Posts Tagged ‘lake place’
Sunday List
Yesterday, we enjoyed a classic Sunday at the lake… forgive me for choosing to simply list the ways:
- wife on the deck powering her way through to the end of a book
- an inspiring song popping up on the random shuffle of my entire music library
- the success of a reply to a broadcast message seeking volunteers to occasionally feed horses
- hummingbirds returning to the freshly filled feeders
- the ping of an alert informing us of a flood watch issued for overnight at home
- acorns randomly bouncing on the deck from the branches of the oak tree overhead
- dew point in the 50sF and air temperature in the low to mid 70s
- a single loud and clear loon call in the middle of the afternoon
- meditative progress on sanding out tool marks from a sculpted wood shape
- using up all the food we brought from home without needing to shop or eat out
- allowing ourselves an exception to buy fresh corn cobs from a street vendor on the way up
- mentally winding down a weekend at the lake
- not leaving until Monday morning to avoid Sunday’s usual travelers returning to their homes
- sheets and towels washed in advance to facilitate an early morning departure
We head home this morning, where we will learn how wet it got after the series of deluges that rolled over the region while we were up north. Only one of those downpours made it to Hayward. The rest of the time, we enjoyed pleasant mid-August at-the-lake weather.
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Dream Driven
I haven’t got a clue. I’m feeling a little shaky about trusting my intuition after the dream I experienced last night. It was classic in how real it seemed compared to how obviously unreal it proved to be upon my waking. The way it mixed time and locations should have helped my sleeping mind to recognize it was a fabrication.
It has left me wondering if I will be savvy enough to sense when I am reading a message from a Russian bot or a genuine American citizen with a hairbrained opinion lacking any factual basis. If the President of the United States looks like he is buddying up with Putin, can anything healthy possibly result from it?
My dream had nothing to do with world politics. It involved someone with whom I am close. It involved death.
What is up with that? I’m not sure. I don’t want to delve into it.
Nothing to see here. Carry on.
I spent a little time shaping my latest wood piece yesterday while sitting on the shore of the lake, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the sand.
It is a cutting from the Y of two branches of the oak tree section that crashed to the ground in front of our eyes on an otherwise calm morning. We don’t know why it fell at that time. It was the kind of thing that could have happened in a dream.
As is often my style, I am leaving the bark on one side of my sculpture. I try to come up with words to explain the symbolism I assign to this, but I’m not entirely sure it isn’t just a way to get out of needing to finish all the surface area. Although, a smooth side and a rough side can be a pretty easy metaphor for a lot of things/people/situations.
Meanwhile, I hear the fearful leader has called out our military to control D.C. Talk about a disconnect between some people’s dreams and reality.
The delirium of this kind of thing happening in our country is a travesty. No wonder I find myself drawn to intense focus on precisely shaping a heart out of the solid wood of an old oak tree, bringing out the splendor of the beautiful woodgrain.
The symbol of a classic heart shape is a universal representation of love, and genuine love is the only thing that will get us out of any mess the world is in. When enough people of influence get around to fully embracing that, we might see that our best dreams can actually come true.
My dream last night has me wanting to soak up as much of my immediate reality as possible today. Maybe even hug the ones I love. Retune the vibrations of my intuition. Hold a heart-shaped piece of an oak tree and feel its strength and the love it symbolizes.
It’s our last full day at the lake this weekend. We drive home tomorrow morning.
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Lazy Daze
We are missing out on the wild thunderstorms pummeling the Twin Cities and Wintervale over the last 24 hours because we are up at the lake again. The mass of wet weather is large enough this morning that we are getting a dose of thunder and lightning to start our day, but yesterday was a long, slow, lazy, eventless day up here.
After lounging in bed for longer than I have in a long time, the rest of the day included a leisurely visit to the beach, a perfect nap before dinner, and not much else in the way of activity.
The rain this morning is moving in very slowly, and the air is ominously still. Most notable at this point is how surprisingly dark it is at 9:00 a.m. Cyndie moved the car into the garage under Cabin 3 just in case we get any hail. The weather app on my phone is pinging me with warnings for both Beldenville and Hayward.
These super-sized thunderstorms are the new norm in this ever-warming climate swing. Multiple inches of rain in short spans of time are becoming a common occurrence.
It’s looking like today may be just as lazy as yesterday for us, and that’s just fine. Has us feeling a little sheepish about leaving our horse-sitters to deal with all the weather drama, though. At least Asher doesn’t have a problem with storms, so they won’t need to worry about him.
My motivation for the day hasn’t changed much from yesterday. Maybe I’ll see if I can fit two naps in before dinnertime.
Feeling lazy and only mildly dazed.
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Flirting Danger
Sometimes in life’s adventures, dangerous situations are encountered. Between rainstorms yesterday, Paul, Randy, and I hit the road on our bikes –two of us only figuratively, but for Paul, it was literally.
I suspect his Parkinson’s is playing more and more of a role in his occasions of close encounters with the unforgiving earth while bike riding, but Paul ending up on the ground during bike rides has been happening for as long as we have shared time as cyclists.
Yesterday’s was one of the less forgiving instances. We had just made a decision to extend our planned route based on time available and distance involved and turned left instead of right. As we blissfully rolled along, Paul was behind me. I heard him vocalize a version of “uh oh” and felt his front tire pressing on my rear tire.
If you’ve ever watched much of the Tour de France, you’ll recognize that this situation rarely turns out good. I stiffened up to hold my bike upright as Paul unsuccessfully attempted to decouple us. I could tell by the sound of what followed it wasn’t a soft landing.
He was a bit of a mess, but dodged the calamity of broken bones. I pulled mud out of his helmet and attempted to calm his anger at himself, slowing his breathing so we could take a moment for assessment. Randy squirted some water on his wounds. We aborted our planned extension and headed straight back to the house to temporarily patch him up.
His wife, Beth, was scheduled to arrive by noon to pick him up and drive to visit friends in Upper Michigan for more cycling.
“Hello, honey…” Nice surprise for her. Beth is as stoic as Paul, and they packed his stuff up and headed off for the next adventure without much fuss. Paul texted an update that they visited the ER in Marquette, and he was given the okay to continue with ride plans after fresh applications of antiseptic and clean bandages. No stitches required.
While the more dedicated golfers forged ahead with their games for the rest of the day, despite the rain, the remaining group of us entertained ourselves with card games and a few minutes of televised golf, and a Vikings preseason game before getting in some boating action when the weather got nice.
A cruise on the pontoon led to a visit to Powell’s restaurant across the lake, where cocktails and tossing bags filled the time while we waited for a table.
I’m pretty sure that Joe’s throw fell cleanly through the hole after I snapped that photo. When I checked on the other four guys inside at the bar, I was unable to tell which group was having a better time.
The sun was setting before our food arrived, but nobody cared. Steve had initiated a round of sharing highlight memories each of us had from the many years of this annual adventure, and a lot of love was evident.
Our last flirtation with danger was navigating our way back across the lake after dark with unofficial lighting and me as the designated driver.
I am not a natural boat captain.
With Steve’s expert guidance and help in doing the actual departing and landing, we returned safely to Wildwood, where we reconnected with the other golfers.
Oh, there was one more dangerous act to report. I sacrificed my good health by staying up way too late for the third night in a row to hang out on the deck with music, laughter, heartfelt sharing, and disgusting cigar smoke.
Sometimes it is worth living dangerously.
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Full House
Even though the golf weekend hosted by Steve and Ben up at Wildwood is an annual event, seeing so many vehicles parked in the driveway is an unusual sight.
Since I don’t golf, a short time after everybody wakes up in the morning, I find myself all alone for breakfast on the deck in the calm, quiet over the lake. Well, not entirely alone. The two young eagles and their parents nesting over the tennis court made an appearance, visiting the large pine tree between the house and the lake.
In the afternoon yesterday, Paul and David L. joined me for a short bike ride strategically routed to minimize our exposure to the strong wind that blew all day long. Almost 18 miles at an average pace of 14.4 mph. Reasonable exercise in the scenic northern Wisconsin forests.
I saw Paul pointing into the trees ahead of me and turned to look as I passed a large doe that was standing squarely beside the road. She looked like a statue except for a quick shake of her tail as I rolled by.
The highlight of the day has to be the feast we enjoyed for dinner. Jeff brought fresh salmon and halibut caught on a fishing trip the week before. Steve grilled the fish and some brats and burgers under the close supervision of a couple of interested parties, while others tended the corn on the cob and side dishes.
Seating was arranged for 14 on the deck, but half the crew couldn’t wait to dive into the delicacies and chose seats at the dining table closer to the center island in the kitchen, where the spread was laid out.
We lingered on the deck until later than a good night’s sleep dictates, listening to music and regaling each other with tales mildly embellished for effect. Even though a notable conflict on the golf course with strangers earlier in the day that included a fair number of F-bombs didn’t escalate to fisticuffs, the retelling started to expand to imply…
I made a futile attempt to find a spot upwind of cigar smoke, but the camaraderie was worth the unpleasantness. If it had kept the mosquitoes away, I would have found it a tiny bit more tolerable.
You know me, I am well-practiced at finding something to whine about. Don’t be misled. I am having a fabulous time with some great friends. It is an honor to be included.
The early morning thunderstorm has passed, and most of the guys are off already for their final day on the links. I will join any bikers who remain for a roll on the roads after I get up and get going myself. I intend to put the battery/motor module on my bike today to cope with a third day in a row of riding.
My legs feel a little bit like I’m getting to be an old man. Of course, that is why I decided to buy a bike with a motor option.
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Humid Heat
The golf weekend fellows and I find ourselves in an Extreme Heat Watch issued by the National Weather Service. Precautions may be in order.
The heat makes for excellent patio dining. I think their first day of golfing is just an excuse to rendezvous at Angler’s Bar for dinner, as has become the tradition on the first night. We took up three tables, and the server suggested we pay by table. Kevin pulled out his credit card and said he would pay for our table.
When the bill arrived, his eyes got very big. The server thought he indicated he would pay for all three tables. He was being generous, just not that generous.
I went for a little bike ride in the morning, but didn’t start early enough to avoid the heat. I think that took some of my strength. I felt great when I stopped for a brief rest and some snacks after 20 miles. Somewhere around six miles after that, I started noticing a decline in my stamina.
I’d like to say it had something to do with the elevation gain, but I had already started running low on energy before reaching the big climb toward the end. That effort did seal the decision to choose a shortcut home, despite the added time on a busy State Highway with a 55 mph speed limit.
I generally try to avoid the kind of traffic that barrels along on main arteries with high speed limits. The risk was worth it at the end of that ride because it got me out of the headwind and avoided a couple of fair-sized hills I didn’t feel up to climbing. Plus, I made it back safely despite the scare of frequent traffic.
This afternoon’s ride may be a shorter route than yesterday’s since the extreme heat will be at its worst by the time they get done with their morning rounds of golf. I intend to choose a route with a lot less climbing, as well.
At least the lake will be available for a swim to cool down when we get done riding.
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Head Start
I got a head start on my next adventure by driving up to the lake place last night, a day early for the annual Golf Weekend hosted by Cyndie’s brothers, Steve and Ben. Several years ago, they started including me even though I don’t golf. Since several guys like to ride bikes in addition to their golfing, I bring my bike and let them put me through a workout of trying to keep up with them in the woods or on the road.
I’d like to use the excuse that I am getting too old for this, but they are the same age as me, so that doesn’t work.
By coming up a day early, I’m forcing myself to take a break from the groundskeeping work that never ends when 20 acres are growing at a frenetic pace.
Actually, I made great headway cleaning up the pathways and edges of trails through the woods over the last seven days. Some of the growth is beginning to take on a rather hedge-like appearance in several places around the property. That is just what I’m after.
I snuck in a few minutes of bike maintenance the other day, trying my hand at adding sealant to my tubeless tires for the very first time. I made one foolish mistake. Since I was trying to simultaneously entertain Asher, I moved my bike down by the barn, where he loves to sit in the shade of a tree and watch over his kingdom.
At that location, I didn’t have a convenient station for the bike, so I just leaned it against a barn door. I should have flipped it over, but I wasn’t thinking. When I added the sealant to the front tire after deflating it, the weight on the wheel flexed the tire, and a lot of the sealant leaked out of the bead. D’oh!
It was doubly maddening because the front tire was the one losing air faster than it should. I solved that error before doing the rear tire, and the process worked flawlessly. Luckily, the “refresh” of sealant, even though not the full amount, seems to have plugged the leak in the front tire. It’s holding pressure just as well as the rear.
Having never dealt with tubeless tires before, I was feeling a little intimidated by the whole sealant process. Now, after just one experience of adding a new amount, I see that it is not a big deal at all.
I’m going to give my tires a little road test this morning and get a head start on checking out my favorite road routes before the other riders arrive. As a bonus, I won’t be doing any mowing at all for the next few days.
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Home Heat
We got home yesterday in the middle of the day, and the heat outdoors was still set to “High.” After a night without power at the lake, the four of us who had stayed one more night –Cyndie, me, and our friends, Barb & Mike– sat in the porch and contemplated our situation.
We had enough leftovers to feed ourselves for breakfast, but then we would create dirty dishes that needed washing at a time when we had no running water. A restaurant breakfast was looking like a favorable alternative.
I reported seeing an Xcel Energy utility truck cruising up and down the Wildwood road in the pre-dawn hour, which was an encouraging sign that they were aware of our problem. Cyndie was able to text her brother, Ben, to learn he had received an email notification that power was expected to be back on by 7:30.
We decided to hang around long enough to see if that would prove to be accurate, placing virtual bets on actual timing. A short time later, 7:23 to be exact, the landscape pond waterfall sprang to life, revealing we were back in business. Sheets went into the washing machine, and breakfast was reheated.
Closing up the house for departure from the lake place was done with much more confidence than if we had needed to do it in the dark, not knowing which light switches may have inadvertently been left in an “on” position.
In the absence of a huge lake to keep us cool at Wintervale, we thankfully enjoy the benefits of geothermal-sourced air conditioning in the house. Asher seemed happy to see us again, but after a short walk outside in the hot sunshine, he quickly sought out one of his preferred cool spots to rest.
As always, the horses appeared very tolerant of the harsh conditions, enduring the uncomfortable humidity with a stoic calmness, despite pesky flies and the absence of a longed-for breeze.
When it came time to feed the horses, we let Asher roam off-leash on the way to the barn. He spotted a squirrel that had been feeding on spilled grain under one of the feed buckets and gave chase.
The critter made one brilliant maneuver that I figured would save it from capture, but Asher stayed after it. They both disappeared into the jewelweed around a tree, and just as I was expecting to see the squirrel leap up the trunk, we heard a squeak instead.
Asher emerged from the underbrush and immediately trotted off to bury his quarry. I guess it’s never too hot for a predator/prey drive to play out. We figure he is just protecting the horses from these pests and putting the rest of the scavengers around here on alert that they are risking their lives if they are going to mess with things around the barn.
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Heat Beating
We had no trouble beating the heat on Saturday. That big body of water does wonders for avoiding overheating when the weather gets aggressively hot enough to trigger warnings.
We lounged in the water at our beach several different times throughout the day and added a cruise on the pontoon boat for good measure.
A hot Saturday in July brought out a large number of people with the same idea. Both the prominent sandbar at the mouth of one bay and the public island near our shoreline were filled with boaters parking to play in the soothing water.
There is a good chance that today will be a repeat of the same activities since the heat and humidity have yet to ease.
No sense in fighting the elements when there is a big lake offering comfortable respite right outside our door. It’s what being up at the lake place is all about, after all.
Well, that and eating ice cream from West’s Dairy. We managed to do some of that, too.
I won’t mention the hubbub that occurred last night at zero dark thirty, involving some screaming and unwelcome winged rodents that have reappeared inside our living quarters. Maybe I was just dreaming that again.
Cabin life.
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Lake Laughs
Friday at the lake is a time when friends and family arrive for the weekend, interrupting the quiet solitude of being just one couple here with the constant banter of multiple social interactions. It inevitably leads to periods of boisterous laughter.
We soaked in the water as well as in the sunshine on the beach. We went for a walk around Wildwood and visited with families along the way. We paused to gaze at the young eagle perched on a branch over its nest above the tennis court. We stopped by the cabin next door to preview the plan drawings for the new construction that will soon begin where the old lodge once stood.
After new arrivals all settled in, we feasted on leftover barbecued ribs that had been kept frozen since the Fourth of July weekend, along with fresh-picked sweetcorn for dinner. It tasted like summer. Top that off with games of cards, augmented with a dessert of peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream, and you have a spectacular start to a weekend at the lake.
Some game situations were laughable, and several of the stories shared were both poignant and humorous. It’s almost enough to help us forget about the worst things going on in the world around us for a day or two.
Our friends, Barb and Mike, have joined us for a few days. They are thoroughly experienced in all aspects of lake life, so hosting their visit is as comfortable as my 30-year-old moccasin slippers I keep in the closet up here.
The agenda for the rest of the weekend is pretty wide open, but I won’t be surprised if the most strenuous exertion we undertake involves splashing around in the lake before settling in for more games and consuming delicious and nutritious feasts. Several members of the current crowd are in recovery mode for a variety of issues, including a hamstring strain, a foot bone break, and a knee ligament repair surgery.
Luckily, all this laughter makes for great medicine for whatever ails a person.
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Relative Something 