Ruby’s trailer hitch
August 23, 2016
I’ll never belittle a factory-installed trailer hitch option again. Sure, 1D6 Trailer Hitch without Ball cost $2110. and had never been used. But I ran Ruby up the hoist, backed the four screws out of the cover plate, and slid in a 7 pin hitch adapter from Amazon.ca.
Next I slid a 7 to 4 pin adapter onto the wires from my fishing boat trailer and hooked it up. Everything worked except the right tail-light on the trailer. The wires were too short to turn right, though. As I got ready to lengthen the wires I noticed a pinch which had broken the green wire. An hour of splicing later, everything was set.
I started the car and the dash warned: “Check your trailer lights!” This icon wasn’t going away, so I got out, checked the lights, and returned. Ruby was satisfied with this and gave back the normal dashboard display. Next time I started the engine it was the same scenario, but I discovered I could outwit my nanny by simply opening and closing the door.
At the minimum a thousand-dollar premium for a gee-whiz warning on the dashboard? If the hitch is only to carry a couple of bikes, the sophisticated wiring and heavy-duty hitch aren’t worth it, but with the 20′ car hauler sitting next to the garage, the hitch package may provide real value.
*My son has assured me that Ruby will still need a separate brake controller to handle a trailer with electric brakes, but I have found online that the wiring, complete with a four-pin connector, is neatly tucked into a nook just above the parking brake pedal.
Working on Ruby: the new normal
August 20, 2016
My neighbour joked about the last column which had a picture of Ruby on the hoist with a caption, “Welcome home, Ruby.” Well, Ruby does look at home on a hoist. The photo above may be a bit aspirational, but we’ll see.
Charlie commented: “Clearly this car has had an easy life in Vancouver; likely seldom even getting up to highway speeds, let alone making trips into the mountains. There is no corrosion on the bottom of a 12 year-old car. While Vancouver has very little bright sunlight, this paint’s brightness could only come from extended periods of inside storage.”
He further told me that the previous owner, a gold merchant, had bought Ruby from a friend of his in 2008, had it serviced by the same mechanic at a small shop, and then replaced it in 2016 with a new Porsche Macan. When the Macan went into his garage, Ruby had been banished to a crowded outdoor parking lot for the first time.
The project of the afternoon was to track down a growl in the right front part of the running gear. Drive shafts and brakes and rotors seem to be perfect, as are the tires. We turned off the stability computer and ran the drivetrain with the wheels lifted off the floor. Things turned smoothly and without vibration, though the superior power of the front brakes caused the driveshaft to wind up a little bit when I shifted into DRIVE and released the brakes. Charlie had warned me to start and stop very gently to prevent unnecessary strain on the drivetrain.
We checked the fluid level in the centre differential. It seemed a little low, about 1/4″ below the fill level. To access the front diff we had to remove the bottom plate, so we set about the twenty-minute job, eager to see what the bottom of the engine looks like.
It looks pretty good down there, though to check the fluid in the front diff we’ll need to be prepared to drain the fluid and refill it. The fill plug is hidden behind a large strut, possibly requiring a specialized tool to open it.
These plugs appear not to have been opened in a long time. I’ll check You-Tube for instructions, buy a supply of Porsche ATF, a hand pump for the fluid, and plan on a pleasant rainy day changing diff fluids.
Update: 21 August, 2016
The fluids in the three differentials checked out fine. It seems the previous owner kept up with his maintenance. So much for the rainy-day project, though I’m sure Ruby will provide many more. The growl in the right front area of the car remains at pretty well all speeds.
Update: 22 August, 2016
My mother’s state-of-the-art wheelchair (which she doesn’t use yet) will in fact fit into the back of the Cayenne if I turn it on its side. It looks as though the wheel is sure to hit, but it seems to brush the glass of the hatch without putting any pressure on it. Her physiotherapist explained how to collapse the thing by removing the seat cushion and folding it, but I like the grab-and-stuff approach better if Mom needs the chair for an ice cream run.
Welcome home, Ruby!
August 17, 2016
The voice on the phone from Livingston Vehicle Transportation in Vancouver had told me that Invoice #104*77 would arrive on August 15th, at the latest, but I could call back next Friday. She gave me a Montreal number. Surely enough, Ruby arrived on the train over the weekend, but it took until Wednesday morning for her to end up on a truck, destined for Doug’s Towing yard just outside Embrun, to arrive between 10:00 and 12:00. Doug promised me he would call the instant that my Porsche arrived.
At 12:00 I phoned. Doug enthusiastically told me, “They’re just unloading your Cayenne now.”
“I’ll be there in an hour and thirty-eight minutes.”
Our first sight of Ruby was a little pathetic. Some wag had parked it straddling a large mud puddle — real, beige clay, the stuff that sticks to everything. What paint wasn’t spattered from the puddle looked very clean and shiny. It must have had a good ride on the rail car and the truck, but puddles are puddles.
Livingston Vehicle Transportation had done the job well which they had contracted to do.
I made departure arrangements with the genial guy in the office and started Ruby up. As soon as I moved forward an alarm went off: “Parking brake is still on,” or “Release parking brake,” or something. Here I was, stopped in a muddy, crowded parking lot, with very little idea of how to release a stuck parking brake. While I fussed, Bet stepped out of the Lexus and walked toward me holding her phone out. Column after column of “How to free a stuck emergency brake” appeared. Bet had resorted to the Porsche owner’s secret weapon, Google.
Most of the articles suggested worrying the release handle until the problem went away, and so I did, but not before sending a distress text to Charlie. By the time he got back to me I had the car moving properly, but I was too confused about the ventilation system to check for texts.
And it was HOT in this truck. Fortunately the route from Doug’s Towing to Smiths Falls involves a number of short drives across paved concession roads with no traffic — a perfect place for me to sort out the dashboard of a Cayenne. Why do they have two speedometers, two temperature gauges, two range meters (saying different things), and many other switches and buttons I was unable to fathom? And acronyms! Why do Porsche fanciers love acronyms so much?
As I roasted my way through a burnt-fingers exploration of the air conditioning controls, the sight of the Lexus cruising serenely along in front of me, the cool Lexus, chilled seat and all, that stately old gray car looked pretty good to me. The es330 was all about passenger comfort, and its designers did their job well. I can’t say the same for the Cayenne S dashboard controls engineers.
Gradually as I worked my way through all logical combinations of controls and vectoring flaps, I decided to try the counter-intuitive step of punching the icon which looked most like a defroster. Swoosh! Serene air all around me. I wondered if anyone else has tried that before?
I opened the sun roof, but found it was just too hot. I preferred the air conditioning. And to think my initial plan was to buy a Miata.
Incidentally, the Cayenne drove and rode very well, but operator comfort comes first. Performance is well down the list on a first drive.
I stopped for fuel in Smiths Falls and Bet cut for home. Freed of supervision, on the way home Ruby stretched its legs enough to impress me with its power. It will pass on a two lane highway with ease equal to that of the Lexus, but while the Lexus will top out at 110 or 115 km/hr on a typical pass, Ruby must be slowed down from 150 after an equal acceleration interval. This will take some getting used to.
After three and a half hours of driving and trouble shooting, we arrived home exhausted. Ten minutes later Ruby was hauling us to a local restaurant for a meal.
New toy, eh?
How do we prevent the next loner terrorist?
First and foremost, stop using the names of those who have committed acts of destruction. It is critically important that the media cease and desist from glorifying the actions and the names of these misfits. That photo of the jerk with the old deer rifle on Parliament Hill has probably done more to promote this brand of nihilism in Canada than any ISIS propaganda.
It’s up to you, Canadian journalists, all of you, to shut down that impulse you all have to make stars of these isolated failures.
I suggest that from this point on we use Orwell’s unperson to identify each wannabe terrorist, providing a simple identifier such as “Parliament Hill unperson” or “London unperson” to distinguish among them.
We must no longer provide the significance of remembering their names. That tribute is for veterans who gave their lives in service of Canada.
Legislation has required a number of changes in the diction of journalism, particularly in the areas of race relations and gay rights. Would it be too great an effort for Peter Mansbridge to refrain from rolling the name of the latest miscreant off his tongue and reconfigure his script to avoid saying it?
Bemused barks at the screen door
August 14, 2016
This morning our dog summoned her mistress with a series of bemused barks at the front screen door. Bet commented: “It wasn’t her intruding-car bark. She seemed to know it was you, but she didn’t understand what that yellow thing underneath you was.”
After considerable thought I had hopped onto one of the bikes in the garage and ridden it around the lawn, nearly falling off, twice. The forks of modern bikes don’t have as much caster as the old iron ones of the 1970’s. I’m sure of that. They steer harder too, I think. I soon learned that it would not steer itself, and that I would have to turn the handlebars, not just lean.
On the other hand a Bandit with disk brakes (I don’t know the language yet to describe the other features) has front shocks and many gears with toggles for shifting, rather like a Porsche. It’s light and taut and far too good a machine for my toe-dip into the maelstrom of physical fitness.
Gradually I became more confident with orbits of gravel and lawn, and glided down the long driveway with growing trepidation. Memories of wipeouts on fresh gravel flooded back to where I desperately wished I could shift my weight further aft, away from the front wheel. No chance on this bike. Then came the U-turn at the paved road: turn up the hill or down? I chose down, only to feel the front wheel start to slide on the sand washed onto the road by yesterday’s rain. I kept the bike upright, thereby losing the downhill apex of the turn and steering perilously close to the end of a culvert. The only way out was to track through a flower bed, but I stayed upright and the front shocks protected my arthritic wrists from vibration, so that was a win.
Then came the climb up the 500 feet to the house. With any other vehicle the slope is not significant, though it does help a 2WD tractor push a bucket of snow all the way down and across the road, regardless of traction. Backing up same hill in winter without tire chains on the tractor is out of the question. Still, it’s a gentle slope compared to that of Young’s Hill Road, which I’d have to master if I ever work up the nerve to leave the property on the bike.
Downshifts are effortless on the Bandit, even for the uninitiated. I tried to maintain a decent pace, because after all, it’s a very gentle slope. Legs quickly began to yelp, but I persevered, adding extra power with the balls of my feet. Feeling a bit gassed, I rode the bike back into the garage and dismounted without mishap.
Conscious of the precise location of every muscle the bike had used, I winced my way back to the recliner in the living room, the unfinished cup of coffee, and my computer.
By the end of the week I should be ready to tackle the hill.
UPDATE: 27 August, 2016
The following day I faced excruciating pain when I sat on the bike seat. Charlie had told me this would happen. It’s a high-tech woman’s seat, and the pressure points are all wrong for the male pelvis.
The new seat I bought at the bike store in Smiths Falls still felt very much like the head of an axe for a few days, but eventually the pain dulled, and by August 25th, I rode flat-out for 25 minutes in the rain and felt pretty good, actually.
I had given up on the hills. I own a truck. I found my bike rack hanging from the side of Tony’s shed in Newboro after I had loaned it to him about ten years ago. I bolted it to the hitch ball. So now my bike ride consists of flat runs on Hwy 42, the Cataraqui Trail, or the paved Forfar Road, with the Tacoma parked in my field at the corner.
Oiling the bike’s chain also increased the gears’ efficiency enough to let me cruise in eighth gear, top sprocket, on the flat. I still can’t look other cyclists in the eye because I have gone only a short distance while they have come from afar, but I can almost keep up to their pace, now, and the nurse yesterday said I have dropped 10 pounds.
How to get utterly lost in Leeds County
August 7, 2016
“It’s not adventure until something goes wrong.” Yvon Chouinard
I couldn’t believe it. Today I got lost on a paved road.
Tom and Kate Stutzman offered to drive us to Hotel Kenney for Sunday lunch, so Bet and I cheerfully loaded into their shiny Hylander named “Pearl.” Tom showed us the many features of the SUV and even pulled from his wallet the slip from Canadian Customs which forbade allowing a Canadian to drive it — on penalty of confiscation of the vehicle.
Had I been driving, this adventure would not have occurred, because I wouldn’t have missed the turn to Elgin. But I wasn’t, and the road surface was new and black, and I don’t remember the road sign. To be kind to myself, perhaps it wasn’t there. Harder to believe was my failure to notice the two bridges and the hydro lines, but I guess I was distracted by something.
In any case, it seemed to be taking a long time to come out to the road that joins up with the Davis Lock Road, so I asked Bet to check the map on her phone.
No service.
To be fair, the nav system on the Hylander didn’t offer much help, save to assure us that we were, in fact, on a road.
Everyone in the car seemed quite prepared to heap the blame on me for this cosmic trick which had transported us into some alternate dimension of winding asphalt road lined by trim lawns and neat houses.
“Where are we?”
We stopped to ask a group of three examining a jet ski on a trailer in a driveway. The smiling woman who responded to my plea found our plight the inspiration for no end of comic riffs, the gist of which indicated that we were exactly in the middle of nowhere. Every place we knew was precisely twenty-five miles away, down that road we were on, or back the other way.
“Where do you buy your groceries?”
“Seeley’s Bay, or Kingston.”
About there I tuned out. We left our joking hostess. Tom drove down the road a bit and made a left onto another road. A series of rather nice houses floated by as we meandered around corners, passing a bit of water, first to the right, and later to the left. Then came a large campground on an unnamed lake. Somewhat later we came to the bridge across the Rideau Canal. Tom traded a couple of American cigarettes to the bridge master for a map. Hwy. 15 and Elgin lay ahead.
When I checked Google Earth I realized that the turn I had missed lies 800 yards from the entrance to Hotel Kenney. The lesson from this? Don’t miss that turn or you’ll end up in Battersea.
Ruby, “railed”: 2004 Porsche Cayenne review #2
August 6, 2016
According to the voice on the phone at Livingston, Ruby has now “railed” and should arrive on August 15th at the latest.
Unfortunately Livingston does not offer online tracking on rail shipments. I expressed my regret to her about this, as I enjoy using Google Earth to follow my purchases across North America. It’s a way for a stay-at-home farmer to learn a bit of geography.
The nice lady had no comment on this, apart from a suggestion that I call back next Friday for further details.
My wife and I spent last weekend with the other Cayenne in the stable, the silver one our son used to tow the heavy trailer from Vancouver to Ottawa. Bet loves to drive the thing. There’s no doubt that its handling is a quantum leap ahead of our reliable, but aging Lexus. In fact it was a little terrifying to get back into the Lexus after seat time in the Cayenne. The Porsche is very tight, steers intuitively, treats bumps with derision, and stops with a satisfying brutality. The Lexus’ brakes are a little loose (less drag for improved fuel mileage) and its aging suspension is just fine on smooth pavement, but becomes tentative over uneven city streets. 214,000 km will do that to bushings and shocks. The much younger suspension of the Porsche (122,000 km) makes up considerable ground in ride quality.
On the other hand, three significant advantages allow the Lexus to outclass the Cayenne on a hot-day visit to a nursing home: the es330 passenger seat adjusts to the perfect height for my mother to back up to the rocker panel, sit down on the edge of the unseen seat, and swing her arthritic knees into the car. The Porsche seat adjusts down low enough, but the high bolster on the edge makes a safe landing impossible for Mom. Charlie’s car has optional 19″ wheels while Ruby has 18’s, but I doubt if the Porsche’s bolstered seats will be suitable for expeditions with Grandma.
The other Lexus perk? Front seats are not only heated electronically, they are cooled. Few people like this feature, but Mom and I both enjoy it a lot on a hot day. As I drove the Cayenne, regardless of the quality of its air conditioning, things just got hotter and hotter and my back kept sticking to the leather seat.
Finally there is the issue of fuel consumption. The V6 Lexus has delivered flawless performance on an average of 9.0 litres per 100 km over the last 112,000 km. Charlie’s Cayenne showed 12.5 on the gauge. Mind you, this would have included a cross-country tow with an 8.5 X 20 enclosed trailer, a morning running laps at Mosport Raceway, as well as a life of city driving, but fill-ups with high test are nearly double the cost of those of the Lexus.
It looks as though the Lexus and/or the very economical Scion xB (also with a height-adjustable passenger seat) will remain in the stable for the foreseeable future, though I’m very much looking forward to the day that Ruby de-rails. A Cayenne is simply a gas to drive.
We added the name “Ruby” in anticipation of her arrival in Forfar from Vancouver. If the car acted masculine or nasty, we’d change it to “Jack Ruby,” so the bases were covered.
A few months ago our son had bought a silver 2004 Porsche Cayenne, added a 20′ X 8.5′ enclosed trailer, and towed the contents of their apartment from Vancouver to Ottawa in a little less than 4 days with the help of a co-driver. The following weekend the rig hauled his race car to Mosport for a charity event where the Cayenne even got to run some laps on the big track with loads of kids and their parents aboard.
The car uses an ungodly amount of fuel and eats tires like candy, but functions at a very high level. Impressed, I asked Charlie to pick me up another one, use it for their remaining six weeks in Vancouver, and then ship it to me when they were ready for the airport.
You see, Vancouver is a time warp for automobiles. There is little sunlight and less frost. Most luxury cars live inside out of the rain. Owners take the bus to work to avoid traffic and parking effort. Porsche owners discard their Cayennes after the kids have been delivered to enough soccer games and ski lessons that Mom and Dad can go back to the 911 and a new Panamara, so there is a glut of used Cayennes on the local market.
Today Charlie sent us the photo above, indicating that Ruby should be along in two to three weeks, and that I can call the shipper for location updates.
In the meantime I get to learn about the Porsche Cayenne model from the most reliable source of information and experience I have found, a website called Rennlist.com. It’s where Porsche owners congregate to talk about their cars. From reading the list I’d suggest that Cayenne owners are smart and very good at expressing themselves, though some perhaps don’t have much mechanical experience.
The most recent online mystery I’ve discovered among Porsche owners — no kidding — is whether Cayennes have just one battery under the driver’s seat, or if there’s another under a bass speaker in the cavity in the trunk where there would be a spare tire on any other vehicle. Much speculation fills the pages, though I haven’t heard from anyone yet who has actually severed the rivets which keep us from knowing what lies beneath that strange structure of resonant metal under the rear deck. (January, 2017. Ruby does have a second battery. December, 2017. Charlie’s Cayenne has only one.)
Why did I buy a gas-slurping, driveshaft-shredding, 2 1/2 ton collection of electronic foibles supported by a dealership which takes responsibility for nothing and exacts maximum punishment whenever an owner is forced by circumstance to enter their domain? Did I mention that Cayennes with V8’s cannot sleep outside in the cold or their pistons grind against their cylinders until the engines will no longer run, and there’s no place to attach a block heater? And of course we all know about the plastic coolant tubes through the middle of the engine which get hot, crack, and dump coolant all over the starter. Hey, replacing two sets of coolant tubes should be somewhat easier than just one, and there are lots of videos of the procedure on You Tube.
A couple of years ago I started thinking that a Miata would make a nice toy, but you know how it is with a dream in one’s ebbing years: the options keep piling on. At least a Cayenne can pull a trailer, and the dog will have a place to ride, and it has a roof to protect its occupants from the sun and snow, and all-wheel-drive, and a top speed of 145 miles per hour, just in case I need to hurry.
And as for the mechanical challenges of owning the most notorious Porsche? I’d gotten bored with dead-reliable automobiles, O.K? What else can you do with a Lexus but drive it? My Toyota pickup sits for weeks on end, yet always starts and runs smoothly. A Cayenne can provide all the complexity and aggravation of a Rubik’s cube, and it never even needs to leave the garage.
More later, no doubt. Feel free to comment.
Rod
Weighing in on Wild Parsnip
June 3, 2016
This spring I attended a session in Lanark on the spread of wild parsnip and the county’s plan to spray with Clearview to control it. The protesters, young, articulate women, were there in force, communicated by text, worked in shifts, and generally disrupted the meeting.
They left little time for a reasoned discussion of the selection of Clearview as the pesticide of choice, so I’d like to weigh in on the risks of wild parsnip’s spread and eradication efforts versus the greater risk to the environment of the spread of DSV, or Dog Strangling Vine.
Since 2006 I have become increasingly proficient in the use of Roundup, another post-emergent pesticide. The MNR guy told me outright that my black walnut seedlings wouldn’t grow unless they were protected from grass during the first three years of their life. That was probably an exaggeration, but it did encourage me to take the pesticides qualification course and maintain my certification. Last year’s renewal turned into a one-week online course from the University of Guelph — far from a formality. I kept wondering if I had blundered into a graduate school program by mistake, but I hung in there and survived.
Last year a French study linking Roundup to Non-Hodgins Lymphoma appeared in Lancet. This spooked me a bit, as my father died of that rare disease even though he farmed organically and had no use for pesticides — or even diesel fumes, for that matter.
So you may safely assume that I use as little pesticide on the farm as I can. Over the last three years all of the spraying I have been forced to do has been against the steady encroachment of wild parsnip.
I believe the seeds came mixed in with sand spread on the roads in winter. The first year of the infestation concentrated on township roads where the heaviest sanding took place the previous winter.
Birds undoubtedly find the sunflower-like seeds attractive, and have spread them around to isolated locations on our 107 acres where I have done what I could to battle them back. My neighbour was remiss in weed control for a couple of years and the corner of his field was full of the stuff. Now I see no more parsnip on his side of the fence, but the things are well established on mine.
I have a 12v spot sprayer mounted on my Polaris Ranger, and spray by driving to the area and having at it with a 3% solution, striking individual plants. In cramped areas this is fine, and I’m doing pretty well around individual spruces. It’s the open areas where it’s mixed in with grass that I have failed to control the parsnip. Mowing the stuff just doesn’t work. It just grows back like grass. On the other hand, it never gets to the seeding stage, so mowing every couple of weeks is better than nothing.
Why don’t I rig up a wider sprayer and nuke the plants and the hay I generally mow, or use Clearview? I’m more concerned about airborne DSV seeds than I am the parsnip. I don’t want to leave bare patches of earth, as DSV has spread to within a half-mile of our farm but hasn’t established a foothold yet anywhere that I can find. But it’s a relative of the milkweed, so its seeds blow around.
Why not use Clearview? I don’t know it well enough. Roundup is a crop spray, well known for its herbicidal effectiveness and very short persistence in the soil. I own several thousand little trees which have grown through repeated spot sprayings in their vicinity. The feedback loop is pretty slow when using a spray, so I guess I’m slow to adapt.
On Lockwood Lane last summer there was a 100 sq. foot bare spot in roadside vegetation which clearly wasn’t created by Roundup. It was totally dead. I don’t know for how long Clearview’s effect lasts, and what can be planted to replace the plant cover, and when.
So my advice to those property owners in Lanark worried about Clearview spraying? Don’t ask for a ban on road spraying. That’s the route to disaster. Ask for Roundup for your roadside and ditches. After the first application you’ll likely need to qualify as an applicator yourself to complete the process. You’ll need to spray more frequently than with Clearview, but you can be pretty sure the crop herbicide won’t hurt your water, or your frogs, and it will beat down the wild parsnip if you keep at it.
That would be a show of true commitment. Waving cardboard signs and disrupting public meetings just doesn’t cut it in the battle against invasive plants.
Update: CBC Ottawa has a story on their site about the dangers of wild parsnip to cyclists and children.
Three days with a BIL-JAX 4527A #2 Articulating Lift
May 31, 2016
Without doubt the thing is the ultimate geezer gadget. With excellent surge brakes the two-ton hoist can be towed behind a small pickup (or positioned by a garden tractor, it turns out), it doesn’t have an hour meter, and recharges its batteries from a regular household extension cord.
Les and I had our approved climbing harnesses on site, and we each tried them once in the basket, then chose not to use them.
It enabled Les and me to climb to unapproachable places on a Victorian house as easily as I did when I was 16, and it was no more terrifying than that wobbly extension ladder my boss assigned me that summer. The beauty of the thing was the 2.5X4′ cage which became our workplace for the Victoria Day weekend this year. It held paint tray, scrapers, nail gun, and whatever else we needed to repair and repaint the windows and soffits on this landmark building on Young’s Hill. Painting became truly a 3D proposition as long as I kept one hand free of paint to span pairs of buttons on the touch keyboard.
The 2013 model’s internal air hose obviously hadn’t seen any use for a while, so I just used a 100′ hose from my portable compressor on the ground. The electrical connection in the cage was fine. It also has an internal garden hose, if you need water far above the ground. It turned out that a compressed air nozzle was at least as effective as a hand scraper in freeing up the peeling paint on the fascia boards.
The photo above shows the hoist at almost its full extension: not enough to get onto the roof of this very high building on a side hill, but high enough to do the job. The unit had to be placed on a driveway well out from the wall and substantially below the level of the basement, about a 45′ lift, in total. It was best not to look down.
World of Rentals in Kingston apparently knows how to deal with customers like me as there were no additional insurance charges or other annoying surprises on the bill. The weekend special normally involves a one-day fee of $295 plus HST for the interval from Friday at 3:00 until Monday at 9:00. On the long weekend it became a 1 1/2 day charge. When I returned the unit at 8:00 Tuesday morning, I paid $500.03 CDN.
the Walnut Diary 