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Bow Down

A man should have weapons mounted on walls. This is a requirement of manhood. Failure to do so denies that which makes us men: the capacity for and proper use of selective violence.

However, the type of weapon and the method of display distinctly broadcasts the man’s association with violence. Sword = nerd and probably younger. Yes, I have a sword hanging up in the basement but I also have a history degree so I get a pass. Old family shotgun = appreciation for family history. Bolt-action rifle = appreciation for hunting or precision shooting. AR15 = douchebag.

But what about classic recurve/longbows? Well they’re awesome, of course. But as for storage, the bow is a unique customer. It can’t be stood up in a corner or shoved in the attic. Bad climate control can cause delamination, and improper support can cause warping. Unlike firearms, they’re very particular. Even when not intended to be displayed, they still need even, horizontal support in a low-humidity and low heat environment. And at 4-6′ long, they can take up an awkward amount of wall space. A solution was needed, but internet searches for bow holders tended to favor the compound variety, and anything else proved to be ridiculously overpriced. As usual, I would have to build my own.

…Which really didn’t require all that much imagination. A couple boards and hanging brackets would suffice, since they were going in the basement. Here’s what I came up with:

Complete with pretty wife

Basic and functional, and elegant in its simplicity. At last the bows are now not only properly stored, but also displayed. Manly!

–Simon

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Ghost-writers in the Sky

An old cowpoke went riding out one dark and windy day/

COVID meds laced through the sky ’cause liberals got their way!

I have a neighbor who insists that jet contrails are COVID vaccines. Or experimental medical seeding. Or most recently – Masonic symbols being surreptitiously scrawled on high for all to see.

I’d normally consider such conclusions to be based in paranoia, with little tangible evidence. But as Boomers don’t like to be contradicted, I choose these moments to disengage from conversation rather than inquire further. Some part of me remains curious as to why someone might make such unhinged conclusions, but not enough to encourage the conspiracy theory rhetoric that would inevitably ensue.

The Devil’s pitchfork! Hail Satan!

So instead, I asked AI – an odd usage of modern technology, but why not? Let’s see what aggregated generative data can give us to help understand unhinged thinking.

Its conclusion, greatly abbreviated, was that people recognize anomalies in predictable patterns, and that the process by which jet contrails are created can be difficult to understand. A distrusting mind then tries to associate such a phenomenon with an already-mistrusted system: in this case, the government. And the government objectively handled the COVID pandemic response poorly. Ergo: confusing chemical/physical phenomenon = government doing suspicious things, possibly COVID-related. Or the Free Masons – because they’re secretive. Or Voldemort.

But I find it confusing that one would spend the mental energy to fabricate an outlandish conclusion rather than simply look up the scientific process that created the anomaly in the first place.

So as a service to the paranoid, here’s what’s going on:

Jet fuel is kerosene, for the most part. A combustible hydrocarbon. When burned, it reacts with oxygen to generate heat – the expanding volume of which produces thrust – with the byproducts: carbon dioxide and water.

The carbon dioxide dissipates into the atmosphere. The water, owing to the exothermic reaction, is released it its vaporous state. This water vapor, then exposed to high-altitude atmospheric conditions (low air pressure and temperature), condenses into visible water.

Jet exhaust creates a damn cloud! Sheesh.

I’m not sure why that’s harder to believe than clandestine government-sponsored aerosol-dispersed COVID vaccines.

People are weird.

–Simon

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Croci 2026

In the spirit of phenologic trend monitoring, here are the first crocus blooms of 2026, as of 2/25:

3 days earlier than last year, but that’s probably insignificant. I’m making the guess that this year’s weather patterns will be similar to last year’s.

Next up: starting tomato seedlings.

–Simon

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Stumpery

Following the great firewood processing of 2025, I was left with some junk wood remnants: rotten chunks, un-splittable end pieces, wood that absorbed too much mud over the years, etc. So I carefully stacked them into a pile and ended up with a…

No, not a haphazard pile of junk wood. A stumpery!

No really, this is a thing. The great Monty Don – Britain’s most famous master gardener, told me so.

And no, I’m not making this guy up either. The Brits are weird. He’s on Amazon streaming. Look it up.

The premise being, a pile of large chunks of wood can add visual interest to an otherwise over-manicured garden. Maybe, or it might just end up looking like a pile of junk. Which is why I’m attempting to inoculate it with mushroom spores.

I did successfully grow a mushroom patch last year, though the mushrooms themselves weren’t very tasty.

Wine Cap

But for the purposes of the stumpery, I intend the mushrooms to be more ornamental than edible.

These packets are interesting. Little wooden plugs coated in mycelium, meant to be inserted into logs.

We shall see.

–Simon

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Phenologic Trends

Four years is hardly a sufficient data sample by which to predict trending weather, but I took my historical phenologic observations and graphed them nonetheless. It would turn out to reveal a short-term trend.

Dandelions are the outlier, and I didn’t start measuring all events on the same initial year, but there’s a noticeable dip – indicating a warm spell. That 2-year period returned to previous values last year.

I have yet to observe crocus flowers, but they are starting to bloom. And with all the recent snow, it would appear that we’re beginning to return to a cooler seasonal climate.

Interesting. I shall continue to monitor this. I may delay planting dates.

–Simon