a picture is worth a thousand words

Sorry folks, I'm suffering from a bout of much to say but inability to actually sit down and take the time to say it coherently. So I'll leave you with some pictures of my oft-neglected flowers that manage to keep blooming.

This is butterfly weed, but it is blooming about a month later than usual around here. That may be due to the Monarch caterpillars that completely defoliated this plant in June. I thought it was done for, but it managed a graceful late-season comeback. I don't hold anything against the caterpillars; I hope they made it to replace the monarchs I have killed with my car this year. :(

I had saved some Cosmos seed from a garden somewhere a few years ago, and I thought it was the pink and white and magenta kind. Oh well, the orange is beautiful.

And, for contrast, we have this white coneflower surrounded by purple Nicotiana, my new favorite. I have grown white Nicotiana alata before, and loved the fragrance, but these purples seem to be just as fragrant. Next year I'll grow a garden of purples and whites; no, although I'm from Minnesota I'm not much of a Vikings fan, especially lately since they have a tendency to behave badly off the field. ;) But the colors are nice.

this morning, across the road

Hint: look in the top of the tree and click to view full size if you can't see those magnificent white heads!

top of old white pine
bald eagle pair enjoying
rays of morning sun

raising the rafters

We finally got an important phase of the house construction completed yesterday. With the help of my stepson Ryan and friends Tom and Chris, and a crane operator who lives less than five miles away, we got the roof framework up. In the above photo, the crane is lifting the center roof beam.

The complete span of the roof beam was in three pieces, so the two side pieces had to be matched up to the main center piece. For the most part, it went pretty smoothly.

When one side beam was lowered, it was longer at the top than at the bottom so it would not drop into place. 26 feet up in the air, standing one rung above the "Do not stand above this point" rung, wielding a running chainsaw, our friend Tom took care of the problem. He's a braver person that me.

Once the main beam was in place, the crane started lifting the rafters. The rafters were pre-notched and shaped, so they just had to be fitted together like puzzle pieces.

The rafters were lifted in pairs; once the first one was in place, a corresponding rafter, with a steel plate already attached, was lifted into place and the two were connected. We were running low on the large bolts required, so I had to make a run to the nearest lumberyard for more.

Once the pattern became established, the rafters went up quickly. I was amazed at how this team of individuals, none of whom was more than a casual acquaintance before, was able to work togehter with such efficiency.

All done. I can't help but admire this beautiful roofline, and think of the wonderful times to be had under the shelter it supports. There is still a lot of work to be done, I think the process will be infinite, but today's work was the major step forward.

My part in the day's work was largely supportive, making sure the children (6 of them) were safe and getting along out of the way, and recording the event with my digital camera. At one time we had two girls swimming, two boys stalking around with BB guns, and two boys playing video games. I was constantly back and forth, checking on things, but it all worked out okay. In the end I grilled bratwurst for everyone and we had a few beers and sighs of relief.

Morning walk, with horses

This is me and Drifter (as in High Plains), our newest addition. She's a nearly one year old buckskin. Ain't she cute!!!

She and Winnie, in the background, are in the new pasture we just recently fenced in across the creek. Our new house site is just beyond the tamaracks in the background. This pasture, this whole place, was amazingly beautiful in the morning sunlight, so beautiful I just wanted to stay there, lie down in the sweet grass, and feel the day wash over me.

But, of course, I had stuff to do.

A view into the dregs of humanity

As I mentioned in my previous post, I spent yesterday in the information booth for the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources at the State Fair. Although we were nowhere near the midway (Thank God, I even walked an extra block to avoid even a glimpse of the entrance with all its contorted Gypsy baroque figures that somehow creep me out!) I still managed to experience an entertaining view into what our society is made of. And that creeps me out more than the Midway statues.

I saw numerous people seemingly going nowhere while talking on cell phones. What's up with that? When I was growing up it was, "Meet me by the giant slide at 2:00". Not "I'm just past the horse barns now, on my way to see that fabulously cool babe at the DNR booth ;), and by the way did you know such and such and yada yada babble ad infinitum." I think some spend way too much time keeping in touch about what they are doing and not enough time doing it.

I saw one of my coworkers using a dipnet to fish a cell phone out from the ever-popular fish pond (Which, by the way, I helped capture a few fish for the effort). I was going to check it out myself after my work shift, but there were people lined up 3 or 4 deep. To watch fish swimming around. People really need to go out and connect with nature more.
I saw maybe a thousand different T-shirt slogans. My favorite was "Old people RULE!"

I saw people who seemingly just lived to collect brochures and free stuff. Even our honorable Governor Tim Pawlenty's face on a fan. When I was little it was the WCCO (TV and radio) shopping bag. Some things never change, thank God.

I saw a bunch of 14-15 year old boys riding around in circles on these little bicycle-scooter hybrids with about six inch bike wheels. They looked like they were very inefficient and pointless to ride, and their riders with their baggy pants looked pretty ridiculous. I think they thought they were cool.

And, I saw thousands of teenagers trying to look cool. Dagnabit, I was once one of them, and I don't know and don't care now if I ever succeeded in looking cool to anyone. The 4-H button I had to wear when I was staying at the 4-H building probably erased all doubts. Especially since I was exhibiting a rock collection.

I saw pieces of metal that don't belong piercing eyebrows, lower lips, tongues, and God knows what else. I have pierced ears, in fact three holes in one, one in the other, but earlobes were just meant to be pierced. Facial parts were not.

I saw people who apparently thought any-kind-of-deep-fried-food-on-a-stick was a sacrament. I even heard rumors of "hot dish on a stick", but did not wish to investigate.

I talked with a few people, many of which I could tell knew nothing about "natural resources" except from what they had seen in the last ten minutes in the DNR building. People asked questions about things that, given the chance, I would seek to find the answer myself instead of going to the fair to ask some uniformed professional.

And I saw crowds. Did I mention I hate crowds, hate the way I have to walk in an erratic, zigzag pattern to get from here to there because all the zombies stand around in clusters and walk with no regard for anyone but themselves. As a matter of fact, it's not the crowds, but the self-absorbedness of the individuals within the crowds that disturbs me to no end. It's all about me, I guess, me and my attitude. My outer presentation matters more than what's inside.

Oh well. I like my little piece of heaven here in the country, with towering white pines and howling coyotes. I'll stay in my little world as much as I can.

State Fair--the first weary report

It's 11:13 PM. Blogger just ate up the first post I was typing about my day spent at the Great Minnesota Get Together, as it is billed. As I saw it, it was the Great Minnesota Festival of The Dregs of Humanity.

Not that my day was trying or stressful. Far from it. I was situated in an information area on the shady north side of the massive log DNR building, with about eight comrades from all the various disciplines of resource management, so if anyone asked me about duck seasons I could literally tell them where to go. To the Wildlife specialist seated next to me.

It was more relaxed and fun than I imagined. The guy in charge, from the DNR's Information Bureau, was more than appreciative and helpful and gracious that we field staff would give up a Saturday to face the public and hand out brochures. I got to talk to a few coworkers from around the state that I normally don't get to see. And there weren't too many weird people asking weird questions.

Fred and Missy even showed up. Cool to have some friends come visit.

But, after viewing the massive throngs, I can't help but wax philosophical about the ways of society. Keep in mind, I don't visit malls, I avoid crowds whenever possible, so what comes as a revelation to me might be obvious to everyone else. The 95% rule is definitely in effect. We have 5% of the population to count on for our salvation. The rest are just bloody sheep.

More to come. I guarantee it. But we had to take the kids to the fireworks in the second closest town, so it was a full day. So more later.

getting pickled

My DSL connection is running slow tonight, as it usually does when it rains, not that I mind the rain.

I took the day off, since I have to give up this Saturday in service to the state, and because The Hermit had business to do. And I had pickles waiting to be made. Canning is a big time commitment; not the canning itself, but the preparation. I had to locate enough wide-mouth canning jars, wash the dust and bugs out of them, and cut up garlic and harvest more dill heads. I found out it takes a long time to get the canner to boiling on my stove.

The end product was eight quarts, a full canner load. Two of these were my first batch of fermented dill pickles. They look really bad, since the brine gets cloudy from fermentation and someone happened to spill some red Kool-Aid in the bucket yesterday! But I checked them carefully, and they weren't slimy or smelly, so they were good. I have about four more quarts bubbling away in another bucket.

The way my family goes through pickles, this batch will last all of two months, maybe.

Road work

Usually, my commute is something I don't even have to think about. No traffic, no traffic lights, nothing but bucolic scenery and whatever music I have in the CD player. It's almost 30 miles one way, longer than I would like but for now it's the best option available. My Honda Accord wagon gets nearly 30 miles to the gallon, so even with gas prices I'm doing okay there.

But this summer, The Powers That Be have conspired to shut off every route I have to the south and west, in the name of Better Roads. My morning commute went like this: All was well until I entered Danish Town, where I saw a train sitting motionless on the tracks at the crossing. This town has a poorly placed siding that the railroad company likes to use right at Rush Hour in Danish Town. It basically cuts the town in half for upwards of twenty minutes sometimes. Yes, the local officials and state legislators have been on the case, so far to no avail.

I was able to cut to a southbound road out of town, taking the longer but in this case quicker route through Quarry Town. But as I came within a mile of crossing the river into town, I encountered a flag person, dressed in the usual day-glow prison garb, with STOP sign firmly turned my direction. I had enough time to get out of the car and close the back hatch more firmly. I was also blasting an Iris DeMent CD I hadn't listened to for a while. "Our Town" always makes me cry.

Ten minutes later the queue of traffic gets the go-ahead. I drive through town, past Fred's house, and the rest of the drive is smooth sailing.

On the way home, I discover that Quarry Town has been for all practical purposes, shut down for road construction. I wanted to stop at the grocery store to pick up a few things, but the shortest route was at a standstill. I took the longer route, only to find that Main Street is down to one lane, also at a standstill. I detoured on the back streets to the grocery store, which was strangely empty. I guess.

There are three major entrances to Quarry Town, from the east, north, and west. It is, in my opinion, extremely poor planning to have them all basically shut down at the same time. Yes, the smooth new road surfaces will be lovely, but I pity the person clinging to life support in an ambulance who comes across this mess.

Northern waterthrush

This is not the way I prefer to have my first sighting of a bird species. I found this one recently killed, probably by an automobile, on a street in town as I was going for a noontime walk.

If I had been moving at a faster pace, even bicycle speed, I would have missed it entirely, or dismissed it as one of those "little brownish birds" that cannot be identified from a moving vehicle. But because I was walking, I gave it a look longer than a millisecond and knew that this was not something in my realm of ordinary. Although I have been identifying birds for over thirty years, I did not recall seeing this one before.

It was just under six inches in length, with dark olive-gray back and wings and a lovely pale yellow breast spotted with gray-black. The spots were arranged slightly in streaks, and the bird had a buff eye stripe. The narrow bill suggested a warbler or vireo.

If I had brought my digital camera with me, as I usually do, I would have taken a picture or two and placed the bird off the street, in a more dignified place. I was a block away from the office, barely starting out, so I didn't feel like turning around already to bring the bird back to the office for identification. So I walked about a mile holding a dead bird lightly in my hand. Other birders would understand, wouldn't they?

I brought it in and showed my coworkers; I did not have a bird guide with me but my boss had one, from his ornithology class he said. It was at least 25 years old, but I noted the pages were in near perfect condition, barely used. He is obviously not a serious birder. I had grown up with that particular field guide, so I knew just where to find warblers, and there it was, on the same page as the ovenbird: Northern waterthrush.

This one was probably a migrant; they are, I guess, fairly common north of here and I would not be surprised if I had a few of them over the summer at Sand Creek. They prefer wooded riparian areas and bogs, not city streets. They winter in Central and South America. It always amazes me how a bird I can hold in the palm of my hand can navigate such amazing distances. I wish this one had been more successful in its journey.

blue spotted salamander

Although I don't recall ever seeing one before, I guess the blue spotted salamander is fairly common in Minnesota woodlands. Calvin found this one while helping The Hermit pick up a load of firewood; apparently they like woody debris, and there were lots of small earthworms under the woodpile for this one to eat. We are keeping it in a coffee can for now; I need to find some salamander food tomorrow!

I mentioned firewood; on Saturday we picked up about four cords of mixed oak, maple, and birch firewood, cut and split, from a guy about two miles away from us. It took three trips with the pickup truck; The Hermit and Calvin made the first two runs while I was at the farmers market with Starflower and Mr. Attitude, then when I came back I went and helped with the third load.

There's something about heating with wood, something tangible. You know where the wood comes from, it's not like the furnace coming on automatically, being fed by a natural gas line from somewhere. We got to know a neighbor by purchasing wood from him; since when does one interact with the customer service rep at the gas company? You can look at a woodpile and see where your next winter's heat is coming from, something not to be taken lightly here in Minnesotarctica. Plus, forced air does not compare to the warming power of a woodstove.

I mentioned the farmer's market. While I'm not participating as a grower this year, I'm making up for it by being a customer. I must say I am impressed thus far; the growers are all truly local, there's no flea market junk allowed, and there has been some high quality produce. I came away this week with organically grown watermelon and muskmelon, green beans (mine aren't quite there yet, but all the growers say theirs are just about done), green peppers, sweet corn, apples, and a mix of heirloom tomatoes that didn't look like any variety I was growing. Everyone seemed to have an abundance of cucumbers, which I myself am experiencing, so no sales there.

That's the first half of my weekend. Today we went to church, which will be a post in itself, and I spent the rest of the day washing dishes and folding laundry, seemingly mundane tasks, but somehow I enjoyed just being home doing them.

late august

It is raining now, a strong rain that maybe will give the fall lettuce and kale seed I have planted an incentive to grow. The rain is surrounded by darkness, the darkness comes a little bit earlier each day it seems.

The nighthawks were flying and circling tonight, in loose flocks but with their intentions known: migration. Graceful as swallows, but bigger, and not seen here until their fall migration. It is time. Funny how one minute you're planting, the next minute it's all over.

I think I may have seen a wolf this morning. It was foggy, more like a September morning fog, and I could not see too far up the road, but there was a shadowy large gray figure that trotted off the road a few hundred yards in front of me, didn't bound off the road like a deer, was not black like a bear. The Hermit thought he heard a wolf this morning, not a coyote, so it is probable.

All was still earlier in the light of day, except for the crickets and one complaining nuthatch. It is the time of year when birds are all but invisible.

I hold it close, like I do all of the seasons these days. Every new day is different, each has something to say. The only constant is change; the earth spinning, tilting, traveling. To quote Wendell Berry, only music keeps us here.

What is a "chune"?

Find out here . My friend and fellow musician Fred has finally taken the leap into the blogging world, and if his writing is any bit as good as his mandolin playing it should be an interesting read. In his words:

I intend to try to reignite my long dormant writing skills and try and create --in prose, pictures, links, and comment/dialogue--the feel of one of my favorite musical experiences: the jam.

Join in- no musical experience necessary!

bronzeback

I've been catching fish the easy way again. Who needs a rod and reel when six amps and a dipnet will do? (Disclaimer- I'm a trained professional. Do not try this at home!)

This beautiful smallmouth bass came from somewhere on the St. Croix River. It was probably the first 20 inch smallmouth I had ever seen, weighing in at 4.5 pounds. For some reason it does not look that big in the photo, probably because my coworker, who is holding it, has enormous hands. And by the way, that's not an anomalous adipose fin in front of the normal spiny dorsal fin; it's part of a life jacket or something on shore.

Greg Brown has a great quote about flyfishing for smallmouth bass and trout in the song (actually a really cool Beat-esque spoken poem with musical accompaniment) "Eugene" off his new album, The Evening Call. "Smallmouth bass aren't all finicky like trout. Trout are British; smallmouth bass are Polish."

I gotta get a fly rod and head on down to the river.

an unexpected date with a horse

Starflower on horse. Beautiful.

Monday afternoon when I returned to the office from another day on the river, late as usual, I had a message from The Hermit. He and the kids were having lessons at a place a few miles from work, and he was wondering if I would pick up Mr. Attitude and Sally. When I arrived, Mr. Attitude had been promised a ride on a horse, so the idea of leaving early with him was out the window.

The Hermit (#1 horse person of the family), Starflower, and Calvin were in the midst of riding lessons in a large indoor arena when I arrived. I was amazed at the good training of the horses; these people really work with them and love doing it. This is a homeschooling family; the kids are young adults who have a passion for horses and an encouraging, enthusiastic manner in their teaching. I enjoyed being there so much, I even finally agreed to get in on the action.

This is me riding Whiskey (named after Jack Burns' horse in Edward Abbey's The Brave Cowboy. ) The Hermit has bought her and she will be coming to live with us soon.

And, as promised, Mr. Attitude got his ride. His eyes lit up and he was grinning from ear to ear. On the right is Alex, who was our teacher for the day along with his sister Jessie, and they were both impressive. Oce Mr. Attitude got to the arena, he kept insisting "I know how to do this!" And to my surprise, Alex and Jessie stepped back, keeping an eye from a distance, and let him ride, controlling the horse, himself. As a mother I was plenty nervous, but also learned a lesson. In the same situation, I would have said "No! You can't do this yourself! You have a lot to learn, and you're too young for this right now!" Maybe I need to strongly resist the motherly urge to say such things. He got along fine with the horse. He even wanted to go faster, and was permitted to ride at a faster pace, with someone leading the horse. Did he find a point of caution, where enough was enough? Nahhhh! After all, this is Mr. Attitude.

The horses were very tired after we were through with them. So were the parents. And Mr. Attitude fell asleep in the car on the way home.

Starflower is seven

My beautiful daughter turned seven years old today. She came into the world the way she is; headstrong and determined. Labor was only 4 1/2 hours from the first contraction; patience has never been one of her virtues.

In her early months we nicknamed her "Sirena", which rhymes with her real first name. We got a babysitter once for a couple hours out, and the sitter ended up calling her mom to come over out of desperation. Later on I had to scramble to find daycare, only to have the provider call me after 2 hours saying "Come get your children. Your daughter won't stop crying and she is disrupting our routine". I should have told that nanny from hell where to go. My daughter knows a bad situation when she sees one.

Looking back, Starflower's early years were anything but stable. By her second birthday, we had moved into the fourth place she had lived in. We celebrated her third on a beach in northern California. By her fourth, however, we were here to stay. But as a result, she is remarkably accepting, adaptable, and thankful for every little thing. She is a multi-award winning student in school, not to brag or anything but it just goes to show how living on the edge builds character.

Did I mention she can practially belch her ABC's? Her favorite movies are "Raising Arizona" and "The Big Lebowski". Such a little lady I'm raising.

Her present was a horse riding outfit: shirt, jeans, and riding boots, SIZE 6 1/2. That's ladies, not girls! She towers over her best friends. But she's not too big to sit on my lap for a cuddle.

So happy birthday Starflower, my only daughter. I ain't a perfect mom, far from it, and I don't deserve such an angel as you. Keep on being yourself!

Chickens sitting around on their cans

This was dinner. We bought fifteen organically grown chickens to put in the freezer yesterday, and had these two for dinner tonight. No, didn't bother raising our own this year, too many other concerns to think about, like getting a roof over our heads for the winter. But these were a deal at less than 5 bucks apiece.

We originally got the beer can chicken recipe from The Hermit's sister. The liquid in the can (you can drink it and fill it with water if you want) steams the chicken from inside while the outside grills. It was all delicious, and plenty of leftovers. Side dishes were corn on the cob (of course, this time of year) and new red potatoes from the garden. Starflower liked them a lot.

On the other hand, we got some sad news today. There is a couple who raise and board horses near us. We knew this couple from when we lived seventy miles south of where we do now, and they used to have a place near there where The Hermit boarded his first horses. Anyway, they just found out that he has throat and liver cancer. I don't know, maybe there's some hope, but it does not look good. She called to see if we would take one of their horses; at this time they can't be bothered with caring for as many horses as they have. The horse is the mother of one of ours, so it would be a natural match. Of course, we're taking her. On top of the two more horses The Hermit is buying ( I have nothing to do with horse transactions. Nothing. ) that will bring our total to six horses. Maybe I better start to like riding.

And a musical note, dedicated to Jim of Earth Home Garden. Jim, I finally got around to listening to the Reeltime Travelers, and the song "Little Bird Of Heaven", which you recommended, is now on my list of all time perfect songs. I tried it out on guitar tonight, and there is one chord I don't even know the name of, but I just happened to find it. It fits me like an old glove. I also like "Hallelujah", but that will be another day's practice. Anyway, thanks Jim, you old hippie you, you've turned me on to some good music. Maybe some day we'll make our way out to Big Bear Lake. :)

A day on the St.Croix

This is the eagle that spent the day alternately laughing at us ( I think I heard him) and thanking us for the abundance of slightly stunned redhorse suckers that were easy scavenging. It's the only picture I got; I was too busy wielding a long-handled dip net, weighing catfish, and trying to help the boat driver avoid shallow places and rocks.

Sometimes I think I have a really fun job. Today was one of those days. The mission: along with J and The Intern, electrofish a short stretch of the St. Croix River, a Nationally-designated Scenic Riverway. This particular stretch has Minnesota's largest state park on the Minnesota side, and some equally wild-looking land on the Wisconsin side. The river banks are lined with mixed hardwoods and some beautiful stands of white pines. The companion eagle enjoyed vantage points from some dead white pines.

In case you're not familiar with electrofishing (and how many people are?), our boat is an 18 foot flat bottomed jon boat equipped with a generator, output control box, and electrodes that dangle from booms suspended in front of the boat. One person drives the boat, and two of us, leaning against a sturdy railing around the front platform, dip up fish as they are temporarily stunned by the electrical current. Just seeing what turns up is fun in itself. Add a river that can turn shallow unexpectedly, scattered boulders that suddenly meet the underside of the boat, and it is a true adventure that makes me long for a lazy paddle down the same stretch of river in a canoe.

Today we dipped up numerous redhorse, which are in the sucker family. There are five species of redhorse we saw today, some specimens pushing ten pounds. My arms got a workout dipping them up and putting them in a holding tank in the boat. We also dipped several large muskellunge (twelve plus pounds), walleye, smallmouth bass, and channel catfish. In our last run of the day, we ran into a plethora of catfish, some weighing over ten pounds. I have a healthy respect for catfish; in my first year of work, an eager coworker reached into his dipnet and ended up with a catfish spine embedded in his hand. So I approach them cautiously, although I would love to return here and catch a meal to grill or fry.

We had some harrowing times as we ran down a small shallow rapids, then realized there was no easy route back up the rapids to where we needed to get back to the launch site. Alternately getting out and pushing, then running the motor while pushing off boulders, we managed to maneuver our boat where perhaps no such boat should go.

Although we returned to the office a half hour after quitting time, it was, all in all, a great way to spend a working day.

P.S. As I write this, late in the evening as I listen to Greg Brown's new album, the coyotes are yipping and howling up a storm, just across the creek. Wow.

dinner from the garden

yummm...grasshopper...

Okay, I'll admit we are most definitely not insectivores. But Calvin was very proud of the fact that he whittled a willow stick to a sharp point and impaled a grasshopper. That boy has some tribal instincts in him!


What I meant to brag about here was the garden-harvested component of our dinner tonight. On the left, broccoli, all second shoots; in the middle, tomato, Pruden's Purple (Or Caspian Pink, if I could just find my garden notebook from planting time!) Anyway, the first beefsteak tomato of the season, and delicious. On the right, Swiss chard, sauteed in olive oil with two garlic cloves, a squeeze of fresh lemon juice (Can't grow lemons here, sorry!) and pine nuts. I'm wondering about the pine nuts; I mean, we do have pine trees, but harvest would present a problem due to the height at which the pine cones grow. Oh, and notice the basil sprig in the middle. That is, I think, Genovese basil, from seeds I saved from a garden long forgotten somewhere else, and it is the most potent, fragrant, intoxicating basil to be found anywhere. Basil, like hops, is a sign that if there is a God, it likes us and wants us to be happy. (Attributed to Ben Franklin, in part)

This was not the whole meal; accompanying it was fried shrimp from a Big Box store, shipped from somewhere on this earth. That's local, isn't it? The shrimp, however procured, was delicious. I promise some day we'll find a way to grow our own in a tank in a greenhouse.


Entertainment was provided by a local hillbilly band. They say a good time was had by all. ;)

A walk in Sand Creek

For being the title feature of this blog, you would think that Sand Creek would be a regular feature here. As it is, I have rarely mentioned or photographed this water, this connection to the St. Croix and Mississippi and Gulf of Mexico. Why do I not devote more blog space to Sand Creek?

For one thing, as evidenced in the above photo, Sand Creek is not very photogenic. There are no waterfalls, no rapids, no crystal blue shimmering pools. Sand Creek is a ditch. Really. It is still legally considered a county ditch although I know of no agricultural connections to it in the entire watershed. The natural watercourse was straightened in 1918, a time when speculators were trying to entice farmers to the logged-off land here. Straightened creeks are not happy creeks; they yearn to meander freely. Yet Sand Creek adapted better than most, soaking up flow from numerous springs in the area and creating habitat that supported native brook trout within the ditch banks.

Another reason is that Sand Creek is not very accessible. To get to the creek today I walked through the horse pasture, out the back gate, through a tangle of alder and willow with stinging nettle and thistle here and there, up over a steep former railroad crossing, down to the water which is heavily guarded by more alder and willow. I could have walked out to the road, taken a little access driveway on the other side of the creek, walked along the north bank a ways to where low grasses grow up to the stream bank. But I favored the direct route, through the brush.

It was an easy walk as far as streams go; no slippery boulders, very slow current, no deep mucky pools. There was the occasional remains of an old beaver dam, which gave the benefit of diversity; where there was an old dam, the stream narrowed and gained velocity, carving a pool directly below. The substrate was mostly sand, with some crunchy gravel areas which provide good spawning habitat for brook trout. The last time my coworkers shocked this stretch of stream, they found a few adult brookies. Today they were probably in the shady areas along the right side of the picture.

Today's walk, however, was for a deeper reason than mere blog fodder. I wanted to wade the creek, experience it close hand, so I could better try to understand a disturbing trend I've witnessed the last year or two: the water is getting more cloudy. Three years ago, the first spring we lived here, I walked the north creek bank and could look through the water and see brook trout redds (nests) on the gravel bottom of the creek. The water, although brown-colored from tannic acid, which is produced naturally in soft water swamps, was very clear. This year, during spring runoff and a period of base groundwater flow from extreme drought, the water has remained distinctly cloudy.

It should not look like this. I should be able to see the bottom here. Somewhere upstream, sediment is washing into the creek. Looking at the land ownership and use, I'm guessing that some logging took place in the last two years on private land, and the loggers did not follow Best Management Practices, which would be applied on public land, to avoid impacts to the stream. Or it could have been removal of a large beaver dam, but the effect of that would not have lasted as long as this has been happening. I was noticing the turbidity as early as last year.

This is what it should look like. The Hermit and I took a ride today to a road crossing about a mile upstream, then to one maybe five stream miles upstream. This is the latter; the water is brown, but distinctly clear, much clearer than where Sand Creek flows through our land. So whatever it is that's causing the turbidity is happening a few miles upstream, below the upper road crossing.

I can't let this sit. I am concerned about the effects on the few brook trout that inhabit the stream; they are sight feeders, they need cold, clear water to survive. Excessive sediment in the water will choke their spawning areas, cause water temperatures to rise to lethal levels for trout, and make it difficult for trout to find food.

I work for the very state agency that is responsible for the stewardship of Sand Creek, a designated trout stream. I am going to bring this up to my supervisor tomorrow, although I'm not very optimistic about a prompt response. But I will persist; this is my home watershed, this is a creek that someone has to care about, this is a creek that I care very much about. It deserves better than to be suffocated by bad land management.

tangled up in blue

I wish I could take the credit for harvesting these, the best blueberries I have ever tasted. But the credit goes to a berry farm I just found out about, six miles away from me as the crow, or more likely and picturesquely, the raven flies. I found these at the new farmer's market in the nearest town; $2.50 per pint when I bought 8 pints. Tomorrow we'll have blueberry pancakes for breakfast, then I'll be jammin'!


I can take credit for these, however, my first ripe tomatoes of the season. These are all Sub Arctic Plenty, I think; a suitable name for this climate. I also picked two ripe Yellow Pear tomatoes, but the evidence was quickly digested. :)

practicing, not noodling

The fingertips on my left hand ache. I am purposefully developing calluses. I just finished my second serious practice session on mandolin in as many days. And I'm hearing results already!

I'm almost ashamed to say, I don't know if I've practiced an instrument consistently for about five years or more. Sure I've played through songs here and there, but the intent was more to amuse myself, which didn't always work because I'd stumble over a passage, my fingers would feel awkward, the left hand didn't always care what the right hand was doing. Same with flute, only substitute the breath, the embouchure (lip position), and the fingers.

My music teachers were right. The only way to be good is to practice, practice, practice. And it must be mindful practice; it's a thinking process. The result: you teach your body the song, and whatever body parts are required to play the song. The song, and the movements that are parts of countless other songs, become second nature, like breathing.

Today I listened, I repeated, I worked slowly before I worked up to speed. I played a passage until the rich, dark, luscious tone of my instrument shone through. I played until I could play unconsciously. I listened. And after a while, I liked what I heard. Then, satisfied with a serious workout, I let myself noodle around, playing tunes I knew, playing whatever was in my head. And you know what? Even the noodling sounded better.

Practice, practice, practice. I need to make it a part of me again.

oh no!

I've been asked, nay, commanded, by the powers that be to work a shift at my employer's information booth at the Minnesota State Fair this year, on a Saturday nonetheless.

I could not imagine an assignment less befitting to my personality. Spending eight hours in the hot sun dispensing information to perfect strangers is not my idea of a good day spent working. I would much rather do my consulting long distance, as I have done recently with Pablo.

What bothers me is that I told my boss I might be able to do it, if no one else was available. I never said flat out, Oh yes! I would LOVE to do it! That was my mistake, I should have been less agreeable and invented an unavailability. Or I should have told him flat out no, I'm not the person cut out for the job! I hate cities, I hate crowds, I hate talking to people, I hate answering stupid questions, it just reminds me too much how the general public is out of touch with the way things are.

Oh well. My kids have never seen the state fair, and every kid's gotta see it, right? The Hermit can take them around while I'm doing my best to exchange pleasantries with the general public. I think one of the benefits is my family gets free tickets. I think.

They better have Summit on tap at the beer garden when my shift's over. And there better be some good music at one of the free stages. Grrrrr...

a visitor at dawn

I awoke at 5 this morning to the sound of the bird feeder being dismantled. Not that I recognized it as that sound right away, but this sounded a lot different than Puffball trying to climb the window screens. The Hermit heard it too, and shone a light out the window.

There, about five feet away from the house, was a black bear. A very large one. It let go of the bird feeder when the light shone on it, but it took its time sniffing around before it shuffled off into the woods.

I guess I've grown complacent about bears this summer; I did not see one around all spring, when they are at their hungriest, and I assumed by now there's plenty of food for them in the woods. But with the drought we've had until last weekend, the berry crop was probably a complete failure, probably not as many insect grubs around, or whatever else bears eat. When they're hungry, they come looking. In retrospect, it was not a wise choice to put suet cakes in the feeder.

I'll clean up around the yard a bit this evening, make sure the garbage lid is secured down, run the grill to burn off any excess grease, get the remaining suet cake off the feeder and scrub it a bit, take the thistle seed feeder in, shut the cookshed door tightly...

...and probably not sleep, even though there will be a shotgun handy. It's a last resort, but a reasonable precaution.

rewards

click on photo for larger-than-life detail

I find lately that when I make a decision to do something thoughtfully, deliberately, and simply, I am rewarded in unexpected and wonderful ways.

Yesterday it was a walk at lunch time. It was 95 degrees outside, with high humidity, and I could have easily decided to stay indoors in the air conditioning, or hopped in my car to drive to the store to get something to drink. (I am usually more prepared than I was yesterday, bringing drinks and lunch from home.) But I thought a little exercise and fresh air, no matter how hot, would be good for my sluggish, unmotivated state of mind and body.

Stepping out felt like plunging into a hot tub. I walked slowly, stretching muscles and joints stiff from sitting too long. I would not have wanted to go anywhere further than the three blocks to the store where I purchased an iced tea and a diet soda. I drank the iced tea on the walk back, its unsweetened slightly bitter coolness refreshing. A couple of older women in a black Cadillac stopped and asked me directions to a popular restaurant out by the freeway. How odd, I thought, usually out-of-towners come via the freeway and think the restaurant is the town.

I walked on with my eyes scanning the ground ahead of me, a habit I picked up as a child when I would walk gravel roads looking for agates or other interesting stones. Recent rains had washed the layer of dust from stones in the new gravel that was recently spread on the parking lot at work. A reddish stone caught my eye, but I did not stop at first. I walked a few steps, then decided to back up and take a look. There at my feet, half buried in the gravel, was a finely red and white banded Lake Superior agate, one of the nicer ones I've found. A reward for the simple act of walking, the deliberate choice to walk, and the thoughtful state I find myself slipping into when I walk.

The life we are gradually building for ourselves on the land is starting to reveal its rewards. It is often easy to slip into the mindset that things are not happening here as quickly as we would like, and we should pursue higher-paying opportunities elsewhere temporarily to save up enough to return and pick up where we left off. We have come dangerously close to actually doing so in the past, but we were fooling ourselves. We could have never come back. So we have persevered, learned patience, grown roots, made friends. The rewards are many, large and small, seen and unseen.

Update: Camera back up and running, the photo now shows a few of the agates I have been personally rewarded with, including the one from this post, lower right.

Sunday evening peanut ride

1991 Ford F150. Hot Sunday afternoon, after obligatory pond swim. Truck ride mandatory. Peanuts and cold beverages available.

We passed the "local" bison herd. Cool to see these prairie animals being raised six miles away.

Our next stop was the old Danforth school and chapel, on a scenic oak hill. This was a traditional one room schoolhouse until about the 1960's. We go to church at the new chapel building downhill from here once in a while. They still maintain the playground.

It is said that a certain motherly figure even got in on the action. Calvin was anxiously checking the swingset structure for stability. But I can swing higher than anyone!

All in all, a great evening. :)

By the way, this morning we got an additional 1.4 inches of rain, to bring the total to 2 inches over the weekend! Awesome! The pond was noticeably higher, and cooler; I think as the water table goes lower, less groundwater seeps in.

A day in the garden

We got .6 inch of rain last night. Because it was hot, I tried to sleep out in the screen house by the garden, and Calvin accompanied me, but I awoke at 2 am and could not get back to sleep. The ground was just too uneven, no pillows, I was not basking in comfort. So shortly after I convinced Calvin to come inside with me, the wind and the rain started. Good timing. It was a joy to wake up listening to a long rain.

However, we could have used more. The ground is still bone dry just an inch under the surface. I'm hoping for one of those summer days when it just rains all day, and it stays cool.

We almost got an air conditioner today. If there had been a single air conditioner in stock at any of six stores in Duluth, we would have seriously considered it. So I guess the philosophical argument is moot. We live with what we have. We do have a pond with some righteous cool groundwater, so that will have to do.

filling in the blanks

It was overcast in the morning, so it stayed comfortably cool (below 80) for most of the day. I took advantage of the cool morning to do some gardening tasks I had thought about all week.

Shouldn't a carrot bed look better than this, two months after planting it? I don't know why it looks the way it does, I just planted more seeds in the empty spots and zapped the rest with a shot of fish emulsion. That might repel the rabbits, who have been selectively nibbling on carrot tops.

Same goes for the parsnips, middle of the bed immediately behind the carrots. I filled in the empty spaces with carrot seeds there too. I also replanted my greens bed, hoping for the usual cool August.

I ended up with 36 garlic heads, 23 good sized and 13 small. After I was done in the garden I cut the tops off and put the cloves in this wonderful hanging basket I got from the thrift store. Best garlic harvest ever.

And, I am now experimenting with fermented dill pickles. I had put some pickling cucumbers in a bucket of water in the refrigerator, but for some reason I had to take them out of the refrigerator to make room for something else. So today I noticed there were bubbles on the surface; they were already fermenting. I changed the water and added vinegar and salt to help the process along.

I kept checking back with the online weather radar all day, hoping some of the forecasted "scattered showers" would dump another 6/10ths of an inch. No such luck, but I'll take what we got last night. The locals are saying this is the worst drought we've had in recent memory.

the new fence

I took a walk out to the road and across the creek this morning. Our 40 acres includes a long, slightly wedge-shaped piece of land on the north side of the too-straight Sand Creek. The creek is hidden in the willows in the upper right side of the picture. Before we moved here we let the neighbors hay this area, as it is part of a much larger hayfield. Now that we live here, and have horses, it makes much more sense to fence our part and use it for pasture in the summer. The problem was finding the time, and money, to dig post holes and put up a proper fence. We ended up hiring out the job to someone with the right equipment, whose final bill was very reasonable. We still have to put up the electric fence webbing and install a gate, but that's just about a day's work and then the horses will have room to run.

I just wish that grass was a little greener!

garden report, part 2

It's garlic time!!!

I had pulled a couple of garlic plants last week, because the stems were starting to turn brown, but I thought I'd hold off with the rest of the bed and see if the bulbs were going to get any bigger. This morning I pulled the nicest-looking garlic bulb I've ever grown, and tonight I'm going back for the rest. I should have 20-30 garlic bulbs altogether, probably not enough for the year at the rate we use garlic, but my best harvest ever nonetheless. The variety was "Music", a hardneck that was planted last October. I had also planted another variety, "Spanish Roja", that did not fare as well. I can't remember, but I think I ordered the bulbs from Seed Saver's Exchange.

The garlic was planted in a bed that hosted a proliferate growth of Yellow Pear tomatoes last year. I found out that yes, you can get volunteer tomato plants re-seeding themselves even in this cold climate; there is one Yellow Pear plant that is now flowering and producing tiny yellow pears among the garlic. Which gives me a space-saving idea to gnaw on over the winter: why not use the same bed for tomatoes and garlic? The garlic will be well on its way by the time tomatoes are transplanted in, and by the time the tomato plants are large enough to compete with the garlic, the garlic is ready to harvest.

In the next bed over, I'm getting serious zucchini envy. My secretary gave me a bag of zucchini yesterday, and I don't even have any little green ones on the way! I may have some tiny yellow ones, but usually by now it's zucchini time. My pole beans are finally starting to climb up the poles, and my Roma bush beans are flowering with pretty purple flowers. However, some of the plants look like they succumbed to some sort of blight. I got a late start with beans; the bush bean seed from seven years ago that I tried to plant did not sprout, and the Roma beans sprouted very erratically, perhaps due to the cold weather in early June.

Speaking of erratic sprouting, my carrot bed is looking pretty pathetic. I have some plants that are almost normal size for this time of year, but there was almost a month's variation in sprouting times for the carrots. Some did not sprout at all. I'm thinking of doing some fill-in planting in the bare spots to get a later carrot crop.

Same goes for parsnips, even more so. I don't even know if they're worth messing around with.

I'm re-thinking what I said yesterday about Daikon radish. Maybe if Daikons flourish, something is telling me to quit fretting about everything else, and feast on Daikons! I have found some recipes online for relish, and they are good in stir fry with my sugar snap peas and broccoli. We like grilled vegetables; maybe they would be good with a little Teriyaki marinade. I just have to start looking beyond the limited uses of fresh garden produce that I grew up with.

the garden report

It has been foggy in the low areas the last couple of mornings, even though low temperatures have been warmer lately, 50's and 60's. The fog makes me think of September, when it more typically occurs. Despite the apparent abundance of moisture in the air, we could still use more of it on the ground. There was a brief but drenching rain last night; we received a quarter inch. On the surface everything was wet but an inch into the raised beds it was still bone dry.

I've been picking pickling cucumbers, hoping to get to them before they get too big. I have maybe enough for a quart of pickles so far, but there are lots of flowers. Bring 'em on, I have plenty of dill and garlic this year!

I'm thinking maybe it's time to give up on the sugar snap peas; a week ago when nighttime temperatures dipped into the low 40's they responded by sending out new leaves and flowers at the tips of the yellowing vines, but I don't know if that will amount to anything. Perhaps I could get a fall crop in if I plant new seeds now; the hottest part of the summer should (I hope) soon be behind us.

My pepper and eggplant bed has made an amazing turn for the better. Just a week or so ago most of the plants were looking sickly. Many of the peppers lost almost all of their leaves in a late frost in June, but I kept them in the garden partly as an experiment to see if they would recover. It took some time, but now the stems are covered with shiny green leaves. They are loving the heat and apparently not minding the drought.

Tomatilloes are looking wonderful as well. The two I planted from large transplants would be about four feet high if they cooperated and stood up, and I have about eight of them from tiny transplants or seeds that are about two feet high. All are blooming.

Tomatoes are covered with flowers and green tomatoes. Now is the annual time of anticipation; it seems to take forever for tiny green tomatoes to turn into red, or pink, or yellow, ripe ones. My earliest varieties said 55 days; it's been almost that long since they were planted. The trick with tomatoes is to keep them evenly watered, and not overwater them. Not a problem this year.

I need to get out some evening and rejuvenate my greens bed; spinach and cilantro have bolted, the second planting of lettuce is looking tired, the mizuna is getting more bitter and tough, and the rabbits nibbled off the beet greens. Funny; I see rabbits furtively hopping from the garden as I approach, but they don't seem to eat enough to be a problem.

Note to self: Daikon radishes are easy to grow, they get large, and they taste better than red radishes. That said, you really don't enjoy radishes enough to plant 3 or 4 rows of them!

Enough said for now; gotta go start doing.

morning in the garden

reading material

I took some lovely pictures last night and this morning, but I have what is looking like a very long meeting to attend today and won't be able to get them posted until later. In the meantime, for a good read, check out James Howard Kunstler's latest essay, The Twilight of Lumpenleisure. It's a bit long, but it eloquently and poignantly describes the apex and decline of suburbia and middle class affluence in America. He especially takes on gasoline-powered forms of recreation that I have serious issues with. And, stay with it to the end, the last paragraph offers a twist, a glimpse of hope, a world that I would love to see for my children.

Anyone have a G-mail invite?

My Care2 e-mail account is on the fritz again, for the second time in a month. Their service is virtually inaccessible, and I'm getting tired of all the feel-good "click to make a difference!" promos on the home page. So I'm shopping around for a new free e-mail account. We had one through our Internet provider, but it kind of got lost and I don't know how to resurrect it. I haven't heard many good things about Hotmail, and I just don't know about Yahoo...So does anyone have any suggestions? I'm looking at Gmail, and tried to get an invitation code thru my cell phone, but either they haven't responded or I don't have good enough reception out here to receive text messages. I tried climbing up to the second floor of the new house, phone in hand! So if you have a spare invitation code...well, now here's the quandary. My regular personal e-mail is not working, and I don't want to hand out my work e-mail on this site. So if you have one, maybe leave a comment and email address (you can write it cryptically, like soandso AT freemail DOT com) and I'll give you my work e-mail so you can send the code to me there. Sound like a plan?

UPDATE- Never mind, all taken care of. The funny thing is, I got a message on my Care2 account, which was apparently up and running again, with a direct link to a page set up to create an account, no code necessary. Hmmm...Well, Google does = Blogger. They must have textbots looking for what I posted.

chicken surprise

eggs- not just for breakfast anymore

I knew we had some broody hens sitting on eggs, I just never imagined they would be successful! So far only one chick has hatched, but there are lots more eggs.

Witnessing first hand the cycles of life, birth and death, never fails to amaze me.

sandhill cranes

This time I was ready, and my subjects were a bit farther away and more willing.

Like bald eagles, sandhill cranes were a relatively uncommon sight in this area until within the last fifteen years. Farming practices and hunting in the early 1900's pushed the crane population further north and west until only a few nesting pairs remained in northwestern Minnesota. A single captive male crane held at a game farm/wildlife research facility in east central Minnesota in the 1960's may be responsible for bringing sandhill cranes back to the area. According to this article , the male would call in migrating females and successfully fledged several broods over a few years. These cranes returned to the same area and established a breeding population that has since been expanding its range into marshes and hayfields throughout east central Minnesota.

Every spring I hear a pair of sandhill cranes return to the marsh behind my house, their raucous, prehistoric call echoing through the tamaracks. That is music to me.

the bird photo you won't see here

This morning I had just turned onto the blacktop road on my way to work. About a quarter mile down the road, my attention was caught by a curious upright shape on the left side of the road. As I got closer, it suddenly clicked in my mind; this was a bittern in the "freezing" position, bill pointed straight up in the air. I slammed on the brakes and ended up ten feet away from the bird. It did not move. Automatically I reached into my backpack for my camera, found it after a little shuffling, got it out of the case, turned on, and was just about to open my window to take the picture when...

...it flew away. Of course, the tease. But it was an amazing sight. Next time I'll have my camera out of the case and sitting on the seat next to me for easier access. After all, I've had several missed opportunities at pictures of sandhill cranes lately; they are standing out in the incredibly dry hayfields, eating who knows what.

everything back to normal

And yes, this is normal around here but I thought it was a little bit surreal. The Barbie swim party.

Low temperature got down to 39 last night, proving once again we are in a cold spot. And I say hooray! We had two nights where the nighttime lows only reached the upper sixties or seventies, and that was enough for me. 24 hour sweating may be natural, but I'd rather be in a climate where I can avoid it. This place seems to fit the bill for me. It's all that buried glacial supercooled ice block...

I am proud to say I ate overwhelmingly locally and organically today! Breakfast...well I don't do breakfast much and I am entitled to my two cups of fair trade, organically grown coffee per day, but I did eat one hard boiled egg, from our own chickens, mid morning. Lunch was a hand picked salad, lots of fresh greens and a few herbs from the garden, augmented by two more hard boiled eggs and Seeds of Change organic vinaigrette dressing. Delightful! And for dinner, stir fry of fresh sugar snap peas, broccoli (first head from the garden!), mizuna, Daikon radish, green onion, garlic, and some julienned organic carrots thrown in. The rice was Lundberg organic brown basmati, the only "distance" indulgence. As far as I know, you can't grow rice any closer to Minnesota, except for wild rice which really isn't rice at all. All in all, very satisfying, and of note I have not consumed a single wheat product today and I feel great. Not jumping to conclusions, just keeping a food diary here.

The night temperature is dipping nicely again as I write. More good sleeping weather. I love this place.

pupdate: six months

I've been trying to get a good picture of Sally for weeks now, and this is the best I can do. Can you tell she loves the water?

More than once I've caught myself calling her Lady, while at the same time having complete mental block to the name Sally. The personalities are remarkably similar. You don't suppose...?

and who says kids don't like yucky lake weeds?

I should show this photo to everyone who applies for a permit to dump chemicals in a lake to kill aquatic vegatation. Their main complaint is: "But the kids won't swim if there are weeds around!"

These kids, two of my three nieces and Mr. Attitude and Starflower, had a great time hurling clunps of Ceratophyllum and Elodea at each other. Give them a day in the water, there would be no vegetation left, anywhere (of course, all vegetation mechanically removed must be removed above the OHWL of the lake...legal language there)

The heat is on!

I don't know what the unofficial high was here today; when I looked at the thermometer it read 98 or 99, but there was some sun shining on it so it could have been reading high. At any rate, it was too hot. But for some reason, it didn't bother me too much. I spent the morning doing household chores, like finally blanching and freezing the peas I picked last week. Yes, I just didn't have enough of a window of time to get to them before this, and I was worried sick that they would have all spoiled by now in the cooler I was keeping them in. I lost maybe a pound or so that had gotten too ripe or started to rot, but I still managed to get a few meals' worth put away.



In the early afternoon, I got a call from my aunt who was having an impromptu family get together at their lake home. Now, on my side of the family spontaneity is almost unheard of, but in Minnesota on the hottest day in ten years you'd be a fool to turn down an invitation to a lake place, even if it was a sixty mile drive one way. Especially when tubing is on the agenda!


This was Calvin and Starflower's first time, and they had a blast. Mr. Attitude wasn't overly anxious to try it, which was fine with me. And my uncle, he was just beaming. He only has one step granddaughter who lives in another state, so I think he was proud to take my brother's and my kids tubing, with his father's old pontoon boat and new motor, at the lake place his parents (my grandparents) had for many years. I have many great memories of weekends spent there, waterskiing and tubing and swimming. I didn't get in the water today; it was a bit green for my tastes and I'm allergic to the green stuff. It was just fun watching my kids have fun.

The heat is on

We Minnesotarcticans are pretty wimpy when it comes to heat. We get it, for a precious few days each year the thermometer rises above 90 and we say the old platitude: "It's not the heat, it's the humidity..." Actually it's not that humid this year. We could use some rain big time.

It used to be (back in the good old days when I was growing up) hot weather was a fact of life. You didn't go do stupid things like try to run a triathalon, but if you were in marching band and in a parade, which proliferate this time of year, you just expected to have a lot of sweat lubricating the space between your lips and your mouthpiece. And you went to a lake somewhere at 11 pm, after the parade, to go skinny dipping afterwards, and hoped the police didn't come by.

Now, if the temperature is forecast to rise above 90, "heat advisories" are issued. People are urged to not exert themselves outside, to stay indoors in air conditioning and watch out for signs of heat stroke. Give me a break, I don't do heat well myself but I don't need a weatherboy telling me the weather is "dangerous"! What do you folks in southern climes do? I mean, I spent a little less than a year in Pablo's country, and it was unbearable for me but normal for there. And I remember traveling to my grandparents place in Florida, a place Floridacracker is somewhat familiar with, and upon returning to Minnesota I was acclimated to high temperatures even when they were experiencing a 90 degree heat wave.

The house I spent most of my youth in was not designed for air circulation. That was not helped by the facts that a) my parents did not believe in air conditioning (too much money) and b) if windows were opened at all, it was just a one inch crack at most. Burglars love open windows you know. So we had a fan, one loud, inefficient fan, that my parents believed would do wonders in cooling if they placed it in the window at the top of the stairs and had it set to not suck in cool air, but blow out warm air. Ummmm...if you don't have any windows open enough to let in the cool night air, well...but I was young, and it was my parents' house, who was I to argue? I think a window air conditioner would have been quieter and more efficient. I have memories of hot sweaty nights lying on top of my sheets, my own windows open wide enough to invite danger.

My parents changed their mind a little when my mom was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis just after I left for college. MS and heat just do not mix. So they broke down and bought two window air conditioners, one for the bedroom and one for the living room. But a mindset of extreme frugality kept my mom from enjoying any of the relief they might have offered. She absolutely refused to turn the air conditioner on until it was about 85 degrees in the house, at which time it was too late, and she only turned it on low anyway. These are the same folks who have an inefficient 1940's era furnace, converted from a coal burner, just because if it works, why spend the money to change it. Sigh.

So maybe that is why I personally don't like air conditioning; I was raised to be tough and live without it. I really don't think it's a necessity here. People lived without it for hundreds of years (gotta include the Anishinabe here, European settlers have been here for maybe 150 years), and I think instead of recommending an energy-intense solution they should maybe design buildings to accomodate heat as well as cold, and require less energy to remediate either. And, the air conditioning is currently not working in my car; much as I would love to have it fixed, I can tolerate driving with the windows and sunroof open. That gives me an excuse to enjoy a cold beverage along the way. ;)

At least here on my little homestead we have the advantage that I complain about sometimes; we are in a low spot and cool air settles here at night. Until a few days ago it was it the 40's at night--good "sleeping weather"! And we have the pond, and a creek that is fed from some really cold springs upstream. And I am not adverse to keeping the windows wide open, except that our cat Puffball likes to climb on the screens...bad kitty! And on the hottest nights, we do have a screen tent that might be nice to sleep in. We briefly discussed buying a window air conditioner today; I still contend that we would only use it one week out of the year.

Hot weather is forecasted to last into the middle of next week. And we will survive it.

Update- the low temperature here last night was 54, while at official weather stations to the north it was in the low seventies. The Hermit and I slept indoors, but woke at 5 am and went out to the screen tent to sleep another hour or so- nice!

movies that make me bawl like a baby

Field of Dreams

I just watched this with the kids tonight. I totally lost it, especially the scene where Archie Graham has to choose between being a baseball player in eternity and saving the girl's life. And where Ray says "Hey Dad! Wanna play some catch?"

Why? I've seen this a few times! I was already in love with Kevin Costner from Dances with Wolves, but it wasn't him. Really. Just something about the story, the cinematography, really got to me.

Okay, my eyes are still damp. This is crazy.

Turks cap lily

This flower is perhaps the most exotic-looking bloom that graces the roadsides and ditches of northern Minnesota. While everything else whispers in shades of purple, white and gold, the Turks cap lily screams deep orange with leopard spots. It also signals July, middle of the summer, long hot days and short, cool, quiet nights.

busy and in pain

Sorry to disappoint all you bloggers who click in eager anticipation of finding a new post (and I know who at least two of you are! ;) ) I have been Busy lately. Busy as in driving to the cities, which I already blogged about, which takes up a whole day. Busy as in taking Calvin to a sleepover party and being invited to stay for dinner on Monday night. We arrived back home at ten minus Calvin and Starflower, who stayed overnight also with her best friend. This is the first summer that our kids have had such an active social life. Busy, as in staying today for the after work retirement party of a coworker whom I will miss. In the fifteen years I have known him, today was the first time I ever saw him drink a beer. Thirty five years given to the State, I guess he's earned it.

And, in pain. Mr. Attitude's Lyme disease got me thinking about my own health. The doctor called today and said his blood test definitely confirmed Lyme disease. Which is significant, because from what I've read the test gives over 50% false negatives. I got on the Web, and started reading up on Lyme, because lately, well, I just haven't been 100%. It turns out that many of the symptoms I have had over the last seven years are consistent with a chronic case of Lyme disease. I realized today that I have some sort of pain more often than not. Sometimes I get pain in my hips so sharp I have difficulty walking. Am I just supposed to accept that, at 39 I'm getting older and this is the way it's supposed to be? I think there's something more to it. Does everyone out there live with a certain degree of pain? If not, what is life like without it?

a trip to the city

I drove through my old neighborhood today, three blocks from where I grew up. I did so at sixty miles an hour. And I never saw a thing. Didn't feel much nostalgia either.

I grew up in a suburb on the northwest corner of Minneapolis, MN. The suburb was perhaps unique in that it was one of the "first ring" suburbs that had a downtown area, not a strip mall, and a community identity. It still has one of the finest little meat markets to be found in the state. It used to have a Ben Franklin store which was close enough for my brother and I and my mom to ride our bikes there. I bought Topps baseball cards, along with the hard thin slab of bubblegum, just because my brother did. I didn't know most of the players, and looking back at them today most of the players I had are long forgotten.

Today the community is hardly recongnizable. The junior high school, just across the bridge over the former four lane highway which is now freeway, where we used to ride our bikes for swimming lessons, is gone, townhomes and condominiums in its place. I never went to that junior high, although my brother did for two years. They closed it for budget reasons and bussed us to one a few miles away. This after they closed my elementary school when I had one year left there, and then proceeded to close the high school I was supposed to graduate from. With each closing, a circle of friends was broken, a young girl's thoughts on community and permanence shaken and altered in some way.

Today a freeway runs through it. You can drive through and see nothing but the walls they have built. You hardly know you are driving through a place where still somebody lives, a place somebody still comes home to. My dad still lives a few blocks away from the freeway, in the house I grew up in. He is the last person on the block that was there when I was growing up. It used to be a white, workingclass neighborhood; now the white working class lives thirty miles out and commutes, while the neighborhood is much more ethnically diverse and still working class. I'm not judging one way or the other; that is the fate of cities I guess.

Like I said, I don't hold much nostalgia for that place. I tried to live there a few years ago, and it was a terrible mistake. I am much happier here out in the country, thank you. And I was much happier when the family obligation at my brother's new house in an upscale neighborhood was over, when we had been to the new first Trader Joe's in Minnesota, which was overcrowded and understocked and no Two Buck Chuck sales on Sunday, damn antiquated Prohibition blue laws and that. I was much happier a hundred miles to the north, in my own little slice of heaven.