Plugging Away
It was a calm day at the lake place yesterday. Since it was an off day for the World Cup, I made a concerted effort to get out and walk the grounds after watching the 5th Stage of the Tour de France. Later today, the tourney resumes with the first of the quarter-final matches kicking off. After watching the majority of the competition to reach this point, I feel compelled not to miss any of the remaining matches. I will keep plugging away at consuming the riches of spectator sports available to me.
That continues a frustratingly large number of hours in front of a television, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for entertainment’s sake. My days back on a lawn tractor will return soon enough. I’m trying not to think about how much horse manure is accumulating in the compost area that will need tending.
My survey of the grounds provided an opportunity to snap a few creative photos and witness the evidence in the gravel driveway that the storm that raged overnight between Tuesday and Wednesday created a bit of a flash flood. A significant amount of sand and gravel was removed along one slope of the driveway and poured down into the lagoon, leaving the water looking like a milky coffee drink.
The water at the beach remained clear and inviting, making for a perfect, soothing soak as the afternoon drew to a close.
A swim felt ideal after digging into a messy chore I’d been putting off since we arrived last Friday. There was a firewood storage box located on the upper deck of the house that was far from watertight. The dregs of firewood on the bottom were soaked and rotting. The plywood bottom of the box was rotting, too.
Unfortunately, that led to the boards of the deck underneath it rotting. When I looked in on it when we first got up here, I saw there was a hornets’ nest being built under the lid. It took me a few days to get around to dealing with that. Cyndie and I finally sprayed it on Tuesday night, and yesterday, I started scooping out the mess of decaying, soaked firewood left in the bottom. That process involved several trips down from the deck to dump the rotting gunk and felt an awful lot like plugging away toward accomplishing a task.
When I had the box emptied, I enlisted the help of neighbors to carry the box off the deck to a spot where I plan to unceremoniously deconstruct it. I suspect the old firewood box will become fuel for future outdoor campfires, that is, the parts that aren’t soaked and rotting, anyway.
The moral of today’s story: Water erodes gravel driveways and rots any and all wood with relentless tenacity. To avoid it, enact routine preventive measures.
You know, keep plugging away at it.
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Undefeated
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slow
rotation
from elation
to despair
to reckless abandon
borderline panic
as time runs out
this circumstance
arises abruptly
surrounded by helplessness
hopes dashed
dripping with symbolism
for everything
relating to existence
on this plane
in this realm
at this moment
defeat
seems to matter
more than anything
except that
none of it
really matters
at all
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Suffering Sports
I’m looking at it this way: The US Men’s National Soccer Team won’t get embarrassed by Spain on Friday afternoon in Los Angeles. They took care of getting embarrassed last night in Seattle under the pressure of Belgium, which showed everyone the true level of our team on the world scale. I’m looking forward to enjoying the rest of the World Cup tournament without the extra whipped-up frenzy of hype about US soccer.
Another thing that just got wrapped up is the log work on our house and shop/garage. It is a little strange to be away from home when the project was completed, but I received a picture of the house garage doors from Ella, who is staying at our place while we are up at the lake.
They look a lot better than when we left.
I’m only functioning on half my cylinders the last two days, while my digestive system copes with some disruption that involves a fair amount of uncomfortable cramping. I’m hoping it wasn’t something I ate at the fabulous barbecue dinner of the 60th anniversary celebration Saturday night. I haven’t heard of anyone else from the event feeling ill, so it could be some other microscopic invader that I have encountered.
On the plus side, it made it easier to justify lying on the couch to watch the 3rd stage of the Tour de France cycling race yesterday. I ran into one small problem while feeling a little under the weather. After enduring many minutes of little action while the peloton reeled in the breakaway rider(s), I opened my eyes to see Slovenian star Tadej Pogačar being celebrated for his victory. I had unintentionally fallen asleep during the final, most exciting portion of the ride.
I wish I had fallen asleep during the soccer match last night instead.
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It’s Wildwood
From memory, a stab at the lyrics to a song I wrote back in the early 1980s after a particularly remarkable Independence Day weekend that lingered long after I had returned to the day job. This was shortly after the property had been divided into lots, which individual families then took ownership of. Before that change, they all shared every cabin, rotating every couple of weeks to give everyone a taste of each precious spot on the lake, along with the different quirks of each very old log cabin.
Seems just like a week or two
and 4th of July has come and gone
and I was up at my favorite place
Friends were there to have a time
but not the one we used to know
cabins have moved, and new ones are growin’
a place to sleep’s not as easily found
Sit on the porch of what was cabin three
almost see the beach you never used to see
and Tommy and Jane, and Justin, it’s true
are heard laughin’ and singin’ and workin’ too
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
Friends had gathered to have a good time
work god done, we had a good time
we weren’t all there, it’s sad to say
but we’re fixin’ the place for another day
The old road don’t go the way it used to go
nor some people’s car the way the new one goes
but we all got together and pushed it out
who says there weren’t games this holiday
As evening came, we gathered ‘round
for the kind of picnic you’re supposed to have
and though people not present were sadly missed
there were fireworks displayed to rival all time
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
As much as it seems as though it’s really changed
and mud has replaced the sprouts of poison ivy
the swing still swings between two big trees
from which you can still hear the Friswolds up at cabin 3
Hayward’s still a few minutes away
Round Lake crisp and clear as any day
and all the people who have made it what it really is
are all the people who will make it what it really is
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
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Celebrating 60th
It was 60 years ago that a group of Twin Cities guys jumped on an opportunity to purchase a lodge property called Wildwood on one of the most pristine lakes in northern Wisconsin. It’s transformed over the years with changes in families and bylaws, but it has survived as a unique association with long-term relationships in a fabulous location in the woods on a lake. Definitely a phenomenon worthy of celebration.
I’ve written about it before under the Wildwood tag among my “Previous Somethings” (such as this one), so today I am going to present the day in a few images…
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July 4th, 2026
The significance of the independence of our country feels greatly diminished on the occasion of 250 years. What was intended by our founding fathers has been significantly corrupted as the presidency has been turned into a ruse for profiteering with blatant disregard for the majority of the country’s citizens.
My world this morning is a whirlwind of different events dividing my attention. We are up at the lake for the holiday weekend, which happens to be the 60th anniversary of our Wildwood Lodge Club, with special festivities and the return of former members’ families, digging into a multitude of reminiscences.
At the same time, I am enjoying the thrills of this year’s World Cup matches, which is hard to do because it takes a lot of time indoors in front of a TV screen. Compounding that is the start of the Tour de France stage race that will last three weeks.
Where will I find time to write about all this excitement?
I’m unsure. Just trying to write this, I am fighting distractions of family discussions, sunshine begging us to get outside, and the preliminary analysis of the bike race. Breakfast is being prepared, and the day is beckoning.
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Wet Start
Another day when we found ourselves feeding horses in a morning thundershower and finished the day under oppressively hot sunshine and high humidity. The rain allowed me a reasonable excuse to stay indoors and watch England’s victory in the World Cup. Harry Kane, how do you do it?!
In the afternoon, since the grass was too wet to mow, I put in more time trimming back the tall growth encroaching on our grass trails.
There are places where the tall grass has grown over my head height. When it gets wet and leans into the pathway, walking through it can leave a person soaked. I speak from experience.
After trimming the tall grasses, I reached the curve through the trees near the end of the north loop trail. Those branches reaching for sunlight can infringe on trail space even more than the grasses. The hedge trimmer allows me to create an even-walled border along the pathway.
I suspect that part of the trail could eventually become a tunnel if the tree branches overhead fill out enough on both sides. It’s so different from the winter when there are no leaves on the trees, and you can see right through.
My new favorite work gloves have held up well against the abuse I’ve been putting them through. The last few days, they have stayed wet due to the high humidity. There is something about them that is bugging me, though. I think they sewed on a finger in place of the thumb on the left glove.
It’s a nuisance, but since it’s on the left hand and I am right-hand dominant, it only occasionally affects what I’m trying to accomplish. Still, it irritates that OCD part of my nature. Ever since I first noticed it, I haven’t been able to unnotice it, and it nags at me repeatedly.
We ended the day watching the USA match against Bosnia-Herzegovina.
The day started wet, but finished with a win! On to the round of 16. I’m not sure I can handle going much further in the tourney.
I’m sure glad these aren’t best-of-7 series playoffs.
Things will pick up this weekend when the Tour de France 21-stage bicycle race starts. The weeks ahead are going to be filled with more televised spectator sports than I can sit through daily. I’m sure happy to be free from trying to balance employment responsibilities with sports watching.
Catching competitions live is the best, and watching the stages in France means prime morning hours here.
Maybe we can get even more morning showers while the bike race is happening.
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Pile Diminished
Amid sweltering heat and humidity, Cyndie forged into hard physical labor on her first day back in our home time zone. I asked if she felt up to moving the horses around to make room for me to dump lime screenings with the big tractor. The horses didn’t get the memo. No matter how she tried to coax them out of the way, they remained a nuisance the entire time we worked.
On the plus side, they weren’t the least bit jumpy about the loud revving engine, the jerky movements of the tractor, or the sudden banging of the loader bucket. They give every impression of fully understanding what we are up to and seem to fully approve.
The added cushion of the screenings is an improvement over the hardpack they have been stomping on to dislodge biting flies. Although it won’t be long before they have the new stuff packed down, too. The old surface we are covering was once loose screenings, too.
The slope to the south end of the overhang is just enough steeper than the north that the tractor wheels would spin before I made it up, unless I made a run at it with a higher than comfortable speed. It made for a repeating series of “Coming in HOT!” situations. I only almost busted fence boards one time.
After working two separate sessions in the heat, we were ready to call it a day.
The pile is now greatly diminished. We may go back to using a shovel and wheelbarrow to finish the rest of it off, spreading it in any low spots or other high-traffic areas that get muddy after rain.
The forecast predicts we will be able to find the muddy spots as early as sometime today. Soaked lime screenings that haven’t been well packed will take on the texture of wet cement. It’s a price we are willing to pay in the short term while making improvements for the longer term.
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Midnight Sun
After picking up Cyndie and Elysa at the airport yesterday, the stories flowed in rapid succession without pause. Tales about crossing into the Arctic Circle. Descriptions of a weekend at the island cabin of Norwegian relatives. Descriptions of the beauty of the fjords, the unique cruise ship, the uncharacteristic heat wave, the relief to be home after a loooong day of travel, and the ensuing jet lag.
Cyndie stayed awake as long as she could before conking out around 8:00 p.m., equal to 3:00 a.m. in the time zone they just returned from. That is on top of only getting a few hours of sleep the night before. I plan to offer her plenty of compassion and tolerance for any demonstrations of fogginess in the next few days.
Of course, at our age, it’s not clear that our mental acuity ever fully returns to previous levels after we tax ourselves to dramatic degrees.
Before Cyndie dozed into a restless early-evening slumber, she granted my wish for a few photos from her large collection documenting their adventures celebrating Elysa’s birthday, with a healthy dose of midnight sunshine.
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Relative Something 