Archive for September 2025
Helping Trees
With the intense growth of summer beginning to wane just a little, we can better see into the woods to spot vines that are climbing our trees and uproot them. This week, we have been noticing them while walking Asher in the morning and pausing only briefly to tend to one or two near the trail. It tells me that the chore deserves a more focused trek through the woods to address any less obvious others away from the trail.
I’ve also been thinking about the young volunteer trees we discovered growing in our north loop field, and wanting to check on them. I did a little research on ways to best help young trees and found that nurturing root growth with water and mulch was a frequent suggestion. This gave me a fresh use for the composted manure stockpile I’ve been wanting to distribute.
After a recent turning of an old pile, I was thrilled to see the temperature had climbed back to over 150°F in the middle, indicating the microbial breakdown activity was far from complete.
The piles that are no longer cooking need to be distributed to make space for the daily new loads cleaned out of the paddocks. I decided to haul some up to use around the base of the young trees in the north loop field.
The first thing I discovered is that the poison ivy in that field is spreading farther and farther away from the spot where it was originally established. The second thing I found was that there are little oak trees showing up all over the place.
There are so many that I gave up trying to put mulch around all of them. Some trees will just have to fend for themselves. We get a fair amount of pressure from deer in that field, and I’ve known that young trees are all at risk of getting munched on, but since there are so many things growing there, I’m willing to sacrifice a few for occasional deer treats.
Among all the grasses and weeds growing around and over the volunteer oak trees popping up, there are also a few pine trees, many poplars, and two specific known cedar trees. I trudged back and forth many times in search of the smaller of the two cedars, using a huge pine tree as a reference.
It was hiding well, but when I finally came upon it, I was standing right where I thought it would be.
It doesn’t look much taller than it was last year when we first found it. It remains at risk of getting chomped. That might be enough to inspire me to offer it a little protection, since I’m fond of the added species variety it brings us.
Gotta protect the top as much as the roots down below!
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Not Colorful
The leaves are changing, but not into the glorious reds, yellows, and oranges one expects in the fall. No, this year we are getting a predominant dose of browns.
I don’t know if it’s due to dry conditions or something else, but trees that have been brilliant in past autumns are simply transitioning to shriveled brown leaves this year.
It’s hardly the glorious spectacle we wanted when Cyndie and I chose September to be our wedding month. That just so happened to occur 44 years ago on this exact date. I believe we had a fair amount of color in the trees in 1981. I don’t think I paid a lot of attention to the fall colors, what with my beautiful bride commanding all of my focus that day.
Seven years after that, our son, Julian, was born on the same day as our anniversary. So today is a day of celebration in the Hays family. Tonight, Cyndie and I have reservations at the Shady Grove restaurant, about 4 minutes away from our house. Tomorrow, we meet our kids for dinner in Stillwater to toast Julian.
Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some colorful trees on our drive along the St. Croix River.
It’s a Happy Birthniversary Day!
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Plant Fireworks
I have probably posted on this subject multiple times in September over the years. I didn’t go back to check. This is the time of year when our Variegated Japanese Silver Grass bursts forth with seeds.
It reminds me of fireworks popping open in the sky.
I moved in for a closer look.
Those kinky waves resemble a few hairstyles I’ve seen.
Meanwhile, the willow tree in the paddock that should be dead has made it through the summer looking pretty damn good.
I don’t know how it is feeding those leaves because the horses have chewed the trunk and the exposed roots to shreds.
Nature is mysterious and fascinating.
For the record, the maple tree we transplanted to the center of the labyrinth eight years ago is still dead. I have tried not to dwell on it, but the frustration continues to simmer under my surface. In order to avoid dealing with it, I haven’t touched it all summer. Part of me wondered if the roots would try to sprout new growth at the base. Another part of me is waiting to see if a mushroom fungus will appear on the dead wood. I’ll take anything at this point that would make some sense.
Speaking of the labyrinth, we haven’t put a lot of energy into it this summer, and when I mowed it the last time, I found myself wondering if there might be another way to define the path. The rocks we chose have two primary shortcomings. The ground tends to swallow them, and weeds grow up around them that the mower can’t reach.
It’s a little intimidating to imagine reworking the entire length of pathway borders to a completely different structure. I originally envisioned more of a low rock wall than what we have now, or something resembling a wall to define the path. It would look really cool to get to that level, but we have barely collected enough rocks to fill the pattern with one rock after another.
We would need a lot more rocks than we currently have, and a low wall wouldn’t preclude weeds from still growing up among the rocks. For now, we carry on as is and wait for new inspiration to strike.
Maybe a new idea might burst forth like exploding fireworks in the night sky.
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Gifted Art
What can we say about friends who agree to house-sit and care for our animals, and then leave us gifts of spectacular art pieces to find in unsuspecting places? My friend, Pam (whom I met on the Himalayan trek in Nepal with Jim Klobuchar’s Adventures), and her husband, John, take wonderful care of Asher and the horses when Cyndie and I travel. They both also have a keen eye for creative endeavors.
This wall hanging of pressed flowers and pieces of the never-ending collection of emptied bags that the grains of feed for the horses come in is a wonder to behold.
I was completely oblivious to this beautiful creation hanging in the barn when I showed up to do the “housekeeping” in the paddocks and only learned about it later, back at the house, when Cyndie showed me this picture she had taken.
We will be devising a more robust method of hanging it in the short term, while waiting for a frame with glass to arrive in order to preserve it long term.
While the humidity teetered between 75 and 100 percent yesterday, I sweated my way through an attempt to catch up with the manure composting details that get a little neglected when we are away. We don’t expect others to do things the way we do. Instead, we ask that they simply clean up manure from under the overhang when it’s time to feed the horses.
That means there is always a little catching up to be done when I return to take over equine fecal relocation duties. While tending the composting piles in the sweltering tropical conditions, I noticed how much I wished I wasn’t in the middle of doing it. The non-stop sweat on my face and in my eyes was driving me crazy.
No, I do not particularly like tending to the piles of composting manure. What I truly like is the times when the piles have been fully tended. I don’t necessarily enjoy doing it, but I thoroughly enjoy it when it’s done.
The compost piles almost look like works of art. It’s a gift that I give to myself.
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Brothers All
In a single day, we were with all of Cyndie’s brothers as well as her mom yesterday. We started the day with Barry and Carlos in Maine and then had dinner in St. Paul, Minnesota, with the rest of the clan for Marie’s 88th birthday celebration.
The snapshot above is a photo I took when Barry was showing Cyndie where the many volunteer shoots of birch trees were available for pulling. Why would she pull up their baby birch trees?
Never one to be intimidated by logical limitations about packing live plants in a plastic bread bag to stuff into an already full carry-on bag that gets crammed below the seat in front of her on an airplane, Cyndie brought home trees from the garden in Maine to plant somewhere around Wintervale.
I will not fixate on the long odds for her success, but instead plan to help scout out a new location where we can nurse the new transplants toward some percentage of actually surviving.
After hugging Barry and Carlos one last time as we dropped them off at their condo, we returned the wildebeest to the car rental company and boarded a shuttle headed toward our gate. Have I mentioned how much I would prefer to avoid air travel?
Mike got a ping on his phone about a delay in our flight home. As he attempted to navigate the information on the app, Barb’s and his tickets mysteriously disappeared. Cyndie still had our boarding pass screens on her phone, so Mike called the Delta service for preferred customers to work on solving the mystery.
It was a good thing we had arrived with time to spare, because it took a nerve-wrackingly long time to fix whatever had just gone wrong. In the end, their seats were re-established, and we were safe to proceed. However, the flight delay remained, and we lost precious time on our tight schedule to leave Boston and get home in time for dinner with the family members who would be gathering to celebrate Marie’s birthday.
We got to our car in St. Paul roughly a half-hour after the time of our reservation at Holman’s Table restaurant. Luckily, we were only 15 minutes away. Our daughter, Elysa, texted that the appetizers were just arriving at their table.
We showed up before they had even given their dinner orders. A family birthday celebration for the matriarch is a pretty special finish to our adventures of the previous week.
Some silliness ensued. Happy Birthday, Marie!
Dinner with the family wasn’t the final treat of our big day, though. After driving another 50 minutes in the dark to get to our house, we were rewarded with the cutest puppy-like reception from Asher when we got inside.
Gee, but it’s great to be back home…
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Return Flight
It’s been a grand time at Barry and Carlos’ camp on Colcord Pond, but this morning we need to pack up and drive back to Boston to drop off the rented wildebeest and get to the airport for our flight home.
We made the best of our last full day at camp yesterday by hiking to the top of Bald Ledge, which overlooks the lake. Before heading out for the trek, Mike and I walked down to the water, where I snapped today’s featured photo. Soon after, I noticed our shadows and took a picture. Mike provided me with the classic bunny ears.
The trailhead is within walking distance of their cabin, allowing us to hike for about an hour to reach the summit at 1185 ft.
The sky changed from clear to cloudy several times during the hike and throughout the rest of the afternoon, casting shadows over the treetops covering the landscape all the way to the horizon. A clear overhead view of Colcord Pond is impossible to miss. It is an interesting contrast to the picture I took when standing on the shore just over an hour earlier.
It won’t be long until the color scheme changes from green to shades of orange, yellow, and red. The coming transition is already visible around the edges of the crowns of some of the trees. Down below the canopy, where the trail meanders over roots and rocks, the change doesn’t seem as imminent.
We sustained ourselves with a light lunch upon our return to the camp before taking a refreshing dip in the lake one last time. After a little siesta, the masters of food preparation rustled up a first-class spread of crackers, cheeses, spreads, olives, and salami, accompanied by some before-dinner beverages.
Neighbors John and Bethany joined us for a feast of grilled burgers, baked beans, and corn-on-the-cob. Laughter and lively stories flowed joyfully along before we entered into some friendly competition with playing cards.
Now we must stuff our suitcases and load the SUV to begin another day of travel. Look out, airport security, here we come. I can’t wait to receive my two cookies with a cup of water mid-flight. If there are no delays to mess up our plans, we will be having dinner with family to celebrate Cyndie’s mom’s birthday soon after we land.
It shouldn’t shock you to read that I am really looking forward to reaching our home again a few hours after that.
Massive beams of love to Barry and Carlos for allowing us to clutter up their living spaces and for their gracious hospitality to the nth degree in every aspect of our visit. Also, to Mike and Barb for being wonderful travel companions once again.
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Around Cornish
Pausing outside Barry and Carlos’ place for a moment, waiting to load into the huge rented SUV for a jaunt to Cornish, I balanced some rocks. How long until they’ll topple becomes a subject of interest each time we pass.
Before we reach Cornish, the closest hub of commerce for the summer camps in this area, the vehicle that we’ve been referring to as “the wildebeest” (as in BEAST) made a stop at the waste transfer station. Carlos carried the bag of recycling in one direction, and Barry took the bag of trash somewhere else.
Carlos returned directly, and Barry didn’t. After a brief delay, he reappeared with an apology. He ran into someone they knew, and they had a chat. This was a hint of what we soon learned is common wherever Barry and Carlos go in the vicinity of both their place in Boston and here in Maine.
Mere seconds after Barry parked the beast in Cornish, we were standing in the road, being introduced to someone they knew. Most of the antique or craft shops we browsed included a pause for Barry and Carlos to catch up on news or introduce us to someone with whom they have a connection.
It felt a little like we were enjoying the honor of walking around with the local mayor(s).
After walking the shops, the wildebeest made a stop at the grocery store so we could augment our food stores in preparation for hosting neighbors for grilled burgers tonight. The highlight of that stop was Mike’s noble deed of quietly buying a batch of bananas to gift a mom and her son after he overheard the boy’s request get turned down because she couldn’t afford them. Mike said he got a hug from her as she mentioned that tariffs are killing them. Ouch.
Back at camp, we ate a light lunch, saving room for our early dinner reservation at Max’s Restaurant & Pub at the romantic Snowvillage Inn located in Eaton Center, NH. Cyndie and Barry decided on an earlier-than-usual timing to allow for daylight viewing of the majestic Mount Washington and the White Mountains out the window of the dining areas.
Before settling down for a short pre-dinner nap, Barry guided us on a walking tour of the neighboring camps, describing all the owners and relationships to a degree worthy of a scholarly genealogist. I’m afraid I would miserably fail if there were a test on all that we might have learned.
Since dinner was early, there was plenty of time for a frivolous card game on the porch after we got back. Snack almonds were designated as a method to tally our losses. When you lost a hand, you ate a nut. Luckily, the bag was close by for Carlos to replace his “chips” each time he accidentally ate one in the middle of a hand.
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Hiking Foothills
Friday started with a breakfast of some eggs, bacon, a variety of fruits, and three different flavor versions of Cyndie’s fresh-baked scones. That became fuel we used to go for a short hike up Foss Mountain in Eaton, New Hampshire. The area is among the foothills of the White Mountains.
The most significant portion of the expedition is the need for four-wheel drive, high clearance navigation up the steep, rarely-graded one-lane gravel incline to reach a small parking area for the final half-mile walk to the top. There was one other vehicle parked when we arrived, and we found a family of three at the top as we reached the peak. I snapped today’s primary photo, capturing the man patiently waiting for his balloon to look just right for a picture he was after.
The scenery around Foss Mountain is prime territory for viewing the brilliant colors of autumn leaves. The ground along the climb and around the rocky surfaces at the top is covered with blueberry bushes. The vast fields on the way up are privately owned and off limits for picking, but visitors are free to collect berries at the top. We showed up between the seasons of fall colors and ripe berries.
You take what you get, and we were no less rewarded, being there on a warm, blue-sky September day.
Having just returned from bicycling in the Black Hills of South Dakota, I looked at the steep, rough gravel road with appreciation that I wasn’t pedaling my way up and back down the incline.
Barry drove us along two different winding scenic routes to and from the hike, extending our New Hampshire adventure with time to take in a multitude of classic New England views, including quaint communities, old burial grounds, beautiful landscapes, and wonderful old homes, farms, small businesses, and churches.
Stumbling upon Bobby Sue’s Homemade Ice Cream and Waffle Cones shop was a bonus. Even though we hadn’t had lunch yet, we treated ourselves to dessert first. It was as divine as our minds hoped it was going to be.
It served as a delicious accent to emphasize that we were on a vacation from our usual routines.
Destination: Camp
We have fled the big city for the scenic forests and laid-back living of rural Maine, where Barry and Carlos have created a glorious woodsy retreat, a second-home vacation-getaway-lake-place that is referred to in these parts as “camp.”
To get all six of us here in one vehicle, we rented a huge SUV and packed our luggage to the brim. Then we stopped for groceries on the way and tucked those bags in any space around our seats. It was a quick two-plus-hour drive to camp near Cornish, ME, not far from the border with New Hampshire.
It didn’t take long for the four people with a passion for swimming to don their suits and hustle down to the water for a dip. The featured photo for today is how I found them when I made my way down from the cottage. I told them that I took a picture of them “swimming.”
Eventually, three of them made their way fully into the water, and then Barb and Barry got in their laps of various strokes.
We met some neighbors and enjoyed a wonderful visit while their hyper dogs flailed their energy in every direction. The reason we checked in with them was because a third neighbor had offered up an extra bedroom in their place, but the key they gave Barry wasn’t the right one.
The key was meant to be a “just-in-case” backup because they were going to leave the door unlocked, but the cleaner had come and locked things up when she left. Luckily, she lived close and was able to come and open up for us to use.
As soon as the sun got low in the sky, the temperature began to drop, giving us a wonderfully cool September night. Barry grilled pork tenderloin, and we dined and told stories on the porch.
Today, hiking in the region is the plan. Maybe I’ll find something to photograph while we are out and about.
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More Boston
After a morning walk to Flour Bakery & Cafe for goodies, we returned to Barry and Carlos’ place for breakfast outside on their patio amid all the flowering greenery. Wednesday’s weather was perfect for strolling some 19,000 steps totaling around seven miles on the day.
We made our way through Chinatown toward the North End and a bit of the waterfront, with Barry identifying buildings and pointing out details along the way. I love having a tour guide so I don’t need to figure out where I am going. We walked near the building where Cyndie’s office was when she worked for the Boston Public School District for a year.
Outside the Aquarium, we enjoyed a close visit (through glass) with several seals.
Lunch was at the Bell In Hand tavern, America’s oldest continuously operating tavern since 1795. Think: clam chowder and fish & chips. Mmm. My favorite.
We made a quick pass through Faneuil Hall Marketplace, walked solemnly through a Holocaust memorial, and visited two notable burial grounds where Revolutionary War-era patriots are interred, including Paul Revere and three signers of the Declaration of Independence.
The trees and other greenery of the Rose Kennedy Greenway had a couple of people pulling out phones to use an app to identify some of what we were seeing. It has me wanting to try adding a few unique new tree species to our property in Beldenville.
Our route back brought us to The Embrace sculpture on Boston Common, depicting four intertwined arms representing the hug shared when Martin Luther King Jr. was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964. The afternoon was topped off with a visit to the home of a friend, Kathy Graven, whose family was one of the founders of the Wildwood Lodge Club in Hayward, WI.
After a brief rest, we headed to The Elephant Walk South End restaurant for a dinner of Cambodian-French fusion offerings. Oh, my. The favors were rich, robust, and rewarding. My choice was from the day’s specials: Swordfish. I’m not sure that I was worthy of such exquisite cuisine.
Okay, maybe a few more images from the day…
Relative Something 