lonely beach in October

On Wednesday and Friday of last week I was out of the office and on the road for work. I don't mind a 100 mile drive by myself once in a while. It's a chance to turn on the public radio news channel, or sometimes turn the radio off and just enjoy the quiet and the scenery. In order to get to and from where I was going, I had to drive around the shore of Mille Lacs, one of Minnesota's largest lakes.

On Wednesday the wind was out of the southeast, creating waves that splashed against the shore. I listened to the soothing sound for a few minutes, and I was reminded of other shores, other waters.

This beach on the north shore of the lake is a state-owned Aquatic Management Area, open to public fishing, swimming, birding, walking, contemplating, or whatever. Mille Lacs is one of the few lakes in this part of Minnesota that is big enough to have the wave action to form a natural beach, and there are very few stretches of beach along the lake that are undeveloped, in a natural state.

On Friday I drove through light rain for the first part of the day. When I stopped at the beach, the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds and mist. After I had turned away from the lake and was headed east, the wind came up, sending a storm of oak leaves and tamarack needles through the sky.

I saw very few shorebirds or waterfowl, but I did get this photo. I was carrying only my camera, not my binoculars, so I did not even see the details of this gull until I downloaded the photos. Bonaparte's?

wordless wednesday: trumpeters

North Big Pine Lake, Minnesota

running on a carpet of golden needles

I went for a beautiful 5.2 mile run this morning. For various reasons, most of them probably no more than lame excuses, I had not run for more than a month. No time. Sick. Raining, cold weather. Snow. I know that physically I go through a very real transition from summer to fall. For a couple of weeks when temperatures get below freezing overnight, and especially if clouds dominate the day, the thought of going outside and subjecting myself to physical exertion seems, well...unthinkable. But this is much better than the state I was in a couple of years ago, where the thought of any physical exertion any time of year was, well...unthinkable. Can I tell you all of the wonderful things running has done for me?

My usual route goes from my driveway north on our road a half mile, then taking a right turn down a dead end road that continues a little over two miles east, then coming back. It's a gorgeous route any time of year, fairly level and covering mixed woods, wetlands, and open fields, with Sand Creek and a tributary along much of the way. But today my view was accented by the gold of tamaracks, which are in their full fall glory. One stretch of road has a dense tamarack forest on either side, and yesterday's wind had brought down a carpet of golden needles on the road.

The above photo is the view out my back door. Glorious! But back to my run...I was worried about the effects of not having run for a few weeks. But my legs just flew on their own, it seemed so effortless. So effortless, in fact, that on the way back I took my pulse and decided I must be getting too good at running at a snail's pace, I was barely in "the zone". I increased my pace off and on for the remainder of the run, pushing myself towards breathless. I returned home exhilarated.

The blue sky is fleeting. We are looking at more rain starting tonight. The tamarack gold will probably not last much longer, just as the birch, aspen, and even some of the oak leaves have quietly released to the forest floor. The nights are getting longer and darker, and a rocking chair and a wool blanket near the wood stove are looking better all the time.

A philosophical discussion with Mr. Attitude

Reposted from Facebook, for all you technophobes out there who think dial phones are still the standard of communication. ;) I still believe there is room for both Blogger and Facebook. Obviously the proprietor of The Ethereal Garage doesn't think so. Too bad for everyone. ;)

Son#2: Mom, what is real?

Me, getting philosophical: The present moment. The past is memory, the future is uncertain.

Son#2: So if I hit you in the head, a moment later it wouldn't be real?

Me: resolving to never have philosophical discussions with a kid whom even his piano teacher calls "Mr. Attitude." :)

ubiquitous attitude

Starflower informed me today that her and Mr. Attitude's piano teacher, the school band director, has, independent of any knowledge of this blog, dubbed him "Mr. Attitude!"

sandhill staging

In a field about six miles south of my house, an amazing meeting is going on:

The sandhill cranes found this particular location desirable for all the reasons cranes like: plentiful food (from recently harvested corn fields), grassy fields, and marshes nearby.


It is worth noting that in my lifetime, sandhill cranes have gone from being a nearly extirpated oddity in Minnesota to a yearly spectacle. Kind of like bald eagles in that regard. I am so fortunate to have a pair of them nesting in the swamp near my home every year.

I left work early today and took a special drive just to see the cranes. On the way I noticed the tamaracks are turning golden, a sure sign of the end days of fall.

owly

Yesterday may have been the first time ever that I bought a six pack of beer just for its label. I'm not normally a big fan of brown ale, but who could resist the saw whet owl?

I've been hearing barred and great horned owls lately, and even saw a great horned owl being mobbed by crows the other morning. Bald eagles must be migrating through; I have been seeing two or three of them a day! The sightings and sounds almost make up for the dismal dark wet snowy weather we've been having.

The kids have a mini break school yesterday and today for the annual Minnesota teachers' union convention. I wish I could be sleeping in this morning!

CORRECTION/UPDATE: OMG, I'm a pretty bad birder if I can't even properly identify an owl on a beer label! I checked my Sibley's tonight, just to be sure, and wouldn't you know it, that is a BOREAL owl, not a saw whet! Of course, I have seen neither of them in real life, but they are both pretty darn cute.

As long as I'm updating, I might as well say I saw a pair of trumpeter swans flying near the Kettle River this morning on my way to work. And stay tuned for sandhill cranes, lots of them...

Minnesota fall colors

I am so not ready for white. And if the behavior of the juvenile members of this household today is any indication, we're in for a LONG winter indoors. Sigh.

I did see some amazing sights today on my way home from some errands in town: a flock of 50+ ravens and one bald eagle (must have been some great road kill!), and a couple large flocks of sandhill cranes resting in a marsh and a pasture.

This snow has completely sucked out whatever motivation I had to do things today. I'm even thinking a nap sounds good right about now.

October-isms

This afternoon, after the nail-bitingly wonderful ball game last night, I wasn't quite ready to sit in the school parking lot and listen to the beginning of the Twins/Yankees playoff game. It was sunny and in the fifties and not raining, as it has so often lately, and part of me was missing engaging in any form of exercise for the last couple of weeks. So I drove to a trail I had been to once before, last spring or maybe even before that. It's a snowmobile trail on state park land that is not heavily advertised or used when there is no snow. It winds downhill, across a couple dry ravines leading to the Kettle River, then uphill again. Off the beaten trail I had heard there was a creek that cut through some rock outcrops, but the last time I was there I did not know where to get off the trail. I'm a sucker for water and rock outcrops, so I was determined to find the creek this time.

I had half an hour to wander, so I quickly covered the half mile or so of marked trail. The tree canopy, mostly aspen and birch with some maple, was a brilliant, other-worldly shade of gold. I saw a scattered pile of feathers that looked like they once belonged to a goshawk or Cooper's hawk. I saw a large mushroom being consumed by a slug.

When I got to where I had to leave the beaten trail, I briefly considered the wisdom of what I was about to do. There was a chance I could get lost in the woods. However, the sun was out, I could hear the freeway from where I was, so I had a pretty good sense of direction. That, and the slope of the river valley was a good landmark.

I wandered downhill through some light undergrowth, and soon I found the stream and some sandstone outcrops. Unfortunately, I checked my iPod clock and realized I had about ten minutes to get back to the car and get to the school, directly across the river from where I was, to pick up Calvin. So I reluctantly saved serious rock exploration and meditation for another day. And I found my way back to the trail easily.

I saw my first rough legged hawk of the fall on the way home. Once I was home I headed out to the garden to gather green tomatoes. It's supposed to get pretty cold tomorrow night and I hope to bring in what I can before it freezes too hard. On my way out to the garden I heard a great horned owl; I had heard one early this morning too. I had not heard one since maybe last spring.

I picked two buckets of tomatoes, but there are still plenty more out there. I also picked a box of tomatillos. Strangely enough, I had my best crop of them in several years. Even stranger, after I had brought them in, Calvin, who did not know I had been out picking them, asked me if I could make some salsa verde this year! He has developed quite a taste for salsa lately, and he told me he loves salsa verde. I should have enough for four or five pints, which I suspect will go quickly. :)

The air is crisp, the multicolored landscape beautiful, and I wish it could stay like this for about two months longer.

TWINS!!!

They did it!!! From 3 games back just 4 GAMES AGO, they won the AL Central Division title!!! And they did it in classic fashion, 12 innings in front of 54,000 loud fans in the Metrodome, where the last Twins game was supposed to have been yesterday. And they did it in twelve hard fought innings, which left me EXHAUSTED!

Nothing will ever surprise me, ever again. And I will NEVER give up!!!

rainy night ramblings

There's a fire in the wood stove, the rain is tapping (not pounding, not really tapping either...I can't find a good word for the sound rain makes) on the steel roof, supper is on the stove, and I have managed to find a time when the computer is not occupied by preteens. So I'm long overdue for one of my stream of consciousness, "thinking out loud" category posts, in which I attempt to say a little about a lot. Here goes.

The Hermit saw something that must have been hilarious today: Whiter Biter, our alpha tom cat, chasing an otter! Knowing Whiter Biter, he was probably trying to mate with it. Tomcats...

We closed out a record warm September with the season's first heavy frost Tuesday night. It got down to 29 degrees here, which is enough, we found out, to freeze tomatoes under mini hoop houses covered in plastic. The tomatoes that were directly under row cover fabric fared much better. Either way, we were blessed with an extra two weeks or so before frost, which wasn't quite enough to make up for the painfully slow growth and ripening of my tomatoes this year. As usual. I didn't get them in until the latter half of June, but still I was counting on varieties listed as under 80 days to actually produce ripe tomatoes within 90 days. I had some luck, with Stupice, Glacier, Yellow Pear, and a couple Black Cherry, but the rest were still in various stages of greenness. I really must look into a greenhouse if I expect to grow tomatoes here.

Growing tomatoes here is kind of like following Twins baseball. The odds are stacked against them (tomatoes and Twins), but still they show just enough promise in September to stay in the running. By the time the first hard frost (or late series with Detroit, the first place team) rolls around, you wish them the best, but are ready for them to just be out of playoff contention so you can relax a little and look forward to next year. Tonight the Twins still theoretically have a chance, but the stars have to be lined up perfectly. About the chance my tomatoes under the row covers have of ripening. Go Twins. Go Tomatoes.

Calvin is on his way home from an away football game tonight. I'm not that dedicated of a football parent that I would drive to a school 30 miles away to watch a game in the 50 degree rain. The Hermit is picking him up at the school. But last night Calvin casually asked me, "When do you think I'll have a girlfriend?" I stammered for a minute, thinking of what to say, then replied that when the time was ready, he was such a smart, fun, good looking guy I was sure the girls would be after him. Well, I guess they already are. Apparently he has been communicating with a girl, mostly via text messaging, who is a friend of a cousin of a girl in his class. Or something like that. Anyway, he wanted to know if he could go to her homecoming dance with her; her mom would drive. I asked what school she went to, and he wasn't really sure. He tried to put me on the phone with her mom last night, but I wasn't ready to be put on the spot like that. I have decided there are too many unknowns to even consider letting him go to the dance, not the least of which is the inherent nature of seventh graders to look unkindly on outsiders.

I am SO not ready for this!

Mr. Attitude is practicing his piano lesson now, and being interrupted by Whiter Biter (the otter chaser) who somehow sneaked inside. Mr. Attitude requested piano lessons this year because he wants to play drums in band when he gets to fifth grade, and you need at least two years of piano to be a percussionist (like Starflower). The piano teacher is the school band director, who is probably the best liked, most dedicated teacher in the whole school. I am glad my kids have these musical opportunities; after all, band was my big thing in high school, and music is a life long all around good thing. We can't live without it.

Speaking of music, I checked out Steve Martin's banjo album, The Crow, from the library. Yes, THAT Steve Martin, wild and crazy guy. Can he ever play the five string! Most of the songs on the album are original compositions, and his life long love of the banjo comes through in every one. Makes me want to sign off the computer and pick up my Deering Goodtime, if I can find the finger picks...kittens have been making them disappear from the table recently...

I was going to go further and deeper, covering topics like scientific skepticism, the meaning of life, and classical Western herbalism, but those all deserve their own posts soon when these ever lengthening nights find me with more time to ponder...that is, if I can get my preteens off the computer...

pond evening

This September has been incredible, weatherwise. Tonight was just another golden evening.

This girl was happy to finally have some pond time. Week nights are just too hectic.

I have more words somewhere. But I also have a cold and the urge to just crawl under flannel sheets after the sun goes down. The words will be there soon, I promise.

the crazy woman under the bridge

Here's the problem: I get off work at 4:30, and Calvin's 7th grade football practice is not over until 5:45. It' s a fifteen minute drive from work to school (which is on the way home) at best, and even if I kill time doing some grocery shopping along the way, I still have about a 45 minute wait. I don't want to drive home and back, even though I could, because that would use up a gallon of gas. Ah the price I pay for living in rural paradise. :) But I'll gladly pay it since Calvin seems to really like football, and band, and school in general so far this year. Seventh grade was hell for me, so I am happy he's having a better go of it.

I was considering running during the wait, since I could put in 3 miles or so in that time. But it's been an unseasonably hot September, and I just haven't been in the mood for it. I know, I'm a slacker. And there's reading; I have had some good books from the library on the topic of herbal medicine, which is another recent interest I need to blog about. That, and I can't believe I read and understood Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay, "Self Reliance", all during lunch and break times yesterday. But no, it's hard to read Emerson in a school parking lot when there are parents all around looking either like the definitive argument for the obesity epidemic, or parading around in designer clothes and big hair and Hummers. Ugh.

So I've been doing something, twice now, that makes me feel like I'm being utterly subversive and nonconformist. I drive my car to a river bridge and boat access about a half mile east of the school. Usually there's no one there that time on a week day. I take my flute, along with O'Neill's book of Irish tunes, and a beer, and sit under the bridge and play music! The acoustics are great, although interrupted at about one minute intervals by traffic passing over the bridge. And today right before I set up camp, two canoeists went by, paddling upstream. I made sure they were out of earshot before I began.

It has been wonderful for my soul. Today I just started improvising in D minor and G minor, and the sounds that echoed off the concrete were amazing. It still scares me, being there sending my music out to the world, and perhaps unwitting canoeists. But I'm feeling my inner crazy f'er, and that feels pretty damn good. :)

Greg Brown in Duluth

I have been listening to Greg Brown's Dream Cafe album lately. It was his newest album when I first came to know his music, and it remains as one of his best. Which is a difficult choice. One of the songs from that album, "Laughing River", is among my choices for Best Song Ever Written By Anyone, Ever. It says so much in so few words, about the heartache of giving up on a dream, but all the promise a new life offers. Well, way more than that. That is how Greg Brown writes. He gets it man, he really gets it. And I found out on short notice last week, he was coming to play in my favorite small city in Minnesota, a short 50 mile drive from my house, for a mere $4 entrance fee to the Harvest Festival and Renewable Energy Fair. What could be better?

It was a perfect evening for an outdoor concert. In case you haven't heard, summer has finally arrived in Minnesota, and for a few days at least, polarfleece and sweatshirts are optional outdoor attire. The setting was a park on the waterfront in Duluth, near the landmark Aerial Lift Bridge. As the sun edged towards the hills to the west, recreational boats, tour boats, and the occasional Great Lakes freighter sailed by. Greg remarked that one's horn was tuned in D. I have a thing for musician nerd jokes like that. :)

I have to say, of all the Greg Brown concerts I have been to, which is more than a few since I first saw him in Hastings, MN in 1992, this was my favorite. He seemed so relaxed up there on stage, so in his element, and I was equally relaxed and taking it all in. He started off with "Home In The Sky", which I think is from his earliest album Iowa Waltz. Looking up at the sky and the seagulls circling over the harbor, I could agree that heaven is just about a thousand feet high.

Greg has a real knack for between-songs banter. With some self proclaimed "singer-songwriters", the between the songs thing can get a bit tedious. Not with Greg. As a matter of fact, what I liked best was how he denounced how self-absorbed some singer-songwriters these days seem to be. Ironic, considering how I thought the opening act belonged in that category hands down.

He did all the best. "Canned Goods", "Laughing River", "You Drive Me Crazy", and a whole bunch I was nodding and laughing along with. I was surprised he included "Kokomo", his very dark but humorous elegy to one night stands:

"You know she was just my kind, middle aged and crude
Nipples the size of jack balls and a real bad attitude
She wore my ass out so damn fast and left me nowhere to go
Just a sticky wicket and a Greyhound ticket on the road to Kokomo"

So there you have it. The Iowan poet, married to another musical poet Iris DeMent, father to musical poet Pieta Brown, and just all around perceptive, beat poet musician Greg Brown. I hope to see him again real soon.

these are the colors I was talking about

A hastily taken picture about a half mile down the road. Maples are so dramatic, aren't they. They blush at the first sign of fall.

After I picked up a few necessities in town, I had about a half hour to spare before Calvin was done with football practice. So I drove around a little, and came upon this old barn. I am sure I have posted about it once before, but I cannot find it tonight. Anyway, it is still there, although I do not know for how long. Once it must have been an exciting thing, to build such a fine structure for the dairy herd you worked so hard to build. Somewhere along the line, expenses and farm programs did away with that dream.

autumn creeping in

I really need to bring the camera with me to work tomorrow so I can share all the brilliant fall colors that are starting to appear. It sure doesn't feel like fall, though, with daytime temps approaching 80 and a humid, still night tonight.

Now that I'm taxi mom again for after school activities, I'm not getting home until after 6, which means less than two hours of daylight at home. Which I would be glad to have two months from now.

subtle changes

early July

early September

I took these two photos of the same scene purely by chance. (Or did I? Maybe there is no such thing as chance). I thought it would be a study in changes, but I am more struck by the similarities.

Labor Day weekend is a time of transition, with the kids starting back to school on Tuesday. I have found I probably take the transition harder than they do.

of trout, and the aquatic mammals that eat them

I was in the midst of another adventurous day at work. Lately, due to a coworker's taking family leave, I have been out more than in, sampling one stream after another with electricity. And you know what, I'm enjoying it, more than I have enjoyed any other work I've done (at work that is) since I can remember. In the last couple of weeks I have seen some nice waters, gotten to know a lot more of the local plants, and even seen a few brook trout.

I heard my cell phone signal a new voice mail. 99 percent of the time my cell phone messages are anything but urgent, but even though I was not in a strong signal area I decided to check it.

"Mom! There's a family of otters in the pond!"

My battery was going low, or I would have called back just to make sure I heard right. Today indeed a family of four otters had taken over the pond and were frolicking wildly! I wish I could have been there to see them. New wildlife sighting at Sand Creek!

Of course, this probably explains why last Friday, when we finally got around to sampling the stretch of Sand Creek that flows through my land, there were no trout. Otters eat fish, and they can take down the population of a brook trout stream easily.

But it does not explain why today, in a shallow, alder choked stretch of stream about five miles south of here, we sampled thirteen small brook trout in about a 500 foot length of stream. By small I mean, you would not even think of taking them home for dinner, but they were there! We were totally not expecting to see them. I'm sure otters lurk there now and then, and yet brook trout survive against incredible odds.

Nature is wonderfully balanced that way.

last week of the summer

It's only the fourth inning of the Twins game, and it's getting dark. A waxing moon is rising, but still the kids are outside squeezing in another few pitches of homemade baseball.

I found a beautiful place today. Have you ever happened upon a place where you are immediately mesmerized, where you feel the need to come back and spend some time? I will, and I will bring a camera. Picture a stream cascading over ledges of sandstone in a small valley. I was there for work, but I will be back on my own time.

extreme gardening and running

It's the last night of August, and there are frost advisories out for the area. Considering this garden's history of being stricken by frost even when no advisories are present, I thought it would be prudent to cover up the tender stuff. I put so much work into growing tomatoes, I would like to see more than one ripe one yet this year. And my one watermelon is now softball size, can't give up now!

I had a strange but delightful run this morning. Usually in five miles or more, I will only see one or two vehicles at the most. And usually at least one of those is someone I know. But this morning when I turned east on the dead end road I know so well, I was passed by pickup truck after pickup truck, all late model and shiny, all towing trailers with dirt bikes or 4 wheelers. Great. Where on this little dead end road could they possibly be headed? I thought about turning around and taking a different route, but hey, this is MY road, my run, and I'm not going to let a bunch of city kids with their toys chase me off of it.

It turned out they were all headed to one property about two miles down the road. I don't know the details, but there were dozens of vehicles parked there, dirt bikes revving up, the smell of exhaust and cigarettes. I ran past the property, to the end of the road, when I realized something: I felt strong. Maybe it was my disgust at seeing all these gasoline powered playthings in my territory, or maybe it was the silent prayer I said at the beginning of my run, asking for strength. Whatever it was, I felt like I could go on and on. I ended up running down a little side dead end road a half mile and back, and going strong the rest of the way home for a total of seven miles.

I can't recall ever running seven miles, not even in my more youthful days. And I felt like I could have gone for at least ten.

nighthawks are flying

And taking with them the last days of summer. They swoop down low over the asters and goldenrods, hanging in the stillness of the evening air.

blackbirds flying

We saw these red winged blackbirds flocked together and feasting on wild rice at a local lake on Friday.

Sand Creek becomes a raging river

Well, as much as a low gradient stream can rage. This is Sand Creek after a 2 day total of 6.25 inches of rain. Without a "before" picture it's hard to tell, but normally that island in the middle is not flooded.

This is the part of the stream I sampled by electrofishing about a week ago. Back then, the water in the foreground was about eight inches deep. Now it's almost to the tops of the three culverts under the road, which are about three feet high.

Here is the downstream end of the same road crossing. Last year when they replaced the culverts I thought three 3' round culverts was maybe overkill. The closest one in the photo had no water flowing through it on Saturday. A little overkill comes in handy in torrential rains.

Of course the pond is full and running out the overflow culvert. And of course, the kids left a canoe, kayak, and duck boat in the water; all are floating very low and since the kids are on vacation in Nebraska, I will be doing some bailing tomorrow.

rain

I never got around to emptying the nine tenths of an inch of rain we got over the weekend from the gauge. So when it started raining yesterday morning I made a mental note to subtract that from whatever was in there when it stopped raining.

It poured all day and did not stop until around 7 in the evening. At work I had to put on waders to move my car, which was in a puddle several inches deep.

When I finally got out to the rain gauge, I poured off the first inch of rain. We have one of those gauges with an overflow catcher thing, so I filled the gauge from there. Then I filled it again, and again, and again. The total from today: over five inches. I don't think I've seen a rainfall like that since we've been living here!

I blame Starflower. The evening before she had washed a load of her clothes and hung them out to dry. :)

We're still playing catch-up from a drought period, so this rainfall will help recharge the groundwater and get Sand Creek flowing a little faster. There's no danger of flooding here, unless we get a huge rain that completely fills up about fifty acres of wetland upstream.

Today I'll be on the road, driving southwest to Sioux Falls SD (yes, I'll actually make it to another state besides Wisconsin) to bring the kids to stay at my stepdaughter and her fiance's in Nebraska for a few days. How do I spend a kid-free weekend at Sand Creek? Rumor has it there may be some home improvement projects in the works...I'll keep you posted.

into the alders

For my job today I got to spend some time exploring a stretch of Sand Creek upstream from my place. I run by the downstream end of that part of the creek nearly every day now, but I've never gone more than a short distance upstream. The 80 acre parcel the creek flows through there is owned by the state, and managed by my office for brook trout habitat.

Brook trout are particular about habitat, even more so than rainbow or brown trout, which are not native here. They need cold clean water with a variety of habitat including deep pools and gravel substrate for spawning. They do well in the larger streams on the North Shore of Lake Superior, but I have also seen them in very small streams.

This stretch of Sand Creek was mostly narrow (10 feet wide) and shallow, with sand for substrate. Much of the stream was shaded by alders that hung so low we had to lift them up to pass through or crawl underneath. Alders have a way of doing that. The shade keeps the water from warming in the sun, but the branches limit all but the most determined angler.

The water was cool. Cold, even. In a deep pool I held my hands underwater and had it not been such a hot day, it would have been uncomfortable after a short time. I have been in a few small streams around the area lately, but none with water nearly as cold as this. The source of much of the water became apparent as I moved upstream; here and there along the banks were flowing springs. I lost count of how many there were. Very unusual for streams in this part of the state! My theory is that this part of Sand Creek lies close to an ancient bedrock fault, and the bedrock is close enough to the surface to keep a layer of cold groundwater just under the soil's surface. The water table has been pretty low around here lately with the drought; I think in a more normal year those springs would have been flowing even more.

We were successful in sampling brook trout: three small adults and one young-of-year. We also sampled one mottled sculpin, which is a good indicator species for trout streams. I'll bet there were some more trout and sculpin in the deep pools we could not sample well. All were released unharmed.

Tomorrow I may be on Sand Creek again, a bit closer to home. I'll try to have the kids bring the camera out if we sample there!

gathering

I really seem to have fallen behind in blogging lately. Summer is happening, kids are as busy as ever and so am I, work is crazy, and in between I'm trying to keep the house in some semblance of order. But last Sunday, the wild raspberries were calling me, and I spent all morning crawling through brambles picking the tiny, juicy, sweet as summer berries.

I didn't have to go too far from home. Since our riding mower died a couple of years ago, large areas of our land have gone unmowed, and raspberries are one of the first plants to take over. They produce fruit in their second year, so while in other years we have had a few berries here and there, this year we;ve had enough to make it worthwhile to spend some time picking.

I ended up with about half an ice cream pail's worth, which was enough for four half pint jars of jam, which I made last Monday. I also made twelve half pints of strawberry jam from some berries the kids and The Hermit had picked. It was my first canning effort in the new house!

There are more raspberries out there, and I'm hoping to get my hands on some fresh local blueberries, but do I have to say "so much to do, so little time"?

cuteness on the banjo case

Status of The Garden, Early August

Sugar snap peas in August? Well, it's been a strange year. These are the products of what is left of the pea vines after Ms. Doe got after them. I replanted yesterday, thinking optimistically as ever, that I may get a fall crop in. I will take steps to decrease Ms. Doe's interest in garden greenery.

What is that? A micro melon? This is my first year's attempt at growing melons, and I am encouraged that I even see flowers and mini Blacktail Mountain watermelons.

Doesn't this tomato bed look great? Of course by this time of year it should have fruit in various stages of ripening. But this is the unsung Coldest Spot in Minnesota after all...

And the dill. Best crop ever, and I didn't even plant it! I keep hoping my miserable frost bitten pickling cukes will catch up to it. By the way, I love the repetitiveness in the dill head and dill flowerettes. Garden fireworks.

smile for the day

but those human feet are getting so big!

garlic harvest

It's that time of year again, already. Once again I had a pretty respectable harvest of garlic, planted last October. Actually I only harvested half of it; the garlic in the bed where the dill came up fantastically has yet to be pulled up. But this basket alone was pretty heavy. No vampires here.

I also tilled that garlic bed, along with a bed of beans that were chomped heavily by my resident garden doe. And the parsnips, which did not sprout. Might as well plant some kohlrabi or Chinese cabbage or other fall crop now, although I just might be able to sneak a bean crop in yet.

In the rest of the too short weekend, I ran 5.2 miles, something I haven't done since my early twenties, and watched the always wonderful East Central marching band in a parade.

clouds today

I was on a tiny bog lake miles from anywhere. First there were no clouds. Then the clouds looked beautiful, as in the photo. Then they looked ominous. One flash of lightning was enough to send us off the lake for half an hour, waiting out a small storm. Then the sun came out again.

There were little storms like that all afternoon, the kind where you can see sunshine and blue sky while standing in the midst of a downpour of rain and hail. Things have settled down for the evening, at least I think.

diving lessons

Remember the loon family I posted about approximately three weeks ago?

I was on the same lake today, finishing up a vegetation survey, and I saw them again! The babies have grown from tiny fuzzballs to big, demanding fuzzballs. Both parents were busy diving and bringing up small fish to feed them, and my coworker and I watched in awe as the little ones dipped their heads under the water to watch the adults, then finally disappeared under the surface themselves. Diving lessons. Amazing. And all this happened within fifty feet or so of our boat. This was the best picture I got with the low-zoom work camera; I was lucky to get all four of them on the surface at the same time.

It was kind of a windy, nasty day to be out otherwise, and I was glad to be finished around noon. Tomorrow's high is only supposed to be in the upper fifties. O Summer, where art thou?

just add water

Last evening we had a total of around 1.8 inches of rain. It was raining so heavy at times I thought we would not be able to watch the All Star Game; our satellite TV was knocked out for a few minutes during the pregame. But all worked out well.

Tonight the frogs are back at it. They had been silent for a few nights, but I guess they were just waiting for a little more moisture. Tree frogs are chirping, and it even sounds like Western chorus frogs, usually an early spring species, are going for a second round.

Today while I was driving somewhere for work I saw a pair of sandhill cranes, and their half grown chick, crossing the road. I so rarely get to see a young sandhill! Cute!

Welcome to the Coldest Spot in Minnesota, again

This is not sun scald, or some strange fungal thing. This is frost damage, here on a winter squash. In the middle of July. The plant will survive, but excuse me? Are we entering a mini Ice Age here? Can I not expect to grow frost sensitive vegetables and not have to worry about covering them up every night in the summer?

On the other hand, the sugar snap peas, which I planted pretty late, are thriving. As are the kale and Swiss chard. The tomatoes and other frost wimpy plants survived too.

summertime

It's that fireweed time of year, the time I first realize that summer is slipping by, the days are only going to get shorter. Best to savor every moment.





I think this photo is absolutely priceless. Calvin, on the right, is giving me the "okay Mom, I see you but I'm not supposed to look like I do" look. His two flag bearing friends in the middle had some 12 year old goofy look thing going on. And Floridacracker, this photo does not show it very well, but the flag at the right is indeed the banner of Florida. I guess because the band has played at Disney World, they earned it. :)

white pine eagle

If I had only had my own camera with 10x zoom...

At first I thought there was a nest in that bunch of branches behind the eagle. But after viewing it from two different angles, I saw no nest. The eagle was staying in the tree as we moved in pretty close, though, so I'm guessing the nest may not be too far away.

Sometimes my job is worth it.

random thoughts of grace

I don't exactly remember the night I took this photo; maybe a week or so ago. What a pleasure to find on the camera card!

I just saw and heard an indigo bunting! I am hoping the song is etched in my mind, but I think I will need to hear it a few more times to associate it with the bird. They must be nesting around here!

Tomorrow is Calvin's first ever marching band parade, and what a biggie: the Lions Club International Convention in Minneapolis. From what I've seen and heard, the band is up for it. I would think they would have to be really good to get in in the first place. So I'll be thinking of and cheering for East Central in the morning.

The evening is still and beautiful, deer flies notwithstanding. We've had high temps in the upper 70's, lows in the upper 40's. A bearable summer, all in all.

I heard Bob Dylan sing "Boots of Spanish Leather" on the radio as I was driving home, and now I have the uncontrollable urge to play and sing it. The question is, which instrument?

my garden helper

Mr. Attitude, in a gracious display of helpfulness, took over the hose today as I was watering the garden. Here he is, watering my still small but hopefully huge and fruitful by the end of the month tomato plants.

There has been a hoofed visitor to the garden lately, and I think we will need to take action. She has been nibbling on beans, potatoes, peas, and tomatoes (surprisingly!) As our first action, Mr. Attitude and I were yelling "WE LIKE VENISON!" :) I don't think it will help tho.

And I could not leave without posting about Mr. Attitude's post-gardening outfit. Very Miami Vice, and definitely cool!

Notice however, the bare studs and undone appearance of the house interior. It will get done someday.