Archive for May 2016
Short Week
May comes to a close today on the first day of a shortened work week. We rolled into the driveway yesterday from the lake in decent time, successfully avoiding getting swept up by a speed trap in the middle of a passing zone.
Peeve: When drivers speed up as they reach a passing zone, and then slow down again at the end of it. Their slow speed is frustrating for me, but their fast speed in the passing zone forces me to really exceed the limit if I hope to get around them. The added factor of being policed for speed in the short sections with an extra passing lane further inhibits my ability to squeak past the slower-downers.
Before we left the lake, I dug up about 15 trillium plants to bring home with us. Upon arriving to Wintervale, our agenda was to get the transplants in the ground as quickly as possible. Our plan went off without a hitch. Now all we need to do is wait about a year to find out if they are survivors or not.
One flowering plant that looks to be doing very well at home right now is the clematis vine that is on one of our trellis arches by the back deck. It is very photogenic when it is in bloom.
Our animals seemed very glad to see us again and gave us a good amount of affectionate attention. The lawn already needs mowing again and the pine trees are starting to show some significant new growth sprouts.
It feels very much like everything is ready for the arrival of the month of June. It’s the birthday month around here, as everyone but Julian turns another year older in the 6th month.
Makes it feel like more than a short week. It feels like it’s been a short year!
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Seeing Things
Sitting on the deck for lunch during one of the brief moments of sunshine over the weekend, I glanced at the window on the house and noticed a psychedelic distortion in the reflection.
I had a moment of wondering if it was me or the window that was responsible for the weird image. Others confirmed what I was seeing, so I pulled out my camera and snapped a photo.
Groovy, man.
No software filters were used in the making of this image.
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Much Accomplished
The day started slowly, but gained momentum and became a productive and fruitful one at Wildwood Lodge Club. Cyndie’s family was well represented among the 6 current clans that hold membership in the association. Best of all, not only did the looming possibility of a rainout not happen, there was even some sunshine to bask in while we worked (and played).
The primary effort started with the beach and “boats.” There are canoes, kayaks of a variety of sizes, small sail boats, and standup paddle boards that tend to get parked on the beach. More time was probably spent washing the cobwebs off the chairs that line the beach.
The lake seems high enough again this year to have reduced our sandy strip to a minimum for all the things we put there. First impressions that the water would be uncomfortably cold were altered quickly and led to kids choosing to jump in, which soon led to requests to go tubing behind the speed boat.
Summer might as well be in full swing.
We pulled goals out of storage, which led to me needing to take on Cyndie’s nephews in a little 1-against-2 mini soccer match on my way to helping pull weeds under the playground set. I discovered loose screws that needed wrenching to get that apparatus up to code.
I helped brainstorm a location for a new grill station outside the lodge kitchen, and unloaded pavers when Cyndie’s brother arrived from town with a heavy load. While at the lodge, I stepped up to help dispatch the rejected weeds and rocky dirt that accumulated from a massive clean out of the landscaping by the front steps.
That involved loading them onto a cart and transporting them to a perfect low spot in the woods by the driveway. Extra leftover hostas were moved up to our “cabin,” where Cyndie’s mom has designs to make good use of them.
Our getaway to the lake was feeling an awful lot like a typical day at home tending to 20 acres, with a bonus of the added glorious lake view.
I think my body will be happy to get back to the day-job on Tuesday for some well-earned rest.
In the mean time, my mind is thoroughly enjoying the mental vacation and energizing pleasures of family and friends —people and place— that Wildwood is all about.
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Rainy Getaway
While a valuable soaking rain washed our world yesterday, Cyndie and I began preparations to drive to the lake. Delilah sensed something was up and lolled around, somewhat restlessly at first, and then fatefully. I think she figured out we had an agenda that didn’t include her.
She would be staying home to play with Mckenna, our house and animal sitter who has known our horses longer than the time we have had them.
Memorial weekend is the traditional work weekend at the lake place. Sounds like this year the main goals are cleaning up the beach area and preparing the water crafts.
The rain may have something to say about how much work actually gets done.
Shortly after noon, Cyndie and I were taking turns updating Mckenna with details of the latest animal escapades, when Delilah decided to help out with a demonstration of how she is becoming more aggressive in her dominations over Pequenita.
“Yeah, like that.” I said.
Check the pond, dump the dehumidifier, switch for the ceiling fans is over there, the door handles latch upward, animal food in the cupboard, ‘fridge and freezer stocked with people food, paddock gates can be left as is. Good to go!
Our drive north was painless, requiring windshield wipers about 60% of the time. Gray and wet is the pattern for the time being. We were the first to arrive and got the water turned on and a fire started in the fireplace. I changed a burned-out lightbulb and Cyndie prepared a late-afternoon appetizer for those who would be arriving soon after us.
About the time darkness fell, Cyndie’s phone rang. She could see it was from Mckenna, but couldn’t get the connection to hold. She tried returning the call using the cabin’s landline. After several misconnections, success revealed news that Pequenita had flown the coop and couldn’t be found.
Hours earlier I had been describing to Mckenna how surprised I was just a couple of days ago that ‘Nita had dashed out the sliding screen door before I even got my first foot out.
Seems our little feline might have been making a practice run with me. I texted Mckenna not to worry, but of course she felt horrible. I suggested that our sweet little cat may have finally decided she has had enough of Delilah’s repeated harassments.
Although I’m sure that it felt like an eternity for Mckenna, it wasn’t long before we received text messages that our escapee was home again, safe and sound.
Maybe Pequenita was just jealous that we went away for the weekend, and she wanted a getaway of her own.
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My Friday
Since I work a 4-day week at the day-job, Thursdays have become like a Friday to me. I feel an urgency to wrap up as many situations as possible before I leave the office, and the evenings are wide open with possibility. After slogging through a bit of a difficult day yesterday at work, I rushed home to hop on the lawn tractor to mow.
The week has been one of constant rain threat, and our grass is growing incredibly fast as a result of showers received. We plan to head to the lake for the holiday weekend, so getting it cut while the sun was shining made the chore a priority. I raced through the task and finished in time to meet George and Annaliese arriving for dinner as I walked toward the house.
It being my Friday and all, having company over for the evening makes it feel wonderfully more festive and appropriate as a kickoff to my weekend.
Cyndie made grilled lamb burgers with a lavish selection of healthy side options and we had a feast fitting the occasion. Adding to the frivolity was my chance spotting of an email from our daughter that she accepted a job offer of a new position at her workplace. Another reason to celebrate!
After dinner, Cyndie pulled out the CrossCribb® board for a little good-natured, but intense, competition. The boys schooled the girls. We then changed to a different card game, from which I nabbed a clear victory. I was on a roll.
Appropriate for a “Friday” night, I was up late and it felt like a party.
This morning, under on-again-off-again showers, it is too wet to pick up the windrows of yard hay that I created last night. They will have to wait a few days. We are off to the lake.
It’s Friday for real today!
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Deer Crossing
Our latest positioning of the trail cam has proved successful in capturing some deer traffic on —or across— one of our pathways. Snapped ’em coming and going. Based on the hoof prints we have seen, it was obvious there are some youngsters hanging around. While this spot appears to be a crossing point, the little one had altered course toward the camera in the wee hours of the morning.
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For Barb
On a recent visit to Wintervale, our friend Barb Wilkus asked to see pictures of our allium perennials when they are in full bloom.
Allium
Latin for garlic, the Flowering Onions are available in diverse heights and sizes, are rabbit-, rodent- and deer-resistant, and are seldom affected by disease. Adored by bees, butterflies and pollinators, Allium extend the spring flowering season with bold, dramatic color and statuesque garden architecture. They are also valuable cut and dried flowers.
The blossoms aren’t 100% full yet, but this should give a pretty good idea of what they become. Today, your wish is granted, Barb, and now everyone else can enjoy them, too!
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Birthday Bob
Happy 75th to Robert Allen Zimmerman today.
Bob, I would’ve performed more of your songs over the years if I could have mastered the art of remembering all those lyrics.
I’m inclined to agree with pretty much everything I’ve heard from Bob Dylan. Luckily, I started paying attention after all the drama of his transition to using an electric guitar at concerts. By the time I was listening, the songs he was writing and music he was making seemed like a perfect fit.
I avoided all the fan angst.
I always appreciated that he somehow succeeded in performance despite violating everything a choir director would demand from a vocalist. It is a small minority who are able to make imperfection work and not simply sound imperfect. Obviously, the appeal isn’t universal, but based on the number of fans and longevity of Bob Dylan’s career, there is a large majority of listeners who “get it.”
The flaws become the features. I don’t know how it works, I just know that I am drawn to certain imperfect vocalists, and repelled by much of the rest.
Unfortunately, it has never been something I could harness for myself. I never mastered singing with that “imperfect” kind of character to a level that ascended beyond what repels me. I tend to flounder in the “almost there” category most of the time.
As a result, I relish the opportunity to enjoy professionals whose off-center vocalizations are good enough to succeed in the industry. I love the sound of a well-slurred word or phrase, and it makes me laugh to imagine a vocal instructor ever confidently endorsing such a thing.
It seems to me that the first time I ever attended a live performance by Bob Dylan was 30 years ago, when he was touring with the Grateful Dead and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. They came to town for a show on my birthday and Cyndie bought tickets as a present.
My life-long pal, Paul Keiski, made me a custom shirt for the occasion. Then 4-days before the concert, Cyndie unexpectedly gave birth to our darling daughter, Elysa, which led to Cyndie handing her ticket off to her brother, Ben. Ever since, I have endured endless good-natured ribbing for going to that show without her.
It’s the kind of thing a fan does for troubadour like Bob Dylan. Happy 75th old man!
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Rest Day
Sunday was certainly a day of rest for me yesterday, after having ridden so many miles on Saturday. I took a most luscious nap in the middle of the day. My eyes just didn’t want to be open, so I gave them some rest. The rest of me followed suit.
After my nap, I revved up to do the tiniest of chores. I was able to mow the overgrown trails in the woods, because it has dried up lately just enough I was able to drive on it without getting stuck. I wound new line on the spool for the trimmer in the cool shade of the shop. I stood with the horses while Cyndie tended a scrape on Legacy’s front leg.
I also ate a few extra calories, to make sure my body had more than enough to regenerate itself. Visions of the week of biking that lies ahead next month.
Will I be ready? I think I already am, despite having been on my bike only twice so far this season. Must be all that pitch fork work and hill walking I do around Wintervale that has allowed me to stay fit.
Rich Gordon snapped a photo of this athlete in action…
I wasn’t hurting too much yet!
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Biking Pepin
It was about as pleasant a day yesterday as we’ve had lately for bike riding, with minimal wind and plenty of blue sky. Just perfect for a training ride that was planned to help us get some miles in before the Tour of Minnesota next month. Five friends that I met years ago on the annual week-long biking and camping adventure, back when it was led by Jim Klobuchar, gathered in Red Wing to spend a few hours pedaling around Lake Pepin.
The lake is basically a wide spot in the Mississippi River, 22-miles long, with a good number a sloughs in the areas where bridges cross on either end.
You might think that a 22-mile long “lake” would allow for somewhere around 44 miles of riding to circumnavigate. I wish. After only one brief ride of 13 miles this spring, I logged almost 75 yesterday.
That was enough mileage to sap most of my functional stores of energy.
We left Red Wing mid-morning and headed over the bridge into Wisconsin, riding toward a grueling 2-mile hill in order to face it with fresh legs. We stopped at one of many turn-outs and posed for a picture in front of the Lake Pepin sign. A lone motorcyclist who pulled off for a break at the same time as us obliged us with snapping the photo.
Notice how fresh we all look? It was early in the ride.
We took our time on the way to lunch in Wabasha, pausing often to keep the group together and fill water bottles. The day turned out a bit warmer than I am used to and required purposeful attention toward staying well hydrated. By the time we reached our lunch destination, it was almost 2 o’clock. Our first two cafe choices were closing.
Funny how that makes being hungry for some fuel feel a bit more significant. We needed to find a restaurant, and NOW! The kind woman closing the restaurant that was our second choice offered directions to Slippery’s Tavern, made famous by the movie “Grumpy Old Men.” This took care of my hunger pangs.
It didn’t do much for refreshing my energies. That meant the second leg of our trek was going to be a lot more work than the first. It occurred to me that our chosen direction of travel also meant we were now riding upstream. Logic would have it that it might also generally be uphill, what with the flow of the water always moving down.
Rich assured me it was mostly flat, which makes sense since the river widened into a lake there. My tired legs still noticed there were more inclines than declines. Toward the end, as I was standing up to get off the saddle and give my butt a break, both thighs instantly reported they weren’t interested in that additional exertion. I was running on reserves.
Back in the saddle, with Steve as a precious companion to distract me, we eased our way back to Red Wing at the dinner hour.
Lake Pepin had been circled and I was done.
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Relative Something 