Posts Tagged ‘friends’
Declutter Day
It was quick. It was easy. So quick and easy, in fact, that I almost forgot it was part of my day yesterday. There is another likely reason it slipped my mind: it happened at the crack of dawn. A recent acquaintance volunteered to come first thing in the morning to take my collection of accumulated metal scrap. As a thank you to him for doing so, I offered him my old Craftsman riding mower as well.
That became a 2-for-1 decluttering success for me. That mower has been sitting untouched in the shop garage for at least two years. The battery was dead, so I couldn’t start it for him, but we pushed it out of the garage and onto his trailer in a wonderful exclamation point of decluttering.
Taking advantage of finding myself in the decluttering mode, I also finally took action on an inconvenient piece of trash that has been sitting around for years, collecting pigeon shit in the hay shed.
This plastic bucket had a broken bottom but was too big to fit easily in our trash bin. It needed to be busted up into smaller pieces. That’s something that I never found myself wanting to do, so it just got moved around in the shed each time it was in the way of whatever we were doing.
After the scrap metal was easily dispatched, I used that momentum to snap 
that bucket into little pieces that fit into a garbage bag.
There is no valid reason why that couldn’t have happened the very day the bottom of that bucket broke in the first place.
The sun had just barely come up, and I had accomplished a day’s worth of rewarding feats. Then I completed manure management chores and headed to the house for breakfast. I watched the thrilling finish of Stage 16 of the Tour de France on Mont Ventoux, followed by raking, mowing, trimming, and more mowing.
Add in a little jaunt to Minneapolis for dinner with Rich and Gary, where we plotted a September bike adventure in South Dakota, and I found my mind had lost track of how my day had started.
The only thing missing was a nap that I would have enjoyed having somewhere in the middle of the afternoon.
Maybe I can make up for that today…
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Not Exactly
Imagine my surprise when I was mowing along the fence line and came upon an unfamiliar sign attached to the top wire of the hay field fence.
To the best of my knowledge, we don’t have a donkey. This would be one of several types of wonderful surprises that tend to appear whenever we leave our property in the capable care of our friends, Pam and John. Such whimsical good fun.
Somehow, the eleventh day of July has arrived while I wasn’t looking. Minutes, hours, days, and weeks pass in a blink when you are having fun. I don’t have a clue how I coped with working a day job on top of everything else in life, since I am having trouble keeping up with daily life in retirement.
I’m on a swingset that goes all the way around, and all I get are glimpses of my surroundings as I sail past. My body feels older. Like it’s no longer mine. My mind and my body are on two different treadmills that roll along, each at a different speed.
Everything that I have learned over my lifetime tells me that the separation between opposites is so much more delicately thin than too many people are willing to accept. Often, things might not be exactly as they seem.
We don’t actually have a donkey, but if we did, I’m pretty sure it would be highly trained.
If I had a logical train of thought, you might find it easy to follow along to wherever it is I am headed. One thing that might help would be my having any idea where it is I intend to go. Quite honestly, I don’t. It’s not exactly a fine science.
It could benefit you to think of this post like the lyrics of a song. As you follow along, some portions might speak to you, and others just seem to fit the verse. Of course, this idea may only serve to detract from any sense of logic that may have existed before I started rambling.
If I were to somehow wrap all this nonsense up with a bow of intelligent thought, it might be this: I had no idea what I was going to write about when I started this post, and that does not exactly lead to a stellar composition.
Happy Eleventh of July!
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First Pass
We had a blast yesterday morning connecting with people currently living in the area who share a history of growing up in old Eden Prairie. It is reassuring to find there are like-minded folks who are actively working to make life better locally. I liked it when one of them said his contributions to helping people around here were a way to get back at the current President, who is constantly busy making things worse all over.
Amen.
When we got home, I hopped on the mower, hoping to complete a first pass cutting all the spaces that needed mowing by the end of the third day.
Conditions were ideal, but the exceptionally long grass necessitated a change in tactics, resulting in everything taking longer than normal. Some of the finished results were not pretty, but at least it looks better than not being mowed at all.
I decided to work late in order to finish the last of the mowing for this first pass of the long, long grass we faced on our return from a 10-day stay at the lake. Why do I always save the labyrinth for last? Now I can start the whole place over again, cutting reasonably long grass this time.
Working late down at the labyrinth brings an additional challenge, as the mosquitoes were becoming active in the shade, and apparently, I made for an appetizing target.
When I finished mowing, I stepped into the woods to check out the downed oak limb that Cyndie has been “nibbling” away at with the hand chainsaw.
It’s made it much easier to see what I’m going to be up against when I get around to cutting it up with the big chainsaw. You could say that Cyndie has made the first pass on the oak limb.
I think I’m going to let the tree cutting wait until I’ve finished using the hedge trimmer along the sides of pathways and the string trimmer along the fence lines.
There will be no rest for the weary during the growing season.
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Nonstop Mowing
When the order of the day involves cutting the grass or trimming the sides of our trails, there isn’t much in the way of adventures to write about. It was hot in the direct sun, the mower worked perfectly, I accomplished a little more area than I thought I would yesterday, and I still have over a day’s worth left to finish. That’s not counting the fence line trimming that usually takes several days to fully complete.
Even though I have so much groundskeeping work to do, we won’t get anything done this morning because we have a brunch date in River Falls with some old Eden Prairie acquaintances. To my family and old EP friends, the names Herzog and Westerhaus might ring a bell. You never know who you might come across in life after a move to the country like we did over twelve years ago.
That’s about it. Since that’s all I’ve got, I’ll throw in a photo Cyndie took of the horses grazing in the freshly cut hay field.
One added note: Cyndie just described a successful exercise with Asher off-leash while she was trimming small branches from the large oak limb that fell. (We don’t see much of each other on days when I mow and she is busy with other projects. I hear about her adventures later.) She said he busied himself exploring the woods for a while as she worked, then eventually wandered over to sit upright nearby on the trail and waited until she finished.
Good dog.
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Wildwood Picnic
The big event of the holiday weekend was to be the recent tradition of a pickleball tournament up at Wildwood Lodge Club, but the persistent on-and-off rain sprinkles were enough to keep the court surface too wet for safe combat. The tourney has been given a second attempt with whoever remains available starting at ten o’clock this morning.
My competitive gene is not feeling up to the effort, so I may become a member of the spectator benches to offer appropriate heckling support as needed.
In the absence of the tourney drawing all the member families together yesterday, the evening picnic feast became the focus of the day. Since the lodge and its surroundings are currently in a state of transition, Cyndie’s family became the host location, which meant the afternoon involved moving a lot of tables and chairs from down by the lodge.
Since the number of people from the association families attending was expected to be between 55 and 60, we were desperately hoping the troublesome rain would take a pause long enough to pull the whole thing off.
As an in-law to Cyndie’s family, I try to keep my opinions about how to proceed to a minimum while watching the three planners-and-doers work their magic as hosts in providing a stellar social event of the highest caliber. It becomes its own form of entertainment as each person takes on all the tasks at virtually the same time to do and re-do steps of gathering this and placing that just right.
It goes all the way to arranging cars in the best out-of-the-way places, which involved at least three tries to ultimately reach a settlement that worked.
I rode along with Cyndie to pick up enough ribs to feed an army. The restaurant selected for this catering job was conveniently located on the other side of the lake. When we arrived at peak business hours, it looked like it was going to be a serious challenge to navigate all the traffic of vehicles and people competing for a meal.
With luck on our side, we drove around all the cars that were stopping to park along the driveway and found an open spot right in front. Meandering past the throngs outside waiting for their names to be called for a table, we stepped to the host podium like we were VIPs checking in.
The woman managing Cyndie’s large order appeared and was thrilled about our parking spot. She was obviously in high-gear coping mode, reporting they were even busier than how busy she had expected it to be this holiday weekend Saturday night. They opted to bring us around to the back door of the kitchen to transfer the precious, hot cargo to the car.
With only one near-calamity of acceleration on the drive back, we delivered the ribs, sauces, and beans successfully without spilling a drop.
Soon, folks began arriving with arms full of appetizers, salads, and sides to fill out a menu that could sustain double the number of us in attendance. I took no pictures of the spectacular spread because I was either too busy gabbing with someone or munching on finger foods.
When the ribs were served, my hands were too sticky with barbecue sauce, and I got too engrossed in catching up on other people’s life adventures. When I finally thought of taking pictures while in the middle of a conversation, only by handing Elysa my phone and asking her for the favor did I get these snapshots of the continuing story exchanges still in process in the post-feast bliss of yet another annual Wildwood 4th of July picnic (despite the interruption of a brief nuisance rain shower that had occurred).
When 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
Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
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Era Ending
Around 59 years ago, a group purchased an old fishing lodge and cabins on a lake in northern Wisconsin to create a vacation spot for their young families. They formed an association known as the Wildwood Lodge Club. There have probably been as many changes occurring in the association as have occurred with the growing families with each passing year.
Not only have member families dropped out and new families have been welcomed in, but individual lives have passed throughout the many years. Many times, tough decisions have been considered, and today we are seeing the most recent changes get underway.
In the late 70s, early 80s, the association divided lots, so instead of all families sharing cabins on a rotating basis, each family would own a specific plot. The association continued to hold the lodge and tennis court plots until the last couple of years. Now, families on the lots adjacent to those significant amenities have purchased them.
Yesterday, demolition began on the least precious portions of the historic old lodge.
Small trees were cleared away to make room for the teardown of the back portion of the lodge. We set out chairs so Cyndie’s mom could watch some of the work as it happened.
The structure was rotting to the point that it didn’t make sense to attempt repairs. The family that took possession of the lodge lot will build a new structure that will offer opportunities for a variety of future uses.
Windows and paneling were removed and saved for reuse in the new construction after the shell of the building is razed.
It definitely feels like the end of an era, but it isn’t really that final. It’s just another step in the 59 years of steps that have happened. They have moved cabins before, and even moved the main private roadway that runs to the end of our peninsula.
In the early 80s, I wrote a song about the changes that happened when families started building their own new “cabins” in place of the original vertical log shacks from the time it was a fishing resort.
It seems just like a week or two
And Fourth of July has come and gone
And I was up at my favorite place
Folks were there to have a good time
Work got done, and we had a good time
Cabins have moved, and new ones are growin’
A place to sleep’s not as easily found
I sit on the porch of what was cabin three
Almost see the beach you never used to see
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-oo-oo-ooood
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
When 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
Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
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 Friswold’s up at cabin three
Hayward’s still a few minutes away
Round Lake’s just as 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-oo-oo-ooood
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Curious Heron
There was a heron standing atop the canopy over the boats that appeared to be very curious about something up by the lodge.
Maybe it was noticing the totem pole that had been a gift from the second generation to honor their parents. The totem used to have antlers with a depiction of a mouse carved into one and a bat on the other, but they are now both leaning against the base due to decay. After intently staring for a long time, the heron must have noticed the totem didn’t move a bit when approached. The tall, gangly bird hopped down onto the dock, walked toward shore, and then stepped down into the water.
I was watching it the whole way, curious about what might be motivating its behavior as it came our way. There was no indication it was seeking a snack in the water, as the head stayed high, probably with one eye observing me. I attempted to remain perfectly still. However, Cyndie was raking the beach, so there was no reason to believe it didn’t realize we were there.
Assuming it would take flight any moment, I prepared to record video of the spectacle, possibly in slow-motion mode. It just kept walking in our direction, with long pauses that outlasted my interest in capturing a cinematic masterpiece. Of course, soon after I gave up, it took flight.
It flew a simple arc around us and landed along the shoreline just to our west. Making its way around the lake, I guessed.
I would have liked to observe it feasting on its favorite morsels beneath the surface of the water, but that wasn’t the mode it was in.
More than a decade ago, one of the member families whose property was at the end of the peninsula of our Wildwood Lodge Club association sold their place, and the buyers did not become members themselves. It’s always been a little awkward, but they are wonderful people, and Cyndie’s mom has reached out to them over the years to keep in touch.
Last night, she invited them to our place for a drink, and then we all went for dinner at a nearby supper club. The broiled walleye I had was a throwback to how my mom prepared the fish Dad would bring home from his trips to Mille Lacs Lake when I was a kid. The couple, Kevin and Michelle, were great company, and we had a fine time sharing tales of life’s adventures.
They would have been a fine addition to our association if it had played out that way. Given a choice of getting along well with others versus clashing and then excluding… I much prefer getting along. It truly is better for all of us in the end.
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Headed Home
Today is the last loop ride of the week, after which we pack up and drive back to our regular lives.
In truth, I don’t think I’ll bother with the biking since my precious Trek bicycle isn’t much fun to ride in the condition it’s in.
I gave it an attempt yesterday, and the crunchy sounds and precarious status of a broken bolt made the ride much less enjoyable.
In contrast, hanging out with great friends is the best part of this annual adventure.
I chose the short option which logged 33 miles past a beautiful patch of the state flower, Lady Slippers, and through scenic iron range terrain.
Yes, there were hills. There was also a persistent drippy, pesky sprinklely drizzly precipitation that barely wetted the ground, but did a good job of messing up our bikes.
Of course, as soon as Steve and I got back to camp, the sky turned blue and hot sunshine prevailed for the rest of the day.
All in all, the weather was far from the worst we’ve endured, the camping was good, and the northern Minnesota scenery was as beautiful as ever.
My body was in better shape than my bike. I keep threatening that I don’t want to continue to do this ride every year, but oh how I would miss these friends if I were to finally stop.
I plan to drop off my bike for service on the way home. Then comes the post-trip cleaning and drying of gear, followed by a luxurious sleep on a real bed again.
Adventures with friends are great, but gee, it’ll be great to be back home!
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Interesting Day
I recognized his face right away, but it took a second to figure out from where. When he turned to me and instantly recognized me, we both quickly knew it was PHI.
It was John Newman from the Lab at Physical Electronics. Finding him in the kitchen of a Catholic Church in Ely, Minnesota where the Knights of Columbus were serving us breakfast was a wonderful surprise.
We shared the classic life comparison that follows “What are you doing here!?”
We biked mostly roads to Babbit and back before packing our gear to drive down to Chisholm.
After dinner, some stretching was needed before the walk back to our tents.
My bike was back with the mechanics again to continue their efforts at silencing the ratchety creaking.
Efforts were suspended after a screw sheared that will require more work than they are able to provide from their mobile repair trailer.
I’m going to try gently riding it as is today and see how it does. I will have the phone number for the sag driver handy, if things don’t go well.
It was an interesting day.
Happy Juneteenth today!
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Constant Shifting
We rode from Ely to Tower after barely surviving the epic downpour on Monday night.
I took a picture of the high water mark where floating debris remained after the flood receded.
Just a little further and our tents would have been inundated.
Riding was superb on this leg of the Mesabi trail.
In the photo, I am secretly trying to hold Steve’s pack so he can pull me while I coast.
The up and down gyrations of this trail forced the most shifting of gears that I’ve done in a long, long time.
Eventually, the sky cleared up so we could dry things out after we returned to our tents in Ely.
It looked like the tent had regurgitated its contents.
In honor of Rich’s sharing his photos with me to use here, I will close with a shot he took that features him prominently.
Thanks, again, Rich!
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Relative Something 