Life can be precarious. I know this especially in the ‘A’ months of April and August, when I’ve experienced my deepest personal losses.

Maybe this is why, at the sound of sirens this morning, I was transported to Newfoundland in 2024, a time when I was privy to another family’s sudden loss. I had already been thinking about the annual Perseids meteor shower: about the times I’ve watched from the suburbs of Pittsburgh, from a KOA campground in my twenties, along the Bay of Fundy, and twice in Newfoundland.

The 2024 Newfoundland viewing that I’m thinking about occurred after a crash on the Trans-Canada Highway. Kathi and I were heading to Gros Morne National Park that evening and encountered a traffic back up. There was a fatal accident. Car v. cyclist. It was the cyclist whose life was lost that August evening. Hundreds of people would cut their engines and wait for the scene to be cleared (it would be a few hours). We would get out of our cars and make small talk. Watch dusk slip into twilight and then night.

And then the meteors gave us a show in this pitch dark place.

It was spectacular. And our hearts were heavy.

This might not have been the Perseids post you were hoping for. Here’s one I wrote in 2014 about a happier viewing. I hope you’ll take a few minutes to read it.

Speaking of celestial events, there’s going to be a solar eclipse today! Friends of mine are in Spain to experience totality. I admire their wanderlust. Maybe those of you in Canada will be out this afternoon to see the partial eclipse? Let me know about your experience! For those who want to remember the 2024 eclipse, here’s a post I wrote then. It’s followed by a trip report from my visit to the Swamp Rabbit Trail, so don’t let the title confuse you.

Still here?

Two things:

1. I’m getting ready to close my Big Boy Experience Survey. If you saw the Big Boy locomotive this summer, please take a few minutes to fill out the survey. Thanks!

2. Here are my photos from the 2024 Newfoundland trip.

I’m winding down a trip in Asheville, North Carolina, and will post more about it another time. In the meantime, Cycle Forward recently celebrated 13 years in business (!!) and I’m looking back at some older posts. I thought I’d share a few with you. One way or another, they all involve expansiveness. The first one, Feeling Small in the Outdoors, is about my 2022 trip to Asheville. Talk more soon!

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The world’s largest operating steam locomotive rolled right past my house on Saturday. Days later, I’m still marveling at the very thought of it.

For those who aren’t familiar, Union Pacific Railroad built Big Boy No. 4014 in 1941 to support the war effort, hauling materials through a rugged Western landscape. It’s one of just eight remaining Big Boys. The others are all on display, including one that was recently restored at Steamtown National Historic Site in Scranton, PA. (This is your cue to plan a trip to Northeast Pennsylvania!)

Is it just me, or was Big Boy’s coast-to-coast tour the 250th event we’ve all been waiting for? I wouldn’t call myself a railfan, but I’ve been delighted to encounter so much unabashed enthusiasm over the last few weeks. CBS got it right with its “See how this locomotive brought America together” segment. Passion for trains is not a price of entry for this event. Somehow it’s about something more.

Certainly, nostalgia comes into play. I’ve thought a lot lately about a time in the nineties when my dad heard the steam whistle of a train passing through the Beaver River Valley. He called for my brothers and me to jump into the truck, and thus began a fun Saturday morning jaunt to catch up to the train. It’s an indelible memory.

As for Saturday, this time I had a front row view from my own front porch. The neighbors on our tucked away street expected some activity, but could not have imagined what took place. We easily had 300 people lining the street to watch.

Kathi and I had an impromptu gathering on the porch. My aunt and uncle basically brought the party, lining our kitchen counter with a spread of food. There was something that was SO MUCH FUN about gathering for this one-time event. There was a buzz about the group and a handful of false alarms. (“I think I hear it!”)

I don’t know whether we were hearing the whistle echoing through the Mon Valley or we just imagined that we were. On its way to us, the Big Boy chugged alongside the Great Allegheny Passage, beneath the Rankin and Homestead Grays bridges, hugged the river bend across from Hazelwood, passed over top Page Dairy Mart, and then into the South Side. How fitting that the river valley that churned out so much steel over the years was hosting this old-time train. When the engine came into view, the whistle was cover-your-ears-loud for some. I felt it reverberating and pounding in my chest. It was exhilarating.

The train was fast. This is the part nobody prepared us for. It zipped past a stretch of the South Side that used to have a rail yard, spur tracks, and a pedestrian bridge to the mill. It passed homes and apartments that belonged to families like the Lopatas, Miskises, Zenchaks, McCreas, and Fedoreks (some of them still here). I wanted to cry.

Here’s a video taken by Kiley Koscinski next to my house and here’s a shorter one that I took. Side note: it’s amazing how quickly people are ready to pack up and go, even as the train is still passing 🤣.

I hope I’ll always remember the deafening sound of the whistle, the impressiveness of the wheels, and an energy that was akin to a carnival atmosphere. But mostly, I hope I’ll remember how a train brought so many people together. As a neighbor observed: the train was nice, but the specialness of it all was the people who gathered together to see it.

Take my Big Boy Experience Survey!

Lessons from Main Street

I recently attended the Pennsylvania Downtown Center’s annual PA Downtown Conference, where the thread of community was just as present. Our closing keynote speaker was Erin Barnes, founder of ioby and President & CEO of Main Street America. She focused her remarks on the importance of stories, which “bring forth the past and present in a continuous line.” She challenged us to consider which stories deserve greater care, stewardship, and attention, and to tell them truthfully. (My Deciding on Trails folks can see Chapter 11 for some similar ideas.)

Barnes also challenged us to create durable, flexible places. After all, she reminded us, “Great places do not happen by accident.” It takes a whole lot of devoted people doing enduring work. She also said, “Every downtown exists as a place and exists as a story.” I ask you, what stories are we telling about our communities?

Other key takeaways from the PA Downtown Conference include:

• Let people play! This message was shared by opening keynote speaker Spud Marshall. He talked about a group in State College that were inspired by the P-Funk Mothership to build a spaceship and have a dance party in their neighborhood. Sometimes letting people play can jumpstart community building in the most unexpected ways.

• Main Street only works if we’re getting the relationship part right. Again and again, I heard what we know and sometimes forget. Main Street initiatives are built upon people knowing and trusting each other. I’m paraphrasing Sarah Merritt of the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts here, but the sentiment was shared in just about every session.

• It helps to understand our behavioral hardwiring. I participated in workshop on “unleashing the power that drives Main Street.” In it, Verdera co-founders Elizabeth Cipolla and Amanda Kochirka led us through an exploration of our own behavioral hardwiring (high patience/low patience, high structure/low structure, etc.) and how we can use the knowledge to build more powerful teams.

• Final takeaway: I need to plan a trip to Erie County this fall! I went on the Route 6 Mobile Tour to Edinboro, Union City, and Corry. These are three towns that are doing the work! I’m eager to get back.

Sometimes the bird lives.

Last Friday, my dogs found a baby finch stuck along our fence line. I was so proud of Annie, who’s losing her sight, hearing, and balance for sniffing her way to the little bird. As Kathi was helping it out, I climbed the porch steps, only to find a second chick. In seconds, this one would be fully inside Walter’s mouth. He was careful, though, and released the bird more easily than he gives up a bone. Our beagle is becoming a bird dog!

We think they may have fallen out of their nest in a storm the day before. The porch bird, the one who spent a few harrowing seconds inside of a beagle, looked either sick or very young.

And thus began a four-day stretch of a finch living on our porch, not in its intended nest, but in a new sort of nest. The adults had recently set up a second nest. We were easily able to grab that one and put the bird in it. This was the first of at least a dozen times that we wondered whether we were doing the right thing. Every time we moved the nest, and later placed it in a larger box with a towel, we asked whether the intervention would help or hurt. We didn’t always know the answer.

I’ve written before about meddling when it comes to birds, but what’s a person to do when there’s a tiny chick on their front porch fighting for its chance at city life?

The parents continued to visit and offer up worms and such. Seeing the spectacle of a feeding is a gift, is it not? So we just kept providing shaded space and hoping for growth. And it did grow! And then yesterday it fledged nest/box #2.

Meanwhile, the other chicks (we soon learned there were TWO more, not just the one wedged along the fence) spent a few days in a bush also growing and becoming more steady. The last I saw of our porch bird it was sitting on a dog leash (ready for a walk?). The next time I looked, it was gone. Now strong and ready, it most likely flew off. Not all bird stories end as happily. We got a win yesterday!

I’m hoping Walter will stop obsessing soon. If this is anything like the day we had a raccoon in the yard last summer, it’ll take a few more days.

It was never my garden anyway

Across the street in an area along the tracks, I’ve been working to disrupt some mugwort in recent years. (If you want to know more about this, see my 2024 Leadership Reflections post, which addresses both guerrilla gardening and what I learned in the Appalachian Leadership Institute.) My hope for this year was that the perennial wildflowers I put down over the winter would come up. They haven’t, and neither have the striking cosmos that self-seeded last year. But perhaps what has happened is what is meant to be. Large patches of crown vetch have been filling in, along with Queen Anne’s Lace. The vetch (another invasive, but more beneficial in this space than the mugwort) is so lush that it’s providing cover for nesting rabbits. We also have deer visiting, and the vetch doesn’t look half bad. I may keep trying with the wildflowers in upcoming years, but the space is doing its own thing this summer, reminding me that it never was my garden anyway.

An entire video about a rail wall

Also across the street is a stone rail wall that stretches the length of Pittsburgh’s South Side. I’ve been intrigued by the wall for years (check out my Instagram account, @Wall_Told). So when I took a digital storytelling class this spring and needed to create a video, I found my topic pretty easily. I hope you can take a few minutes to watch The Living Wall. Sure, it’s a video about a wall. But really it’s about the richness of community. In fact, a neighbor who attended my class’s screening event, decided that we needed to host a neighborhood screening. That’s how about 25 of us ended up spending a recent Sunday evening together, connecting through stories and simply by showing up. At one point in the video, I say, “Knowing each other is a start.” This is what that looks like.

In other news…

• The Parkersburg to Pittsburgh (P2P) Corridor continues to keep me and the entire team busy! If you live in or near any of the involved counties (Wood, Ritchie, Doddridge, Harrison, Marion, Monongalia, and Fayette), you have another week to take our community survey. We’re getting great feedback and would love to have yours as well.

• I’ll be in Erie soon for the PA Downtown Conference! I love Erie and especially nearby Presque Isle State Park. I’m so glad the PA Downtown Center has given me a compelling reason to get up to the lake. I’ll be exhibiting on behalf of Cycle Forward and leading a session titled, “The Corner of Trail and Main: Strategies for Leveraging Trails in Your Community.” The earliest Trail Town efforts in Pennsylvania were modeled after the Main Street approach. I’m excited to talk to Main Street managers about how they can tap into their local trails!

Recent Posts:

You know you’re in for a good community meeting when a registrant emails you to say he’ll be there along with his wife and a model covered bridge:

“Be there by five with wife, a bridge, wearing a cap from Antarctica.”

That would be retired pilot, educator, and all-around idea man Stanley Cole, who attended a community meeting I hosted this week for the Parkersburg to Pittsburgh (P2P) Corridor Regional Master Plan project. Besides bringing the model to encourage the installation of prefabricated bridges along the trails, he also brought positive energy. At one point he told a young concessionaire who is renting bikes and kayaks how proud he was of him. It was a sweet moment.

Another personal highlight of the high energy gathering was meeting Belinda Armstrong, one of the artists who painted a striking 12-peice installation in the hallway of the Wood County Resiliency Center. The collection celebrates the Mid-Ohio Valley’s connection to the river. Belinda and her husband, Ken, are the parents of a former client of mine. How is it possible that I’ve led a workshop for their daughter 200 miles away and then got to meet them in PKB?

Belinda wasn’t the only artist in the room. We had people working in the arts, in education, economic development, tourism, and more all come together to think about the promise of this corridor. When we kicked off this project in December, a Facebook commenter asked, “Why Parkersburg?” (suggesting, as Gertrude Stein once famously did, that “There’s no there there”).

After my time with this group (and others in Doddridge, Ritchie, and Harrison counties over the last couple of weeks), I can tell you why. We have some pretty amazing communities across Appalachia and along the trails that make up the P2P Corridor. It’s the people. It’s the culture. It’s the landscape. And so much more.

There’s significant work ahead, but many of the ingredients are there. Speaking of which, I had the opportunity to visit Point Park in Parkersburg. I can’t say enough about this incredible civic investment at the confluence of the Little Kanawha and Ohio rivers. This park is special! (See a short video I posted here...it’s the only way to see how fantastic the Floodwall Mural is.)

I was there in the evening and enjoyed seeing how many people were out fishing, taking their kids for a walk, and catching the sunset. This is an actively used park and would make an ideal bookend for the P2P experience. Imagine beginning a walk or ride at Point Park in Parkersburg and ending at Point State Park in Pittsburgh, both on the Ohio River! That’s part of the vision for the P2P Corridor.

If you live or work along the P2P Corridor, please join us for one of our remaining meetings and take our community survey here. Trip photos are below.

About the P2P Corridor Project

The P2P Corridor links six existing and emerging rail-trails. When complete, the trails comprising the P2P Corridor from Parkersburg, WV to Connellsville, PA will create a fully connected 180-mile system of trails, one of the longest in the U.S. The P2P meets the Great Allegheny Passage near Connellsville. Trail users can continue on to Pittsburgh using the GAP and Three Rivers Heritage Trail. The master plan project has been made possible through an Appalachian Regional Commission ARISE grant made to the National Road Heritage Corridor with matching funds from the Just Transition Fund, Claude Worthington Benedum Foundation, and the City of Fairmont.

Hi, friends. Happy Friday!

I’m giving myself just 15 40 minutes with this post, wanting to share a fun and moving occurrence from my front yard this morning. We’ve had a family of house finches living on the underside of the front porch awning recently.

This morning, I took our dog, Annie, into the yard and found that one had fledged the nest. It was right there on the front walk, probably wondering how to steer clear of us. It squeezed through a gap in the gate. This was at about 10:50 a.m.

I had an 11:00 meeting, so I set up my phone to record activity around the nest. At 12:30 or so, I popped downstairs and scanned the video. The other chicks were still there. Why is there always one that says, “That’s it…I’m going,” so much faster than the others?

I decided I would record again. As I was fiddling with my phone, mom and dad finch popped back up to the nest. The endless encouragement they offer at this phase must be exhausting. They would appear, fly away, and reappear again and again throughout morning and, now, into the afternoon. This time, though, FOUR birds emerged from the nest! They fluttered about the front porch, and I was witnessing what felt like a miracle. It doesn’t matter that this happens all the time everywhere. What mattered was that I was there to see the babies that were living on my front porch take flight for the very first time.

I could have seen it on playback on a 3” x 6” screen, but instead I was feet away witnessing this wonder in real time. Life is happening right in front of us and all around us, my friends. Sometimes we catch the playback. Sometimes we don’t notice at all. Others, we actually bear witness.

I took my lunch from the other side of the window. Here’s a two-minute slice of life after the birds had fledged. There’s nothing too exciting here…just a sliver of the day’s activities. The nest is out of view, and this may be a good thing. It’s falling apart. There’s poop on the ground all around it. It basically looks like it’s been through a lot over the last few weeks. Still, mom and dad keep hanging around the nest, appearing to be asking, “Now what?” I know I’m anthropomorphizing here, but I have a deeper appreciation for the term “empty nest” as of this afternoon.

Still here? Here’s a post I wrote on the topic of fledging the nest a few years ago.

In Other News

It’s a typical spring at Cycle Forward. I’ve been to Alabama, State College, and Ritchie County, WV in the last eight days. Next week, I’ll be in Lewisburg, PA and WV again. Most (but not all) of this travel relates to the Parkersburg to Pittsburgh (P2P) Corridor Master Plan project. Learn more about the project, take our community survey, and register for an upcoming meeting here. More on all of these trips – including Alabama’s first Trail Town conference and PA’s first Outdoor Economy Summit – soon! In the meantime, if you live in Appalachia, now is the time to get started on your Appalachian Leadership Institute application.

Solvitur Ambulando. “It is solved by walking.”

This has been the case for me (and probably for you!) most of my life. Even when there’s nothing in particular to “solve” walking feels like the answer. That’s why I recently decided I wanted to take a long walk on the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP). By long, I mean 12 miles. I walked from the town square in Confluence to Ohiopyle’s High Bridge on Saturday.

A 75-minute bike ride stretched across six hours of quiet meandering.

I was looking to see what it feels like to walk a rail-trail for a good part of the day. Even though people use them in all sorts of ways (biking, walking, running, fishing, horseback riding, skiing, etc.), my brain normally registers them as places to bike. They are not my personal go-to spaces for hiking. But in watching the From Rails to Trails documentary, I learned about the early vision for the Illinois Prairie Path (the second rail-trail in the U.S.). And guess what? It was thought of as a space for walking. The trail’s visionary, Mary Theilgaard Watts, imagined a footpath that would wind through prairies and forests, cities and villages, like the ones she had seen in Europe.

So what was it like to walk a section of the GAP? It was both marvelous and repetitive. I had to let go of the thought of passing mile markers in quick succession and simply putting one foot in front of the other until I reached my destination. It was a beautiful spring day and the trail offered the benefit of nearly level walking. I got to enjoy the Youghiogheny River from various vantage points. I was treated with a warm start at Tissue Farm coffee shop/art gallery in Confluence, where I got to catch up with some old friends. Besides the coffee shop menu, Tissue Farm has a great book selection and local provisions. A savory gruyere scone would help round out my lunch. Walking the trail away from Confluence, I enjoyed an old Eddie Spaghetti mural and the view of where the Casselman and Laurel Hill Creek flow into the Youghiogheny, the “turkeyfoot.”

Most of the walk was through Ohiopyle State Park. I’ve never seen so many trilliums (mostly white, some red). They were everywhere, even at the top of the steepest hillsides. I also saw lots of mayapples and skunk cabbage, even more cyclists (I stopped counting at about 50), maybe 8-10 kayakers, and a number of Canada geese. Seeing (well, hearing) the geese reminded me that I’ve been wanting to memorize Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese.” I’m happy to report that hours on the trail afforded me that opportunity:

Will I do another rail-trail walk? I’m not sure yet. But I certainly treasured my time on the GAP over the weekend. If you want to read more about walking, check out Lauren Hall’s exploration of the topic. She wrote, “I’d walked myself empty.” May you do the same! See the end of the post for more photos and learn more about the GAP here.

Your Next Read: Rachel Sager’s Your Grandfather Worked Here

I have long admired Rachel Sager’s writing and her work at The Ruins Project. When people ask me for tips on riding the GAP, a stop at the Ruins is one of my top recommendations. It’s a way to immerse yourself in the culture and heritage of the area through art. A guided tour showcases Rachel’s creations and those of mosaicists from around the globe. It’s really quite special. Lucky for us, Rachel recently published an e-book about disappearing places. Your Grandfather Worked Here: A Field Guide for Disappearing Places is an easy and inspiring read. Rachel writes about the sense of loss that we experience when places fall into a state of disrepair.

“People who have watched their places deteriorate often carry a low-grade unnamed grief.” But she is not asking readers to mourn, she says. She is asking them to ACT. Even in the smallest of ways. To mark that a place (a building, a wall, even a piece of left-behind equipment) matters. She is inviting us to intervene. “People who care are better protection than fences,” she writes. And they are keepers of place. Learn more and see my full testimonial in Rachel’s related post.

This Spring with Cycle Forward

There’s loads going on this Spring, including:

• I’ll spend Earth Day keynoting the Alabama Trails Foundation’s Building a Trail Town Economy event.

• I’ll be attending the first PA Outdoor Economy Summit + Industry Expo (and speaking on a panel titled “The Next Big Thing”).

• The Parkersburg to Pittsburgh (P2P) Corridor master planning effort is still in progress. We’re hosting a series of Spring meetings beginning on April 29. Learn more here and also find info on upcoming Celebrate Trails Day events in Morgantown and Fayette County.

• Cycle Forward is collaborating with Fourth Economy Consulting to produce an economic impact and feasibility study for the Little Kanawha River Trail. See some photos from my recent visit here.

GAP Trip Photos

Hello, friends! I miss being here with you on Substack.

I’ve been prioritizing project work these days, but thought I’d hop on to share some photos from my recent visit to Morgantown, WV for the Parkersburg to Pittsburgh Regional Master Plan project.

But first, a Pittsburgh area business closing has me thinking about endings, new beginnings, and the question, “How much is enough?”

Some of you might recall my post asking, “Do I have Enough Time?” It remains one of my most popular posts – I think because so many of us struggle with being overtasked. A friend of mine has been repeating the mantra, “I have enough time” to counter that sinking feeling of being in the hole. (There’s more on that mindset in the other post.)

Today, I’m thinking about “enough” not in terms of time, but in experiences. It’s the impending closing of Jean-Marc Chatellier’s French Bakery in Millvale that has me wondering whether I’ve had my fill. Kathi and I went there a couple of weeks ago and had some delectable pastries. We stood on the corner and devoured what would be our last Jean-Marc treats. At another time in my life, not that long ago, I might try to squeeze in one last trip (like I did when I waited in line for Dave & Andy’s ice cream a few years ago…twice in the same week).

But my mindset at the moment is that the trip two weeks ago was enough. Such a simple word, isn’t it? It involves decisiveness, restraint, and satisfaction. And not being regular customers, it truly was enough. The closing weekend ought to be for the regulars, or for someone hoping to experience the bakery for the very first time. Not for me, who enjoyed the maple Danish a mere two weeks ago. So I suppose I’ve had enough in this instance. Even if I now have songs like “Never Too Much” and “One Last Time” swirling around in my head 🤣. (Oh my gosh, those street scenes in Never Too Much!)

Final thought when it comes to closings: it’s not about the pastry or the ice cream, but the experience…wanting to drink it in as another local institution gives way to change. Would I like to drop in one more time? Yes. But will I? No, not this time, which leaves two fewer people in the queue.

About Morgantown…

The Parkersburg to Pittsburgh (P2P) master planning project involves spending time in the communities along the way. Our team has been doing field work, hosting events and programs, and getting to know the communities better.

We’ve been celebrating the P2P trails all month long under the banner of “Heart Trails Month.” Our events calendar includes film screenings, group runs, virtual engagement sessions, a winter bike ride, valentine-making, and more.

The most epic of them all took place in Morgantown. The Mon River Trails Conservancy teamed up with the Morgantown Board of Parks and Recreation (BOPARC) to host a full day of activities on February 10. There were art workshops (linocut valentines, fused glass trees, pottery), a Lunch & Learn on Seasonal Affective Disorder, live music, and screenings of the From Rails to Trails documentary. It’s hard to describe what it felt like being at the Wiles Hill Community Center that day. The schoolhouse-turned-community space was oozing with good energy. The art workshops in particular were so much fun. There’s just this feeling in the air when people gather to make art together. A good handful of them left and returned throughout the day. It’s a Third Space kinda place that people want to be in. If you’ve studied social infrastructure (shoutout to the book Palaces for the People!), THIS WAS IT. I felt fortunate to be there.

I also explored downtown Morgantown and the Mon River and Deckers Creek Rail-Trails. Some photos from my visit are below.

Thank you, friends, for being here. More soon!

This is not the post I was planning.

I wrote, in detail, an entirely different post that consisted of a 2025 reflection and a look ahead at 2026. You can see that content here on the Cycle Forward website.

Then, I wrote a second post that felt more appropriate last week and decided to scratch it altogether. It’s hard to know what to write sometimes. The first few weeks of the year have been wild. Devastating. Everything is happening at lightning speed. Whatever messaging felt right a week or two ago feels off to me right now.

So instead, I’ve decided to share some resources (scroll to the end for those) and a bit of distraction if nothing else. Here’s some of what’s going on in my life that I think you might be interested in:

Hygge! And a visit to the Frick

I’ve been on the hygge (pronounced hoo-ga) bandwagon this winter. Originating in Norway with the original word meaning well-being, Hygge is a sort of cozy contentment. It’s a feeling and a sensibility as much as an atmosphere you create. But it’s the Danes, apparently, who have perfected the art of hygge. (It’s a Danish word that is thought to relate to the term hugge, or hug.) So I’ve been embracing hygge this winter and hope that you will, too. It’s perfect for long winter nights. Light some candles, grab a good book, a board game, and a few friends and create some hygge.

Due to my (slight) fixation, Kathi took me to see the final day of the "Scandinavian Home: Landscape and Lore” exhibit at The Frick Pittsburgh Museums and Gardens. Billed as “Pittsburgh’s coziest exhibition,” it wasn’t what I first imagined in the way of coziness factor, but I quite enjoyed it. There were so many great winter landscapes and interesting furnishings. Here are some of my favorites:

Still at the Frick…

I will never tire of sycamores. Here’s a pair at the Frick, though they may actually be London Plane trees given the location. Can you see the snow? Whichever of these similar species, they’re all magnificent and bring a welcome pop to a winter landscape. Here’s a post I once wrote about sycamores.

Trying to avoid brain re-wiring

Have you seen the research about how doom scrolling re-wires our brains? “Popcorn brain” is one of the terms I saw. I’m trying to keep from spending too much time on social media, though I am still there. Things I’m doing to counter time wasted online:

I took a free guided meditation class last week (“Meditation with a Monk,” free at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh). In a world in which so many of our thoughts are negative (80%, he said), he encouraged us to commit to loving kindness in our words and actions. It reminded me of a quote that I keep on hand: “It is in your best interest to be very tender” (Jenny Holzer). I’m planning to go back for another session.

I also signed up for a writing workshop (digital storytelling) being offered by Carlow University. And I’m thinking about starting a meet up group for Pittsburgh people who want to share stories and travel ideas about Atlantic Canada. If you’re in Pittsburgh and want to join in, let me know. Something else I’m thinking about/dreaming of is seeing the Sandhill Cranes migrating south. It’s probably not happening this winter, but hopefully another year soon! Here’s how YOU can watch along the Tennessee River (let me know if you go).

Oh, and my favorite positive thing about Facebook lately? Watching videos of this North Carolina dog, Dexter, whose hobby is pulling blankets through the doggie door. Here’s one!

Taking Good Care

So these are some of the things I’ve been up to lately. It helps to have some things to be interested in and practices to commit to in these different times. Whatever you do, keep working to affect change in your local community, know that it’s still important to reach out to your members of Congress, and take good care of yourself and each other.

Resources

• Are you thinking about creating a stewardship program? I was delighted to hear that a program I helped design along the New York State Canalway Water Trail in 2020 has achieved its goal of full coverage across the 450-mile route by the canal’s bicentennial year (this year). See their program impact report here and check out their website for some stewardship program inspiration.

• Those who follow me on Facebook may have seen my recent post where I shared an old PA Downtown Center video about nature-based placemaking. I rewatched it recently, and the messaging still holds up. This is master level storytelling. Check it out.

• Finally, Amex and Main Street America are continuing their partnership with the Amex Shop Small Grants Program. This is a grant that’s available to small businesses. The deadline is Friday, Jan. 16, so work fast! Or begin thinking ahead for next year.

I’ve been keeping something under my hat for a couple of months now, but it’s time to share. Cycle Forward has been selected to lead a regional master planning process for the P2P Trail Corridor. The project has been made possible through an Appalachian Regional Commission ARISE grant and will help trail and community advocates plot a more prosperous future along seven trails that will ultimately connect Parkersburg, WV to Pittsburgh, PA.

This is a big project for grant recipient National Road Heritage Corridor and its partner organizations. And it’s a big project for Cycle Forward…our most extensive, all encompassing contract in our 12 year history. It’s going to be quite a year!

It almost feels like I have a new job. I’ve felt that surge of energy that comes with diving into something new. It’s fun, invigorating, and a bit daunting. It also builds on years of working with some of these same trails and organizations. The P2P is part of the larger Industrial Heartland Trails Coalition, which I’ve worked with since its inception. It also shares an alignment with the Great Allegheny Passage from Connellsville to Pittsburgh…another trail that’s part of the story of my life. One of our incoming subconsultants said to me today that our proposal’s introduction read like a love letter. That about sums it up ❤. Big thanks to Alicia Broudy and Frank Maguire (Small Mountain Trails) for all of their work thus far! Other team members will be announced soon.

Learn more about the project and the P2P Trail Corridor here. And check out the press release for complete details on the project. If you’d like ongoing updates, please sign up for the newsletter while you’re on the site.

In Case You Missed It…

Last week, I posted about Tree Pittsburgh’s lovely year-end volunteer party. Titled, “I’m Just a Volunteer,” it’s a post that applies to any organization that relies upon volunteers. I hope you’ll take a few minutes to read it.

My mention of stretching the pot of chili reminded a friend of the Little Golden Book, Tawny, Scrawny Lion. I hadn’t heard of this story before, so she kindly sent me a copy. Thank you, Ella! Here’s a favorite illustration from the book:

Wishing you all plentiful pots of chili and all good things this holiday season! And maybe a good fishing day or two?

Amy

I hear it all the time. At events and meetings, people without a professional affiliation introduce themselves with, “I’m just a volunteer,” or “I’m just a resident.” While I understand the tendency, we all must recognize that people voluntarily giving of their time, knowledge, and passion is what keeps communities afloat. This sort of involvement is literally what builds cohesive, invested communities.

The other night, I had the privilege of attending Tree Pittsburgh’s Volunteer Appreciation and Yule Log Party, which has become one of my favorite gatherings. To be clear, my role as a Tree Pittsburgh volunteer is limited. Kathi’s the Operations Manager, so I might run a few items at a party or post about upcoming events. But I know a good gathering when I see one and try to make the volunteer party when I can.

I met someone the other evening who introduced herself as being “just a tree tender.” Only later did I learn that she was one of five people up for Volunteer of the Year award. These are the most committed of all the volunteers, each of them doing their part to help Tree Pittsburgh restore the urban tree canopy.

The only “just” in this volunteerism is the justice of it all. Together, these people are planting the seeds for healthier communities, and a cooler, more sustainable city.*

It’s essential that we recognize and honor this important work.

Perspective and laughter come into play as well. The woman who won the Volunteer of the Year honor, Suzie Laurich-McIntyre, shared a few remarks. She mentioned that she had looked at the big ‘ol pot of chili that had fed the group and thought, “I’m just a fleck of pepper in that bowl of chili.” There was a pregnant pause, because everyone knows Suzie’s more than a fleck of pepper. And then someone shouted from that back of the room, “You’re a bean!”

Indeed, Suzie, you are a bean (and more, of course). Bring together everyone who’s “just” a volunteer, just a resident, and just a donor, and we quickly have a massive roaster pan of sustenance on even the coldest of winter nights. Thank you to those of you who volunteer at Tree Pittsburgh and everywhere else. And kudos to organizations that intentionally honor their volunteers. It perpetuates a culture of both giving and gratitude. Kelsey Munsick, you hit the ball out of the park with this one!

*According to Tree Pittsburgh, canopy data shows that Allegheny County is losing 2% of its tree canopy every five years. They are working toward a goal of no net loss through plantings and various other programs. Here’s where you can support them.

In Case You Missed It…

Here’s my most recent post, which highlights my favorite reads this year. And here’s a personal favorite among my year-end posts, this one written three years ago after the passing of Franco Harris.

“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?” This line from Thornton Wilder’s 1938 hit Our Town has been in my head for a few months now. It also has me thinking about the movie Harold and Maude, when Maude proclaims “L-I-V-E … LIVE!” If only Our Town’s Emily could have known sooner what Maude had known all along.

So, friends, remember to “L-I-V-E … LIVE” through good times and bad, and allow yourself the time to be transported to other places through books, movies, music, and whatever shows you’re currently binging.

Here are my 2025 reads. Some I’m not finished with yet, but I thought I would share now in the event that you’re looking for holiday gift ideas! I’ve marked the ones that I think would make for nice gifts with an asterisk (*).

Books about Trails, Nature, and Place:

*Proudly Made, by Tataboline Enos

Ta Enos directs the PA Wilds Center and earlier this year published a memoir (both hers and a memoir of sorts for the region). I was totally immersed by this telling of Pennsylvania’s largest Conservation Landscape initiative and took inspiration for other projects. If you have your eyes set on rural prosperity, Proudly Made is an essential read. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever read a book where I knew so many of the people named within. It was fun to see them recognized for their efforts! Learn more about Ta, the book, and the PA Wilds initiative in this Pennsylvania Environmental Council podcast interview.

*Youghiogheny: Appalachian River, by Tim Palmer

I’m currently about two-thirds of the way through the 2023 revised edition of this classic book. I’m quite enjoying it, though it’s kind of trippy reading a book published in 1984 before the Great Allegheny Passage came to follow much of the Youghiogheny. This book follows the Yough from its headwaters near the Maryland/West Virginia border to its mouth in McKeesport, PA. Palmer dedicates several chapters to Ohiopyle, including the formation of the state park and the emergence of whitewater sports. Palmer offers a fascinating look into early tensions between local residents and whitewater enthusiasts. It’s like a snapshot in time for those of us whose work relates to the outdoor economy. I can’t wait to read the 2023 epilogue to learn what he has to say about the river nearly 40 years later.

Appalachian Winter, by Marcia Bonta

Among naturalist Marcia Bonta’s many works is Appalachian Winter. It’s part of a series of four books (the others being dedicated to spring, summer, and fall). This was a slow read, but I was impressed nonetheless by her deep knowledge of flora and fauna, her observational skills, and her ability to sit out in the cold and wait for the wildlife to appear. The book takes place almost entirely on her land in west-central Pennsylvania in winter 2001. I thought many times in reading this what an important and detailed record it provides of seasonal changes. One of my favorite parts was her writing about W.A. Bentley, who dedicated much of his career to photographing snowflakes. Here’s a Bentley quote that Bonta included in the book:

“Some folks call me crazy. They want to know what good it does to get all those pictures of just snow…I think I see as much around here to enjoy, right here on my farm, as those who call me a fool. Most of them have never seen a darned thing.”

The Johnstown Flood, by David McCullough

You might know David McCullough for bestsellers like John Adams and 1776, but did you know that his first published book was about the 1889 Johnstown Flood? This was a book from my father-in-law’s collection. I decided to give it a go, not knowing whether the 1968 book would hold my interest. As it turns out, I do indeed share the reading interests of senior men. The book was informative, interesting, and of course sad. I learned a lot about this devasting (and preventable) event, and it just so happened to be well timed. The Path of the Flood Trail, which follows the route of the flood, was named the Pennsylvania Trail of the Year for 2025.

Graceland, At Last, by Margaret Renkl

I remember savoring Renkyl’s Late Migrations a few years ago, so I was excited to read Graceland, At Last. Subtitled “Notes on Hope and Heartache From the American South,” the book pulls from her New York Times column, offering yet another snapshot in time. Published in 2021, the collection includes a number of essays that now read like history. It’s divided into six sections: Flora & Fauna, Politics & Religion, Social Justice, Environment, Family & Community, and Arts & Culture. Make no mistake: this is a deep exploration of place. From one of my favorite essays, “What Is a Southern Writer, Anyway?”:

“What if being a Southern writer has nothing to do with rural tropes or lyrical prose or a lush landscape or humid heat so thick it’s hard to breathe? What if being a Southern writer is foremost a matter of growing up in a deeply troubled place and yet finding it somehow impossible to leave? Of seeing clearly the failings of home and nevertheless refusing to flee?”

Renkyl’s writing is both sparce and lyrical. Right-leaning friends might not appreciate the political columns, but much of this collection can be enjoyed by all of us.

*The Serviceberry, by Robin Wall Kimmerer

This sweet little book continues the lessons of Braiding Sweetgrass through a single plant, the serviceberry. If you want more on gratitude, reciprocity, and the gift economy (or if you can’t quite commit to the heftier Braiding Sweetgrass) this book may be just what you’re looking for…or looking to gift. I’m about a third in, so I can’t offer a full review.

*Island, by Allistair MacLeod

This collection of Allistair MacLeod short stories from 1968-2014 is phenomenal! I wrote to a friend after reading the first story, “The Boat,” and reported that I was only one story in and Allistair MacLeod was already breaking my heart. Most of these stories are set on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, though other parts of the province come into play, as well as Ontario, and one story set in Ohio about Appalachia’s outmigration. This is not a bright and cheery book. But it is quite beautiful, timeless, and (for me) threads a connection that spans place and time. See here for some of my thoughts on the collection back in August.

Everything Else:

The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt

Whew! 771 pages. I read (and listened to) Tartt’s 2013 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel at the recommendation of Silas Chamberlin. I’m glad I did. I’m also glad that I allowed myself to listen to portions of it while driving and walking. Who knows how long it may have taken otherwise. Like with most novels, I don’t remember a ton about the book anymore, but I really did appreciate Tartt’s writing. For a nearly 800-page book, she crafted these punch, short, impactful sentences. The story kept me engaged all the way through.

*Enchantment, by Katherine May

I first read and wrote about May’s Wintering in 2022 (here you go), so I was excited to read Enchantment. As much as I enjoyed the former, I rated the latter better in my StoryGraph account (4.0 v. 3.75). In Enchantment, May covers topics such as wonder, interconnectedness, play, and attentiveness (“We have to fight for our ability to pay attention. It is not given.”) It’s a meandering exploration organized by the four elements. I especially enjoyed the portions about stars and space, the moon and the tides. Of the moon: “As a child, I would look out of the window on a night-time drive and think the moon was following us.” I have a similar early memory after having been on a family trip to Young’s Frozen Custard in the early 1980s. And of the tides, she writes:

“There are two giant waves travelling endlessly around the earth, and twice a day we see their full volume. We barely sense the scale of what is really happening, because we only ever witness it locally.” She goes on to say that we rarely stop to think of how the tides join us to the entire planet and to the space beyond it. And, of course, I’m suddenly transported to the Bay of Fundy and its highest tides in the world ❤.

Our Town, by Thornton Wilder

I’ve thought for a while that I should read this 1938 classic (or watch it, being that it’s a play). Instead, I took the audio route and then spent some time with my printed copy. Set beginning in 1901 in small town New Hampshire, Our Town isn’t what I thought it would be. I expected a story about a community…a story about Main Street. And those elements are there, but this is a story about the human condition, about love and loss, and how hard it can sometimes feel to appreciate life in real time.

Tom Lake, by Ann Patchett

Our Town was my homework assignment ahead of reading Tom Lake, a novel set early in the pandemic on a Michigan cherry orchard. The narrator recounts for her grown daughters the story of her time performing in a summer theater production of Our Town. The book was good, not great. I adore Patchett’s writing, having enjoyed others more. I learned partway through that Meryl Streep performs the audio version. Seeing as I would listen to Streep read from a phone book, as the saying goes, it was a good move. She brought the story to life with her performance. She was so good and, therefore, the story kept me captivated. And being familiar with Our Town added to my enjoyment of the book.

*The Art of Gathering, by Priya Parker

I’ve read this book before and wanted to revisit it via audio. It kept my attention just as much this go-round. Parker expertly writes about how to gather well, incorporating examples from both personal and professional events and gatherings. It’s a good, useful book that has influenced how I bring people together.

2024 Reads I’m Still Thinking About

*Homing, by Sherrie Flick

Our Missing Hearts, by Celeste Ng

Fall on Your Knees, by Ann-Marie MacDonald

All so good! Here’s my post about my 2024 year in reading if you want to learn any more about these ones.

Happy Halloween! I thought I’d share some mostly vintage, slightly bike-y photos this morning. Before you scroll, let me offer a few tidbits:

1. If you’re looking for some Hallowe’en vibes, tune into 91.3 WYEP for Rosemary Welsch’s Halloween Show. You can stream it from anywhere. The show airs from 1-6 p.m. today.

2. What will you do with your one wild and precious life? That’s Mary Oliver, of course, and yes, this did pop into my mind this morning as I played another round of Google’s Halloween-themed PAC-MAN and had just one life left. I made it just into the second round. If you take some time to play today, may you make it much further!

3. I know that some of you follow Revitalize, Or Die (an appropriate name for Spooky Season). Jeff Siegler is the person behind ROD, and his Candyland post considers trick-or-treat as a measure for a vibrant, walkable place. And it’s not just about density and how quickly kids can fill the pillowcases. He also talks about shared joy and belonging, saying, “Decorating your house for strangers is the most unselfish act of neighborliness there is.”

Now, Photos:

First, WELCOME! We have some new readers following ARC’s Appalachian Places conference and the PA Greenways & Trails Summit this fall (and the TrailNation Summit, which is currently underway). I’m glad you’re here!

My time in Frostburg, Maryland for the Appalachian Places conference provided the inspiration for this post. If you’ve ever sat in on one of my talks about how trails benefit communities, you may have heard me say any one of the following things:

• Communities are ever-changing and constantly evolving. If you haven’t been to a place in a few years, you are likely to encounter a new community upon your return. This is generally a good thing! I say “generally” because we must take care not to lose the soul of our places when we embark on change.

• Our stories of place (and of trails) are often incomplete. The ways in which we present everything from the benefits of trails to what’s unique about our place alongside them are sometimes lacking. Incomplete stories can lack in nuance, details, and varied perspectives.

• Finally, you’ve probably heard me use Frostburg as an example of a community that’s done nearly everything it can to draw visiting trail users into its downtown area.

This is all to say I recently returned to Frostburg and discovered that my telling has been incomplete. This is not an inherently bad thing. I simply haven’t been there lately and was unaware of some recent improvements. With this context, let’s have a closer look at Frostburg:

Nicknamed “the Mountain City,” Frostburg is located at Mile 15.5 along the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP). I use Frostburg as a case study in Deciding on Trails to demonstrate how community champions have done the work of drawing people from the GAP up into town. And believe me, it’s a climb!

They have a quality trail access with shelter, benches, information kiosks, landscaping, and more. They’ve installed switchbacks from the trail to the train depot (which get you only part of the way into town). Interpretive panels and directional signs are interspersed, providing confidence markers and helpful information. And my absolute favorite is the sculpture garden with the showstopper “Climb” and “Glide” sculptures by Scott Cawood. If climbing up toward town, you’ll encounter the grimacing “Climb” sculpture. Conversely, if you’re cruising back down to the trail, you’ll see “Glide’s” upturned smile. I appreciate the sense of whimsy. The sculptures delight me every time I see them. (Read a brief post about delight along trails here.)

Many of you have used Trail Town assessment checklists to gauge how well communities are integrating with their trails. I went through the checklist last week and am happy to say that (no surprise) the Frostburg trailhead checks most of the boxes.

Here’s a snapshot of what’s going well:

Make no mistake: e-bikes might be a gamechanger for Frostburg, making it possible for more cyclists to move between trail and town. And no matter how one travels the GAP, charming downtown Frostburg is worth the climb. There are stairs that lead up to town if you’d rather lock and walk. And my B&B host reminded me that “We are in the mountains, after all.” So there’s that.

Nevertheless, kudos to Mountain Maryland Trails, the City of Frostburg, Allegany County, and Allegany County Tourism (and certainly others) for their continued efforts to position Frostburg to benefit from the GAP’s $121M in annual economic impact. Honestly, I’d love to take a deep dive and really study what’s going on in the outdoor economy of Mountain Maryland. It’s not a surprise to me that Frostburg State University recently established the Frostburg Outdoor Recreation Economy Institute.

But in the meantime, here’s where my story about Frostburg has been incomplete: In 2024, at the top of the switchback, local placemakers (and place keepers!) installed the Coal Miner Memorial to commemorate over 700 miners who died in the region’s mines between 1838-2007. Walking into the outdoor memorial had the feel (ever so slightly) of walking into a coal mine. I was transfixed by the stories that unfolded as I moved through the space. For a community whose school teams are called “the Miners,” Frostburg did an incredible job in honoring this aspect of their local heritage.

Someone recently asked me how we can put so much emphasis on trails (meaning: What about our heritage…how can we leave the story of our place out?). And he was right. I sometimes reference a riveting TEDTalk: The Danger of a Single Story. Trails can never be the only story we’re telling. But, then again, neither can industrial heritage. We have to weave them together (along with other narratives) to arrive at a more complete story. I won’t be able to share my take on Frostburg’s story again without including the new memorial. My story still won’t be complete, but it’ll be one step closer.

How can YOU tell a more complete story in your trail community, and what are some of the things you can do to better link your trail and town?

For those who are curious about heritage tourism, here’s a Coal Heritage itinerary offered by Allegany County Tourism. And if you’re visiting by trail, the story of coal can be found all along the GAP: the coke ovens of Fayette County, the Ruins Project, a visible coal seam in Ohiopyle State Park, and so on. See below for some more photos of the Frostburg trailhead and the memorial.

More Trail Access Head Turners

Let’s just go ahead and stick with the theme this week. Here are two other trail accesses we can all take inspiration from:

1. On the Knox & Kane Rail Trail in the PA Wilds, four new wayfinding signs commissioned by the Kane Area Chamber of Commerce were recently installed along the trail. Here’s a post with more info. I love the use of the rail ties, the clever, evergreen design, and the sense of whimsy. And if we’re thinking about story, what I see are the ties as a way of paying homage to the trail’s past, and the total product fitting within the larger PA Wilds aesthetic (here’s the PA Wilds Design Guide for reference)

2. The Trailhead at Sideling Hill Service Plaza was recently installed along the PA Turnpike. This mind-bending investment is actually pretty cool, giving people who are driving “America’s First Superhighway” a chance to take a break and hit the trails without ever exiting. (FYI, the trailhead is not directly on any trail, but provides a way of accessing them from the highway and represents an impressive DOT investment.) Besides this, the amenities are impressive, especially the trompe l’oeil style mural. Here are some photos I took while visiting.

Hi, friends. Posting two weeks in a row is a rarity for me, but I wanted to share some updates as well as an article I just came across. Let’s start with the article.

In “Is tourism Mississippi’s untapped solution to the brain drain?” Danielle Morgan with the Mississippi Tourism Association writes about tourism’s role in reversing out-migration. She writes:

“If we are serious about tackling brain drain, we must stop seeing tourism as ‘just’ a leisure industry, but rather a strategic tool for workforce retention, talent attraction and community revitalization.”

She adds that brain drain is not just about jobs: “Young professionals want more than a paycheck. They want communities with character, cultural vibrancy and opportunities to connect. Tourism development builds these qualities.”

If you’re not so sure about the assertion that tourism contributes to community vibrancy, consider the fact that 37% of local spending in Mississippi from April - June of this year is attributed to visitors.

As for life quality, some of you may know the Brookings article, “Improving quality of life – not just business – is the best path to Midwestern rejuvenation.” From Mississippi to the Midwest, we are hearing more and more about the turning of the tide in terms of how people make life decisions. Are we listening?

I tend not to lump tourism into this equation, but Morgan reminds us that it all starts with a visit and “that Mississippi’s story is ours to write.” That part caught my attention because I was in New Albany, MS in June co-facilitating a Trail Town workshop (here are some photos). We gathered literally down the block from William Faulkner’s childhood home. In fact, there was a watercolor on display that was inspired by Faulkner’s 1946 short story, “His Name Was Pete.” I was so enamored by the Pete in the painting that I made the purchase and waited most of the summer for him to make his way to Pittsburgh (he was on exhibit). This is a bit of a tangent, but:

1. This story reminds me that I was part of the Q2 visitor spending referenced in the article.

2. The story that’s being re-written in Mississippi includes culture, heritage, outdoor recreation, and vibrant, inclusive communities. That’s the kind of community I encountered in New Albany in June.

3. Finally, both the Faulkner connection and the idea of “writing the story” bring me to Margaret Renkyl’s Graceland, at Last. Subtitled “Hope and Heartache in the American South,” one of the book’s finest essays considers what it means to be a Southern writer. I don’t want to spoil it for you, so just go ahead and check out the New York Times version of the essay. It’s a short, quality read that will have you thinking about why we stay.

About that poem I wrote about last week…

Last week’s post, Closer to Home, included a story about a poem set in my Pittsburgh neighborhood. A few of you pondered with me as to whether Harry Truman actually drank an Iron City in the shadow of a steel mill. The poem referenced local poet Michael Wurster as being there. Wouldn’t you know that I ran into Michael at the post office the other day and asked him about it. “It never happened,” he told me. “We [poets] make things up.” So there you have it, at least according to Michael.

About Annie Dillard and my May post…

Some of you may recall my Sweetness in Four Parts post, in which I talked about local libraries, Annie Dillard, Mister Rogers, and the sweetness of community building. I shared how I visited the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh’s rare books collection so that I could view the Field Book of Ponds and Streams. I did this because the book was informative to Pittsburgh native Annie Dillard as a child. Not long after I posted, Kathi gave me a copy of the book for my birthday. Not only this, but it’s one that the author, Ann Haven Morgan, inscribed to one of her associates! Dated July 12, 1930, she inscribed it to Inez M. Haring, “Who, in your quest of nature, disturb the ponds, turn over the rocks of streams, dig up the sand of the ocean shores - pursuing ever some lowly creature in the spot he thinks secure! Then to hang on his tiny week a terrible name of Latin Words!”

Is this not amazing? Haring studied mosses. I wondered whether any of her work was cited in Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Gathering Moss. It’s not, but it’s so easy to see the throughline: Morgan, Haring, Carson, Dillard, Kimmerer, and so many others whose pursuit of knowledge – and even the most minute details of the natural world – spark the sort of wonder that ripples, and not just across ponds and streams.

Upcoming Events

I’ll be speaking at the following events this fall. Drop a note in the comments if I should look out for you!

• PA Greenways and Trails Summit

• The Arrowhead Coalition of Trails (MN) Annual Event

• Trails Manitoba’s Trail Talks 2025

• The Appalachian Places: Growing Local Economies conference

Sorry, but…

We can’t accept any new engagements in September or October. Cycle Forward’s dance card is full at the moment. Please do stay in touch with any possibilities for winter and spring projects. It’s what helps us keep doing this work on behalf of trail communities far and wide.

Meet Pete:

Twice recently my longing for Canada’s Maritimes has brought me closer to home. And why shouldn't it have? As different as the two areas seem to be, the Appalachians extend into Atlantic Canada, and with the range, at least some of the culture.

The first instance (let’s call them connections) was while flipping through James Deahl’s Traveling the Lost Highway. Kathi and I often stop into libraries while traveling. I picked up this collection in Sackville, New Brunswick last month. In skimming the book last week, one of the first poems I read was set in Pittsburgh. “Blue Steel Cafe, Pittsburgh” is set in my Pittsburgh neighborhood in the 1960s or early 1970s (as best as I can tell). It’s a poem that marks a moment in time: “It was a hot evening during the last summer J&L poured steel.” I was flabbergasted that a book I picked up in rural New Brunswick (roughly a thousand miles from home!) included a poem set in my own neighborhood. Deahl grew up in Pittsburgh before moving to Canada, but still! Also, why did I decide to look through the book that night, a week following the Clairton Coke Works explosion? For those of you who don’t live in western Pennsylvania, there are only a few steel operations in the area these days, but the Clairton explosion reminded us and the world that it continues to be dangerous work.

The second connection occurred last week when I was reading a short story collection I bought in Nova Scotia. As I told a friend, I’m only three stories in and Alistair MacLeod’s Island is already breaking my heart. I’ve read a story about a fisherman’s son, one about a Cape Breton coal miner’s son, and one about a boy whose family emigrated from Kentucky to the Midwest, part of the larger Great Migration. As for the third story, here’s a fascinating deep dive into Appalachian outmigration. MacLeod’s story, “The Golden Gift of Grey” (1971), speaks to the feeling of being torn between two places that’s referenced in the article, one that’s felt by people everywhere who move someplace and continue to miss home.

It was another of MacLeod’s stories, though, that had me marveling at how a story about a boy leaving a Cape Breton coal patch brought me right back to PA. As the character is leaving town, his grandmother hands him a stack of postcards. “Your father was under the ground in all those places,” she says.

From the story:

“Springhill, Scranton, Wilkes-Barre, Yellowknife, Britannia Beach, Butte, Virginia City, Escanaba, Sudbury, Whitehorse, Drumheller, Harlan, Ky., Elkins, W. Va., Fernie, B.C., Trinidad, Colo. - coal and gold, copper and lead, gold and iron, nickel and gold and coal. East and West and North and South. Mementoes and messages from places that I so young and my grandmother so old have never seen.”

And so there I was…reading a story about Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, and in an instant I was back here in PA…and Alberta, Michigan, West Virginia, and so many other places connected by the thread of extraction and taking, of coming and going, and of survival. The story wrestles with the topic of whether to stay or go, and whether to go home again. “It’s the only way you’ll be content,” his grandfather says. All the while, the coal seams were soon to be depleted.

I talk a lot about place identity in my work. Responsible conversations about trails, tourism, and the outdoor economy ought to include consideration about culture and heritage and what makes our places what they are. With rail trails in particular, most of them are built along lines that hauled coal from places like Scranton and Harlan to other places like Pittsburgh and Sydney to make steel.* It’s our heritage. Or part of it, anyway. We don’t have to celebrate everything about it, but we should contemplate it at the very least. And in this moment, I’m grateful for the Canadian literature I’ve encountered this summer that’s given me the opportunity to do so.

*I’m using these as examples…these were not the actual routes (just getting out ahead of any corrections!).

Coming Soon: Resources!

I’m hoping to get into the rhythm of sharing a resources section at the end of my posts sometime soon. In the meantime, check out Cycle Forward’s Facebook page for recent posts about PA’s new Statewide Comprehensive Outdoor Recreation Plan, Pennsylvania Environmental Council’s new Trail Maintenance Toolkit, the Outdoor Recreation Roundtable’s Trail Map for Rural Development in America, and more!

Still Here?

Here’s a post I wrote about Pittsburgh’s place identity when Franco Harris died. It’s one of my favorites.

Some years, I even manage to get a mailing out. I was all set for a mailing this year but the need for updates to the mailing list is tripping me up. I’ve decided to offer myself some grace and nix the mailing. This actually allows me to send it to a wider audience (all of you). So, without further ado, here’s what I would have mailed if there had been a mailing at all. Let me also say:

1. If you’d like to receive future mailings, please email me your current mailing address. You can send that to amy@cycleforward.org.

2. There was supposed to be an insert to the mailing. It was a 20% promo code for the upcoming Trail Towns 101 online course. That code is now pasted below. I’m also able to honor a “pay what you can” amount of your choice if the cost is a barrier. Send me a note if this is something you’re interested in.

Thanks, friends, for being part of the first 12 years!

Free Online Training Opportunity for PA Residents

This spring, Cycle Forward helped the Pennsylvania Environmental Council (PEC) and the Pennsylvania Department of Conservation and Natural Resources (DCNR) to launch an Outdoor Ambassador Program.

The program was piloted in the Laurel Highlands and Pocono Forests and Waters regions and produced 50 new Outdoor Ambassadors for these outdoor areas. YOU can now experience the online portion of the program. It’s free and available to anyone interested in learning more about serving visitors to these regions!

If you live in one of these two areas (or anywhere in PA, really), please take some time to complete the training. Most people spend 45-60 minutes with the material. Share your email address at the end, and you’ll receive a digital certificate of completion.

Hello, friends.

My professional purpose is deeply tied to helping communities prosper through trails. I’ve been specializing in the Trail Town model since 2007 and spend a lot of time on this topic. And yet, I’m always learning and sometimes even have to reconsider what I thought I knew about Trail Towns. One of these moments occurred in 2023 when I learned that the Florida Trail Gateway Communities program was the first functioning Trail Town initiative. In that very moment, I realized I needed to update my book, Deciding on Trails.

I’m happy to announce that the book has now been updated with a new preface that explains this in more detail. I’ve also corrected some references to the earliest Trail Town initiatives throughout the book. This is not a second edition. The book is very much a reflection of its time with the exception of this new understanding. I invite you to pick up an updated copy if you wish to have this version in your personal library. Or you can simply keep reading right now in this moment. The preface in its entirety is copied below.

For new and returning readers, we recently created a discussion guide to help stimulate group conversations about the value of embracing trails. Find it here! By the way, did you know that you can also read an excerpt from the book? Find Chapter 1, “You Lose the Magic When It’s All About the Money,” here.

Deciding on Trails 2025 Preface

“If you know better, do better.”

Often attributed to Maya Angelou, it’s a phrase that’s led me to write this preface nearly five years after publishing Deciding on Trails. When I wrote the book – and in the years leading up to it – I understood the Trail Town Program^® along the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) to be the first regional Trail Town initiative. I was part of the staff that launched the program in 2007. We based our program on a 2005 manual titled Trail Towns: Capturing Trail-Based Tourism (published by the Allegheny Trail Alliance, now the Great Allegheny Passage Conservancy).

The manual was meant to be a guide for Pennsylvania trail communities, and the program along the GAP was the first to implement the approach. As other programs were established in subsequent years, we began to refer to ours as “first in the nation” and were proud of the role that we had played in initiating the Trail Town movement.

Skip forward to November 2023 in Orlando, Florida. I was leading a session on Trail Town and Gateway Community programs at the National Trails Workshop when my collaborators from the Florida National Scenic Trail spoke about the 2006 launch of their Gateway Community program. I had a moment of realization. The Trail Town Program^® was not, in fact, the first program, though it did bring a more robust community and economic development focus to the new model. I realized in Orlando that afternoon that I had both the opportunity and responsibility to set the record straight.

The Florida Trail Association (FTA) started its Gateway Community program as a marketing initiative in 2006 and designated White Springs, Florida as the trail’s first gateway community in February 2007. The staff at the FTA told me that their program went dormant for some time not long after that designation, but that does not negate their place in Trail Town history.

Another organization that was leading the way in the early days of Trail Towns was the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC). I have long applauded their Gateway Community program as one of the first and most influential. In 2008, I spoke about Trail Towns at a workshop the ATC had organized in southwest Virginia. For years, I thought that our program – and my talk – had informed theirs. Certainly, our fully operating program informed theirs in certain respects, but I now realize that they were already on the path, so to speak, when I met with them in Virginia. In fact, they first piloted the Appalachian Trail Community^TM Program in 2005 in Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania and Hot Springs, North Carolina. The pilot (as well as some 2009 organizing efforts in Great Barrington, Massachusetts) helped to set the stage for ATC’s designation program, which launched in 2010.

If we view Trail Town and Gateway Community initiatives as two peas from the same pod (the difference being in name only), we were all planning, testing, and launching over the same few years. We could quibble over what counts as “first” (planning for the program along the GAP began as early as 2003, for example), but why would we? Those of us who do this work are a collaborative bunch and see value in working with and learning from each other.

This brings up something else that’s new since Deciding on Trails was first published. In 2023, I partnered with Julie Judkins of Just-Trails (and the former manager of ATC’s program) to survey program managers around the U.S. and Canada. We heard back from nearly all of the managers and have been working to build a community of practice among them. The survey examined the efficacy of the programs. You can find the corresponding report on my website, www.cycleforward.org/trailtowns.

In a few words, I’m pleased to share that most managers say that their organization plans to run their program indefinitely, and all of them reported improved economic health among communities that have been involved in their programs for at least two years. The Trail Town approach makes a difference!

Mark Twain said, “There is no such thing as a new idea.” This feels true of the Trail Town approach. We were all creating, layering, adapting, and learning from one another in those early years and still today. We continue to learn and discover.

As you read Deciding on Trails, know that you are reading the first edition. I have not made any substantive changes to the chapters but did want to provide context through this preface. I made minor changes in places where I previously had referred to the Trail Town Program^® as being “first,” but the chapters, map, and appendices remain essentially the same as with the original printing. Nor did I update the book to reflect all that’s changed in trails and communities over the last few years. As tempting as it was, those would constitute changes more appropriate for a future edition.

This preface is meant to provide my latest understanding of the early Trail Town initiatives without taking away from the vision and foresight of those who envisioned and planned the program along the GAP. I do believe that was groundbreaking work and it was the first program that approached Trail Towns as a regional economic development initiative. We were doing something special at the time. But then again, so were the others.

Sincerely,

Amy

P.S. – I started the All About Trail Towns Facebook group in 2022. It’s a space for those who believe trails contribute to more vibrant communities to connect with advocates from other places. If you would like to be part of a broader community of Trail Town advocates, please join us in the group!

In Case You Missed It

Here are a few of my latest posts:

• Will You Be Our Next Nebraska? (about the August Trail Towns 101 virtual course - please join us!)

• Sweetness in Four Parts (about the sweetness of community building, marathons, libraries, and Annie Dillard’s Pittsburgh)

• First Time Study on Trail Community Programs (about a Cycle Forward/Just-Trails collaboration to better understand the effectiveness of the Trail Town approach)

• Questions People Ask Me About Trail Towns (including some common questions I’ve fielded over the years)

When Michele Archie and I hosted the first Trail Towns 101 course in February, we were scratching our heads at the MANY Nebraska registrants. What started with one person (hello, Marie!) reaching out to learn more about Trail Towns ended with 11 Nebraskans going all in on the course.

Regional cohorts representing the MoPac and Cowboy trails as well as a few statewide advocacy organizations took the team approach to learning more about how the Trail Town model can help connect and strengthen their communities. They made up about half of our 24-person class, which had us calling the group “the Nebraska Class of 2025.” We also had groups from Alabama, Minnesota, and Ontario, so teams anywhere can do this (just saying!).

More about the course…and the group rate

I’ve specialized in Trail Towns for a long time, and hosting a course was a long-held goal of mine. I’m thrilled to have co-led the course with Michele and to have another run at it in August. Honestly, we’re thinking this will only be an occasional offering after this one (maybe once a year?). So if you’ve been thinking about the course, please, be our next Nebraska. Gather a group, take advantage of the group rate, and don’t wait for the next opportunity to come around (because it might to be a while). The group rate is $425/person (USD), whereas the individual rate is $525. For both, add the discount code CycleForward when registering for 10% off.

We’re offering Trail Towns 101 on Tuesdays (Aug. 5, 12, and 19) from 1- 3 p.m. ET. There’s an optional fourth session on Aug. 26 for those who want to accelerate their learnings with a deep dive into Trail Town assessments.

A few last things I want to make sure to share:

1. If you can’t make all the sessions, no problem. They’re recorded. You can always catch the recording. I mean, I think what we’re offering is great, but don’t let it disrupt your end of summer beach vacation!

2. We recognize that these are challenging times for many people and organizations. If you're trying to do a lot of good with very little budget and the course fees seem out of reach, please reach out. For everyone else here, remember to use the discount code CycleForward for 10% off.

3. In case it’s not abundantly clear, if you’re not with a group, that’s perfectly okay! We have individuals signed up already and hope you will join us as well. Whether your area’s on the track to create its own Trail Town initiative or you simply are looking for ways to be more trail-oriented, you’ll find this course to be encouraging and helpful.

I’ll close with my favorite testimonial from one of our February participants: “This was super valuable but also a bit like drinking out of a firehouse! (I would do it again though).” It’s the qualifier that gives me a chuckle every time I see this! We’re going to make it feel less firehosey this time while still providing a bunch of resources, connections, and space for dialogue.

Register Here

I once heard that cultivating community involves a series of small, sweet steps…that there’s a sweetness to building community. That it’s the little things (both gestures and physical improvements) that deepen our connections to our places and to each other. Seth Bush of BikePGH introduced this idea to me. It’s changed they way I think about community.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, so read on, sweet readers, if you want to hear more about unifying events, the importance of public libraries, a whistling cockatiel, and tracking down a rare book that Annie Dillard used to “visit” as a child. These may seem like a bunch of disparate stories, but I promise that they tie together.

As always, if you enjoy this post, please hit the heart icon and consider sharing it with others.

Part 1: The 2015 Pittsburgh Marathon

I’ve watched the Pittsburgh Marathon a handful of times, but only cried when I watched from Homewood in 2015. It was the first time I watched the marathon. There, I witnessed residents of a predominantly Black neighborhood cheer on tens of thousands of mostly white runners. There were megaphones. There was line dancing. There were impromptu dances (with some runners stopping to step along). Someone with a mic shouted, “Go runners, go runners” on repeat. A little girl scooted alongside the runners. There were so many sweet exchanges that morning. It was one of those days that it felt as if we all were getting it right. The Pittsburgh Marathon is a unifying event, and to watch in Homewood was a real treat. A Pittsburgh neighborhood-sized lump jumped up into my throat that day.

Part 2: Being Better Hosts in the Maple City

Ten years later (nearly to the date), I was in Meyersdale, Pennsylvania for the PA Outdoor Ambassador Program I’ve been working on. Meyersdale is affectionately called “The Maple City” due to the area’s maple syrup production and the town hosting the Pennsylvania Maple Festival since 1948. But what’s so sweet about Meyersdale, in my opinion, are the people who offer such a warm welcome to its visitors. I had the Outdoor Ambassadors visiting Meyersdale a few weeks ago to learn about “being better hosts.” The program included visits to a couple dozen sites. Meyersdale was easily one of my top few because they received us as their guests and were so attentive to our needs. We learned about being better hosts by being so well cared for as guests. Imagine the owner of the catering restaurant (Melissa Friend of Donges Drive-In) not only personally delivering and setting up the food, but also ensuring that every last dietary need was accommodated and then sticking around for a meaningful discussion about hospitality. This kind of thing happens every time I’m in Meyersdale.

And the bow on top concerning the ambassador program? We closed out our site visits with a trip to Buttermilk Falls, part of Visit PA’s Fred Rogers Trail. The park trail is lined with Fred Rogers quotes, including, “We are all neighbors.” Being neighborly, kind, and welcoming are things we all can do. We learned this from Mister Rogers, and we have the chance to live this every day, whether we’re on the sidelines of a marathon, visiting a small town visitor center, or stopping by our local library.

Part 3: A Story of Two Library Systems

A couple of weeks ago, I visited Jersey Shore, Pennsylvania – located along both the Pine Creek Rail Trail and Susquehanna River Trail. I needed a place to work on a project before making my way home. Enter the Jersey Shore Public Library. Spending a couple of hours there reminded me of the outsized role libraries tend to play in rural areas. In a town of 4,000 residents, Jersey Shore’s library has 1.4 thousand Facebook followers. That’s a wild ratio! Something is working. I think it has to do with the kind of welcoming space the library’s created and the services it provides. In two short hours, people came in to pick up books, check on interlibrary loans, and use the printer, fax machines, and WiFi. I saw a nonverbal patron gently escorted outside for fresh air when he appeared to be frustrated. A few people seemed to be there just for conversation (i.e., connection). Two police officers stopped by for a welfare check, knowing that the person they were checking on frequents the library. On top of all this, the librarians are hatching chicks this Spring! The three “early birds” (Dewey, Page, and Booker 🤣) are said to be making the resident cockatiel, Pippin, a bit jealous. One of the librarians said Pippen’s been less vocal than usual. Even so, he whistled the Andy Griffith Show theme song while I was there, without prompting, adding to the utter delight of the Jersey Shore Public Library. I have to say, this was not a quiet library, but it’s well-used, and provides a clearly needed community space. Does it get any sweeter than this?

Meanwhile, at home in Pittsburgh last month, the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh (CLP, serving a community of nearly 3 million people across 19 branches) was clutch following a severe storm. The day following the storm, CLP saw nearly double its normal foot traffic, welcoming almost 10,000 people and updating more than 7,000 library cards. Never doubt the essential role libraries plays across communities.

Part 4: Annie Dillard’s Homewood (and Home Library)

When I watched the marathon in Homewood all those years ago, I was also in the midst of reading Annie Dillard's memoir, An American Childhood. Native to Pittsburgh, Dillard used CLP’s Homewood branch as a child. She writes about sitting on the library floor "visiting" one of her favorite books, The Field Book of Ponds and Streams, and imagining that others who had also borrowed the book might share in her dreams of the natural world. Dillard dedicates the better part of a chapter writing about the Homewood branch and the field guide. She writes about both in the context of race (this was 1960s Pittsburgh) as well as how important of a space it was for her in her childhood years. “This was the most private and obscure part of life,” she writes. There seemed to be “an infinitude of books” which she enjoyed “in deep concentration for many years.”

But what about that one book, The Field Book of Ponds and Streams? Thinking about Dillard, I paid my first visit to the Homewood branch in March. Why did it take me so many years to finally see this incredible building for myself? But that’s besides the point. I tried to imagine Pulitzer Prize-winning, National Humanities Award-winning Annie Dillard not as an internationally acclaimed author, but as a wide-eyed child sitting on the marble floor of the library “visiting” her favorite books.

I looked up the field guide and found that it’s no longer there at the branch. There are, however, two copies in the CLP system. Housed in the rare collections, these copies are available for in-library use only. At this point, it should come as no surprise to you that I made an appointment to visit with the book. I requested both copies to increase the odds that I would be viewing the copy that Dillard paged through so many times. In reality, it’s unlikely that the old Homewood Library copy is one of the two. For my appointment, I was seated next to the librarian and provided the two books, a book cradle, a book weight (so I could take photos), and slips of paper for marking pages. It’s wild how reverent I felt about the whole thing. And fortunate to have this opportunity. I walked out of the library thinking “this is the greatest city in the world” (borrowing from Hamilton). I really felt that way in the moment due to having so many resources – the library, museums, parks, and more right there in a single neighborhood – at my fingertips.

As for the field guide, I can see how a nature-writer-in-the-making would become absorbed in it. With a subtitle “An Introduction to the Life of Fresh Water,” it covered everything from snails and mussels to water plants and collecting methods (which she could attempt a mile away in Frick Park). Written in 1930, the book included detailed, full color illustrations, and spoke to both the wonder of fresh water habitats and the need to protect them:

“To make the knowledge of the whole range of life in ponds and streams a little more easy of access is a major purpose of this book. And with that knowledge will come appreciation, and a purpose to aid in keeping the waters free from pollution.”

This call to action came 42 years before the Clean Water Act, and 25 years before Rachel Carson published The Edge of the Sea. Could this field guide have influenced both Annie Dillard of Pittsburgh and Rachel Carson of nearby Springdale, both of whom were keen observers of the natural world? Perhaps. It’s rather sweet to consider the possibility. After all, as Dillard noted in An American Childhood (recalling one of the library’s posters), “anything can happen.”