When it's time to call

A rainy resolution that takes all year to fulfill

I can’t let the rain stop me. I must go — today.

So I thought last Tuesday morning, with the August rain sputtering. Little Seba and I peered out the kitchen window, watching the drops plop into the plastic bowl we leave out for birds (and wandering cats), trying to gage a decrease or a surge.

Either way, I had to go.

In January, I resolved to hike to the lookout tower at the top of the Moore’s Wall Trail at Hanging Rock State Park at least once a month every month in 2025. I generally go during the first week of the month, but various scheduling conflicts had pushed the August ascent back.

And you know how it goes: Things come up, inertia sets in, and suddenly the month has passed.

So despite the rain, I’d decided that this was the day. And once I’d offered an invitation to my hiking buddy and fellow Boddhisattva, Bob Beerman, I would have felt ashamed to back out.

We met, smiling, in the parking lot not far from the visitor’s center, with steam rising from the wet concrete. My friend donned his hiking boots and raincoat. (A dilettante, I just wore my usual walking shoes and t-shirt.) As we headed toward the trailhead, we caught up on recent events and manly gossip. But we weren’t a hundred yards down the track when the rain suddenly picked up. Fortunately, we were near the camping cabins, so we paused in rocking chairs on a screen porch to wait a little while.

Longtime friend Bob is the founder of, recently retired from, the Bass Violin Shop in Greensboro. He and his wife, Teresa, are accomplished musicians who play live from time to time. We have similar backgrounds — youthful religious fervor that gave way to a more generous approach to life — and similar interests, including books, music and laughs. It’s refreshing as rain to hang out with Bob.

Before long, the rain had slacked off, so we were back on the trail.

We passed bold deer who sniffed for a snack, hopped the rocks across that creek in the hollow, then began the long climb up the solid stone stairs, like a giant’s building blocks, like the Steps to the Temple of Eternity, placed by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the late ’30s. They’ve endured well. Colors reflected brightly from wet and shiny foliage all around. We passed a controlled burn section of forest, black charred wood peeking from underneath new growth.

We were so busy talking — and Bob pausing to point out various noteworthy fauna that would have escaped my solitary notice — that we hardly noticed when the rain picked up again.

By the time we reached the top, I was soaking wet — as was Bob, wherever the raincoat didn’t cover.

I didn’t mind. I’ve become infatuated with the rain. It brings cooler temperatures, making the beginning of this month feel like the beginning of fall. It builds in dark, sculptured clouds, like monuments or labyrinths in the sky, and sometimes trickles softly, sometimes crashes dramatically like a Tchaikovsky concerto. It collects in reflecting puddles of fractured light and creates temporary rivers down streets and driveways. It seems to clean the air. Let it sprinkle, let it storm.

Then again, too much of a good thing can be bad. We’ve seen this multiple times recently as floods have unexpectedly devastated vast areas of our state, influenced by the climate change that everyone in the world understands and accepts except President and convicted felon Donald Trump and his capos. They include his appointed EPA head, Lee Zeldin; though his agency is tasked with protecting the environment, Zeldin has decided that his true calling is to sacrifice the environment to protect the economy, such as it is.

Any day now we’re going to hear one of Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s Christian nationalist pals complain that manmade climate change can’t be real because God would never allow such a thing to destroy the Earth — which isn’t exactly what anyone claims. But.

The god who allows Christian pastors to molest children; who allows Israeli soldiers to murder Palestinians trying to reach feeding stations; who allows Russian soldiers to rape Ukrainian women and steal their children; who allows floods and fires to ravage communities while an American president funnels relief funds to immigration agents; that god? That god would never allow climate change? Please explain to me the theological limitations of god-approved suffering.

Bob and I didn’t discuss any of that on the platform at the top. It was a day for sunnier thoughts. Soon, we headed back down.

We had tasty sandwiches for lunch at the River Rock Café in Danbury, then Bob had to head for home. I lingered for ice cream at the Front Porch Creamery: Two scoops, banana and salted caramel.

Then it was back to the real world; time to feed the cat and see if it was true that Trump was going to welcome a war criminal on American soil; shake his hand like that of an old friend.

Reaching that tower feels like a significant accomplishment each time. The path can be quite steep in places, and it’s not unusual for me to pause now and then to catch my breath. But it does seem to be getting easier.

There’s probably a philosophical lesson, and one that’s not too difficult to grasp, in hiking, in the rain, in the ebb and flow of life. Mostly, to me, in taking refreshment, even if I have to schedule it — not withholding it or hoarding it, not saving it for a sunny day. Take your pleasure on the rainy days, too.

…..

Overflow:

Is it time to arrange a caravan to Danbury?

The stormiest place on Earth, Lake Maracaibo in Venezuela, with an almost continuous lightning storm that brings 1.6 million lightning strikes per year, according to Atlas Obscura, might be entertaining … for a while. It’s also one of the most dangerous places on the planet, with roving gangs and drug trafficking. If President and convicted felon Donald Trump really wanted to deal with those problems, rather than harass vulnerable and innocent people, he might send ICE there.

The stormiest place on Earth:

Religious views on climate change:

https://prri.org/research/the-faith-factor-in-climate-change-how-religion-impacts-american-attitudes-on-climate-and-environmental-policy/

Zeldin’s policies undo environmental protections and a scientific consensus that’s decades old. Why would someone whose job is to protect the environment destroy his own agency’s ability to do so?

https://apnews.com/article/trump-climate-epa-endangerment-zeldin-5cba0871c880e23d044ef40a398c57b2

Bridge protests!

4:30 to 6 p.m. every Monday

7:30 to 9 a.m. every Tuesday

10 a.m. to noon every Saturday

At the Green Street pedestrian bridge above Salem Parkway. We have crowds, but we need more! This is, I guarantee, the most fun protest in town!

Have you visited your local bookstore lately?

My newer book, “Tiny Sliver of a Moon” is available from Bookmarks, Book Ferret, The Eclectible Shop and the trunk of my car.

My first book, “Stardust and Scar Tissue,” is available from Bookmarks, Book Ferret, The Eclectible Shop and from the publisher, Press 53.

Gordon sings us out today:

And one more for good measure:

Thanks for being here today. If you know anyone who’d like to be with us, send them our way.