first occupants of the new house

This is the ceiling of The Hermit's and my new bedroom.

This is what's living there already (click on photo for a larger image)

Early this spring, a pair of Eastern phoebes decided these timbers looked like a nice, protected nest spot. They were right, as long as we humans were not too anxious to close it in with windows, roof, etc. At the rate construction is going (which will pick up here shortly!) these little featherballs will be fledged and eating mosquitoes long before they would have to worry about finding a way out.

tomorrow's m.v.p.

I think I may have major league baseball's next big star right here...that is, if his first Little League outing is any predictor. According to Calvin (I wasn't there to see it, sorry) he went 3 for 3 at bat (3 homeruns, that is!) and fielded a triple play. (!) This from a boy who has more hours with a video game controller in his hand than a baseball glove.

I'm not holding my breath, of course, and I keep telling him that there's always room for improvement, but with the salaries of major league ballplayers nowadays, this is looking good...

it's that time of year

This is what was there to greet me in the driveway yesterday afternoon:


Snapping turtles are out and about, leaving the water to lay eggs in gravel nests. When this female, with about a 12" diameter shell, was finished, she made her way towards the pond. I knew we had a few painted turtles in the pond, but...she better leave the kids alone when they're swimming!

Everything is flowering, mating, reproducing...ths morning just down the road I saw a doe and her fawn at the roadside, running and disappearing into the woods as I drove by. Then on the main road, just where I saw them the day before, was a hen wild turkey with a brood of chicks. They had to have been a week old or more, and they can fly already! Ten years ago that would have been a rare sight in those woods.

And the other evening, as The Hermit and I were sitting on the back steps, we heard a hummingbird chattering in the gray dogwood bushes. Through the leaves we could see the male flying back and forth in a U-shaped pattern, then landed next to where we saw a moment later there was a female hummingbird. What energy, what drive and purpose these tiny creatures have!

forget-me-not

I have always loved these little flowers. Even when I wasn't "into" flowers, which now seems unimaginable, I knew what these were and loved them. Perhaps it was the simplicity--this is the typical flower form a 5 year old might draw--or the sky blue that is not often seen in the flower world.

This species, genus Myosotis, is not native here, but it has naturalized along some lake and river banks. I'm not hearing anyone clamoring to exterminate it as an invasive, however, and I'm not going to lead the cause. I have had some success growing it in rock gardens before, and if I remember in a few weeks I will return to this riverbank for some seeds.

this is what it's all about, really

I am the richest woman in the world.

This photo would not have happened if our life had gone the way it was "supposed to". If I'd had it my way seven years ago, we'd still be living in a small house in an outer suburban development too near the freeway, and nothing would have changed in seven years. Or we could have been at any one of the steps along the journey that led us back here, afraid to make yet another change.

Stress, yeah. Second-guessing? Yup, done it a lot. Regrets? Just look at the faces in that picture. NO.

We didn't have to go anywhere to do this. Our pond, our beach, is right there, and the water is always cool and inviting. By the way, it really isn't that green, otherwise I could not have survived the dip I took in it. I have the biggest garden I have ever had, we are working on a beautiful dream house, we eat some of the best home-cooked meals to be found anywhere, and we even have SHEEP! :)

I just could not be happy living in the city, or the suburbs. Some people could, but not me. I need my space, I need the bird songs, I need the frogs, I need quiet, I need my white pines, I need my garden. Sure, I need some of the things we cannot grow here once in a while, but an occasional trip to a city is okay.

The furthest I went today was out to the pond. Life is good.

garden of dreams

Almost all planted! Now, GROW!!!

I really thought today would be pure torture. Yesterday while I was still at work I started feeling really achy, and by the time I came home I had full-blown "flu-like symptoms". I spent a feverish, aching night wedged between Mr. Attitude and the wall, with Sally preventing me from stretching my legs. She's decided that since she's getting too big to sleep under the bed, the logical place to sleep is on top of the bed. And what Sally wants, Sally gets. :) Oh yeah, and Puffball started doing "cat adoration time" at the usual 4 AM. I awoke feeling groggy and miserable. This did not bode well for the day, THE DAY that I intended to get the rest of the garden planted.

But, amazingly, after a few cups of coffee and a couple ibuprofen, I started to feel better. I headed out to the garden thinking, okay, I'll do the bare minimum if I have to. Planting beans isn't that strenuous, is it?

I planted beans. And squash. And peppers. And tomatoes. I cut weeds and mowed a little. I hauled horse manure to a little flower bed on the south side of the cabin. And when The Hermit came home with a new 200 feet of hose, I hooked it up and watered the garden. Yes, it is that far from the well pump to the garden, and last year we were hauling jugs of water with the garden tractor. I'm getting soft these days, demanding such luxuries.

Speaking of luxuries, how about 4 new lounge chairs from K Mart, to replace the ones by the pond that had brittle, broken plastic and rusty ratchets so it was hard to position them just right. Ahh, I'm living like a queen now!

And at 8:30 PM, still no sign of recurring flulike symptoms! Strange, but I'll take it.

things noticed

For the past two days, a flock of cliff swallows has been converging on a tiny mud puddle in the parking lot of the building where I work. There is a river just a few hundred feet away, where I'm sure they could find as much mud as they wanted, but apparently the mud in this puddle is just the right texture or something. I was going to try to photograph the swallows when I went for a walk at noon, but I could not get close enough without them scattering suddenly, like seeds in the wind, and disappearing. Then I looked down, and right at my feet was this:

I can't remember the name of this moth, but I was fascinated by the eye spots. It was dead, probably fallen off the front of a car.

As I walked on downtown, I passed a lilac bush where--was it a week ago already? Two weeks? --I had deliberately stopped to bury my nose in the clusters of pale purple blooms, inhaling the sweet, earthy fragrance. The flowers were gone now, just shriveled brown petals. When did they go? When did the first buds of spring give way to full summer? Where have I been? Sometimes it seems each flower, each marker along the continuum of the season, blooms for only a precious day before it is gone. Sometimes you don't even see the petals fall.

Across the street, at the senior apartment building, I glanced at the flower garden that someone takes the time to tend beautifully, and saw among the usual annuals a lupine in full bloom, with a color just on the raspberry side of purple. I had not seen a lupine that color before. It, too, will be gone like each passing day.

The streets seem quiet and deserted; yesterday was the last day of school. My own children are home, spending their first day of freedom from the classroom. The summer stretches out endlessly before them, while I just want to grasp and hold on to each moment, each petal as it falls.

big garden day

(practically falling asleep at keyboard...sorry!)

I took today off work because a) Mr. Attitude goes to daycare on Wednesdays, just to get a little social interaction with his peers and a break from the brother/sister hierarchy, and b) the weather was good for gardening, a little hot but not like the last weekend. First The Hermit hauled old horse manure and dirt from the horse pasture to the garden beds with the tractor, then I arranged everything, weeded, and planted. There are still four raised beds to fill, and tomatoes, beans, peppers, eggplant, and a few other things to plant, but I think we're well past halfway planting.

No pictures today. No more vivid descriptions or lists of what was planted. I'm just too tired.

Oh, The Hermit saw a wolf yesterday, less than a mile from our house. A real, honest to God timberwolf, running across the road. Good thing we have the sheep fortress.

cats...*sigh*

I didn't ask for cats here. I did not bring my own cats when we moved here, although I had two, one of whom is now my dad's housemate. But they appeared from the farm across the road, one cat had a litter here and that was it. I started feeding them just so they wouldn't steal food from our old Brittany. Then, one by one, I adopted a few. I have one indoor cat, Puffball, and two semi-indoor male cats, plus a couple others who were indoors at one time but were moved out when they became pregnant. Hey, I couldn't afford to spay/neuter all of them, and I couldn't just kill them either.

But now it's kitten season, and I've decided most of these cats do not have any inborn mothering ability, either that or they are responding to some unseen population check. Two litters earlier this year have died within a day after birth. And two days ago, I witnessed what was perhaps the most casual birth I'd ever seen; a small calico was walking along the path, and when the kitten, placenta and all, dropped from it it didn't even stop walking. I picked up the kitten and put it in a somewhat protected area. Later I found the other kitten, abandoned in the woodpile. I put it with the other, thinking maybe the mother would have a change of heart and start caring for them. Wishful thinking.

And a lot of mixed emotions ensued. I could try to care for the abandoned kittens, feeding them milk every hour or so. But we have so many cats here, and there is so much else I need to focus my attention upon. Or I could kill them instantly, drowning them in a bucket. But what if...just what if the mother decided to come back? And I didn't have the heart to do it either. I'm not God, and I don't pretend to be. So I had to listen to their pitiful meowing yesterday and today, struggling, clinging on to life, while their mother casually lounged around, oblivious. I didn't imagine they would last long. I think the first one is finally dead, the second soon to follow.

So why do I feel all messed up emotionally about this? I was hoping they would die, so we would not have any more cats to deal with. And I was hoping they would live, because...well, just because. And in the end I decided I would not be the one to decide.

On the other hand, there is a litter of four kittens in the canvas garage, two weeks old and perfectly healthy. I'm prejudiced; I'm pulling for them because their mother is a Siamese mix, with blue eyes, and I'm convinced Puffball was their father, before I took him to the vet. Puffball is also a Siamese mix, blue eyed and grey pointed. The kittens are all snow white, which suggests they will develop colored Siamese points as they mature. I'm an absolute fool for Siamese cats. I have already decided I will keep one, or more, I'll see.

Damn cats.

new lawnmowers

By the way, there are three of them in the picture. I just noticed the front one looks like it has a head growing out of its butt!

I can now add "shepherd" to my resume. We've been talking about getting sheep for years, thinking they would be quieter than a lawn mower and fresh wool to boot. Well, last week The Hermit found these three lambs who needed a new home; their previous owner had gone to a nursing home and the family was anxious to get rid of them. When The Hermit picked them up they were in a small dirt enclosure, with no access to fresh grass. They won't have that problem here!

This is the "fortress" we built for them yesterday. We added a tarp for shade at one end. When all the grass is grazed down, The Hermit will just hook up the tractor and pull the fortress, sheep and all, to a new patch. Right now they're working on the side yard of the new house.

I'm off to look up carding and spinning equipment on Ebay! Okay, maybe that's a ways off in the future, but it's something to think about!

dealing with the heat

Okay, you folks in southern climes may think I'm whining here, but DAMN it's HOT!!! 91 degrees in mid-afternoon. How do you get anything done in this weather?

Of course, I'm not 100 percent to begin with. I have some undiagnosed illness that is causing loss of voice, coughing up unmentionable stuff, and general stuffiness. I thought it was maybe an allergy to pine pollen, but allergy meds brought me no relief.

I did get a small flower bed weeded, at about 8 AM, before it got too hot. Then, in a frenzy of God-knows-what, I helped The Hermit assemble a portable sheep pen for the "lawnmower" sheep we are getting soon, some day when it's not so hot. It turned out to be more of a sheep fortress. No predator has a chance here, I tell ya. This was at midday, mind you, the peak of the sun. I was already sunburned from the day before. I was not a happy camper.

So finally we went for the pond, after the oppressive rays of the sun were starting to wane. I brought a pitiful excuse for a beach umbrella, which did not last in the variable wind. I soaked myself, roasted myself, and walked back to the house for cough medicine and Kleenex. I told The Hermit that a simple dinner was the only alternative.

Well guess what? We ended up driving to Cloquet, to that wonderful Mexican restaurant we ate at last week. The kids showed unprecedented manners, the food was as great as before, and it was air conditioned. And they have good margaritas. ;)

pupdate

tired girl

Sally is almost four months old now, which I figure is about seven years old in people time (4 x 12/7...I can only do this math after two cups of coffee!) She's starting to settle out of her wild puppy ways, learning the rules of the human pack and eager for approval and acceptance.

And, she likes to swim, which is good since it's going to be in the upper 80's here today (yuk). Looks like another afternoon at the pond.

But, there's gardening to be done! Yesterday I planted broccoli, cauliflower, Swiss chard, carrots, parsnips, daikon radishes, rutabagas, onions, and more lettuce and other greens. A lot done, but still a long way to go. And it doesn't help that I've got some kind of upper respiratory crud that leaves me coughing and short of breath.

Last night, after hamburgers and corn on the cob (and mashed potatoes per Starflower's request) we went to a bonfire at a friend's house. When we got there, it was just getting dark and the fire was blazing strong. So strong that it was just on the verge of spreading beyond the fire ring; this was no wimpy fire. But we got it under control, marshmallows were roasted, s'mores were consumed, as we plotted the constellations of the starry sky. A whippoorwill serenaded us from a distance. I played a couple tunes on the mandolin but I think I was no match for the bird.

starflowers

Trientalis borealis

If you came to visit me today, and you took not the driveway, but instead the path that leads through the edge of the woods to my cabin, this is what you would see scattered on the forest floor.

Monarchs and starflowers and...

Just a quick post to say that monarch butterflies have been seen fluttering around here the last two days. Starflowers are now blooming in the woods; I would have taken a picture tonight but it's been raining off and on and it looked like the sun was disappearing behind a thunderhead.

And...as I was driving Starflower home from Girl Scouts we saw a black bear! It was in the road about 3 1/2 miles away from my house. It was the first bear I'd seen in a long time; I know they're around here but usually in the spring one at least makes an attempt at the bird feeder.

So that's my world here, tonight. I may take the day off tomorrow to get a long weekend and do some gardening.

nodding trillium

deer

My most amazing sighting for the day: a doe and her newborn fawn crossing the road in front of me, about five miles from home. The fawn was struggling across the asphalt, but it made it and I was patient.

If there is such a thing as karma, may that deer and her fawn not come northeast to discover my garden.

Who you callin' a weed?

Not these violets; I'm constantly trimming the grasses from around my raised beds, and occasionally pulling clumps of grass that migrate inside the beds, but I try to spare the violets. They're pretty, and they're not hurting anyone.

I do get some unusual "weeds" surfacing from time to time; I had a few ferns in my squash bed last year, and then there's this one:

I don't know, it sure looks like a trillium to me! How it ended up in a raised bed is beyond me. We have no large white trillium on our land, just a few nodding trillium here and there in the woods. Perhaps, just perhaps, a trillium seed ended up in a hay bale we bought from somewhere else, then was consumed by the horses, then the manure was used to fill this bed?

And I thought trillium were difficult to propagate. Whatever it is, I'm digging it up and putting in a flower bed.

More! More!

As I recall from an earlier post, I said one of my gardening strategies for this year would be more. Well, today I came home from work and found that my gardening space had been increased by one third; The Hermit had assembled five new 4 x 8 raised bed frames. I now have a total of eighteen raised beds, not counting the 4 x 4 potato bins. I could just kiss him!

Of course, the beds need to be lined with feed sacks (my half-a$$ attempt at keeping the weeds out) and filled with aged horse manure, but that's the fun part!

And a deer fence...might be needing one of those...

In other news, I learned yesterday that hummingbirds have a lot of nerve. I had just set out a new hummingbird feeder, and was going to empty the other one and replace the nectar, when I heard a high-pitched chattering, buzzing noise coming from up in a tree. There sat Ruby Throat, madder than a hornet, and cussing me out for even thinking of touching his feeder. I backed off; I don't need any hummingbirds mad at me.

Birds seen or heard today include: Sedge wren (all night!) robin, red winged blackbird, raven, crow, chickadee, blue jay, goldfinch, purple finch, baltimore oriole, ruby throated hummingbird, red breasted nuthatch, eastern phoebe, American bittern, common merganser, purple martin, tree swallow, magnolia warbler, black and white warbler, ovenbird, yellowthroat, brown thrasher, and catbird.

good dirt

We put the tractor to use Sunday morning, scooping up old manure from the horse enclosure and hauling it back to the garden area. From there, I got some good exercise shoveling and filling the raised beds. These are all old beds from last year, but the soil had settled enough that they needed to be refilled.

ready for planting

I got three raised beds filled yesterday, which means I now have four beds ready to plant. However, the temperature dipped to 25 degrees last night, reminding me why it is not good to get too eager to plant here in Minnesota. The average last frost date is just that: an average. I do have peas growing already (middle left edge of the photo), but these should not be harmed by the frost. And I can probably get away with planting seeds any time now. Tomato, pepper, and eggplant seedlings will wait another week or so before I plant them in the cevered hoophouse beds.

We also lifted the enclosure where we were raising the meat chickens, exposing a rather odiferous pile of chicken manure. I think once it airs out a bit, I'll move most of it to a compost pile, cover the rest with dirt, and plant the squash there.

The hermits go on a date

Yes. A date. Quality time together. Adult conversation. Good food. Good music. No "Hey Mom!" every two minutes. No one else but a dog and a cat in bed.

It was much needed.

For The Hermit's birthday I had bought tickets to a John Prine concert in Duluth. Although we're huge Prine fans and have seen him several times, I knew The Hermit was equally excited about the opening act, Pieta Brown with Bo Ramsey.

The kids spent the night at their friends' house, friends they don't get to see too often. They live on a small farm about 25 miles away; we buy all our pork from them. The only child who even took time to say goodbye was Mr. Attitude.

From there we traveled up Highway 61 to the town of Cloquet, about fifteen miles west of Duluth. We had heard from the older kids that there was a new Mexican restaurant in town and it was pretty good, so instead of going to a touristy place on Duluth's waterfront and enduring long lines, we decided to give it a try. In a word, it was excellent. Fast, courteous service, good margaritas, and the best Mexican food I have had, anywhere, for a long time. The Hermit and I both ordered seafood dishes.

Then it was on to Duluth, to the auditorium on the waterfront. We were a bit late and missed part of Pieta Brown's set, but were impressed with what we saw.

What can I say about Prine's set? He played just about every song that I would have wanted him to play. He played and sang for about 2 1/2 hours straight, even though his band took a break, I was amazed that he could keep singing for so long. He opened up with "Spanish Pipedream" ("Blow Up Your TV"), which set the tone for the evening; lots of old Prine favorites. His second song was "Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore", one he said he resurrected by request of the President. Well, George W. didn't actually make a request, but he was askin' for it, Prine said. During his performance of "Some Humans Ain't Human", from his recent Grammy-winning album "Fair and Square", some human a few rows down from us decided it was his patriotic duty to stand up and shout obscenities when Prine got to the part where he said what he felt about the war in Iraq. I guess I support the right of both to free speech, but Prine had a lot more class. With rights come responsibilities.

It was interesting to note that most of the audience was probably over 40. I guess that's the demographic I identify with the most: a bunch of old hippies. Everyone knew all the words to "Illegal Smile". Pieta Brown was probably the youngest one there as she sang along with Prine on the last song, "Paradise". A fitting way to end the evening, but does the audience demographic say that today's kids have lost any idea of what Paradise might be?

The sound quality was lacking, though, to the point where a mandolin didn't even sound remotely like a mandolin. And my threshold for tolerance for loudness in music was exceeded several painful times. I guess I'm just used to smaller venues and smaller sound systems. Plus I can do without the crowds. But all in all, it was worth it to see Prine. And it was worth it to get some time away from the kids, something I'm convinced now that all marriages would benefit from.

the joy of music

This scene was just a bonus gift, a case of being in the right place at the right time. I would not have seen this if I had not been driving Starflower and Mr. Attitude home from Starflower's first piano recital.

She has been playing probably the shortest time of anyone on the program, but she did well. She got lost during her first song, one she had played over and over at home, but I understand perfectly well the performance anxiety that was going through her mind! Unexpected things happen, and that's why actual performance experience is so important, not that the anxiety will ever completely go away , but with experience you learn to handle it when it happens. I still start shaking uncontrollably sometimes when I play a solo at church.

There was the usual assortment of students of different ages and abilities, some who hammered on the keys with no inflection, like a robot, and some who nearly took my breath away. One girl in particular, who was maybe ten years old, played with unexpected maturity, with an innate ability to capture the expression of the music. She could have made "Twinkle Little Star" sound wonderful. I hope Starflower was as inspired as I was.

Some people are gifted at music, many have gifts that lie elsewhere. But I think it is important for children to have the opportunity to discover their gifts through experience. Not everyone is going to be Yo-yo Ma or Edgar Meyer, but I think there are great benefits from going through the discipline of learning to play a musical instrument. At the very least, one learns that not all music has to be recorded and prepackaged. And I wish more of us could re-learn to listen to and appreciate homemade music.

I asked Calvin when we got home if he would like to learn piano, but he reminded me that I was going to teach him guitar. I am going to commit to a half hour lesson with him weekly.

2:15 AM

I was in the middle of one of my epic movie-plot dreams, the kind that happen when I've had beer with lots of hops, when I felt the familiar but startling plop of a cat jumping on my legs. Slowly and cautiously it made its way up my body, each step exerting nine pounds per square inch on some tender body parts. A wet nose nuzzled my face as a furry body settled across my neck. My head was in a position where I could see the clock. "Puffball", I said groggily, "It's 2:15 AM!"

I was preparing to remove the purring animal from my neck when a small voice startled me.

"It always amazes me how you humans are preoccupied with that glowing number thing. It tells you when to wake up, when to eat, when to sleep. Ridiculous, if you ask me!"

"Puffball? Am I dreaming or are you talking to me?"

"It most certainly is me. I am here to tell you that it is Cat Adoration Time, and you WILL participate!"

"Hey--since when do you tell me what to do?"

"Listen, that thing you had the vet do to me three weeks ago was just plain unforgivable. But if you will indulge me in this ritual, at times of my own choosing, I won't have to vomit hairballs on the carpet."

"Sheesh...the things I do for you animals..."

"And another thing...what kind of a name is 'Puffball'? Sounds like some kind of fungus!"

"It's the kids' fault...whatever...just let me go back to sleep...well heck, now you've got me awake, I have to pee."

"While you're up, my food bowl is empty. That silly obnoxious dog's been in it again!"

Animals...

I've been sharing a queen bed with three kids, a 4 month old lab puppy, and at least one cat for the last few nights.

this moment

The woods are wet with this afternoon's rain, and now the air is pregnant with the songs of spring peepers and toads. I watch the sunlight fade over the northwestern sky as an ovenbird makes its final calls in the twilight. A hummimgbird buzzes by, almost not noticing my presence on its way to the feeder. The creek, full with the recent rains, rushes over the big beaver dam, half a mile away back in the swamp, as a mist moves in and out. The air smells of damp pine needles, of dirt, of wood smoke, of life. In the distance, a woodcock peents, then flutters in a wide circle to the sky.

Welcome back

The ruby-throated hummingbirds are back! This is admittedly not the greatest photo, but I could not let the opportunity pass me by. What an amazing creation, the hummingbird. So unlikely.

There is also a pair of yellow bellied sapsuckers causing a commotion in an old aspen tree near the house. Warblers are here, I have seen a Nashville warbler and heard a black-and-white warbler. I'm sure there are more.

A Minnesota Mother's Day

Mother's Day is the second Sunday of May. The fishing season opener for walleye (and northern pike, but mostly walleye) in Minnesota is two weekends before Memorial Day weekend. The two coincide more often than not.

Walleye is Minnesota's official state fish. A major part of my job is raising and stocking walleye into lakes, although a large proportion of the walleye caught in Minnesota are not stocked, but from natural reproduction. Still, we are criticized that we don't stock enough.

My Mother's Day dinner consisted of fried walleye, purchased from the local grocery store, and commercially caught in Canada. Two pounds cost about as much as one fishing license. I will purchase a fishing license, when I get around to it, because there are still a lot of crappies and bluegills to catch this summer, and maybe even a walleye.

Accompanying the walleye, which were very tasty, were grilled vegetables and a wild rice blend. A wonderful meal, all in all.

The Hermit is off to Edmonton, Alberta for a week of work. I'm keeping the home fires burning.

prodigal lemon balm

Last year, if I remember right, I bought a little pot of lemon balm at the local greenhouse closeout sale, because, after all, what's a garden without lemon balm? I planted it in a flower bed on the southwest side of the cabin, one where I mostly stick in a few annuals to make the place look nice.

As luck would have it, the lemon balm survived the winter and now looks as if it is poised to take over the garden plot. And I'm asking myself, "just why did I need lemon balm in the first place?" Yes, it smells lemony, but it's the kind of lemon scent I associate with aerosol furniture polish.

So what exactly can I do with lemon balm?

mother's day

Those who know me know I'm not too much for Hallmark sentimentality. I'm really not much for holidays in general, perhaps because it means another obligatory empty family get together where we all eat and sit around making empty conversation on a nice day when I could be out really doing something.

But today when I walked out to the mailbox, on a cold, windy, slightly rainy morning, I opened it and found the weekly advertiser, a form letter from my college asking for money, of course, and a big pink envelope addressed to me. The return address was Lincoln, Nebraska, where my stepdaughter Sarah is in graduate school.

Deb- happy Mother's Day! We love you lots! Thanks for always being there for us and for providing us with love and support. We love you, The Big Kids. :)

I was too young to be much of a mom to kids age 12, 10, and 8 when I married The Hermit, but it was part of the package and I did the best I could. Only Ryan, the oldest, lived with us full time; Sarah and Tom were there some weekends and all summer. But I had it easy; they were all wonderful, so loving and accepting and thankful for every little thing. So thank you, Big Kids, you made my day and even made me shed a tear or two.

According to Starflower, I am supposed to sleep in tomorrow morning and we will have a breakfast of blueberry pancakes in bed. More likely, Puffball will park his recently-neutered self on my neck and shower me with purring, and Sally will jump up on the bed trying to wake Mr. Attitude, until I hear the beep of the coffee maker signaling that my morning salvation is ready. At about 6:15 or so.

Emerson random quotes

Just wanted to alert you to a cool sidebar thing I've added. If you scroll down past all the blog links and past the "other interesting sites" list, you'll see a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, courtesy of the Transcendentalist website (there's a link by the quote). Every time you view this blog, you'll see a different one. Cool, huh?

I probably read a snippet or two of Emerson in high school or college, but for some reason I wasn't into reading beyond classwork back then and didn't pursue anything outside of class. In fact, I didn't start reading books that I picked out myself, just for fun, until I was in graduate school! I squandered my youth, I tell ya. But lately I've become very interested in Transcendentalist literature, Emerson, Thoreau, and others, because their views on nature, and spirituality, are very similar to mine. They were the original nature lovers and poets in American literature.

the Lone Ranger rides

doubly blessed

Rose breasted grosbeaks arrived today. Aren't they beautiful?! And I didn't know they liked thistle seeds.

clouds

photo by Starflower

marsh marigold

Looks like cool, windy, rainy weather for the next few days. I listen for new bird calls every morning, and yesterday I heard the beautiful flutelike Swainson's thrush. No warblers yet, at least not noticeable.

I'm giving a presentation to a high school class today, basically a "this is what a fisheries manager does" type of thing. I used to almost enjoy doing educational programs once in a while, but now I'm looking forward to this one like I'd look forward to a dental appointment.

Now if it were something I was excited about, like how to raise your own food, or birding, I could maybe get into it.

today

I saw a swan as I was driving home. I thought it was a goose at first, as its flight was very gooselike, but as it flew over me, as I drove under it, I could see it was definitely a swan, very white and long-necked. I'm thinking it was a trumpeter swan, just because it was alone, and it was a large bird.

By the way, my grandma's (maternal side) maiden name was Swan. I think it was by choice of her grandfather, a Swedish immigrant who decided the original surname (Lindroth, I think?) was far too common.

In other news, I heard a house wren at work, and I saw a hermit thrush. White trilliums are blooming, but there are none on my 40 acres. I do have wood anemone, though.

fishing on Sand Creek

Sunday late afternoon found me in my garden, weeding and breaking up clumps of soil with my bare hands and pausing every so often to watch the harriers in courtship flight. Sedge wrens chattered, hidden, from the willows in the marsh.

Calvin and Mr. Attitude came out to see what I was doing; after seeing a few earthworms come up as I dug weeds, Calvin decided to dig for some worms for fishing. I told him to go to the next raised bed over, and pull a few weeds while he was at it. It was worth a try, anyway. He soon had five or six plump, large worms. "That should be enough for fishing," he said.

Fishing, I thought. Even though we have access to a very nice fishing hole on Sand Creek, and I know there's a brook trout or two in there, we have very rarely taken the time to go fishing. Calvin will be nine years old next month, old enough to rig his own rod and reel and head to the creek whenever he wants. C'mon. Let's go fishing.

We threw rods and reels, tangled from last summer, into the back of the pickup truck, along with the worms, a small dip net, and I'm not sure how or why the wire mesh creel basket got in there. Then a cooler with a jug of peach iced tea, and Sally, and off we went to the fishing hole.

Two rods and reels were detangled and rigged, and we decided that was enough for now. Calvin and Starflower casted, reeled in, got tangled, casted again. The pool has a slight eddy current, so the bobbers were constantly on the move. Sally bounded around, lapping water from the edge of the stream, and finally she could not resist the urge to jump in; surprised, she climbed out, shook herself off, and decided to stay out of the water after that.

We probably did not have the right strategy. The worms had dried out a little during transport and were not too lively. This was more a first-time learning experience. But we did not come up empty-handed.

A creek chub, all of four inches in length, went for the worm. We tried to keep it in the creel basket, but it swam out through the mesh. Oh well, there will be more lazy afternoons fishing, many more, I promise.

things I learned today

1. The flowering shrubs that seem to be everywhere in the woods right now are serviceberry, otherwise known as saskatoon. The berries are edible if you can get enough of them before the birds do.

2. If a butternut squash keeps all winter in the cook shed, and you decide to make squash fries for dinner, when you cut the squash open many of the seeds will be sprouting inside the squash. I saved the seeds that hadn't sprouted (this is a good keeper!) and gently scooped the rest out and brought them out by the compost bin and threw a little dirt over them. It can't hurt to try.

3. The ovenbirds are definitely back.

Springtime is just too much

Too much happening. Too much bursting forth into new life. Too much to be done, and not enough time in these precious days.

I actually broke down yesterday, broke down because there was so much I wanted to get done but my human self was lagging and wanting to just savor the moment. Guess which side won.

But this morning I awoke, feeling strangely disoriented. Hung over, maybe, if I had drunk more than normal, which I hadn't. I felt as if I had no compass, and the world was spinning wildly, a whirligig of birdsong, sunshine, and strong coffee. Another day of too many possibilities looming before me.

After breakfast, scrambled eggs and ham (all local- woohoo!!!) I wandered out to my garden, trying to put off the inevitable task of washing the dishes. I thought about planting the few potatoes left over from yesterday, the ones I had cut up because I didn't have enough Yukon Golds to plant them whole. Then I saw them. Actually, saw him first, flying overhead, gracefully diving and dipping in a flight I had never seen before, like a visitor from afar, giving a slight chuckle as he swooped on wings that defied gravity.

"What in the hell was THAT!" I found myself exclaiming out loud. The flight pattern, the white and black of the bird, seemed totally foreign to me. It had to be a new bird, a life-lister, something I had never seen before. I found myself wanting to believe that, that it was not just another ordinary bird, as if there is such a thing.

It turned out to be an extraordinary bird, and one I had seen before, a male Northern Harrier, quite common around here. But the way it flew was something I had never seen before, and soon I was to know why. This was no ordinary flight, but a dance. A mating dance. I saw him retun, soaring, with a female harrier, and they soared and swooped around each other like poetry. The dishes waited while I watched as they soared and called together, then landed just across the swamp. I waited and watched.

As I waited, I observed a pair of song sparrows, first calling to each other, then mating in one brief moment.

I saw the harriers several more times throughout the day, each time heralded by the high, thin "Keeeiiir! Keeeiiir!" call of the female. The pair seemed to be enjoying just soaring, flying together.

Springtime is just too much. Everything bursts forth, in flowering, mating, growing, and soon it will be overgrown in the vines of summer. But for now it is just enough, when I open my heart to the dance.

By the way, I am listening to the first toads trilling tonight, and I heard tree frogs today. I think I heard one ovenbird, and I put out the hummingbird feeder but no takers. I will know the moment they arrive, and isn't that knowledge awesome!

the colors of spring

little snapper

I happened to see this little snapping turtle the other day as I was walking around the fish rearing ponds at work. I could have easily missed seeing it, it blends in so well with dead leaves and mud and rocks. His (her?) shell was about four inches in diameter; I don't think I've ever seen a snapping turtle that size, although I've seen inch-long babies and large adults.

Even at this size, if the turtle decided to latch on to a finger I'm guessing it could be quite painful. So I just thanked it for the photo opportunity and moved on.

accompanied by the song of a robin

the frog chorus tonight, and a musical experience

The frog chorus is intoxicating, deafening. Spring peepers are at their peak, wood frogs are still going at it, and I heard my first toads and tree frogs today. Add to that the occasional peent of a woodcock and the winnowing of snipe wings, and you have a virtual symphony.

Speaking of music, I watched a video tonight that actually had me breathless, in tears at some points. I have admired Bela Fleck as a musician since I first saw him and the Flecktones at Telluride fourteen years ago. I have had the privilege of interviewing him personally; he is at once warm and introspective. He has brought the banjo to places a banjo was forbidden to go before. And this video, "Live At The Quick", shows how his music just keeps evolving, getting better and better just when you thought there was no room for improvement.

Imagine banjo and bassoon trading licks in a musical conversation. Imagine a throat singer from Asia who can sing three notes at the same time, jamming with the Flecktones. Imagine steel drums, soprano saxophone, clarinet, and Synthaxe Drumitar all in rhythm. Imagine Copland's "Hoedown" played on banjo, bassoon, clarinet, saxophone, steel drum, electric bass, and drumitar, and more full of life than ever. Imagine "Amazing Grace" played in harmonics on electric bass...

It's beyond imagination. You have to see it, experience it, to know that this is no ordinary musical show. It was a religious experience for me. Really.

yellow

ten beautiful birds

The "ten most beautiful birds" meme has already been on many of the blogs I frequent, so I figured it would be only a matter of time until someone tagged me, or I picked up on one of the open-ended "Consider yourself tagged!" invitations. Because, face it, I like birds and I haven't had any bird posts lately. I have now been officially tagged by Pamela at Thomasburg Walks ; this is going to be an unpremeditated, extemporaneous, off-the-top-of-my-head list of some of the beautiful birds I've seen:

1. Painted bunting- I already wrote about this one at Whorled Leaves.
2. Tree swallow- iridescent green, the joy of motion in flight
3. Wood duck- exquisite
4. Sandhill crane- a pair, alternately flapping and soaring over a bog washed in spring green and red, yesterday's blessing
5. Eastern bluebird- true blue
6. Red-breasted nuthatch- delicate
7. Common loon- wears the stars on its back
8. Great gray owl- I missed you this winter
9. Common (great) egret- serpentine reflection in still waters
10. Tufted titmouse- gray is anything but plain

I'm tagging Gina at Raising Frolic , Melissa at Between Plow and Wood , and whoever else wants to play!

mother-daughter haircut day

SORRY- PHOTO REMOVED DUE TO UNAUTHORIZED REBLOGGING BY SOME REALLY, REALLY SICK PERSON.

Sad, isn't it.

Starflower and I had a "girls morning" at the beauty salon. Her 'do was more dramatic than mine; she had a good six inches taken off and I think the results are fantastic. Hopefully there will be no more morning fights with tangles. Mine was more of a ten-minute trim than anything, but it helped. I had thought about making an appointment to get some coloring done, some lightening and highlights, because my hair used to be closer to the color of Starflower's, even a dark blonde. But then I thought of how in college I so wanted my hair to be the color it is now, a dark brown with reddish tones here and there, and then I thought if I take the color plunge then I'd have commited myself to bimonthly "touch up" jobs and regular chameleon-like changes. That just ain't me. So I'll go with what Nature gave me, even the occasional silver streak.

Starflower sometimes wishes she had blue eyes like Mom, but I think her eyes are absolutely gorgeous. I think I'll have to get out the shotgun when she's a teenager and the boys start coming around.

And wow. I didn't realize what a week and a half out on the lake did to my face. I still have fish-belly legs, but what a tan!

photosensitivity or allergy?

I'd appreciate some input from anyone with experience with this. When I started going out on the lake every day, doing the muskie assessment, thus being exposed to sun and lake water and fish slime every day, I began to develop a rash on the backs of my hands, mostly the left (and I am left handed). It's like a bunch of raised reddish bumps, not like poison ivy, not itchy but a bit sensitive and warm. It goes away, then comes back when I go out on the lake again.

I'm thinking from the location it's a photosensitivity thing; I had something similar when I was on Doxycycline, an antibiotic for Lyme disease. But it's not on my face, which gets as much exposure as my hands. So maybe if I get my hands wet a bit it might be a combination of lake water and sunlight. I am allergic to one algae that is in this lake; one time I went tubing (towed in an inner tube behind the speedboat) and there was an algae bloom, I broke out in hives, the only time in my life that has happened. But if I am allergic to lake water, that has dire implications for my career!

I even went so far as to check the ingredients in the "natural" hand lotion I may have used the mornings before I went out; perhaps just one ingredient might cause a reaction in me when exposed to sunlight. But of course the label was unspecific when it came to "essential oils".

I should not complain; I know of others who have far worse lots with allergies and general health. But the first time anything happens, you gotta wonder.

potato amnesia

Okay. Something in me told me that I had, in fact, purchased seed potatoes online. I remembered selecting the varieties, even telling The Hermit about what I had ordered.

It hasn't come through yet.

I began to doubt myself. Had I, in a drunken stupor (and I won't say that does not happen once in a while!) merely imagined myself clicking and ordering potatoes, or did I in fact place an order which somehow got lost in cyberspace? I don't know. I checked my online debit card record, which is usually a traumatic experience for me, and I found no record of a debit being posted for potatoes. A day later, I went back in my email and found, to my relief, a confirmation email stating that I had indeed placed an order for several varieties, from Moose Tubers, an associate of Fedco Seeds, from whom I received seeds promptly. I emailed them about the status of my order. I certainly hope to hear from them soon. Potato planting time is here.

another fish tale

There were no muskies in the nets today. Maybe it was due to the fact that several of the nets had actually rolled over in strong winds, and did not fish properly, a couple of them had holes where snapping turtles or muskrats had chewed their way through, or maybe it was due to the seasonably cold weather after a week of above average temperatures.

I did get to dip out many bowfin (Amia calva) and freshwater drum (Aplodinotes grunniens), which I have written about earlier (last July or August maybe; I'm too lazy to check the archives myself) as they have the ability to make grunting noises. I also saw at least one twelve inch crappie and many others I would choose to fillet if I were fishing for fun. And lots of northern pike.

One pike in particular struck me and J and N, my coworkers, as looking rather odd. It was 25 inches in length, but very skinny, like a snake. Other northern pike that size appeared very fat and healthy, so it was not a food chain deficiency. As J was measuring it, he noticed it held its mouth open slightly. A closer look at the mouth revealed something I have never seen before. The entire bottom of the mouth was covered with a growth of some sort, like really grainy flesh. Like the top of a cauliflower, almost. He took a pocket knife and cut off what he could, saving it for possible examination by the state fish pathologist. We were able to release the fish after this surgery, and hopefully it was able to eat for the first time in months.

On a somewhat related note, I answered a call yesterday at the office from someone who was concerned about a gelatinous, slimy growth on the wheels of his roll-in dock and on some other objects that had been submerged through winter. The culprit? Bryozoans, a colonial animal somewhat like sponges but deserving, nonetheless, a phylum of their own. That is one of the critters the prof breezes over in Invertebrate Zoology class, preferring the much more glamorous corals and anemones (What phylum are they in? Damn, I forgot!) but it is amazing, the web of life that exists around here.

never try to eat anything bigger than your head

That's the moral of a story I'll be getting to here shortly. I've been really busy with work, and I even worked this morning, a Saturday, which is rare for me. We're doing our every-five-year muskellunge (Esox masquinongy) assessment on a lake south of here. We stock the little muskies in the lake when they are about twelve inches long, and the assessment is to see if some of them are growing into big muskies.

To capture muskies live, we use trap nets, which are a series of hoops into which a fish swims and cannot swim back out. The hoops are connected to a fifty foot long panel of mesh that is set perpendicular to the shore. A fish swimming along shore will encounter the panel, try to swim around it, and be led into the trap net. If all goes well, it works nicely.

Today was a pleasant day to be out on the lake, with partly cloudy skies and very light wind. It was one of those days that make me think, if I have to work for a living, there are very few things I would rather be doing. I just like being out in a boat, in the water. While checking the nets we saw buffleheads, mallards, and wood ducks, a small flock of white pelicans, an osprey carrying a fish in its talons, a large raft of coots floating in the exact same spot they've been for three days now, great blue herons, Canada geese, and one swan. Sorry no pictures; I thought about bringing the camera but also had the vision of my camera ending up at the bottom of the lake. Best not to take chances.

We had a total of eleven muskies in 15 nets, which is actually a good catch rate. Most of them were around forty inches, which at over ten pounds are pretty nice fish, but I also saw and handled, for the first time, a 50-inch muskie that weighed 34 pounds. Wow. What a fighter. I finally realized what it is about this species that makes some anglers almost obsessed with them; they are the barracuda, the shark, the wild alligator of Minnesota lakes. I decided, awesome as they are, I would rather not tangle with one that had a lure with three treble hooks embedded in its mouth, at the end of my line. I don't go looking for trouble.

We also saw some nice sized, 11-12 inch black crappies (Pomoxis nigromaculatus), 19-inch largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides, or Hawg!), walleye (Stizostedion vitreum vitreum, which has since been changed but that's how I learned it!) and northern pike (Esox lucius). Which brings me to the title story. Today I saw a northern pike that died of gluttony. This fish, 23 inches long and maybe three or four pounds, with an elongated fusiform shape (think cylinder), had tried to ingest a black crappie that was perhaps too much for it. The crappie, which we pulled, half-digested, from the pike's upper throat, was perhaps nine inches long, maybe a quarter pound, but from dorsal to ventral a crappie that size is a good three or four inches high, a good inch or so bigger than the diameter of the northern pike. Furthermore, a crappie has spines in its dorsal and anal fins that point backwards, preventing a predator from changing its mind and regurgitating the crappie. The northern pike was still barely alive when we pulled it from the net, crappie tail hanging out of its mouth, but with such a large, non-cylindrical fish lodged in its throat it could not effectively ingest water to pump through its gills. Even after removing the crappie, we could see that this pike had attempted its last meal.

Fish never fail to amaze me. I guess even wild creatures have their unfortunate moments.

we'll wonder what we ever did without it

Yes, that's me behind the wheel of our "new" 1940 Farmall H. The Hermit found a deal too good to pass up, and, well, you know men and heavy equipment. It even came with a bucket, which will be ideal for getting the horse manure from the pasture to my garden beds. Of course, in the winter we can use it to plow snow from our long driveway; our suburban snowblower just wasn't fit for a country driveway.

Now if I just had more land to plow, to grow my own barley for beer...

spring has sprung

finally.

garden strategy 2006

And yes, I do have one, sort of.

I now have lettuce, arugula, spinach, beet greens, sugar snap peas, kohlrabi, and Swiss chard planted in the garden, as well as the garlic I planted last fall. All this a good month before the last expected frost date around here, and when the gardening books say such crops should be planted. The norm for northern Minnesota is plant everything Memorial Day weekend or later, whether it is frost tolerant or tender annual. Didn't the early settlers here ever hear of the wonders of picking the first salad greens in May? Apparently not, but I would not miss it for the world.

So my first strategy of the year is early. This is the first year I have had so much garden space available so early in the spring, and I plan on utilizing succession planting, which the early settlers also apparently did not know about. I'll give them a break; they were hard working folks, who did not have the leisure of garden "experiments" when they needed every square inch of garden space for survival. So they went with the tried and true.

While weeding some of last year's garden beds, the ones that did not have enough plant cover to inhibit weed growth, I started thinking of my second strategy: mulch. I should be out right now, raking and collecting leaves, pine needles, and whatever else I can find to keep the weeds at bay, and also a perhaps more important function, to keep the soil moist. The disadvantage of raised beds is that the soil tends to dry out quickly. I just compared my garlic bed, which I mulched heavily right after planting the bulbs, with the other more exposed raised beds. The soil was nice and moist right underneath the leaves, while I have had to water the greens bed daily.

While I'm on the M's, I'll bring up my third strategy: manure. The horses provide plenty of it; last year I filled most of the garden beds with aged manure hand-dug from the horse pasture. The only problem with that is the work involved, especially since the horse pasture is a long haul from the garden. We may have a friend come with a tractor and do some of the work. The Hermit has been looking at tractors to buy as well. Ah, men and their toys.

With a little bit of a stretch I can keep up the M motif with my fourth strategy: days to Maturity. I learned the importance of selecting short-season varieties last year, when we were hit with frost in August, just as my Kentucky Wonder pole beans were starting to set pods. The other pole beans I planted, Ohio Cutshort, had just begun to flower. I did some research later and found that Ohio Cutshort took at least 85 days to produce beans. That just won't do around here. While last year I was trying to save space by planting pole beans with squash underneath, this year I will have to take up more garden space and plant earlier maturing bush beans.

Speaking of more, that brings up my fifth strategy, which is...more. More raised beds, more of everything, because I have never had too much of anything from the garden. Yes, even zucchini and tomatoes. Of course I realize that will mean more work for me, but there is a certain minimum amount of effort required just to have a garden; planting six beds instead of three does not necessarily double the work involved. In theory, anyway. I never keep track, and I don't intend to start.

Some time after the first frost next fall, I predict I will look back on this post and have a good laugh. "What was I thinking!"

Monday morning birding

I had, in birding jargon, two "lifers" for the yard in one morning! The first one, a rusty blackbird, is one I'm surprised I had not seen before. I heard a strange, loud call coming from the top of an aspen, and I looked up to see a black bird that was not a starling and not a red winged blackbird. Rustys are not nearly as common as either of those, but they do nest in spruces near swamps or bogs. Definitely a lot of habitat for them here.

Then, as we were eating breakfast, I glanced up at a branch in the dead spruce just in time to see a small hawk with fine reddish bars on its breast. With much assurance and a calmness that masked my excitement, I announced "There is a sharp shinned hawk in the spruce." I usually second-guess myself with hawk identification, but I had just been studying the hawk section of Sibley the other day and it was fresh enough in my mind that there was no doubt. Of course the camera was not within reach.

Other sightings included ruby crowned kinglets, dark eyed juncos, a tree sparrow, purple finches, goldfinches (now turning very yellow) blue jays, chickadees, and ravens. I heard a snipe winnowing, but did not see it, and also heard sandhill cranes and turkeys.

I took the day off to be with the kids on their holiday from school, but my to-do list keeps growing. I'm hoping to plant seeds indoors and out, but there are the dishes that have been neglected all weekend, laundry to sort, and that pesky state tax return I put off filing because we owe money.

UPDATE- 10:54 am This just in...a yellow-rumped warbler sighting has been confirmed! That has got to be the earliest I have ever seen a warbler here; usually they come in around the first of May.

And don't ask how the chores are going...

buying local, and real estate

We bought a half hog yesterday, all neatly cut and wrapped, from a friend who lives about 20 miles away. This does my soul good, knowing that the freezer is very full (and God knows in the event of a prolonged power outage I will have the canner going 24 hours a day!), knowing that the animal did not spend its life in a hog confinement building, nor did it travel several journeys to get to my table. And, with those prejudices in mind, I would still rate it in a blind test as the best pork I have ever tasted. We grilled chops last night.

We spent Easter afternoon at my brother's house, in a very prosperous suburb of Minneapolis. He works for a major computer disk drive company, with his Ph.D. in physics. We don't get together that often or call each other up to chat much; we're just not that way. But still we get along fine and have a nice time at family get togethers.

Their house is currently on the market. They somehow decided that, with three daughters and a three bedroom house, they would do better buying something else nearby than adding on. Okay, given that they live fairly modestly for their means, they're not looking for a McMansion or anything. But still I think it's a losing proposition. Even with the profit they will make thanks to nothing but the whims of the market, they will probably still end up with a higher mortgage payment in the end. Oh well. Perhaps they know something I don't.

Madcapmum had a post recently about real estate agents and their sometimes unscrupulous tactics. I'll be quite frank about this: I have never had a good dealing with a realtor, and I'll be damned if I ever buy or sell property through one again. I hate the whole real estate game, the cosmetic bullshit they tell you to do to enhance "curb appeal", like I want to sell my house to some moron who thinks the vase of fresh cut flowers in every room makes the house somehow worth the overinflated price that the market demands. I hate being called on a whim and being asked to vacate the premises for an hour or so while some looker gets shown through. And I hate having a buyer specify on the purchase agreement that they want my stuff off the premises two days before closing, two days before they take ownership, or bank subservience as it may be, and my selling agent not rejecting that as total bullshit, not doing their job to represent me. That still hurts.

Oh well, none of my business anyway, nothing to get worked up over, just another thing that makes my visits to the city so memorable and stressful. Makes me glad I am so far out, so where I am.

another pupdate

I'm afraid I have been replaced...

It was a beautiful April day here at Sand Creek. Many trees were budding out and flowering, including this young maple. Unfortunately we don't have any mature maples here, or we'd have been syruping the last few weeks.

After a few chores and gardening, we spent our first afternoon of the year at the pond. I was the only one who did not go in past my feet. After all, the ice just went out last week. I walked around the pond and saw many minnows, of unknown origin. I was hoping to see some sign of the crappies I threw in last fall.

These are remnants of last years' times spent at the pond. Pablo should be familiar with one of these.

all is not lost

This is my cold frame experiment from last fall. At that time I was ready to write it off as a failure, being that I had neglected to consider that maybe glass frames should be placed at an angle, to avoid excess pressure from ice and snow. You can see what happened.

On th brighter side, note the spinach plants, two of them, that survived a Minnesota winter under cover of plastic! So Eliot Coleman's four season gardening tactics might work here after all.

getting in-line

A few things you may not have known about me:

I like in-line skating.

I live over a mile from any pavement, making in-line skating an unlikely pastime for me.

But my workplace is close to the head of the longest paved recreational trail in the world.

So sometimes I take a long lunch break and go skating.

That's what I did today. My skates have been in the back of my car since last summer, and today I had no excuse not to go. It's sunny and nearly 70 degrees, I had the time, I needed the exercise, and I felt like doing something more intense than walking. I suppose I could have backed out because my helmet and wrist guards were left at home, but that's never stopped me before. I know, probably not wise to go without.

I made it a short skate today, turning around after just one mile. I had forgotten how much my shins start to hurt when I haven't skated in a while. Not having cross country skied at all last winter, and only having ice skated once or twice, my legs were not used to the sudden burst of exercise. At least the trail is mostly uphill on the way out and downhill on a gentle grade coming back, so I can relax and glide along more then.

I did see a couple unidentified little brown birds, one red tailed hawk, and I heard a loud symphony of Western chorus frogs with a few wood frogs singing along.

Now if I can just do this three times per week or so.

return of the kinglets

It's a warm, windy evening here. I was looking forward to maybe doing some gardening, but I do not like working in wind. Before sunset I'll at least walk down and see if the greens seeds I planted need any water, and maybe after dinner I'll start some more tomatoes and other seeds indoors. But wind and me just do not get along.

As we were migrating to the cook shed to start dinner (grilled mahi mahi from the freezer, organic brown rice, and broccoli) The Hermit asked me about a bird song he hadn't noticed before and didn't remember. I looked up just in time to see a ruby crowned kinglet presenting itself obviously; its crown was fully exposed and glowing ruby in the evening sun. I remembered posting about them a year ago (well, April 18th), noting their precisely phrased, melodic song. There was a whole flock of them, flitting among the growing buds in the aspen trees. I tried to take a picture, but even with 12x optical zoom it's hard to capture something so tiny, and so active.

I have now gone through my annual frog song re-education. It should be simple, we only have four or five species of frogs here, but it seems I can never remember which is the Western Chorus frog (think running your thumb along a comb) or a green frog (loose banjo string) or a wood frog (resembles a fragmented duck quack). The chorus frogs tend to inhabit the roadside wetlands, while the wood frogs are in the bog near the house. There are not too many green frogs around here, but spring peepers are everywhere, and loud. Toads and tree frogs won't chime in for a week or two. I learned today that chorus frogs are indeed "explosive" breeders, taking advantage of the first available conditions to complete their annual orgy. We also have leopard frogs, but they seem to be quieter and more difficult to distinguish.

A single blue winged teal was on the pond yesterday evening, and I heard a woodcock and a Wilson's snipe at about 4 am, displaying in the near-full moon. Spring is good.

open water

Over this warm weekend, most of the lakes in the southern half of Minnnesota lost their cover of ice. I heard that Grindstone Lake, near Sandstone, lost its ice the earliest in thirty years. The lakes north of my place may still have a mass of slush floating on them for another day or so.

It is such a thrill to see open water, after five months of frozenness. It's an amazing transformation, when you can walk on water one month and float a boat on it the next.

I spent my work day on what my elder fisheries professionals would call a "gravy run". That is, you drive a lot, go pick up fish somewhere and dump them someplace else, not much work involved. In this case it was muskies or muskellunge (Esox masquinongy) , an esocid predator fish that some people in this state are obsessed with. It's not considered a food fish; the minimum harvest length is 48 inches, so if you kill one it generally ends up on your wall. I don't get it, but whatever pays the rent.

The above lake was the rearing pond for muskie. I arrived at the lake at about 10:30, whereupon I waited about two hours for the guys that were pulling the nets to have any fish for me. I spent that time exploring the lakeshore, enjoying the warmth of the sun. The call of the sandhill crane was constantly in the background, and I observed four of them flying around. A frog chorus erupted from an adjacent shallow wetland, with Western chorus frogs, leopard frogs, and spring peepers performing a symphony. On the water I heard a loon give its laughing call, and I watched a small group of bufflehead ducks dive and fly. Buffleheads are among the most beautiful of ducks, in my humble opinion. They are a contrast of white and iridescent black. On the land I saw a red headed woodpecker, something I just don't see where I live. That, and some tree sparrows.

After I received the fish, it was a long drive and an exercise in contrast. The lake I stocked them in is on the northern edge of the ever-expanding Twin Cities metropolitan area. I endured city-like traffic, and monstroso-mansions built where there used to be humble little weekend lake cabins. I hope they enjoy their trophy fish.

Back to the office at last, ten minutes after quitting time, and on the drive home I had a perma smile on my face. I love this day, the welcome warmth of spring and being able to drive around and see so much of it. I love that I don't live in one of those cookie cutter houses on the edge of suburbia like I used to. It could be no other way for me.

I forgot to add, the frog symphony tonight is absolutely intoxicating. Breathtaking. I'm going outside for more. Who cannot be overwhelmed, joyful over this?

Unfortunately, I think I know. But hey, if you can't appreciate the first evening frog chorus, well, you're not goddamn alive. What have you got to lose?

pupdate: eleven weeks

farmers' market is coming to town

The Hermit was talking to a neighbor couple yesterday afternoon, in usual style; they were out for a walk and he was on his way back from some errands in the pickup truck, so a fifteen minute conversation ensued in the middle of the road, with no passing traffic during that time.

Anyway, they said that the local Audubon center is taking the lead in organizing a farmers market in town this year. This is good news, since the nearest thing that can resemble a farmers market around here is about an hours' drive away. I think this community needs a farmers market for several reasons: 1) to promote and provide locally grown produce and handcrafted products; 2) to help shift the economy to a more local one and encourage more local agriculture; and 3) to add an opportunity for the re-creation of a sense of community.

It's a given in my mind that I want to participate, as a grower. Being a startup market, I'm sure I can probably get in without too much commitment, but there is enough lead time now that I can plan my planting to include some marketable stuff as well as produce for the family. I want to provide some unique items, beyond the usual cucumbers and green beans and big zucchini I'm sure will show up on tables. I'm thinking salad mix, heirloom tomatoes, small, gourmet-size zucchini, maybe some basil and other herbs.

As if I don't have a lot on my plate already! But this is something I have wanted to see locally for so long, I can't let the opportunity slip by; I need to be a part of it.

first pond activity

Yes, that is ice on the pond behind Starflower. She didn't seem to mind the water temperature, which could not have been too much above freezing. The last swim was sometime in October, which means there are only five months out of the year that are considered unswimmable.

As for myself, I'll wait until the water is comfortably warm and the air is unbearably hot. But I did get in some gardening today, cleaning out some of the raised beds and planting lettuce and arugula seedlings. I couldn't wait, it was too nice. While I was working in the garden, I saw my first butterflies of the year, a White Admiral and an unidentified orange one, a fritillary perhaps. And my first fox sparrow of the year, doing its scratch dance in the leaves in the woods.

the cleanup crew

awww, I kind of liked that tree

But alas it fell victim to the wind. That, and maybe carpenter ants; this is the same tree I posted about a month ago: Woodpeckerage. Too bad it's not Christmas; the fallen top would make a nice tree, or lots of wreaths.

whew, that was close!

Looks like it could have been a lot worse.


At least the wind chimes and bird feeder, not to mention the house appear to be relatively unharmed. By the way, the house isn't really all rainbow colored like that; that happened when I resized the photo for some odd reason.

wind and tigers and spruce trees (oh my!)

My neck of the woods is making news headlines this morning. About ten miles southeast of here, a woman was mauled to death by a Bengal tiger yesterday. The good news is, that does not mean there are Bengal tigers roaming loose in the woods. At least I hope. The tiger was kept penned up on the woman's property; apparently she was licensed to keep it and she used to run a wildcat breeding program. The only clue I had that I was living so close to Bengal tigers was the large chain link fence enclosing that property; I had often wondered if they were fencing something in or keeping something out.

The woman was discovered in the tiger cage by a man who had come to do some burning on the property. The tiger was walking around looking "agitated"; eventually law enforcement and a veterinarian arrived and the tiger was put down in order to reach the victim. According to the sheriff, who usually does not venture out into these parts, the cause of death was "obvious", but he "did not elaborate". Oh, the mental image that conjures up.

Why people choose to keep big exotic cats is beyond me. Besides the obvious safety issue, and there have been several maulings around the state recently, I just don't think these animals belong in cages. It is sad that their natural habitat is disappearing, but keeping wild cats for breeding or other purposes in confinement is sad too.

Another question I have is why the guy was even considering burning yesterday; it was windy! The Hermit has seen one "controlled" grass fire, tended by people who supposedly knew what they were doing, get out of hand in a light wind and burn down a barn. Ah, but it's that time of year, and for some reason rural folk just can't stand the sight of last year's growth of grass or cattails in ditches and swamps.

The wind continued all through the night and this morning. Which brings me to spruce trees. I just received a call here at work from The Hermit, who informed me that a fairly large spruce tree had broken off halfway up the trunk and hit the cabin. Wow. Apparently there's little damage, and he and Mr. Attitude are fine, but I know who's going to spend the afternoon with the chain saw. Pictures soon, maybe.

the "fifteen foot" beach

I don't know where the "fifteen foot" name came from; The Hermit named it, either for fifteen foot waves or fifteen foot high dunes leading down to the beach. Either way, Manchester State Park Beach in northern California holds many wonderful memories for us, and will be known as the "fifteen foot" beach.

I am a water person. It is amazing that I can live in the middle of the continent, as far away from an ocean as you can get. I have Lake Superior a short drive away, and numerous smaller lakes so I can get my water fix, but I have this thing about oceans.

We lived, for a brief but momentous time, in northern California, twenty miles from the coast. It was a stop on our inevitable journey that led us here, to this life. It was not meant to be there, but we had to go there to get where we are. And the beach was a big part of it.

On a Saturday or Sunday morning, we would load up the car. Calvin had just turned five, Starflower celebrated her third birthday on the beach, and Mr. Attitude was under a year old. We always stopped at the Navarro Store for snacks, and a six pack of Hop Ottin' IPA, Anderson Valley's finest, and maybe even a 22 ounce "roadie" of Poleeko Pale Ale. The store was run by a nice couple; the man always smiled and had jokes for the kids. He was missing one hand; the local story was he used to dabble in explosives as a hobby.

Then it was off down a winding road through a tunnel of redwoods, following the Navarro River to the coast. There was a beach there at the mouth of the river, which made for a nice half day trip, but when we wanted a real beach experience we turned south and took the hairpin turns of the highway that followed the cliffs of the coast. Eventually we came to the town of Manchester, and just beyond it, Manchester State Park. The fifteen foot beach.

It was at least a half mile hike over the dunes to the beach. You could not hear the roaring of the waves over the dunes; it was silent until you came to the crest of the last dune. I carried Mr. Attitude, either in the backpack or the sling. We encouraged Starflower to walk, but somehow she always ended up on Daddy's shoulders. And someone had to carry the cooler.

It was always magical, topping the crest of the last dune and finally hearing the roar of the waves. It was loud, deafeningly loud, but a relaxing void, a rushing, a calmness at the same time. It washed away all that did not matter. At the beach we did not agonize over the trivial; we rejoiced in the moment. We did not care where we set up the blanket, or what the plan for the day would be. We were there, and that is all that mattered.

Long walks were always part of the day. We would spend some time at the edge of the waves, running back and forth, chasing the surf. We would look for treasures washed up: polished stones, shells, jellyfish, long strands of kelp, and once, the perfectly dried body of a sea star.

Our base camps always ended up near driftwood, for some reason. There was plenty of driftwood scattered along the miles of beach, and we were drawn to it. We were intrigued by the washed out forms, the muted colors, the hollow sounds the wood made when pounded against larger logs. Pretty soon we were drumming, caught up in some ancient rhythm we felt with the crashing of the waves. We lined up circles and structures of smaller sticks, leaving them for others to discover and wonder at. Somehow at those moments, I felt closer to God than I ever have.

I always felt such calm there. For the previous few years of my life, I had always felt under stress of some sort, but the beach was where I learned how to lose myself, to find myself, and to relax again. The rumble of the surf against the long open shoreline made a noise that drowned out all but the present moment. I didn't worry about anything, didn't think about anything I was just there. It was a great comfort. For the most part, we were alone on that beach. Even if there were others there, it was never crowded, and we had plenty of space.

There are a few places on this earth that I count as my home. The fifteen foot beach is one of them.

first frog!

During my lunch hour walk, I was treated to the sound of a single western chorus frog calling.

rocks

We have an abundance of rocks in most of our soil here. I say most of the soil because we have two very different soil types on our 40 acres. Out by the road the soil is sand and gravel, evidence of perhaps a much larger Sand Creek during the melting of the last glaciers. However, as you come up the driveway near the chicken yard, the soil composition abruptly becomes different: darker, a bit more clay, and boulders, ranging from fist size to several feet in diameter.

The most abundant rock is a pinkish sandstone, which also makes up the bedrock in this area. There is also a greenish rock that I don't know the name of; it is a dense, fine grained rock. Occasionally there is granite or gneiss, or basalt with various inclusions.

The soil is so rocky that I have given up using the rototiller and instead opted for raised garden beds. But there are many potential uses for the rocks: flower bed edges, walkways, walls, terraces, perhaps even a garden shed or greenhouse in the future. Some of the bigger ones could be strategically placed in Sand Creek to enhance fish habitat. Most of the pile above is reserved for facing the half wall that will be built behind the wood stove; the rock will provide thermal mass, helping to moderate temperature and store heat. It's nice to be able to use some locally available, free building materials in the house.

whoaaa...Site Meter, you scare me!

The latest hit on this blog was from a Google search string:

"mystical beach near Point Arena"

That would be Point Arena, California, and... I have spent many wonderful, mystical hours on a beach near there. BUT....to my knowledge, I have not blogged about it. Or have I? The entry page was the archives for October 2005, a very eventful month in other ways, but in scanning it I found no mention of the beach.

Does Google know my mind or what?!!! Scary indeed.

And, I will post about the beach some day. Significant spiritual moments definitely happened there.

Edited to add: Okay, I might have mentioned it briefly in a meme post. But, like, wow man. That caught me off guard, totally!

PUpdate

Ten weeks old, and GROWING! We got Sally four weeks ago today.

new growth, and new fridge

I can barely remember planting daffodil bulbs last fall, but here they are!


And, I must really be getting old. Getting a new refrigerator excites me. :)

Our old fridge, which we bought used for $29, was sounding like it was in the throes of a tormenting death, and the freezer, well, didn't freeze in most places, except for the mound of frost in the middle. So we took the plunge and bought a new one, not from the big box store sixty miles away but from a local mercantile that happens to carry appliances. Nothing fancy, although Starflower and Mr. Attitude were both disappointed that it did not have a water/ice dispenser in front. Fred can tell you a thing or two about how Mr. Attitude likes ice dispensers. :)

It is pictured above in its new place in my cook shed, next to the shelf that will, in a few weeks, be full of new seedlings. I got two seed orders in the mail today, from Baker Creek and Territorial. I gotta love the way Baker Creek does business; they were out of two of the varieties I ordered, so for a refund they stapled three dollar bills to my invoice. I so want to travel to one of the two shows they have annually at their headquarters in Missouri.

The real thrill of the day, new fridge and all, came as we were unloading it from the back of the pickup truck. Just then a flock of about fifty tundra swans flew directly overhead. It absolutely does not get any better than that!