Down in a hole

Hello again, thanks for stopping by.  Due to some maintenance work being done on the blogs I wasn’t able to log on this weekend and then I just didn’t get around to posting anything the last few days.  At present my Rock Hounds teammates and I are in Frisco, TX finishing up a four game series against the Frisco Rough Riders.  We have had a string of high-intensity games of late, both because of the manner in which the games have played out and the unusually high attendance figures.  Since Saturday we have had two “kids days,” 11 AM games featuring thousands of screaming kids, and our other Frisco games have been packed as well but for a slightly different reason.  Frisco’s games tend to be better attended than most in the league to begin with because of their proximity to both Dallas and their big league team (the Rangers), but this has been further enhanced by rehab stints by both Nelson Cruz and some guy named Josh Hamilton who won the A.L. M.v.P. last year (I assume this means Appalachian League MVP, but I can’t be sure).  While the atmosphere has made the games a bit more exciting, the results on the field have been frustrating for us.  As a team we have been scrapping and battling for this whole series, only to come up just short in excrutiating fashion late in the game.  The good news is that the way we’ve been grinding out every at-bat and every inning it isn’t going to take much to push us over the top and back into the win column.

Away from the field I have been focused primarily on planning my honeymoon to Australia, or more accurately, on helping my fiance in any way I can since she is doing most of the actual planning.  It seems like hiring a travel agent would make the process a lot smoother, but it hasn’t worked that way so far.  I have also worked my way through a few books, Not For Specialists by W.D. Snodgrass and Early Frost, a collection of the early poetry of Robert Frost.  The main problem I have with Robert Frost is the same problem I have with Walt Whitman and Stephen Dunn, namely once I start reading a collection of their work I tend to get stuck and have a hard time moving on to something new.  Not a terrible problem to have I guess.  The most interesting part of the last couple weeks was a trip I took to Carlsbad Caverns on one of the two true off days we have scheduled this year.  It is the third trip I have made to Carlsbad in the last year, but all three trips have been a bit different.  On this trip I did a couple off-trail tours and spent some extra time in the cave’s twilight zone (the zone inside the cave penetrated by natural light) and one of my favorite cave features, Iceberg Rock.  Iceberg Rock is a 200,000 ton rock that detached from the roof of the cave and now rests on the cave floor.  To truly get an idea for the size of this enormous boulder you need to go down into King’s Palace and see it from below, but even from the main trail it is impressive.  Needless to say it was definitely worth the five hours of round-trip driving it entailed, but I was very disappointed that the wind conditions made the additional hiking I had planned in Guadalupe Mountains impractical.  Anyway, before I ramble on any further, I’ll call that good and leave you with a poem as usual.

Hyla Brook
By Robert Frost

By June our brook’s run out of song and speed.
Sought for much after that, it will be found
Either to have gone groping underground
(And taken with it all the Hyla breed
That shouted in the mist a month ago,
Like ghost of sleigh bells in a ghost of snow)—
Or flourished and come up in jewelweed,
Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent,
Even against the way its waters went.
Its bed is left a faded paper sheet
Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat—
A brook to none but who remember long.
This as it will be seen is other far
Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song.
We love the things we love for what they are.

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