Posts Tagged ‘friends’
Tour Complete
I’m home again and living under a solid roof for which I have a whole new level of appreciation. All the joys of tenting in nature are a great treasure, for sure, but after day upon day of wet conditions, it tends to lose a little of its luster.
As soon as I stopped my car in our driveway, I started dragging gear out to dry.
For those of you who may have been following along and watching the weather at each of our destinations, it should come as no surprise that precipitation dominated our activities to varying degrees for 6 of the 7 days. The visible difference in flooding of the Cannon River from the first day to our last was shocking. As we crossed the river on a concrete bridge near our last rest stop of the trip, we paused to watch large trees racing downstream.
One particular beast showed up with the root ball sticking out of the water on the left and very large limbs rising out of the water on the right as it rapidly flowed broadside toward us on the bridge. I regret that I wasn’t quick enough to get a picture because it was an incredible sight. The thought crossed my mind that we probably shouldn’t have been standing there as it slammed into the legs supporting the bridge with an impact we could feel. In an instant, the current forced the root ball end downstream and spun the full-sized tree in line with the flow and the tree scratched its way under and continued in the flow.
We hung around at that rest stop extra long while the mechanics rescued me from leaking tires.
That’s my bike on the stand being expertly repaired. (Steve: I thought my bike was “tubeless-ready,” but Joseph discovered it was plain old tubeless, much to my surprise. They had two new tires available and fixed me up since the old ones had too many tiny holes [and one mosquito-bite-looking bump.])
As they were finishing, Luther noticed the highway officials were closing the road at the bridge behind us. What a year for us to be riding around rivers that were overflowing so dramatically.
Despite the wetness, this year’s trip still offered up the most precious reward of all: meeting new people and horsing around with old friends. There was an uncharacteristic number of people dropping out early, partly due to the constant threat of storms, but for other reasons too. One pulled out because of a death in the family. Some suffered the consequences of their two bike wheels not remaining in contact with the ground at all times.
I’m pleased this year to be one of those who made it all the way to the end. I’m hoping to have inspired a few new readers, including the twins, Maggie and Kathleen, Tom from Atlanta and Kim in Winnipeg. A special shout-out goes to a pair of kindred spirits who I immediately fell in love with. I met them one at a time and in different memorable ways: CJ and Amy, I hope we might discover a way for you to come experience Wintervale in person someday.
I’ve explained to Cyndie that I have invited practically the entire tour over to see our place. The next best thing will probably be for them to read about it here.
No sooner than I had finished spreading all my stuff out in the partial sunlight, more rain started to fall again. I hustled to get it all into the garage.
It really doesn’t need to be said, but… the grass needs some serious mowing. Unfortunately, I may need to wait another day before starting on that project.
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50th Tour of Minnesota
I haven’t left home yet but my vacation week begins today! As I’ve done many other times, during my week of cycling the Tour of Minnesota and tent camping in various towns around the state, I have prepared scheduled posts for the days I’m away showing the planned routes so you can follow along and know our approximate location when the inevitable severe weather warnings pop up.
I wish that was a joke, but anecdotal evidence indicates wicked storms are becoming more the norm than the exception during the middle of June in Minnesota. In years past, I have ridden out storms in my tent while many others chose to sleep en masse in school buildings. After a too-close lightning strike one night and a screaming alarm on my phone indicating an imminent tornado another night, I realized I could no longer trust my judgment. I intend to be quicker to join the throngs indoors this year if warnings are posted.
The changing climate likes to point out these are not my father’s thunderstorms. Message received.
This being the 50th anniversary of this middle-of-June biking and camping week and my 25th (+/- my first year was 1994, but I missed a few throughout), I am thrilled at the switch from the far reaches of the state –over the years we’ve slipped into every state around Minnesota plus Canada– to a route that will take us directly through the middle of the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul.
Somewhere between 250 and 300 people will gather this afternoon in Cannon Falls, MN to pick up our registration packets and set up tents to kick off the most fun like-minded cyclists could possibly have. I can’t wait to see Doobie, Joyce, Joey, Rich, Julie, Steve, Gary, John, Jim, Steve, Roger, Dick, Al, Suzanne, Laura, Rhonda, David, Tim, Cynthia, Scott, Luther, Joseph, Marilyn, Geoffrey, Ed, Deanna, Mary-Jo, Luke, Staci, Jennifer, Dan, Jim, Peggy, Lance, Mary, Cindy, Scott, Jackie, Mary, Jerry, Ellen, Joan, Melanie, Dusty, Karen, Dick, Jan, Pat and the rest whom I will recognize but not remember their names, plus the many people who I will be meeting for the very first time.
Here’s hoping for a safe and adventure-filled week pedaling two wheels and sleeping on the ground with friends.
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Aurora Watch
We go from Trillium observation on the ground to glowing ionosphere in the sky. Last night, friends Pam Knutson and John Bramble drove out from the Cities to join Cyndie and me in an Aurora Borealis watch party on the hill in our hay field.
We closed gates to temporarily constrain the horses to the paddocks and back pasture. Then Asher and I walked up to the high spot just after sunset to scout our location for sky-watching.
Cyndie packed our zero-gravity recliners and blankets in the car and we set up to await the show.
After reading the multitude of reports getting posted about fantastic sightings in locations well to the south of us, I was prepared for a spectacular event. Cyndie has an app that gives an aurora forecast and it was sending alerts of the increased activity. As Pam and John arrived, the percentage of likelihood was indicating 33% in our location.
We had a great view of constellations and saw satellites move across the sky in addition to regular airplane traffic. As far as Aurora goes, we saw very little with our eyes. However, I had read that using Night Mode on our iPhones would capture more than our eyes perceive.
Bingo!
There was some color showing up through the camera lens around 11:30 p.m. that our eyes could barely see.
This was around the same time Cyndie took another look at the app to see what our chances were up to for a visible spectacle. It had changed from 33 down to 4%. That was good enough to help us all decide to call it a night.
Fatigue helped me easily get over a fear of missing out on even more dramatic viewing after we stopped watching. Our warm and cozy bed was calling my name loud and clear.
At least our iPhones saw something pretty cool.
I had fun watching the night sky with friends for a few hours and listening to the calls of an owl serenading us. I had even more fun climbing into bed and falling instantly into Sleepsville. By that hour, it didn’t matter to me if the viewing outside was becoming better than ever.
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Guitar Pal
I first met him as my friend’s friend. The Honorable H. Peter Albrecht. Only knowing him for all too short a time did nothing to soften the horrible shock of learning Peter died yesterday after suffering a stroke. The primary connection I was privileged to have with Peter was playing guitar and singing songs at our friend, Gary Larson’s “music night” parties.
Peter was fun, funny, friendly, gracious, witty, a jokester, I’ve heard prankster, and did I mention fun? He also was a collector of guitars. Peter described keeping an old empty guitar case at his office so he could purchase a new (to him) instrument and bring it home without revealing he had added another guitar to his collection.
He didn’t exclusively play and collect guitars. Some nights after dinner at Gary’s, Peter would pull out a gorgeous mandolin or less often, a banjo. As thrilling as that was for me to see the greater extent of his musical passions, it left me struggling to follow along without being able to see what chord he was playing on songs I didn’t know.
We all tend to struggle with remembering lyrics at times. When Peter clicked into a song, I found myself mesmerized by the many verses he was able to deliver with ease. Suddenly, he would nod my way and invite me to improvise a lead up the fretboard, jarring me back to needing to connect my head with my fingers.
I cherish the stories from Gary and Peter’s years together working as judges that I was able to hear over so many dinners. It was not enough though. I was playing my guitar yesterday to polish up my underused skills in preparation for the latest occasion of Gary’s music party scheduled for tonight.
Receiving that shocking message from Gary yesterday afternoon introduced a finality that I’m wrestling to comprehend. How can Peter be gone? Why didn’t I play more songs with him when I had the chance?
It has instantly made every memory of playing together with Peter and Ned Wahl on those music nights a pure treasure for me.
I wrote a song for Gary to commemorate his many years of hosting these parties. Peter was such an influence on me he made it into the lyrics, good-naturedly poking fun at him for his bad jokes.
look what Gary has created
he’s done it again
gathered all of us together
to feast among friendsthen we revel with some music
and lush sing-alongs
well maybe not so lush
we can’t remember the songsChorus: hail, hail our friend Gary
it’s a wonderful thing
he gets all of us together
and inspires us to singwe pause to remember
all the times come before
then relish this fine moment
singing with friends we adoresome say it’s penance we’re paying
for being so well-fed
or a way to forget the worst jokes
Peter has saidbut the truth is that we’re happy
to sing when it comes time
it’s a precious thing to be here
mixing with folks so divine
Into the light, Peter. I will think of you every time I flip the latches open on my guitar case.
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Country City
Out here in the rural countryside, Cyndie and I spent yesterday morning wrangling unwanted vines in an area of our woods that has received little attention during our ownership. We rewarded ourselves for that effort with a trip to the big city for dinner with friends and live music at a new venue.
I have a new project in the early stages to make some changes to the landscape around the house. One of the important fixes will be the routing of a downspout at the corner of the garage leading to our front door.
The plastic conduit didn’t work. I’ve decided to change to an overhead route for the downspout and will try constructing an arbor out of vines to support it. We’ve been cutting down so many large, woody vines this year that I would like to make use of the wealth of interesting wood.
Pulling the vines out of all the branches they were clinging to was an exhausting effort. I’d like to use as many of the small runners coming off the main trunks as possible to tie things together for an arbor. I didn’t want to just cut them off, which would have been much easier.
In the afternoon, we drove to Minneapolis for dinner at the home of our friends, Pam & John. We started on their front porch in the warm sunlight…
When the sun moved on and the porch became more shadowed we headed inside for a scrumptious early meal. After dinner, we drove to the new Zhora Darling restaurant at the site of the former North East hallmark Red Stag Supper Club. Pam and John’s son, Sam, plays drums in FénixDion. Last night they performed in a pared-down trio version of their membership.
It made for a very fulfilling day and contrasted wonderfully with the long stretches of days when I have [happily] done little outside the house. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been waiting the last few weeks, oh, even months to dig into an outdoor project and then go frolic around in Minneapolis.
We did make it home in time to turn on the latter portion of the NCAA Women’s basketball game between Iowa and UConn. I’m okay with Caitlin Clark and her teammates getting to play one more game. I’ll be watching.
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Easter Brunch
Yesterday’s Easter brunch deserves additional press. Did I mention Cyndie made EVERYTHING with one exception of purchased meats? That is why I was smelling tempting aromas for several days. Read the list below, presented in no specific order, and try to imagine fitting a little taste of each offering on your plate or in your stomach during one brief brunch event:
- Caramel Rolls
- Cinnamon Buns
- Puppy Tails (baked cinnamon twists)
- Pear Almond Crescents w/ apricot glaze and almond drizzle
- 4-Cheese Scalloped Potatoes
- Tulip Deviled Eggs
- Caramelized Pecan Spring Mix Salad
- Three Pea Salad
- Roasted Heirloom Rainbow Carrots w/ orange marmalade and maple syrup
- Fruit Salad w/ [Patty’s] honey-lime dressing
- Egg Bake w/ roasted red peppers, spinach, asparagus, caramelized onions, mushrooms, orange & yellow peppers, and lots of cheese
- Holy Kolachy sandwich buns (Gramma Betty Buns)
- HoneyBaked Ham and Turkey* (purchased)
- Raisin Sauce
- Coconut Bunny Butt Cupcakes
- Dark Chocolate Cherry Almond Bark
- 4 kinds of Truffles: Grand Marnier, Cognac, Vanilla, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
- Mint Meringue Cookies
- Lemon Curd Meringue nests
- Butter Cream Cookies
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Honorable mention goes to Elysa for her contribution of an “Imposter Dessert” that looked like Deviled Eggs but was in fact a sweet treat of sweet milk gelatin filled with cream cheese frosting.
Like mother, like daughter, Cyndie had taken a crack at her own twist on deviled eggs. Neither of them knew what the other was up to. Cyndie decided to prepare her eggs like some she saw in an image online.
It was the last thing she did before heading to bed Saturday night. I asked her how they turned out and she hesitatingly offered “a solid medium.”
They tasted great! Although, I understand her opinion. It’s similar to the way fast food burgers look in commercials compared to what you actually receive in the wrapper. Cyndie is healthy enough to laugh along with me when her outcomes might not meet what she intended after seeing images in recipes. Her tulips look like they may have been dropped during shipment from the florist.
I ate leftovers for dinner last night while watching March Madness basketball.
I got up from my spot on the couch and went downstairs to make the sandwich. When I returned, a certain canine had taken my place.
I didn’t have the heart to kick him out so I sat on the side.
Do you think I can get Cyndie to take a day off from cooking or baking something new today?
Me either.
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Flowing Now
It’s quite possible that we are done with the snow season. That doesn’t rule out a stray snow shower in the next month but future incidents are unlikely to result in days of white blanketing the land like we are just had. The water was flowing at maximum levels in the drainage channels yesterday afternoon.
We have reached the point where the remaining piles of snow around the barn become precious resources for cleaning mud off my boots. These days are numbered.
Our afternoon will be filled with an Easter feast that Cyndie has been preparing for days to serve to a gathering of family and friends.
I suspect the day will be filled with struggles to contain Asher’s enthusiasm for visitors and food left in his reach. For the record, nothing is truly ever out of his reach. The poor guy has been noticeably unenthusiastic about his dog food of late. We were wondering if he might be unwell but this morning it occurred to me that there might be an issue with the current bag of food. A bad batch, maybe?
When he sniffed at his bowl this morning and then walked away from it, we replaced the serving with some rice and chicken and he gobbled that up without hesitation. We definitely don’t want him going hungry so we will make solving this a priority. It’s hard enough to keep Asher focused on responding to commands he has already learned without us having to cope with him being in a “hangry” mood.
Delicious food and merry mirth will be flowing momentarily at Wintervale. I’m looking forward to being able to taste what I have been smelling from Cyndie’s kitchen for days.
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Friend Group
Some of my favorite summer biking friends gathered yesterday for a walk around Lake Nokomis followed by an early dinner at Italian Eatery restaurant. Turns out the restaurant is a block away from the double bungalow Cyndie and I rented when we first got married over 40 years ago. Talk about a visit to what feels like ancient history.
I arrived just early enough to allow myself a chance to walk the alley where I used to park my truck to see if it matched the fragments of my foggy memory.
That was a long time ago. I think I would need to go inside to do my memories justice, but that was not on my agenda. I circled around to the front of the house and the primary impression I was able to form was that a lot of time and a wide range of experiences have occurred since our time there.
I traveled from those fragmented memories to the immediate presence of the precious energy of my like-minded comrades. The warm sunny day I was enjoying when I left home had morphed into an overcast dreary chill by the time we set off to amass some respectable number of steps.
There were a LOT of dog walkers out and about. It was a challenge to keep Julie from stopping to meet every pup we came upon. I ended up having a pleasant visit with a woman walking in the same direction as us with a gorgeous German shepherd. A very well-trained shepherd, which is what made an impression on me.
Our restaurant destination was a perfect choice after our brisk exercise. Italian Eatery makes their pasta fresh daily. We enjoyed great food in a nice atmosphere topped off with excellent service.
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On the left, Pappardello with yam puree, whipped ricotta, honey, and sage. To the right, Baked Garganelli of wild boar meatballs, rosemary sugo, Fontina, Taleggio. Delicious.
We shared some good yucks and caught up on a few details of the Tour of Minnesota bike trip coming up in June. Just like the Birkie event this year, it will be the 50th anniversary of the bike ride. What was it about 1974 that kicked off these epic adventures?
Whatever it was, I am a richer person as a result. The friends these events have connected me with are truly priceless.
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Getting Coffee
We are not comedians and are not in cars but I’d like to pretend you and I are out together for coffee just like Jerry and his guests on his internet series, “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” I’ve been binging the series lately and it’s got me missing the days of idle banter with my various accomplices in the fine art of waxing lyrical about all manner of minutiae.
I would describe the futility of cleaning hay bale shrapnel out of winter boots.
When a new pair of boots I ordered arrived recently, I struggled to decide what to do with the old pair. They had been repaired once, but now the rubber base was cracked and ripping away from the upper leather. Feeling they were beyond repair, Cyndie advised me to throw them in the trash.
The laces were worth saving, so I pulled them out. That helped me to notice the leather was in really good shape and could be used for some future project, I was sure. I decided to cut the threads holding the leather to the rubber.
That is when I discovered how much of the nooks and crannies were filled with hay remnants. That new consciousness led me to try to empty my new boots yesterday after hauling nine bales from the hay shed over to the barn.
After dumping all the hay out of one of the new boots, I took a picture to convey the futility of trying to get it all.
A while back, I wrote about how the horses, Swings and Light, drool food over each other’s heads when they eat close beside each other. Yesterday afternoon, Asher and I showed up at the barn after Cyndie had finished serving up the feed.
Cyndie described the challenge of getting the filled buckets clipped to hang as quickly as the horses preferred. She decided to let Swings have a first and then she bent over to hook the handle of the bucket. Do you see where this is headed?
She said, “Now I have a bunch of slobbered feed pellets down my neck.”
While Asher and I were making our way along the north loop trail I was impressed by the power of the low-angled winter sunshine to melt snow despite our daytime temperature remaining below freezing all day.
Is it obvious which direction is south? In the picture, Asher is facing the direction of the setting sun. It never gets high enough to shine on the whole path, but the areas that receive direct sunlight are completely clear of snow.
Based on the present weather forecast, the rest of the snow doesn’t stand much chance, even in the shade. Temperatures will rise well above freezing for the next few days.
By the way, I don’t drink coffee. Make mine a chai latte and bring on the humorous back-and-forth wisecracking about our perceptions of this crazy world in which we live.
Say goodbye, John.
“See ya later, gator!”
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Out Holidaying
Last night was a festive dinner and a [somewhat] holiday-ish concert at the Dakota in Minneapolis with our friends, the Wilkuses. Singer/songwriters Karla Bonoff and Livingston Taylor performed a mix of their solo pieces with duets and a handful of Christmas songs.
It is such a treat to hop in the car and find ourselves transported from the rural countryside to the downtown streets of the big city within an hour.
Tall buildings!
Highlights include the delicious deviled egg bite followed by a chicken sandwich and fries. Food and flavors that matched my desires perfectly on this occasion.
I was greatly entertained by one of Livingston’s songs where his lyrics sort of break a fourth wall if that can be applied here. I’d never before heard his song, “Railroad Bill” in which the main character, Bill, gets into an argument with the songwriter, Livingston.
Karla performed each of the songs that I wanted to hear in addition to her renditions of the holiday tunes and duets with Livingston, frequently backed by the very effective guitar artistry of Sean McCue.
The one thing missing that I truly enjoy in live concert performances is a blending of voices and spot-on harmonies, to put it in as gentle a way as I can think to say.
Despite that minor gripe, the show and audience contributed to a pleasant dose of holiday cheer. Getting in and out of downtown was a breeze, for which I, as the driver, was very pleased. It didn’t hurt that the weather was unseasonably gorgeous with temperatures well above average.
It felt more like October than December, which made it only a little bit weird to be reveling in the season of having ourselves a merry little Christmas now.
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Relative Something 