Posts Tagged ‘friends’
Community Dinner
It’s Memorial Day holiday in the U.S. today, honoring our nation’s war dead. I have not directly experienced this kind of loss so my observance is generalized to the memories of all those who never returned home.
Our holiday weekend at the lake shifted from working together to socializing outside the lodge. Despite having ridden my bike past the sign announcing our high fire danger earlier in the afternoon…
at dinner, we lit the wood in the fire pit in the hope some smoke would keep the mosquitos at bay. Those pesky blood chasers are more troublesome this year than I remember them ever being before.
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The gentle breeze off the lake was supposed to help reduce pressure from the flying bloodsuckers, too but it died down shortly after we gathered. It didn’t take long for the skeeters to get the upper hand. The lack of breeze made for less smoke from our fire, too.
At least that meant less fear of losing control of the flames in our fire pit.
The evening socializing was cut short as we all were chased indoors. At our place, a few more card games broke out on the porch.
It is feeling an awful lot like this is a holiday weekend.
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Aging Club
Wildwood Lodge Club started in 1966. The first generation is dwindling and of the six current families, only three are original. 
The club is in its 57th year but the buildings have been around since 1919. It was a fishing lodge when the eleven original Twin Cities families bought it and formed the club. The children of the first generation have taken over decision-making responsibilities, significantly increasing the number of minds that need to come to a consensus on management.
One of the biggest issues looming is the integrity of the main lodge building which has kitchen facilities and restaurant-style seating. The foundation is failing and the floor is rotting. The repair costs are unpredictable and hard to justify.
The ramifications tend to ripple all the way out to shaking the visions of what the future of the club might be like for the 3rd generation and beyond. With each generation, the added number of invested people complicates almost all decisions, particularly ones needing consensus for managing association business.
There are no easy answers and we can feel that. Gathering at the beach yesterday to remove the winter’s worth of leaf accumulation and arrange chairs, paddleboards, kayaks, a canoe, a small fishing boat, and several sailboats, talk informally wanders to the issues that aren’t easily resolved.
Thank goodness the precious people who are the extended family of Wildwood are the true core of what defines this club. There is no shortage of fun and laughter despite all the tough decisions looming. Dinner at each house is a delicious mix of wonderful stories and good food. Wandering next door for a visit is a guaranteed party. The north woods surrounding the lake is a vacation paradise.
Last night’s corn on the cob tasted like August. I don’t know where it was grown or how long ago it was picked, but someone did an amazing job of providing an end product that defied my sense of time and logistics.
My luck at our multiple card games has been nothing but bad, however, the fun quotient is as present as ever.
We don’t know what the future may bring, but just because the club is aging doesn’t mean it can’t last. There are plenty of possibilities and I am confident this group will eventually figure out a way to adapt and endure.
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Meeting Again
How did you find this blog? Back in 2009 when I started, I emailed family and friends to invite them to check it out. WordPress folks with no previous knowledge of me have slowly grown my followers to over a thousand and I regularly see visiting traffic from countries all around the world. In March of this year, I learned of a regular reader whose name I recognized from high school in 1977.
Patty was in the class behind mine and I think we agree our interactions were somewhat limited. She doesn’t recall the exact path she followed to discovering my blog but the probable route through links from old Eden Prairie people and social media sharing seems logical. Her affinities for log homes, horses, and dogs drew her in but she didn’t exactly remember who I was. Since she was in the same class as Cyndie’s brother, she recognized the Friswold connection.
Honestly, I don’t always know who I am writing for, and learning of people like Patty who resonate with my stories the way she does is a real treat that inspires me to write even more.
When Cyndie’s brother, Steve, sent a text (re)introducing us to Patty with a mention she and her husband, Steve (a different one; don’t get confused) would love to visit Wintervale, we were thrilled. Checking calendars produced a target date for a get-together in April. How many nice weekends do you remember occurring in April this year? We rescheduled twice due to precipitation of the slush variety under cold temperatures and unpleasant winds.
Yesterday, the third time was the charm. The weather was so much better, the wait was easily justified. Plus, there are now leaves on the trees!
Asher couldn’t get enough of Patty and Steve, usually wanting to climb all over them. The horses –mostly Swings– showed more interest than usual in receiving attention.
We enjoyed brunch on our deck and then did a walking tour of the grounds that I hoped would bring all my writing to life for them. It’s hard for me to imagine what sense of the place readers get when they only have my words and pictures to rely on. Patty tells me their real-life visit was very much like the sense they had formed in their minds.
I firmly believe our sanctuary becomes more precious when visitors spend time here. Yesterday, the preciousness was cranked up to 11 with the presence of Patty and Steve’s energies resonating with all that Wintervale has to offer.
Favorite Antidepressant
First of all, the weather yesterday was idyllic. That alone goes a long way to soothe a person’s angst. Beyond that, my favorite antidepressant is getting outdoors for exercise with a group of people who I know and love. I have known most of the people who showed up to ride for almost thirty years from the annual June bike trip called the Tour of Minnesota.
Our route along the Dakota Rail Regional Trail took us right past the home of my good friends, Mike and Barb Wilkus, so I brought a bunch of the riders off the trail to say hi to Mike.
He opened his garage to show us the camping trailer he was packing for a little getaway they have planned.
My biking group did this same warm-up ride last year but I failed to realize we were going right past the Wilkus’ place. Upon figuring it out, Rich Gordon and I stopped to surprise them. This year, I warned Mike that I’d be coming by, not mentioning the part about bringing 8 other cyclists with me.
The other thing we did yesterday on the ride was revisit a stop at the Big Stone Sculpture Garden in Minnetrista. A number of us reenacted last year’s pose in front of the word Love carved into stone.
We pedaled and visited for 30 miles which served to rekindle my deep appreciation for these precious friends.
Thank goodness Rich is adept at capturing pictures of us as we ride. Thanks for all the photos, Rich!
The joy of biking with these folks is the primary reason I have returned to the annual June biking and camping event year after year. Yesterday served as an excellent primer to inspire my preparations for the trip that will start in Albany, MN this year. Riding the country roads around my home all by myself isn’t as rewarding but getting in some preliminary hours on the saddle always goes a long way toward minimizing discomfort for a week of riding in the middle of June.
NOT having sore butt bones when you will be riding day after day is also an antidepressant, if you know what I mean.
I would be even happier if the week in June isn’t rainy or stormy, but I won’t frame that as a requirement. I’ll throw that inspiration out there as a potential bonus.
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Telling Trail
Our darling puppy was up to mischief while I was showering yesterday. When I opened the curtain I discovered a trail of evidence strewn across the floor. Somebody was nosing around in a waste basket where they weren’t supposed to be. Who would do such a thing?
Well, our little troublemaker wasn’t smart about hiding his tracks. Asher left behind a critical piece of evidence that gave away his presence.
On Monday, it will be three weeks since we brought home our adopted pup. Cyndie shared a graphic with me that refers to a general 3/3/3 guideline of the adjustment period for a dog after adoption. Three days to decompress/three weeks to learn our routine/three months to start to feel at home.
I didn’t really notice Asher needing to decompress during those first days, but I did wonder what he must be thinking about the change. He is definitely learning our routine and adjusting to it very well, for the most part. There have been several times when he has tested our boundaries. In a couple of months, he will feel at home and hopefully by that time he will have accepted all the boundaries we established.
Today, I am on another kind of trail. I will be joining some of my cycling friends for a ride on the Dakota Rail Regional Trail, heading west out of Wayzata. I need to get serious about putting in saddle time in advance of my annual expedition on the Tour of Minnesota which happens in the middle of June.
In just a couple of blinks, June will be here. I hope the ground dries up enough by then that I will be able to mow the areas I’ve been skipping because they’re too wet.
Here’s hoping the smoke from Canadian wildfires won’t make breathing difficult for bicycling today. I rarely find myself riding with friends at the beginning of my cycling season and I’m looking forward to the chance to visit with folks while pedaling along.
At least we finally have a weekend with pleasant weather to be outdoors without a raincoat.
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Relatively Damp
Am I prone to understatement? Not always. Sometimes I go to the other extreme. My natural inclination is to be contrarian, so instead of titling this post, “Soaking !#@$ Wet,” I settled on a genteel descriptor for current conditions. The ground around here is actually wetter than an entirely saturated sponge this morning.
I’m sure the trees are soaking this up with glee. Buds are sprouting from every stem and branch and noticeably increasing the hues of green emerging by the day.
Yesterday’s World Labyrinth Day event brought ten visitors to Wintervale, six of whom are family, four friends, plus a small dog. After some stutter-starts at the meeting of dogs, Asher settled into a wonderful acceptance of all the activity, people, and the one pet unfamiliar to him in his new home. All signs continue to hint that we will find success soon in Asher developing into the pet we are hoping he will become for us.
As long as he refrains from putting his nose on the kitchen counter, then his paws, and reaching for an unfinished scone on a plate, or shredding the cover of the pad in his crate, or getting back up on the living room couch again, or failing to recognize we are speaking to him and directing commands his way for compliance.
He appears to be relatively willing to suppress his natural instincts and behave exactly as we desire at all times.
Hah!
Yeah, we got this.
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Counting Candles
No, I didn’t actually count them. I did ask one of the staff how many candles and their response was, “A lot!” Last night we met our friends Barb and Mike for dinner at the self-proclaimed “hip, urban venue” Cafe Lurcat next to Loring Park in Minneapolis and then moved to the spectacle in a spectacle of a candlelight concert by a string quartet in St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral.
It looked as fascinating with the lights on as it did with them off, although the warm glow was a better setting for the performance of string quartet music from Bach to The Beatles. It almost felt like I was getting some high culture, except for the welcome casualness of the hostess and performers combined with tunes I actually grew up listening to.
It was nothing short of supremely cool. I am in awe of the musician’s abilities and really grateful that people rally to put on shows like this. Really, that’s a lot of candles.
No candles for us today. World Labyrinth Day has arrived and we’ve got lots of last-minute preparation to finish. Our landscape is soaking wet after multiple dousings yesterday, but if the next round of passing showers could hold off until after 3:00, that would be just great.
Let the wave of peace pass over the world uninterrupted! It’s already rolling along…
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Mud Returns
Pick your adage: Be careful what you wish for. What could possibly go wrong? You never know how things will turn out. How much worse can it get?
It’s March. We are ready to be done plowing and shoveling snow. We are looking forward to seeing the ground again. We want the snow to melt. However, the ground doesn’t suddenly thaw out all at once. Just like it freezes from the top layer on down, it melts in the very same way.
Well, the top layer has thawed just beyond the overhang and it is now a muddy, mucky mess. The water can’t soak into the ground because the next layer down is still frozen solid. Water is just standing in hoof-sized pools.
My perpetual quest to clean up manure beneath and around the overhang promptly becomes an unwinnable battle when fresh droppings land in the pockmarked slurry of muck the horses keep walking in. It is a Sisyphean task that I nonetheless continue to wage despite the mess and my limited success.
Meanwhile, the space beneath the roof suddenly becomes an even more luxurious oasis than it usually is.
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The long day of drizzling rain was beginning to become sleet blown sideways by gusty winds when I went down to feed the horses at dinnertime. Beneath the overhang, it was calm and dry. Once again, I found myself praising the location and orientation of this barn.
The mud might be around for a long time to come in the days and weeks ahead but we are already starting to get antsy for conditions to allow me to get back to landscaping projects and Cyndie to try walking the uneven terrain down to the labyrinth. We have hopes of being able to promote World Labyrinth Day on May 6 this year if the ground dries up enough for hosting larger gatherings by then.
I’d like to offer a shout-out to friends, Patty and Steve who plan to visit us in April to experience Wintervale in person for the first time. Here’s to the gift of unexpected connections/reconnections that seem divinely inspired. Thanks for reaching out to us, Patty!
We are three days from the vernal equinox. I’m sensing spring is preparing to be sprung. Is that too much to wish for?
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Subscription Confirmation
What did I click on without realizing it? I have no doubt that possibly happened. I also would not be surprised to learn that this company which I’m not going to bother naming chose to subtly opt me in without informing me.
I received an email with the subject line: “Subscription Confirmation.”
“You’ve accepted the following offer”
“Your subscription automatically renews until canceled.”
Huh? Wasn’t me. Cyndie assures me that she didn’t subscribe to anything. Ten bucks a month if we didn’t notice and cancel.
I will take great comfort in whatever struggle is involved in asserting my intention to get this subscription canceled.
More pressing things are on my mind as we pack up to drive home this afternoon. Mother Nature is keeping me occupied by delivering messy precipitation before I finished clearing all the snow that fell last Thursday. In our haste to drive to the lake on Friday, I left the deep snow around the hay shed and in front of the barn unplowed. I also didn’t finish clearing snow off the pavement in front of the shop.
As we were leaving Friday with our eyes on yesterday’s American Birkebeiner ski race adventures and a weekend with our friends, the Williams family, I felt it was well worth skipping out on snow-clearing chores at home.
UMD student Ella skied the big 50K race in pretty decent winter conditions. I thought the wind was a little brisk for spectating, but that would be a rather petty complaint to make in the face of the many hours-long efforts the skiers exert.
This morning my phone alerted me to a storm warning for tonight and tomorrow at home that will start with rain and turn to snow. I really dread dealing with that on top of the areas of snow I have yet to clear.
I didn’t sign up for that. In fact, I’d like to cancel any subscriptions that involve rain during our winter months.
Thank goodness the ski race in Hayward happened in good snow conditions. Just moments ago, while I was writing this in the sunroom overlooking the frozen lake where several deer had run across toward the island, one of the local eagles flew into the large pine tree just beyond our deck.
It did some wiggling with wings flailing on the far side of the trunk and Cyndie wondered if the eagle was eating something. Then the powerful bird took flight with a good-sized branch it had broken from the tree and headed for its nest over our tennis court on the far side of the fateful footbridge over the lagoon.
I would rather sign up for more of this than tomorrow’s weather adventures expected to occur at home.
But heck, either way… ADVENTURE!
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Accident Scene
Something clicked when we reached the intersection of Hwys 63 & 77 in Hayward. I told Cyndie I felt a moment of post-traumatic stress at the sight of the interchange as it triggered a memory of driving through it toward the emergency room at Hayward Hospital.
I went through that intersection twice more that night, on the way to and from the pharmacy in Walmart where I also needed to find wide-leg sweatpants for Cyndie to put on before leaving the hospital. I found a mauve-colored, elastic waist velvet number that Cyndie is prone to describing as “hideous” but she always follows that with the clarification that she loves them and they became her favorite pant during those weeks of recovery.
I asked Cyndie if she wanted to revisit the scene of her accident last November at the footbridge over the lagoon.
Without hesitation, her response was an emphatic “NO!”
Beyond the fact she didn’t want to get that close to the memory right now, the amount of snow and her hobbled condition make that walk ill-advised. From the comfort of the cabin, I took a photo in the general direction of that bridge.
I didn’t feel like walking out there, either.
In fact, we are watching the start of the American Birkebeiner while snugged on the couch.
We will be heading out to see Ella Williams ski her second Birkie after her wave crosses the start line. Trying to pick her out of the online streamed view of the thousand skiers staging for their wave is our first thrill of the day.
Soon we will don our winter wear and venture out to a convenient crossing at 00 (doublel-oh) to cheer her on in person. Then we will drive to town to watch the finish.
It will be an interesting test of how much walking Cyndie’s ankle will tolerate outdoors in the cold.
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Relative Something 