Now that I think about it, something that happened recently creeps me out. When my husband first told me yesterday morning what he saw near our house lying on the ground, I was sick to my stomach hearing about it. That’s why I titled this post as I did. If you get upset easily, quit reading this post here. If you read further out of curiosity and then get nauseated, be glad I have my limits as to what I would take a picture of.

Since my husband is the one who goes down to the garden, he is the one who saw something strange behind our smokehouse. It was a dead fawn on the ground. It’s back end was partially eaten. The odd thing is that its body had been lying there for two or three days. Either a bear or a coywolf killed it. What’s very creepy is that whatever captured it left it there. It’s not normal for a wild animal to not completely eat its prey (at least around here it’s not).

I heard this poor fawn cry for its life as it was being killed during the night it happened, but I didn’t expect to see any remains. The scream woke me up. I was too tired to know for sure what it was. It’s not unusual to hear an animal being killed periodically during some nights. What’s really awful is to hear it scream for a while, then stop, only to start again. One night I heard this horrible sound repeatedly for about two hours. I think it was a rabbit getting attacked. It’s just not what you’d expect after watching so many wildlife shows on television. Maybe for television they keep slow killings off the air?

I almost mentioned in my Middle of the Night Snack? post another awful story. I’m going to bring it up now because it too is creepy. I had a cat I raised from the time it was five days old. When she was three years old, I knew something was very wrong when she disappeared one night. The next morning I saw her, as I looked out my window, coming to my front door. I will never forget the look in her eyes. (I’m feeling very sick as I share this.) Something had eaten parts of her back end. She barely made it to the house. There was no way to save her life. She had already suffered too much for too long. All I could do was cry to my husband and plead to him to please stop her from suffering any longer.

The real world is cruel and harsh. How does a person get used to sleeping through such things, especially when being a light sleeper? I have to leave my windows open quite often. I can’t seem to turn off the pain I feel whenever an animal suffers. I could never be a veterinarian. I don’t have the stomach for hearing cries of pain.

Still in all, I’d rather live in the country than a city. People who scare me are those who think legal American citizens no longer have the right to bear arms.

It’s another sticky day, as can be seen by the effect that high humidity has on my windows and on my mood. Normally, I do things to a higher standard than what you see here. However, this morning I just aimed my camera and did a couple clicks without caring how straight my images would line up. When winter comes, I’m hoping these pictures will remind me of how the warmer seasons can create cabin fever even more so than the colder months. At least in the winter it isn’t usually too hot to sleep. A wood stove can make the house too hot, but at least it’s not humid and you can open the windows for quick relief.

Never before has there been as many days of constant high humidity as this year is bringing. When you’re going through the season of life having to endure hot flashes (and men are the ones excused for bad behavior during a mid-life crisis?!?!),¹ sticky weather can make one cling to the air conditioner and keep going outdoors to a minimum. But, too much of anything is… well, too much!

Last night, I was entertained by a film production on television of Broadway’s fun-jammed all-black music show Cabin in the Sky. It got me thinking about how often people, once upon a time, used to sing happy songs. I woke up wanting to listen to hymns (I can’t sing, but I can dance). What happened instead — thanks to messing around with loading pictures onto my computer and digging through my file folders — I stumbled across George Bowser and Ricky Blue‘s rendition of Working Where The Sun Don’t Shine: The Colorectal Surgeon’s Song.

We praise the colorectal surgeon
Misunderstood and much maligned
Slaving away in the heart of darkness
Working where the sun don’t shine

Respect the colorectal surgeon
It’s a calling few would crave
Lift up your hands and join us
Let’s all do the finger wave

When it comes to spreading joy
There are many techniques
Some spread joy to the world
And others just spread cheeks

Some may think the cardiologist
Is their best friend
But the colorectal surgeon knows…
He’ll get you in the end!

Why be a colorectal surgeon?
It’s one of those mysterious things.
Is it because in that profession
There are always openings?

When I first met a colorectal surgeon
He did not quite understand;
I said, “Hey, it’s nice to meet you
But do you mind? If we don’t shake hands.”

He sailed right through medical school
Because he was a whiz
But he never thought of psychology
When he read passages.

A doctor he wanted to be
For golf he loved to play,
But this is not quite what he meant…
By eighteen holes a day!

Respect the colorectal surgeon
Here and now we’ll raise a glass
For the rectal surgeon like the rectum
Can’t tell a liquid from a gas

We praise the colorectal surgeon
Misunderstood and much maligned
Slaving away in the heart of darkness
Working where the sun don’t shine!

¹My husband didn’t understand what this meant, so since I had to explain it to him, I’ll repeat myself in case there are other guys who don’t comprehend it either. Women whose moods are affected by menopause are talked about negatively, but men who act like teenagers during a mid-life crisis are not. I don’t get it. What’s the big deal about being cranky (especially when you’re also tired) compared to such things as leaving your family for a younger woman and/or buying a new corvette convertible?

. . . it’s no wonder I hesitate to use emailing again.

I said hesitate. That doesn’t mean there is no chance I might give it another try.

For decades, I was an Arminian. Afterward, I became a Calvinist. Also for decades, I was a church goer. Afterward, “going to church” passed away from my life. Another decades-long belief I held was that no consideration should be made as to when the end of time will be. Afterward, I independently began to see an opposing view.

I prefer being wiser by finally putting the lesser matters into perspective. To not do so, hinders the more important things in life from getting accomplished.

As of today, I began to realize how much I’ve been impugning the beliefs of others. After this awareness started, I found the sermon Should Christians Proselytize? and read all of it. Now Luke 18:13 weighs heavily on my mind.

Adherence to the golden rule and the two greatest commandments wouldn’t nurture strife, but rather encourage gentleness and meekness.

It’s not my place (or anyone else’s either) to insist on how certain bible verses should be perceived, but it is my duty to share God’s message of salvation while His mercy and grace for mankind still exist. I trust that He will speak to each individual through His written word (that can be visibly read or audibly heard). I do not have a gift for teaching God’s word, nor do I have one for preaching sermons expounding on verses from scripture. What I do have is the habit of doing those two things, because of being responsible for the spiritual well-being of my children.

There are many proclaiming to follow Jesus who not only hate others that differ from them in lesser theological matters (yet these ‘enemies’ have led countless people to Christ), but also these same people harbor hatred towards those who dare to publically refuse to share that same malicious spirit. The bottom line is, “Does the believer abide in the doctrine of Christ?”

[The next paragraph deals with cult members. Christians should have unbelieving friends, but stay away from ungodly practices and worldviews.]

To not abide in the doctrine of Christ means bringing in some error concerning the person or office of the Lord Jesus. Opposers of the Lord Christ’s name and His dignity undermine God’s glory and His kingdom. Any who do not profess and preach the doctrine of Christ, respecting him as the Son of God, and salvation by him from guilt and sin, are not to be noticed and countenanced.¹ Yet in obeying 2 John 1:9-10, we must show kindness and a good spirit to those who differ from us in lesser matters, but hold firmly the all-important doctrines of Christ’s person, atonement, and holy salvation.

Jesus said, “For he that is not against us is on our part.” It is vital to hold fast to the basics of what Christian faith is, so that we don’t give the devil a foothold to divide the family of God.

For decades, I was an Arminian. Afterward, I became a Calvinist. In my post Devotion to Caution, I said Calvinism and Arminianism are basically opposite. There isn’t much wrong with saying a statement like that, at least from what I can tell. However, I’m beginning to think that my going beyond it may have been an example of what God warns His people against doing. Christians are to edify and strengthen the body of Christ. A healthy body is wholesome.

When it comes to the body of Christ, I like how Charles Spurgeon (a believer of election) wisely replied to the question of how he reconciled predestination and man’s free responsibility. He said, “I do not try to reconcile friends.” Quoting Warren W. Wiersbe’s words from his book What to Wear to the War: Studies from Ephesians 6, “In order to be balanced and able to walk as Christians, we need a thorough understanding of all the Bible’s doctrines, teachings and commands.”

For something to be whole, it has to be complete. No component elements or parts can be missing. God will see to it that all of His children will finally be together again someday. It’s just sad that more of us can’t be together while we’re still here in this world.

Also for decades, I was a church goer. I attended a spectrum of denominations — starting with the charismatic speaking-in-tongues flavor, grazing on the reformed range, and retiring my organized fellowship era inside an easy-going (non-speaking-in-tongues) evangelical pasture. Afterward, “going to church” passed away from my life. I’m now reborn into a world undefined by man’s walls. I sort of feel like how you’d imagine a ghost that’s been left behind, waiting to be reunited with its immortal body. I meet other ‘ghosts’ of this same faith on rare occasions, but I don’t get to ‘hang out’ with them in person (What ghost can without having a ‘validated’ body? Is that why ‘I’ have become ‘invisible’ to others inside any ‘visible’ church?). That’s okay, because all spirit-filled believers abide in the Holy Ghost and can fellowship wherever God’s Spirit is.²

Another decades-long belief I held was that no consideration should be made as to when the end of time will be. Afterward, I independently began to see an opposing view. I won’t say more than that any longer. Hopefully no one will make any assumptions about what position I now hold on that issue.

It takes concentration to change the direction of the way you perceive the silhouette of the spinning dancer turning. It also takes concentration to ‘see’ the opposite side of what you believe, especially if you get mesmerized by the one you’re holding for a long time.

One dancer can’t spin in two opposite directions simultaneously. No one can believe two opposite beliefs at the same time either. However, two opposite beliefs can complement one another if you try to understand the other perspective. Perhaps this is why God has designed the bible to be able to function like an illusion, while simultaneously being the source of all truth and reality. How else would Christian faith be put to the test? It isn’t up to Christians to sort out the wheat from the tares or to get bent out of shape whenever someone else isn’t agreeing with us.

If I never wondered how there could be so many different Christian denominations all worshipping the same bible,³ I never would have become as enlightened in understanding how so many people can be as different as they are, while still being basically alike as human beings.

¹This also applies to Christians who have trespassed against you and refuse to confess the wrong they have done. Either the wrongdoer will confess or deny sinning against you. Denial is usually evident by the lack of pleading for forgiveness. Words like “I’m sorry” might be said, but if they are, most likely there won’t be any reference to what the person is sorry about specifically. Words without actions, in this case, are no different from coming to Christ for salvation without evidence of repentance.

Here’s how Oswald Chambers puts it in his book, He Shall Glorify Me,

“I cannot forgive my enemies and remain just unless they cease to be my enemies and give proof of their sorrow, which must be expressed in repentance. I have to remain steadfastly true to God’s justice. There are times when it would be easier to say ‘Oh well, it does not matter, I forgive you,’ but Jesus insists that the uttermost farthing must be paid. The love of God is based on justice and holiness, and I must forgive on the same basis.”

²The bible says much about how spirit-filled believers are to abide in the Holy Ghost, especially during end times. Regardless of what century or millennium it is, being faithful to God requires being obedient to His will.

³Non-denominational churches are a myth. Every church has its own set of common denominators unique to their congregation, but not all have well-defined labels.

My first camera was a Minolta SR-T 101. I remember having bought it on my 19th birthday in October of 1973. I was happily impressed by the prints from my first roll of film developed. I scanned one of those old (and now faded) prints to publish on a post called The Falls. A decade later, that camera was stolen (during the winter) from where I was living.

Towards the end of summer, almost two years after that theft, I purchased a Minolta X-700 to use for my college photography classes. Peter Correia was not only my instructor, but he was also my daughter’s instructor too when she took the same classes. I gave her my camera to use.

We both had numerous photos we shot, developed, and printed that were put on display in the college’s art gallery. I recently scanned one from my old collection to put into this post. It’s a photo I took of my daughter, a couple of months before she turned three years old, for class back in the fall of 1985. I forgot about it until she retrieved it back for me, after seeing it still hanging on Mr. Correia’s office wall, when she was his student. The print wasn’t protected, so it got damaged somewhat.

As you can see, the photo on the right is much less faded. It’s a scanned print of a photo my daughter also took for Mr. Correia’s class. It wasn’t until the beginning of March in 2006 when I bought the third camera in my life. It’s also my first digital camera, which I still have and use. Panasonic is its manufacturer. The model is a Lumix DMC-FZ30.

It’s a bridge digital camera and has a 12x optical zoom Leica lens and OIS (optical image stabilization, that I probably forget to employ most of the time). I’ve never used any other digital camera before, so I can’t say how I’d rate it against others.¹ This rugged camera is all I need to be content for taking photos. For over four years, it’s been dependable and does its job to my satisfaction.

All of my photos taken before March 2006 are prints from film. The others after those are digital images that rarely get printed. I like things simple and basic, so even though I tinkered around years ago with Adobe Photoshop Elements 2 for Windows to see what it’s like, about the only thing I might do with a photo anymore is either resize or crop one once in a while. I have no interest in starting to make any videos either.

[Edit added the next day] — Probably the main reason for my diminished interest in photography is because of the internet. When you’re financially unable to explore the world offline, it only leaves the option of doing it second-hand through the experiences of others who share theirs online. Take this morning for example; I was mesmerizingly lost in time from being stunned by the magnificent beauty coming through the images found on page after page of the blog Summit Stones & Adventure Musings.

¹I know cell phones can now do many things, besides taking photos and videos. However, I don’t have one; never have and probably never will. The desire simply doesn’t exist for me.

A vacation is leisure time away from work (time longer than several hours out of one day) devoted to rest or pleasure. Typically, people perceive work as paid employment. They might not go so far as to say that being unemployed is like being on a vacation, but few would be able to realize I have not been on a vacation in over 30 years.¹ My first day of vacationing, during the past 3 decades, began on June 1st, 2010 (actually it began when I left home the night before). Now that I’m back home and into my regular routine, I can clearly recognize what a vacation is and is not!

While I was on vacation (except for the stressful parts; e.g., motorcycle madness and thunderstorms while far out on a large body of water), I felt enjoyably alive for the first time since childhood! The area I live in, and have spent most of my life growing up in, is nothing like it used to be. Generally and straightforwardly speaking, those who have grown up and live in areas further north than a latitude of 42.66 (longitude 73-74 W) in New York State, are friendlier and nicer people (especially the women). I’ve found that to be true even in the northwest region of Maine. I’m not the only person who thinks so either. My husband’s friend, who has traveled often to these areas, also has this same experience.²

As soon as I’m back in my community, I recognize a lack of a welcoming spirit. When it is seen, it looks phony. In the north, people sit on their porches and wave to everyone passing by. They will freely open up and talk about themselves, along with showing genuine interest in the lives of newcomers. So, naturally, uptight people are a depressing thing to come back to.

Besides leaving behind the more pleasant attitude of those in the north, the clean air, quieter surroundings, and laid-back relaxed pace — all of which had me sleeping properly unlike I can remember having done once upon a time many decades ago — are also left behind. What I did bring back with me was a sunburn, poison ivy, and an infected ankle (from a cut done by hitting a rock underwater). While I was up north, those things didn’t bother me… probably because the daytime temperatures ranged between 60-72 degrees Fahrenheit and it wasn’t humid there. Being hit with the horrid heat and humidity (common for being further south and at a lower elevation level) exasperates whatever is already going to irritate the nervous system.

I knew about the outdoor skin cleanser Tecnu, but was too late in getting a bottle while up north for it to do much good against urushiol. A poison ivy wash that’s way better (and much more expensive!) than Tecnu is Zanfel, but I didn’t even know about it until a week later, which was the first time I ever used it (and it does work!). I think the itch and pain from the poison ivy and sunburn kept me from realizing my ankle was in pain from being infected and was swelling. I began taking doses of Colloidal Silver and also applied it to the cut. The swelling left by the end of the next day and the cut proceeded to heal. Besides those products I’ve just mentioned, a camping first-aid kit should also include: band-aids (maybe some butterflies too), a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, antiseptic cream, sunblock, a tick removal spoon, tweezers, insect repellent (preferably Deet-free, like White Mountain‘s), and bee sting cure. You can do minor surgical procedures without a doctor!

Adding to the unpleasantries of being back, what I described enduring on the 4th of July, every bit of good that vacationing did for my health rapidly became undone! All I have left is my photographs to confirm to myself that I did at one time, not too long ago, feel alive and looked forward to another day. Now I’m back to working seven days a week at trying to keep from becoming exhausted from things like insomnia, sensory overload, and social isolation. The most depressing aspect of all this comes from learning how the horrible economy, along with an excess in human population (especially dangerous foreigners³) increasing and disrespecting nature with trash, is already showing signs of destroying what little beauty is left in the wilderness areas I (including my children and grandchildren) might have another chance to someday visit again.

¹I went on 3 trips in other years past, but they were not vacations. During those trips, I was working just like I do when I’m home. Work is to exert oneself by doing activity directed toward a purpose or out of necessity.

²Someone I once knew, who traveled around to different parts of the world throughout most of his life, told me that no matter what country it was, those who lived in rural areas were much nicer people than those living in urban ones. That was my experience also when I was in Central America in 1980. The “primitive” natives living on Volcán Barú in Panama were the civilized ones. Those who lived in the cities were nasty in comparison.

³My native “rural” community I continue to live in has it’s own fair share of malicious creeps too that have victims either speaking up years later or never reporting what they’ve gone through. I näively spoke up once about a horrible life-threatening incident I endured when I was young, to the detriment of my own life, and learned to never do that again.

This post continues from where Water Sights at Taylor Pond left off with its photos. For those who are new here, this Chi-Poo kayaking buddy of mine goes by the name of “Rascal.” I wish I could have gotten at least one picture of Rascal while the wind was blowing strong, because the back of her head looked so cute and funny with her ears being held up straight! Besides having to keep paddling against hefty winds, resulting waves wouldn’t allow me to focus on taking pictures.

These photos begin at the furthest end of the pond (southwest) from the main campsites. They reflect my journey back with Rascal. She wasn’t anywhere near as interested in looking around when we were going to the other end as she was when we were coming back from it.

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

Please tell your friends and family, who like to camp and/or boat, about Taylor Pond! As they say, “Use it or lose it.” If people don’t use this campground, those who love it (and would or could fall in love with it) will lose it.

This post continues from where Lean-to Sites at Taylor Pond left off, with my marveling over how wonderful the sound of a brook goes with hearing wind blow through trees and a loon off in the distance!

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

The above is towards the southwest.

The Catamount Mountains are in view.

The bench faces southwest.

My kayak is pointing north.

While on the same spot as in the second photo above, here I’m now facing south.

These three loons were at the opposite end of the pond from the main campground.

The above photo was taken in a southern direction.

This shot was aimed towards the northeast.

This post continues from where Tent Sites at Taylor Pond left off, with the mention that this campground needs campers or else New York State will keep it closed. These first three photos are from site #2; one that’s only accessible by boat or a long hike. It’s very remote and has a fair amount of open space.

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

All these last photos are from site #5; another very remote site that’s also only accessible by boat or by hiking in. It’s the only site that has a brook close by.

I can’t imagine anything sounding better than the brook that flows past this site, except for maybe the subtle addition of hearing the wind blowing through the trees and a loon off in the distance!

This post continues from where Taylor Pond is the Best! left off, with mentioning about a bat, a loon, and beavers following me while kayaking. These first three photos are by site #19; one that’s accessible by car:

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

These next couple of photos are from site #3; that’s only accessible by boat or a long hike. It’s very remote.

Site #3 is on a hillside and is probably one of the smallest areas for putting up a tent.

All the rest below are from site #4; another very remote site that’s also only accessible by boat or by hiking in:

Site #4 has lots of open space and room for a big tent. It’s the only site on the west end of this 4 mile long pond. After getting there, the wind and waves become calmer.

The Taylor Pond Campground might not remain open if there are not enough campers to provide sufficient income for New York State to keep it open.