Posts Tagged ‘lake place’
Groaning Ice
We made it safely to the lake place in the middle of the afternoon despite Cyndie’s Honda CRV missing its rear spoiler. Some degenerate scofflaw saw fit to liberate the spoiler from her rear hatch while she was at a hair salon in St. Paul. I’m always amazed that people get away with such brazen behavior in broad daylight.
Yeah, it was legitimate behavior to be removing a body part from a vehicle in a parking lot. If I saw someone dismantling parts of an automobile in a car park, I wouldn’t snap a photo of the goofball to show the police, either. Just keep walking and mind my own business. What’s that saying? All it takes to stop one criminal in the act is one good person to pay attention and say something about it.
We are just out $350-400 bucks and the cost of labor by a professional to reattach it. Don’t even think of contacting insurance. We can’t afford the hit and would have to pay the deductible anyway. Gosh, I love paying for insurance that we don’t dare use since it would end up costing us even more for insurance.
Enough groaning about that.
You would not believe how cool it is to hear the whale-like moans and groans coming from the ice on such a big lake. With the cold air temperature and little to no snow cover, water was expanding as it froze, and the more than 3000 acres of surface area were being pushed and pulled with wild auditory reverberations.
I tried recording a short video to capture the sounds, but it only picked up Asher’s and my bumbling rustling around. You definitely had to be present to enjoy the sounds.
The rest of the groaning last night wasn’t from the ice. It came from me watching the Vikings unsuccessfully trying to score a touchdown from the five-yard line over and over again.
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Forest Labyrinth
With few hints revealing the intended course of our forest labyrinth at Wildwood, Cyndie and I navigated our way around the circles and found the stones in the center undisturbed.
If we want this to remain usable throughout the winter, we’re going to need to place more rocks to define the route for others to see.
I really like that we were able to lay this out so the path winds around mature trees and travels across flat rocks that fill a shallow ravine. There was just enough snow cover to make it easily walkable, but it was tricky to know when we were on the intended pathway.
I liked the way the snow had shaped up around these stones. When I looked at the image on my computer, it struck me how much that top one looked like a baked potato. Didn’t notice that when looking directly at them.
We drove home in the afternoon and found a similar amount of light snow covering our property as there was up north. The horses all looked well and the barn appeared orderly after several days of a volunteer doing the feedings for us.
I’m happy to report, no evidence of mice was found in drawers or bedding in the house at home.
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Thistle Seeds
We are at the lake! After an uneventful drive (other than the fabulous cheeseburger and fries on the road from the Lake Magnor Restaurant in Clayton) we arrived just before sunset and (oh, we also stopped in Hayward to pick up a pizza from Coop’s and some essentials from the grocery store [did someone say “ice cream?”]) we set about the routines of arrival.
“Do you have the key?” Check.
“Turn on the water.” Done.
“Can you start a fire in the fireplace?” Of course!
“I’m going to turn on the end of the football game.” Sure!
“Do you want to sleep in the loft or in Mom’s room?” Either’s fine with me.
“What the heck is in this drawer!?” Uh oh.
There was too much for it to be mouse turds. Was there a bag of wild rice up in the loft? No, that’s birdseed. Thistle, to be precise. We checked the pantry where birdseed would likely have been stored. Sure enough.
How could such a little hole lead to such a big spill?
This had to be a couple of lifetimes’ supply for the mice. I wonder how many trips up to the loft it took for the amount of seeds Cyndie found stashed up there. Being a wily sleuth, Cyndie checked a kitchen drawer that has had mouse droppings in the past.
Oh, yeah. About four-fifths thistle to one-fifth turds.
I found some old-style mouse traps in the basement mud room, and we baited them with thistle stuck on peanut butter after some intense sweeping, vacuuming, and scrubbing.
After pizza and some ice cream (not necessarily in that order) and the movie, “Conclave,” we were ready to turn in for the night. I climbed in the crisp, cool sheets and Cyndie went to get another blanket. She came back with the quilt sewed by Hays seamstresses many years ago up here when we brought my family for a Wildwood getaway.
Then she spotted mouse turds. Uh oh, again. Did they come from the quilt? She gently carried it out to inspect over a tile floor. I climbed out of the sheets and found more turds. Moving the pillows, it was obvious they hadn’t come from the quilt.
“How many mice have been sleeping in this bed?!”
Sheets were stripped and the bed was remade. I presented the option of sleeping in the loft, but we’d already settled in, and the bed would need to be remade anyway, so we soldiered on.
Cyndie eventually checked every other bed in the house, and the one we picked was the only one that had been messed up.
I checked traps this morning, and they hadn’t been touched. Birdseed is all moved to the garage and stowed in metal canisters. A load of garbage has already been dumped. Here’s hoping that’s the last of the stashes of thistle seeds.
The temperature outside right now is 2°F, and the wind chill is below zero. Only the edge of the lake has started to freeze, and the open water is steaming up thick clouds over the surface.
We are definitely up at the lake.
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Mother Oak
We will be driving home today, leaving the comfort of lake-cooled air to barrel straight into the much-ballyhooed heat wave. I look forward to spending time among our big trees in the cool(er) shade beneath their canopies. Last week, I did a survey of many of our largest tree trunks to verify measurements of the circumferences.
The largest reading was 145” around a giant old oak that we already consider the mother tree of those woods.
From that measurement, calculation puts the tree’s age in the 220-230 years range.
If that’s accurate, it means that the tree started growing in that spot around 1800. The first thought this brings to my mind is curiousity over how it escaped being cut for lumber back when that was the primary industry. The second thought is that my ancestors were cutting and milling lumber in the county in the 1850s to 1880s.
I wonder if logs from this land we now own were ever skidded to the Isabelle Creek valley and the mills my ancestors, Stephen Hays and Joseph Sleeper worked near Esdaile.
I’ve been reading about the lumber industry in that era, including lumber baron David Joyce (1825-1904) and his son, William (1860-1909). I’ve reached the point in history when they were establishing Shell Lake, WI as a major hub of production.
It’s added perspective about a town we have driven through for decades on our way to and from our lake place. Shell Lake seems like a nice little family-vacation-on-a-lake spot these days, primarily due to the many RV campers parked along the shore.
Contemplating lumber history has me also feeling added perspective about our mother oak at home that our “Middle Trail” passes beside. My mind jumps to the 1800s when I look at it and contemplate its start. I find myself comparing it to the new saplings we keep discovering in our North Loop field.
Will they survive to still be around in 200 years?
I have a feeling the current heat wave will have me missing our lake today, despite my appreciation for being back among the big trees in our woods. No cutting of lumber is planned on our property any time soon.
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Less Hot
The weather alerts that keep pinging my phone warn of excessive heat. Sounds ominous. Medium heat would be tolerable, but excessive? Yikes. We better be very careful. Except, the breeze coming off the lake this morning is about as perfect as a person could ask.
The filtered sunlight with dancing shadows of tree leaves projected on the logs of the sunporch wall augment the ambiance of serenity to a wonderful degree.
If I wasn’t inclined to think about how much the horses at home will be sweating today and Asher thrashing against his itchy skin, my life today would be downright heavenly. Comparing my usual grimy activity of constantly groundskeeping 20 rural acres to our getaways north where I laze around luxuriously highlights the significant difference in my experiences.
There is no lack of appreciation for this privilege on my part.
In fact, were I to imagine a time when Cyndie and I no longer chose to live in the situation where we needed to do so much work to maintain Wintervale, I’d gladly lobby to become the caretaker of her family’s property on this lake.
That might be the excessive heat warning talking. Check with me in the midst of a January deep freeze to see if that visualization of a possible future still stands up.
We are enjoying conditions that feel a lot less hot than what the weather app warnings keep beeping about. In today’s blurb by Paul Douglas in the Strib, I see that Saudi Arabia saw a midnight temperature index of 134°F when the dew point was 95.
Hot conditions, like so many other things in this world, are relative, aren’t they?
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Difficult Simplicity
Why did I come up with that silly two-word combination for today’s post title? Physical therapy exercises, that’s why. Yesterday morning I received a phone call before 7:30! Who calls anyone that early? My doctor had news about the MRI of my shoulder confirming a small tear in my rotator cuff. He has referred me to an orthopedic specialist for consultation.
Regardless, I’ve already started seeing a physical therapist to address the shoulder and (not necessarily related) sciatic pain radiating down my left leg. The initial exercises the therapist has prescribed are along the lines of “flossing” the nerve. Inherently simple. They involve only slight motions to be repeated ten or twenty series twice a day.
For something so simple, I am finding it really difficult to accomplish. It’s too easy and doesn’t feel like I am doing anything perceivable in the way of progress. It bores me and I am easily distracted from the task. I find myself inclined to rush things. The 3 or 4 routines for the shoulder and then the same number for my leg/lower back issue are no match for the energizing effort of my long-duration planking or strength poses I regularly do.
Some simple things are difficult to do.
At the same time, I am doing something very easy this weekend.
Guess where we are.
The weather is supposed to become steamy hot for a few days and there is no better place to cope with high heat than on a lake.
Maybe I’ll see how many of my simple flossing motions I can pull off while floating half-submerged in the cool water of Round Lake.
Don’t look now, but there is something going on with the trees up here that hints of a change a-coming.
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Extra Day
Since circumstances led to Cyndie and me each having a car up at the lake over the weekend, we didn’t need to go home at the same time. I asked for an extra day at the lake and Cyndie headed home to relieve the animal sitters. With no responsibilities, I opted for a bike ride in the middle of a Monday in the north woods of Wisconsin.
There are some wonderful stretches of good pavement passing through wooded acres that offer a rewarding combination of forest bathing while sailing along on two wheels. It feeds my mind, body, and soul.
Returning to the Wildwood driveway brought me up to the empty house where I could enjoy the best of everything it provides in precious solitude. After a quick dip in the lake, followed by a shower, I stretched out diagonally across the bed under the sunshine coming through the skylight window for a luxurious nap.
For those of us who don’t live alone, having a spare day every so often when you can leave a trail of your belongings anywhere you please and eat and sleep when the whim arrives is invigorating. I also chose to watch a movie in the middle of the afternoon while eating a sandwich and some West’s Dairy Praline and Caramel ice cream.
Sure, having pets can add a lot to a person’s life, but being free from any need to tend to precious critters often gives me just as much joy. I wouldn’t have been able to finish a full-length movie while devouring delicious bite-sized portions of ice cream if Asher had been staring up at me with his big eyes and whining to play.
How do you describe eating ice cream from a spoon (I’m not usually a cone person), but not ever biting it? I don’t actually lick it. Am I lipping it? Sliding the spoon back out from my mouth while silently scraping a portion of the creamy goodness with my lips to be held back for my tongue and mouth to absorb it with glee. The spoon then goes back in for a second pass, maybe a third before it is clean and ready to be reloaded for another iteration.
Maybe there is a word that better describes the technique. If I weren’t so inclined to avoid interacting with AI sites, I might find such a descriptor by searching.
The movie I watched lasted much longer than my ice cream and it was almost as much fun, given the subject of Sherpas and Mount Everest. I highly recommend the documentary film, “Mountain Queen – The Summits of Lhakpa Sherpa,” which I found on Netflix.
Lhakpa was the first Nepali woman to climb Everest and survive. She holds the record for most Everest summits by a woman. What she has accomplished in her life outside of climbing is maybe even more remarkable. She is an inspiration of great strength, both physical and emotional.
She and her children deserve much broader recognition, which I hope this film will bring.
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No Hurry
The luxury I enjoy to come and go as I please is not lost on me. In the absence of a time constraint on my drive to the lake, I was saved from any stress when I caught up to a long train of vehicles following a giant farm tractor at around 38 mph.
A younger me would have grown increasingly frustrated that the tractor was traveling for so many miles on this road without bothering to pull over and let some of the backed-up traffic pass. Yesterday, I didn’t let it bother me. I had packed snacks and had them well within reach since I was traveling at lunchtime.
The slower speed gave me a good opportunity to munch while driving and listening to a random shuffle of my music library.
The large pickup truck that raced to pass many vehicles in the train caused me no concern, unlike the driver of the car ahead of me who sped up in an attempt to block the truck from getting back in our lane ahead of him or her. It is really pleasant to not need to be in a hurry and to not care about other people causing delays.
Upon arrival at Wildwood, I found Cyndie on the deck doing some painting in the sunshine.
We were alone for a night but expecting to see Elysa and Ande later this afternoon to add a little family energy to the weekend. It’s quite a contrast from the vibe of 13 rowdy guys here a week ago.
One common feature is the multiple channels of Olympic competition available for viewing. There’s less swimming and more track and field but the same energy of medal-seeking international athletes pushing for their best and chasing record times/scores.
No hurry, but I’m chomping at the bit to watch the Men’s gold medal Football match between France and Spain.
Allez, allez!
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Great Rides
I had one job to do this weekend: go for bike rides with Paul. The rest of the hours were agenda-free and I made the best of my time by relaxing to the maximum degree. While the twelve other guys were golfing, I had the place to myself, which rarely happens at the lake. The solitude was magnificent. I had a range of Olympic event options for sports spectating keeping me company indoors and gorgeous weather to lure me outside where I explored the surroundings alone.
Friday morning started with a mysterious sound coming from the woods in the pre-dawn hours that my waking self took a long time to diagnose. I deduced it was coming from somewhere very close so I forced my eyes open and spied through the trees to catch a glimpse of movement on the roof of the property next door. There was a crew of guys ripping off the old shingles. The rest of the day was filled with the repeating rat-tat-tat of new shingles getting nailed.
I walked the mini-labyrinth Cyndie and I created in the woods and soaked up sunshine on the deck. A short nap might have happened to the rhythmic sounds of a roofing crew hard at work.
When Paul returned in the mid-afternoon, it was time to ride. On Friday, we started on gravel which was a challenge on my Trek Domane with slick tires. Paul has a new gravel bike that handled it well. I felt like I was trying to hold my bike on the edge of a ski boat wake and more than once had to muscle the front wheel back in place to avoid calamity. When we popped out onto pavement at the end of the fire lane road, the smooth ride felt like a new world. We sailed along for more miles than we’d planned because the roads and surroundings were so nice.
On Saturday, the radar indicated we had limited time before a storm would be arriving so we skipped the gravel and chose a different route that still connected with the latter half of Friday’s ride to enjoy that great rolling ribbon of pavement a second time. Made it back before raindrops started to fall.
This weekend was the first time I’ve been on my bike since riding the Tour of Minnesota in June. I surprised myself with how strong I felt on our Friday jaunt. My muscles in the latter half of yesterday’s excursion let me know they hadn’t been used at that intensity on consecutive days since June.
The legs get a rest today. I’ll be driving home this morning to trade places with Cyndie as she comes up for a few days with a friend.
This year’s guys’ golf weekend has been a treat, made all the more special for me by two great bike rides in the woods with Paul. I’m lucky the group has included me in their long-running annual tradition.
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Guys Weekend
Well, look at that. I’m back up at the lake place. It’s a tough life, but I’m doing my part to enjoy the good things that keep coming my way. How about a sunset boat cruise with old pals?
That’s a David K. and Kevin W. sighting with me on Round Lake near Hayward, WI.
Greetings from Hayward!
David and Paul snap a photo with the postcard mural on our way to West’s Dairy for ice cream. Our timing was right because we had just purchased our treats when waves of teen girls numbering around 40 paraded into the Dairy from some girl’s camp in the area. It was “All Hands on Deck” in the ice cream scooping world.
Cyndie’s brothers, Steve and Ben invite golfing buddies for several days of marathon golf rounds every year over the first weekend in August. I’m not a golfer, but I will accompany Paul on some biking excursions when he’s not golfing.
Cyndie is on solo duty at home while I am hanging out with the guys. She already reported that Asher got away from her to chase after a rabbit last night and ended up at the neighbor’s place where he likes to go after their cockapoo or barn cat. On Sunday, we trade places and I head home to care for animals while she comes up to the lake with a friend.
In the meantime, I will be soaking up lake life to the fullest and sharing some laughs with good friends.
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Relative Something 