or being blown off of the platform or roof, I have decided to locate them closer to the lane and to cut down a large bush next to the house, so that now the panels are only in the house's shade for maybe an hour, and not all afternoon. Sometimes, the old mantras come in handy; in this instance, I remembered the Latin saying Numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate, English for Keep it simple, you bleeping numskull.)
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
What is a lowly solar farmer to do? Does he relocate his 2 sets of 3 solar panels? In order to do that, he'd have to move the entire battery bank along with both inverters and run some new wire into the house; besides, positioning the panels closer to the drive would put them at greater risk of getting struck by a passing car. Does he raise the sets on bamboo poles clustered and woven together so that they share the weight? This has both advantages and disadvantages. Among the advantages are these: if the panels were raised to a height of eight feet and lashed firmly to bamboo poles, they would be exposed to direct sunlight for a longer period of time during each day (provided the sun were to shine); they would be completely out of the wet grass; they would be at lesser risk of being broken from thrown or falling debris; if run into accidentally by a vehicle, the poles would splinter and bend while the panels above them would remain safe (this is an assumption), whereas if the panels were to be struck by a vehicle directly, they would be ruined totally. Among the disadvantages are these: the panels would face only in one direction and could no longer be manually rotated to track the sun; the wire cables with which they feed electricity to the battery bank would have to be run through a tube or otherwise secured against tripping and entanglement; they would be lashed to bamboo poles, which disintegrate over time, with either rope or some form of metal bracket – either way, the poles and lashings would have to be replaced every few years.
The third option is, of course, to do nothing, to adjust to a diminished charge in the battery bank, and to resign myself to my panels only getting full sun between 0830 and 1030 in the morning. I do not like this third option because it forces me to choose between recharging all my electronics batteries and firing up the 750 watt inverter to watch a full-length movie (a luxury I plan to cut out of my life anyway, as I have seen too many movies of late, and read too few books); it sees me standing by the window each day hoping that the sun will shine when I want it to. Therefore, the third option is off the table; I will raise the panels to a great height, lash them firmly to their mounts, secure all loose cables, wash the mud off my tools, put them away, and go watch Caddyshack for the umpteenth time. Mahalo!
(p.s. Upon further consideration, I have changed my plans. I shall not raise my panels on platforms, and I shall not drag them up to the roof. Now, instead of risking the panels causing damaging to or being blown off of the platform or roof, I have decided to locate them closer to the lane and to cut down a large bush next to the house, so that now the panels are only in the house's shade for maybe an hour, and not all afternoon. Sometimes, the old mantras come in handy; in this instance, I remembered the Latin saying Numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate, English for Keep it simple, you bleeping numskull.)
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
16 November 2012
figuring things out
A few weeks ago, after finally accepting the reality of a Mid-Atlantic winter, I dug out my long underwear from the back of the closet. Long had they sat there, unused and forgotten, for last year's winter was mild, cool but not freezing, breezy but not wind-swept. This year, however, things are different: the first freeze came in late October, the winds have been strong and out of the north-west, and temperatures have sunk below freezing every night for the past week – long john weather, to be certain.
Starting in 2002 I spent seven years in California, hunkering last winter in Los Angeles. Therefore, I now ask myself: How do I use the long john? When do I don it, and when doff it? I started out by just wearing it all the time, which worked out great at my job, where I spend a lot of time sitting in the cold because I am too stubborn to turn on the heat; but, being a regular and avid cyclist, I found that the extra layer of insulation caused me to sweat too much, especially when climbing the hills south of town back to my home, from work. And so I put the undergarment back into storage and had forgotten about it until yesterday morning, when I was preparing to do my yoga in a cold, ground-floor room (I do yoga pant-less, for ease-of-movement), and I thought: I need to keep my legs warm during my asana, and, since I write in the same cold room after making my stretching exercises, an extra layer of insulation might mean the difference between frozen toes and a buoyant spirit. Now, after some trial and error, I proceed as follows. I awake at dawn in the warm cocoon of a German down comforter, put on my sweatshirt and pants, go downstairs, take my pants back off, put on my long johns, do my yoga, put on jeans, and do my hour of labor in the yard before breakfast, changing back into regular clothes before breaking my fast, after which I write until my netbook's battery dies. Then, I do more yoga (sun salutations with some core-strengthening exercises thrown in), take the long johns back off, eat a lunch of a half a cup of rice and a few dollops of peanut butter and honey, and gather up my things in preparation for bicycling down into town, for work. If I return in the evening and the house is still cold, I put the long johns back on before doing my asana, leaving them on during the rest of my nocturnal activities and taking them back off again mere moments before crawling back into my nest of blankets on the floor in one of the upstairs rooms.
If one were to have asked me three years ago how and when to use long johns, I would likely have responded off-handedly with a snide remark about donning them when one's legs get cold; today, though, I would say that the use of this undergarment depends on a number of factors, including one's level of physical exertion, the average temperature of one's home, one's ability to withstand cold, and one's usual pants-changing rhythm. Things have been going similarly with many things in my life – I find that the more I think I know about a given subject, process, or procedure the less I am in a position to actually pass judgment on it, to talk about it, or to give my opinion about it, and the more damage is done by my talking and opining and judging. Perhaps the central lesson I have learned from this adventure with the long john is to check things out first before dismissing them offhand, and, as always, to keep an open mind. Some day, I'll remember this simple mantra. Until then, mahalo.
© mentiri factorem fecit (場黑麥)
Starting in 2002 I spent seven years in California, hunkering last winter in Los Angeles. Therefore, I now ask myself: How do I use the long john? When do I don it, and when doff it? I started out by just wearing it all the time, which worked out great at my job, where I spend a lot of time sitting in the cold because I am too stubborn to turn on the heat; but, being a regular and avid cyclist, I found that the extra layer of insulation caused me to sweat too much, especially when climbing the hills south of town back to my home, from work. And so I put the undergarment back into storage and had forgotten about it until yesterday morning, when I was preparing to do my yoga in a cold, ground-floor room (I do yoga pant-less, for ease-of-movement), and I thought: I need to keep my legs warm during my asana, and, since I write in the same cold room after making my stretching exercises, an extra layer of insulation might mean the difference between frozen toes and a buoyant spirit. Now, after some trial and error, I proceed as follows. I awake at dawn in the warm cocoon of a German down comforter, put on my sweatshirt and pants, go downstairs, take my pants back off, put on my long johns, do my yoga, put on jeans, and do my hour of labor in the yard before breakfast, changing back into regular clothes before breaking my fast, after which I write until my netbook's battery dies. Then, I do more yoga (sun salutations with some core-strengthening exercises thrown in), take the long johns back off, eat a lunch of a half a cup of rice and a few dollops of peanut butter and honey, and gather up my things in preparation for bicycling down into town, for work. If I return in the evening and the house is still cold, I put the long johns back on before doing my asana, leaving them on during the rest of my nocturnal activities and taking them back off again mere moments before crawling back into my nest of blankets on the floor in one of the upstairs rooms.
If one were to have asked me three years ago how and when to use long johns, I would likely have responded off-handedly with a snide remark about donning them when one's legs get cold; today, though, I would say that the use of this undergarment depends on a number of factors, including one's level of physical exertion, the average temperature of one's home, one's ability to withstand cold, and one's usual pants-changing rhythm. Things have been going similarly with many things in my life – I find that the more I think I know about a given subject, process, or procedure the less I am in a position to actually pass judgment on it, to talk about it, or to give my opinion about it, and the more damage is done by my talking and opining and judging. Perhaps the central lesson I have learned from this adventure with the long john is to check things out first before dismissing them offhand, and, as always, to keep an open mind. Some day, I'll remember this simple mantra. Until then, mahalo.
© mentiri factorem fecit (場黑麥)
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