Whenever my psychology teacher tried to explain the Circadian rhythm, he skewed one point. It's not a hugely critical point, and he wasn't too far off, but the way he skewed it irritated the living daylights out of me (which is sort of a really horrible pun because this deals with daylight)(please just ignore that - I'm tired and it's showing).
The term circadian rhythm (see if you can parse it) refers to the biological clock or daily cycle of energy levels that humans (and pretty much all surface-dwelling animals) go through. There are phases of increased wakefulness and increased drowsiness. The exact pattern varies from species to species.
Here's the interesting part and the part where Mr. Crawley goes a little bit wrong. If we were be to removed from all light and schedule cues, our circadian rhythm would follow a 25-hour pattern rather than the 24-hour pattern that most of us live by. The presence of sunlight light inhibits the production of the hormone melatonin in the pineal gland (he didn't know the name of the hormone or the gland, but I'm not very concerned about that) and resets the circadian rhythm to the usual 24-hour cycle.
Mr. Crawley went wrong on two points: one actually irritated me, and I probably wouldn't have taken note of the other if I hadn't already been irritated. He frequently attributed the 24-hour adjusted cycle to scheduling tendencies and completely ignored the extreme importance of light. One can have a completely unscheduled day, but if natural light is present, the circadian rhythm is as it should be. Gollum's circadian rhythm wouldn't have been off because he had nothing to do - it would have been off because he lived underground for years (he didn't use Smeagol as an illustration, but I like to). Mr. Crawley implied by his tone of voice and a few other clue that the 25-hour cycle was the better cycle and that we were somehow being restricted from natural life by the existence of schedules. Furthermore, one day I added that sunlight was the main factor in resetting the biological clock, and he made some absurd comment to the effect that the fact that we have to add a leap day every four years because we aren't following the 25-hour cycle. That makes no sense. The earth's rotation follows a 24-hour cycle, so it would behoove us to do the same. The earth's orbit follows a 365.25whatever day cycle, and the extra .25whatever isn't added because we ignore the 25-hour cycle that the unchecked circadian rhythm would follow.
I am completely aware that this doesn't matter at all to most people. After the few days he mentioned the circadian rhythm, it didn't even really matter to me. It's okay that he seemed to interpret the resetting of the biological clock in a slightly different fashion. He may not have intended to imply that schedules were evil, and there's a good chance that he realized pretty quickly that the whole leap day thing was unreasonable. It did matter to me on the day I started this, so I thought I'd type it all the way through anyway.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Annual Bagworm Dilemma
I think I've already told my reader(s) about the bagworm dilemma, but I hadn't when I started this. I'll type it up anyway. Bagworm season has wrapped up for this year, thank heavens, and I can only hope that Purdue doesn't have many (or perhaps any) of the little critters.
Bagworms are little caterpillar-like bugs. I'm sure they're the larval form of some other bug, but I don't know what bug. They're kind of cute and I love the way they crawl around. Here's the source of the dilemma: they kill trees.
Do I kill them or let them kill trees? Do I let everything proceed naturally, or do I intervene? Obviously, there's no way the bagworms can eliminate huge amounts of trees. They' haven't yet. Birds eat a lot of them, and I'm sure many more die in other ways. But they attack without discrimination, and sometimes the loveliest of trees and shrubs are their victims. But I have major issues with killing things, even bugs that kill trees.
I've gone through a variety of solutions. One year, we burned the nest that attacked a tree near our house. Another year, I collected them and dropped them down into a sewer so I wouldn't be quite so directly responsible for their deaths. The next year, I mustered up the determination to actually step on some of them (with shoes on), but I felt pretty horrid about it. This year, the bagworms came during a week when I was pretty messed up physically, mentally, and emotionally, and the strain was almost unbearable. There was one day when I actually became sick to my stomach every time I saw one.
At the end of this year's season, I decided that this mental agony was a little - okay maybe a lot - dramatic, over-the-top, and unnecessary, so I set out to develop a final decision in regards to bagworms. If they decide to invade one of my trees, they're done for. If they invade a different tree and I'm called on to help eliminate them, I will lend a hand. However, I can't stand to just squish every one I see, so I'll let the other ones go. It's really rather ridiculous that this ever caused me such an issue. I'm glad it's been resolved. I hope (using the true meaning of the word) that my resolution will remain firm and I will never again be unduly troubled by the adorable but deadly bagworms.
Bagworms are little caterpillar-like bugs. I'm sure they're the larval form of some other bug, but I don't know what bug. They're kind of cute and I love the way they crawl around. Here's the source of the dilemma: they kill trees.
Do I kill them or let them kill trees? Do I let everything proceed naturally, or do I intervene? Obviously, there's no way the bagworms can eliminate huge amounts of trees. They' haven't yet. Birds eat a lot of them, and I'm sure many more die in other ways. But they attack without discrimination, and sometimes the loveliest of trees and shrubs are their victims. But I have major issues with killing things, even bugs that kill trees.
I've gone through a variety of solutions. One year, we burned the nest that attacked a tree near our house. Another year, I collected them and dropped them down into a sewer so I wouldn't be quite so directly responsible for their deaths. The next year, I mustered up the determination to actually step on some of them (with shoes on), but I felt pretty horrid about it. This year, the bagworms came during a week when I was pretty messed up physically, mentally, and emotionally, and the strain was almost unbearable. There was one day when I actually became sick to my stomach every time I saw one.
At the end of this year's season, I decided that this mental agony was a little - okay maybe a lot - dramatic, over-the-top, and unnecessary, so I set out to develop a final decision in regards to bagworms. If they decide to invade one of my trees, they're done for. If they invade a different tree and I'm called on to help eliminate them, I will lend a hand. However, I can't stand to just squish every one I see, so I'll let the other ones go. It's really rather ridiculous that this ever caused me such an issue. I'm glad it's been resolved. I hope (using the true meaning of the word) that my resolution will remain firm and I will never again be unduly troubled by the adorable but deadly bagworms.
Appalachia Part V: Thursday
I now arrive at the conclusion of the Appalachia Adventures series. Soon I will be able to move on to other topics.
On Thursday morning, according to custom, we got up at 6:00 AM. It took some of us quite a while to get going. We pranked one of the guys' vans in reaction to their pranks, but ours wasn't nearly as good as theirs. Since we didn't have much time to plan or gather materials, we (by which I merely mean two of my friends and nobody else) used what we had: feminine products.
At the work site our roofing plans were foiled again because it was raining again. I helped put in some more dead-wood and insulation and watched a few people work on the siding, but there was nothing else to be worked on in the rain. Ivan (one of the carpenters) did his best to find little odd jobs for me to do since he could see that I wasn't very happy about sitting around not helping, and I thought that was very sweet of him.
During one of the long periods of time in which we had nothing to do, Boone told the tale of the truck wreck. A semi full of coal was careening around a curve at about 80 mph - on a wet road, might I add. At the same time, another semi was coming around the bend. The coal truck swerved to avoid the other truck. It clipped the other semi and then collided with the mountainside. The other semi suffered some damage, but the driver was uninjured. The coal truck, on the other hand, didn't fare as well. The cab was completely crushed and rescue crews spent the entire day picking up pieces of the driver that had been scattered along the road. At least he would have died instantly. We drove through there only about five or ten minutes after the accident. If we had left our site exactly when we were scheduled to, we could have been part of that accident.
We bid our final farewells to the carpenters and left the site at lunch again that day to go back to the cabins and pack. Everybody was ready to leave on time, but we couldn't go until the woman in charge of the organization came by to check that we were cleaned up and give us our COAP (Christian Outreach to Appalachian People - the organization we worked with) shirts. She was running more than an hour late, but we got to leave eventually.
My van was almost empty because I chose to ride with the teacher that everyone else was fed up with. We listened to 80's music and enjoyed some gorgeous clouds all the way home. Upon arriving at school and finding my luggage just in time for the college group study, I was called and informed that I would be picked up by Josh. By this point, most of my female friends had heard about this Josh guy of whom I was (and am) rather fond, so they were pretty excited to hear that he would be picking me up and they would get to see him. When he arrived, three of them decided that they would each carry one of my belongings as an excuse to walk over to his car. Unfortunately, it did not even occur to me until much later that they were hoping to be introduced to him. I'm not very good at that sort of thing.
So there you have it, Princess Gwendolyn Maple's Appalachian Adventures in five unnecessarily lengthy episodes.
On Thursday morning, according to custom, we got up at 6:00 AM. It took some of us quite a while to get going. We pranked one of the guys' vans in reaction to their pranks, but ours wasn't nearly as good as theirs. Since we didn't have much time to plan or gather materials, we (by which I merely mean two of my friends and nobody else) used what we had: feminine products.
At the work site our roofing plans were foiled again because it was raining again. I helped put in some more dead-wood and insulation and watched a few people work on the siding, but there was nothing else to be worked on in the rain. Ivan (one of the carpenters) did his best to find little odd jobs for me to do since he could see that I wasn't very happy about sitting around not helping, and I thought that was very sweet of him.
During one of the long periods of time in which we had nothing to do, Boone told the tale of the truck wreck. A semi full of coal was careening around a curve at about 80 mph - on a wet road, might I add. At the same time, another semi was coming around the bend. The coal truck swerved to avoid the other truck. It clipped the other semi and then collided with the mountainside. The other semi suffered some damage, but the driver was uninjured. The coal truck, on the other hand, didn't fare as well. The cab was completely crushed and rescue crews spent the entire day picking up pieces of the driver that had been scattered along the road. At least he would have died instantly. We drove through there only about five or ten minutes after the accident. If we had left our site exactly when we were scheduled to, we could have been part of that accident.
We bid our final farewells to the carpenters and left the site at lunch again that day to go back to the cabins and pack. Everybody was ready to leave on time, but we couldn't go until the woman in charge of the organization came by to check that we were cleaned up and give us our COAP (Christian Outreach to Appalachian People - the organization we worked with) shirts. She was running more than an hour late, but we got to leave eventually.
My van was almost empty because I chose to ride with the teacher that everyone else was fed up with. We listened to 80's music and enjoyed some gorgeous clouds all the way home. Upon arriving at school and finding my luggage just in time for the college group study, I was called and informed that I would be picked up by Josh. By this point, most of my female friends had heard about this Josh guy of whom I was (and am) rather fond, so they were pretty excited to hear that he would be picking me up and they would get to see him. When he arrived, three of them decided that they would each carry one of my belongings as an excuse to walk over to his car. Unfortunately, it did not even occur to me until much later that they were hoping to be introduced to him. I'm not very good at that sort of thing.
So there you have it, Princess Gwendolyn Maple's Appalachian Adventures in five unnecessarily lengthy episodes.
Appalachia Part IV: Wednesday
Just like on Monday and Tuesday, we got up early. Each morning there was less shine in our rise-and-shine routines. It was overcast and rainy on Wednesday, so we took even longer to get up and going.
Thanks to the rain, we couldn't work on the roof, so instead we had to find jobs inside the house for everyone. At first I got to help cut and install insulation. Fiberglass is no fun, but I managed to get far fewer fiberglass splinters than most of my comrades. After the insulation was done I got to climb up in the rafters and nail dead-wood into place. Dead-wood provides something for drywall to be anchored to.
The morning passed uneventfully. Instead of eating at the construction site and continuing work after lunch, we all headed back to the cabins to eat lunch and go sight-seeing. On the way to the cabins we passed a horrible semi truck wreck. We would learn the tale of the accident the next day.
Most us packed into the vans after lunch to visit the Coal Mine Museum. I made the mistake of riding in Ms. Owen's car. She drives like a madwoman. The museum was fascinating, but rather depressing as well. There were all sorts of stories about cave-ins and mining injuries.
One of the workers at the museum recommended that we visit Raven Rock in Kingdom Come State Park. Raven Rock was a ledge elevated a half-mile above the valley below, and the man told us that standing on the edge made you feel like you were flying. We decided that sounded like fun, so we drove off to the park. The winding roads up to the park were treacherous, and Mrs. Rivet in the front van decided that it was her turn to drive like a madwoman. Leah was about ready to puke or cry by the time we reached the parking lot up in the mountains.
From the parking lot, we hiked about a mile up steep trails (or, in the case of Maddy, me, and most of the guys, straight up the mountainsides with no interest in wimpy trails) to get to the place where the confusing signs told us we would find Raven Rock. Despite the fact that I hadn't had any sort of exercise in months, I managed to be the first girl to the top and took only one tiny break of about thirty seconds. I was breathing a little hard by the time I reached the top of the trail.
Unfortunately, we didn't see anything resembling Raven Rock. Everyone else in the first group turned around and headed back down the path, but I was determined to look around until I found this ledge. Eventually I succeeded. I shouted back to Courtney and Maddy - the only two that had stuck around from the second group - and they joined me. There was a pier-type thing with railings built onto a rocky outcropping on the side of a cliff. We walked to the railing at the end of the pier and looked out over the edge to see the half-mile drop straight down. It was breathtaking. Literally. For several seconds my head wouldn't stop spinning. It was awe-inspiring, even though the trees hadn't yet woken up from their winter slumber. Some day I'll go back when the trees are clad in summer leaves, autumn colours, or wintry snow. Near the ledge was a bench, and we decided to take Titanic pictures on it. It was a very blustery day, so the wind swept our hair back like in the movie. As we left Raven Rock we saw two ravens flying overhead. I have pictures of all these things on Facebook.
When we reached the top of the trail we realized that we were alone, we had no idea where anyone had gone, and our cell phones didn't have service. We started off down the trail in hopes of finding the others at the bottom. Partway down we heard familiar voices in the distance and followed them to discover our friends. They had apparently called our names for quite some time before giving up, and some of the girls were deeply distressed. Fortunately, Mr. Volz was able to reason that the three of us would be together and that we would take care of ourselves. In lieu of the real Raven Rock, they had found a bald mountainside. It was extremely windy up there, so much that one of my friends encouraged me to sit down because she was genuinely worried that I would fall over. I had no such worries, so I trotted on down through the rocks to where the guys were investigating a cave. Just as I got there, the clouds that had been steadily gathering took on a more menacing appearance, and we decided that the side of a mountain was not the best place to be in a storm. The guys and I decided that it would be quicker to skip the paths and take a short-cut. I know that this is generally not the best idea, but we made it through just fine with the exception of a few minor scrapes and scratches. We were back in the vans and partway down the mountain before the rain hit. I was sad not to be out in it, but I am forced to acknowledge that some things are unintelligent and unsafe and should probably not be done no matter how fun they seem or how completely unfrightened I feel.
We arrived back at the cabins without event. Here, my list of happening says "explosions." I have no idea whatsoever what that was referring to, so I'll skip to the next stuff. Several of us played cards after dinner again. First we played BS. I am atrociously horrible at that game, but my efforts provided amusement, so I consider that to be time well spent. I vanquished all challengers in a game of ERS once I was done failing at BS. When all the weaklings had given up, my friend Courtney and I decided to play a more extreme version of ERS. In our version, one must smack one's own forehead before smacking a sandwich. It added a whole new dimension to the game. We were both running on caffeine and adrenaline sans sleep by this point so we sort of frightened the few people who ventured out onto the porch where we were playing. It was great fun.
People stayed up late as usual. All but one of the guys had gone down to Sleepy Hollow and most of the girls had gone to bed when the guys played a prank on us. I must commend them for their work, because it was quite a nice series of pranks. They squirted ketchup onto pigs' feet (they found some at the local grocery store), tossed them onto the porch, knocked on the windows and the sides of the cabin, and left a ketchup handprint on the back window. Five or ten minutes later, they got into one of the vans and propped a stick between the steering wheel and the seat so that the stick was stuck pushing the horn. It was nicely done. But of course, we had to retaliate. Before going back to sleep we planned our prank for the next morning.
Thanks to the rain, we couldn't work on the roof, so instead we had to find jobs inside the house for everyone. At first I got to help cut and install insulation. Fiberglass is no fun, but I managed to get far fewer fiberglass splinters than most of my comrades. After the insulation was done I got to climb up in the rafters and nail dead-wood into place. Dead-wood provides something for drywall to be anchored to.
The morning passed uneventfully. Instead of eating at the construction site and continuing work after lunch, we all headed back to the cabins to eat lunch and go sight-seeing. On the way to the cabins we passed a horrible semi truck wreck. We would learn the tale of the accident the next day.
Most us packed into the vans after lunch to visit the Coal Mine Museum. I made the mistake of riding in Ms. Owen's car. She drives like a madwoman. The museum was fascinating, but rather depressing as well. There were all sorts of stories about cave-ins and mining injuries.
One of the workers at the museum recommended that we visit Raven Rock in Kingdom Come State Park. Raven Rock was a ledge elevated a half-mile above the valley below, and the man told us that standing on the edge made you feel like you were flying. We decided that sounded like fun, so we drove off to the park. The winding roads up to the park were treacherous, and Mrs. Rivet in the front van decided that it was her turn to drive like a madwoman. Leah was about ready to puke or cry by the time we reached the parking lot up in the mountains.
From the parking lot, we hiked about a mile up steep trails (or, in the case of Maddy, me, and most of the guys, straight up the mountainsides with no interest in wimpy trails) to get to the place where the confusing signs told us we would find Raven Rock. Despite the fact that I hadn't had any sort of exercise in months, I managed to be the first girl to the top and took only one tiny break of about thirty seconds. I was breathing a little hard by the time I reached the top of the trail.
Unfortunately, we didn't see anything resembling Raven Rock. Everyone else in the first group turned around and headed back down the path, but I was determined to look around until I found this ledge. Eventually I succeeded. I shouted back to Courtney and Maddy - the only two that had stuck around from the second group - and they joined me. There was a pier-type thing with railings built onto a rocky outcropping on the side of a cliff. We walked to the railing at the end of the pier and looked out over the edge to see the half-mile drop straight down. It was breathtaking. Literally. For several seconds my head wouldn't stop spinning. It was awe-inspiring, even though the trees hadn't yet woken up from their winter slumber. Some day I'll go back when the trees are clad in summer leaves, autumn colours, or wintry snow. Near the ledge was a bench, and we decided to take Titanic pictures on it. It was a very blustery day, so the wind swept our hair back like in the movie. As we left Raven Rock we saw two ravens flying overhead. I have pictures of all these things on Facebook.
When we reached the top of the trail we realized that we were alone, we had no idea where anyone had gone, and our cell phones didn't have service. We started off down the trail in hopes of finding the others at the bottom. Partway down we heard familiar voices in the distance and followed them to discover our friends. They had apparently called our names for quite some time before giving up, and some of the girls were deeply distressed. Fortunately, Mr. Volz was able to reason that the three of us would be together and that we would take care of ourselves. In lieu of the real Raven Rock, they had found a bald mountainside. It was extremely windy up there, so much that one of my friends encouraged me to sit down because she was genuinely worried that I would fall over. I had no such worries, so I trotted on down through the rocks to where the guys were investigating a cave. Just as I got there, the clouds that had been steadily gathering took on a more menacing appearance, and we decided that the side of a mountain was not the best place to be in a storm. The guys and I decided that it would be quicker to skip the paths and take a short-cut. I know that this is generally not the best idea, but we made it through just fine with the exception of a few minor scrapes and scratches. We were back in the vans and partway down the mountain before the rain hit. I was sad not to be out in it, but I am forced to acknowledge that some things are unintelligent and unsafe and should probably not be done no matter how fun they seem or how completely unfrightened I feel.
We arrived back at the cabins without event. Here, my list of happening says "explosions." I have no idea whatsoever what that was referring to, so I'll skip to the next stuff. Several of us played cards after dinner again. First we played BS. I am atrociously horrible at that game, but my efforts provided amusement, so I consider that to be time well spent. I vanquished all challengers in a game of ERS once I was done failing at BS. When all the weaklings had given up, my friend Courtney and I decided to play a more extreme version of ERS. In our version, one must smack one's own forehead before smacking a sandwich. It added a whole new dimension to the game. We were both running on caffeine and adrenaline sans sleep by this point so we sort of frightened the few people who ventured out onto the porch where we were playing. It was great fun.
People stayed up late as usual. All but one of the guys had gone down to Sleepy Hollow and most of the girls had gone to bed when the guys played a prank on us. I must commend them for their work, because it was quite a nice series of pranks. They squirted ketchup onto pigs' feet (they found some at the local grocery store), tossed them onto the porch, knocked on the windows and the sides of the cabin, and left a ketchup handprint on the back window. Five or ten minutes later, they got into one of the vans and propped a stick between the steering wheel and the seat so that the stick was stuck pushing the horn. It was nicely done. But of course, we had to retaliate. Before going back to sleep we planned our prank for the next morning.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Appalachia Part III: Tuesday
Sorry for the long silence. I have about six posts partially finished, so I should be putting a lot more up in the near future.
Tuesday morning started at the early hour of 6:00 AM just like Monday did. It took a few more hits of the snooze button to wake everyone up, and the PBJ sandwich-making brigade was a little slow to get moving, but we were at the work site by 7:30. Once again, the natives were running a little behind schedule. It was chilly outside in the mountain morning air, so we stayed in our cozy vans until the carpenters arrived.
When the carpenters did arrive, the roofing team had to sit around doing nothing until the sun dried the dew off the roof. As the house was near the bottom of a valley, it took some time for the sun to reach us. In the meantime, I sat in the open trunk of a van and did nothing. I hate doing nothing while other people are working. It drives me insane. However, I didn't have many options so I just had to deal with it.
Once the little rays of sunshine finally hit the rooftop of our little valley house, it didn't take long for the tar paper and shingles to dry off enough for us to walk safely on them. The morning was spent nailing on more shingles, frightening 2x6 supports, and rain guards. Thanks to my perfectionism and shingling skill (it really doesn't take much to become a skilled shingler, but I'm proud of my new-found ability nonetheless), I was promoted to row-starter. The first shingle in a new row must be lined up so perfectly that it splits the one-eighth-inch mark of a chalk line in half. I've finally found the one thing that really does require absolute perfectionism.
Lunch brought a few items of interest. A wandering beagle found and befriended us, and we named him Shiloh after the books about Shiloh the beagle. Evidently it's common for Harlan dwellers to let their dogs roam the community during the day. The dogs almost always make it back home in time for dinner without trouble. Towards the end of lunch, a man a few doors down the hill from our site walked out of his house carrying a rifle. Billy voiced the opinion that the man looked to be a little messed-up, by which he seemed to mean drunk. The man proceeded to shoot the rifle at some unknown object. Nobody in the neighborhood was disturbed in the least. We found that a little odd.
The afternoon brought more shingles, bigger blisters, and little else. As the roof crew climbed back down the ladder, I realized that I hadn't used sunscreen the entire day, and to my surprise I hadn't sizzled like an egg on hot pavement. It was a pleasant surprise.
Back at the cabin, I decided against an early shower in favor of taking my camera, Orthodoxy, and The Great Omission on a hike up to the rock formation on the ridge near the cabin. This time I had the rock to myself, and it was marvelously tranquil and absolutely lovely. I benefited from the break from people and noise. Todd was right about the benefits of silence and solitude. As much as I loved many of the people I went with, I can only stand so much non-stop human contact.
I came back down to discover that my friends from the other work site and my one friend from my site were going on a walk down the mountain into Sleepy Hollow where the boys' cabins were. I think one of the girls wanted to play basketball, but I don't fully remember the reason for the trip; we never actually made it there. The road from the girls' cabin to the boys' cabin zig-zagged across the grass-covered face of the mountain. We speed-walked most of the way down the road, and then realized that we needed something back up in the cabin. Charity and I decided to hike through the grass straight up the mountainside instead of using the road. We made it, but she was on the verge of asthmatic breathing problems, and I had a hard time not slipping thanks to the fact that my foam flip-flops had gotten soaked. Once we did whatever we needed to, we speed-walked all the way down almost to the boys' cabin. Just as we started down their driveway, one of the teachers pulled up to pick up some of the guys. and he told us that it was dinner time. He offered to give us a ride, but I decided that I wanted to see if I could run up the road and beat him. After about 100 yards, I was the only person still in favor of that idea, so instead we sat in the middle of the road and waited to be picked up. We opened the trunk and all squeezed into the back and sang along to The Killers on the way up the hill/mountain.
Dinner was a delicious grill-out followed by some cards. Between cards and bedtime I sat around the fire with people I didn't normally talk to, and it was actually very nice. I heard lots of interesting stories and had some lovely conversations. It would be nice if I could remember any of them, but right now I'm proud for remembering this much (I haven't really remembered all this for this long. I made lists on the way home. If I had actually remembered this all several weeks after the fact, I'd be shocked).
Tuesday morning started at the early hour of 6:00 AM just like Monday did. It took a few more hits of the snooze button to wake everyone up, and the PBJ sandwich-making brigade was a little slow to get moving, but we were at the work site by 7:30. Once again, the natives were running a little behind schedule. It was chilly outside in the mountain morning air, so we stayed in our cozy vans until the carpenters arrived.
When the carpenters did arrive, the roofing team had to sit around doing nothing until the sun dried the dew off the roof. As the house was near the bottom of a valley, it took some time for the sun to reach us. In the meantime, I sat in the open trunk of a van and did nothing. I hate doing nothing while other people are working. It drives me insane. However, I didn't have many options so I just had to deal with it.
Once the little rays of sunshine finally hit the rooftop of our little valley house, it didn't take long for the tar paper and shingles to dry off enough for us to walk safely on them. The morning was spent nailing on more shingles, frightening 2x6 supports, and rain guards. Thanks to my perfectionism and shingling skill (it really doesn't take much to become a skilled shingler, but I'm proud of my new-found ability nonetheless), I was promoted to row-starter. The first shingle in a new row must be lined up so perfectly that it splits the one-eighth-inch mark of a chalk line in half. I've finally found the one thing that really does require absolute perfectionism.
Lunch brought a few items of interest. A wandering beagle found and befriended us, and we named him Shiloh after the books about Shiloh the beagle. Evidently it's common for Harlan dwellers to let their dogs roam the community during the day. The dogs almost always make it back home in time for dinner without trouble. Towards the end of lunch, a man a few doors down the hill from our site walked out of his house carrying a rifle. Billy voiced the opinion that the man looked to be a little messed-up, by which he seemed to mean drunk. The man proceeded to shoot the rifle at some unknown object. Nobody in the neighborhood was disturbed in the least. We found that a little odd.
The afternoon brought more shingles, bigger blisters, and little else. As the roof crew climbed back down the ladder, I realized that I hadn't used sunscreen the entire day, and to my surprise I hadn't sizzled like an egg on hot pavement. It was a pleasant surprise.
Back at the cabin, I decided against an early shower in favor of taking my camera, Orthodoxy, and The Great Omission on a hike up to the rock formation on the ridge near the cabin. This time I had the rock to myself, and it was marvelously tranquil and absolutely lovely. I benefited from the break from people and noise. Todd was right about the benefits of silence and solitude. As much as I loved many of the people I went with, I can only stand so much non-stop human contact.
I came back down to discover that my friends from the other work site and my one friend from my site were going on a walk down the mountain into Sleepy Hollow where the boys' cabins were. I think one of the girls wanted to play basketball, but I don't fully remember the reason for the trip; we never actually made it there. The road from the girls' cabin to the boys' cabin zig-zagged across the grass-covered face of the mountain. We speed-walked most of the way down the road, and then realized that we needed something back up in the cabin. Charity and I decided to hike through the grass straight up the mountainside instead of using the road. We made it, but she was on the verge of asthmatic breathing problems, and I had a hard time not slipping thanks to the fact that my foam flip-flops had gotten soaked. Once we did whatever we needed to, we speed-walked all the way down almost to the boys' cabin. Just as we started down their driveway, one of the teachers pulled up to pick up some of the guys. and he told us that it was dinner time. He offered to give us a ride, but I decided that I wanted to see if I could run up the road and beat him. After about 100 yards, I was the only person still in favor of that idea, so instead we sat in the middle of the road and waited to be picked up. We opened the trunk and all squeezed into the back and sang along to The Killers on the way up the hill/mountain.
Dinner was a delicious grill-out followed by some cards. Between cards and bedtime I sat around the fire with people I didn't normally talk to, and it was actually very nice. I heard lots of interesting stories and had some lovely conversations. It would be nice if I could remember any of them, but right now I'm proud for remembering this much (I haven't really remembered all this for this long. I made lists on the way home. If I had actually remembered this all several weeks after the fact, I'd be shocked).
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