This really ties the room together

My life is turned upside down for a few days, but we are finally getting drywall in the great room, master bedroom, and back hallway! When it is finished, this house will look pretty much finished inside. They just hung it yesterday and today, mudding and taping will probably start Tuesday.

It looks like a totally different house. Now I can envision what each individual space will look like, and I think I will make a run to Menard's this weekend to browse paint colors and maybe even price out kitchen cabinets.

Perhaps the most striking effect of the drywall is seen in the back hallway leading to the bathroom, utility room, and back door on the north side of the house. This space used to be so dark and undefined, now it is a space in itself that leads somewhere. We hope to add a deck outside this door yet this year so we don't have to bring firewood in the front door all the time.

It has been a long journey. To be honest, I would probably not do it again. Once in a lifetime is enough for a project like this.

a new approach, wildlife, and such

This is a look down our new, much improved driveway. Before, it was a mess of ruts and holes left over from the mud season, basically the month of April. Now the crushed rock and gravel should stand up to rain and spring thaws without us having to go mud bogging. And it's a lot nicer to walk down without having to dodge mosquito breeding puddles.

There are big things happening around here, finally. The driveway, and this week we're getting the drywall done in much of the house. That will involve much upheaval, like not being able to cook in my kitchen on my electric range for a few days, but when I think about the road we took to get here, a few days shouldn't matter much.

I am finally running again on a regular basis, as of this weekend. For the last month or so I had been suffering from a severe case of not wanting to run, maybe related to the too many thoughts running through my brain and the lack of capacity to process it all. But it's an interesting feedback loop: When I get it into my mind that I don't want to, or don't have time to run, I get into this strange apathetic state that makes excuses for not running. Which is sad, because I feel 100 percent better, physically and mentally, when I run. I need to run, period. I am also looking for the fringe benefit of weight loss, which, I have found, only happens when I run regularly.

So I went for my 4 mile run this morning, along my usual, beautiful route. It's so peaceful, I hardly ever see a car, and when I do it's usually nice people who wave. The only dogs I encounter are friendly dogs, from my kids' best friends' house. And I hear tons of birds; last week I came up with more than twenty species heard in three miles.

I was taking it easy this morning, having pushed myself yesterday with sprinting intervals, which was a form of self-torture. I just ran slow and steady. When I was approaching the point where I had decided I would turn around, I looked up and saw a doe and two fawns in the road ahead. I watched them for a while, but I did not want to scare them so I decided to turn around and begin the course back home.

I had only gone back maybe 2/10 of a mile when I saw something in the road ahead of me. A large black animal. BEAR! I stopped dead in my tracks. I was thinking, okay, usually black bears are pretty harmless, but I didn't want to take my chances. It was about 5oo feet away, maybe more, ambling across the road, taking its time. I watched it as it looked around, sniffing. I wonder if it sensed my presence. If it did, it didn't seem to care. Finally I watched it walk down a side road.

I approached that road cautiously. Then I remembered some advice from somewhere that said, when in bear country, talk loudly. Clap. Sing. So I sang whatever came into my head, told the bear that I did not mean any harm, and punctuated it with hand clapping. It must have worked, or else the bear didn't really care one way or the other, because when I reached the side road there was no sign of the bear. I started running again, then a couple hundred yards later I came across the still wet footprints where the bear had come out of the ditch onto the road.

I am most surprised about how not scared I was. I reacted with a sense of "Oh wow! A bear!" more than anything. I guess that comes with living out here; you develop an appropriate sense of caution. I don't think it will be necessary to carry a can of Mace on any future runs; after all, I have been running the same route so long, and this was the first bear encounter. I still worry more about humans, but on my running route I don't even have to worry about them too much.

the summer look

I switched back to this header photo I used last year, because I think it captures a Minnesota summer better than any other photo I have ever taken.

Speaking of summer, it's coming by leaps and bounds here. The next three weeks or so will be the peak of daylight at 46 degrees north latitude, which means the last streaks of light disappear about five hours before they reappear in the eastern sky. I love June. I only wish I didn't feel so squeezed for time in my daily life.

now, this is LIVING

I just returned home from a wonderful weekend away from home. The Hermit, kids and I packed up our new 1968 camping trailer and the Suburban (yeah I know, gas guzzler but it is really the ultimate family truckster) and headed about a hundred miles southwest to a beautiful campground on the shores of a central Minnesota lake. This campground was the site of the Minnesota Bluegrass and Old Time Music Association's annual Homegrown Kickoff Festival. (Kickoff meaning, the beginning of summer and the music festival season around here) This festival features all local acts representing the best in bluegrass and old time music in the region.

I was in a band that performed at this same festival, different location, eleven years ago. It seems almost unreal to say this. To think I was actually in a bluegrass band, singing lead vocals on a couple of songs that I taught to the band. But then we moved to another state, the couple that formed the heart of the band broke up, and that was that.

Enough about the past. I'm writing to tell about how I had an absolutely wonderful time in the almost 48 hours we were at the festival. It was not nearly long enough. We arrived Friday afternoon, after much packing and all the worry that accompanies a family camping trip, when you have not done anything like it in years. But we got the trailer in place, set up camp, cooked dinner, and gradually relaxed. I started having a musical itch, and walked around for a while after dark looking for a music jam I could fit in with. But being inexperienced and rather shy at this kind of thing, I returned to our family campsite with unfulfilled musical urges. It had been way too long since I had done this festival thing, walking up to a bunch of strangers playing music and jumping in.

It turns out I was just walking around the wrong part of the campground, and the best music was within earshot of our camp site. The next morning, as I was returning from the bath/shower house located near our site, I ran into an old friend of mine, Dick Kimmel, a very accomplished bluegrass musician who happened to be camped out less than a hundred yards away from us. His RV was parked next to Lloyd LaPlant's RV; Lloyd built my mandolin, and he is about as nice of a person as there is. I walked over there with my mandolin that morning, into a music jam already in full swing. I was welcomed, and I overcame whatever nerves I had and joined in.

It was the best thing ever, musically, for me. At the start I had a hard time even moving my fingers to find the right chords, but about an hour later I was amazing myself that I could actually play solos! All I needed was to get together with other people.

The kids had a blast. There were several families camped nearby with kids, and they played wiffleball and soccer together. It rained Saturday into the mid afternoon, so Calvin discovered the fun of playing X box video games on the 19" flat screen TV in the camper. (The Hermit is fully responsible for this, not me!!!) And the kids made numerous trips to the beach.

Saturday evening, after 24 hours of being there, I was overcome with a feeling of absolute happiness. All the nervousness about making this trip had disappeared, I had reconnected with some old friends and played music, just as I had hoped I would, the family was having a good time, the camper trailer was working out okay, and I was reclining in my new super lounge chair with a cold beer. I was even seeing some good birds: catbirds, phoebes and pileated woodpeckers around the camp site, and the pair of loons on the lake had two babies.

Sunday before we left, I played music again with my friend and a few other good musicians. As I was leaving the jam, Lloyd came up to me and said "You're sounding great on that mandolin!" Coming from him, that is a compliment I will cherish. And I believe it. I sounded better than ever, and it was just the effect of playing with other people. I am more ready and willing now to seek out every opportunity to play music. Aside from my family, music is what I live for.

But this isn't all about me. This is about my family, finally going out and doing fun things and living life in the moment! It's about letting go and living. And we had not done nearly enough of that for the last few years. Now I know we will.

Nettle/dandelion beer tasting

The beer has been in bottles for a few days, so today was the time to taste the finished product. I imagine, as with all beers, it will only get better with a little aging in the bottles, but I don't have the patience of a wine maker, or a Scotch maker. As long as there is a little yeast sediment in the bottle, it's ready in my opinion.

I poured a well-chilled bottle into one of our best beer steins. Two things came to note right away: one, the beer is not clear. I'm not too particular about that, but some people are. Second, there is no head. The beer was carbonated enough, but it didn't have the proteins from malted barley that produce a head of foam. I have had home brews that are hard to pour because of all the foam, so I don't necessarily consider the head to be everything.

The first thing that comes to mind when tasting a home brew for the first time is: Is it drinkable? Drinkable meaning it is anything better than Budweiser. And yes, it was very drinkable, although if your taste buds are expecting a watered down malted beverage, this would be a shock.

The flavor is very complex. I don't know if my taste buds are sophisticated enough to know what the nettles or dandelion greens contribute, but there is a green depth there I cannot describe. Also a definite tartness from the lemons and lemon zest; I might cut back on those if I make this again. And the ginger shows up in a good way. So imagine drinking a spiked lemony ginger ale with green earthy undertones.

Alcohol content? I didn't go the scientific route and take a hygrometer reading before and after. So I can only guess. It is there, but not overpowering. It was like an average beer.

All in all, it goes down more like a champagne than a beer. It was very fizzy, which means I added enough sugar before bottling. It is very light bodied. It is a beer to be enjoyed in the shade after a hot day's work tilling garden beds (which I did). It was very refreshing, with probably less aftertaste than a Diet Coke. I would definitely make it again. I have plenty of nettles and dandelions around.

bike ride

I bought my bicycle in 1989, the year I graduated from college. I had had a succession of bikes before that, of course, but this was my first Serious Bike that cost around two hundred dollars. It's a Raleigh 12 speed with upright handlebars and semi-rugged tires.

That bike stayed locked to the porch outside my small apartment in a historical Classical house in Brookings, South Dakota where I attended graduate school. Except when I rode the bike daily to campus, a mere six blocks away, or took it on more adventurous outings, up to twenty miles and more.

Then there was the time in 1992 when a recently married couple drove nonstop from Minnesota to Telluride, Colorado for the Bluegrass Festival, and upon arriving in town, sleep deprived, 8500' altitude, hopped on the bikes and pedaled through town to festival headquarters. Major lightheaded rush!

Then I had kids. And it all kind of stopped there, with short interludes, much like my music playing. I am happy to have hopped back on the bike today, after getting it tuned up at a local shop. I rode a bit less than five miles, and found out bike riding is not much like running. I'll know more when I ascertain which muscles are sore tomorrow.

broad winged hawk?

Sometimes a bad picture is better than no picture at all.

I saw this raptor two days ago when I was out on a lake about 20 miles north of St. Paul, MN, doing a vegetation survey. The trash barrel the bird is perched on is about 100 feet from the water's edge at a campground/marina. At first I thought it was one of those owl decoys people sometimes put on their docks to keep the gulls away, but a look through the binoculars confirmed it was a real live bird! I snapped this photo with the office camera, which only has about 4x optical zoom. Even so, the photo turned out good enough with some zooming and cropping.

I didn't have a field guide with me, and my first thought was Cooper's hawk. But after looking at the photo, and comparing it with Sibley's, I knew it had to be something different. The facial markings did not match those of a Cooper's, and although the size was within range this bird seemed chunkier, not very accipiter-like. For size perspective, those seams on the side of the barrel are probably 15 or 16 inches apart.

I didn't even think of looking at the broad winged hawk in the field guide; I had only seen them in flight. But when I saw the illustration in Sibley's I thought, "That's IT!"

What do you think?

By the way, the weather was just as sunny and gorgeous as it looks in the photo. It's 80 degrees today. I just put the snow shovel away last weekend. That's Minnesota in May!

radical simplicity

Life has been interesting this last week or so. I was going through a crisis period where I found myself wishing I had me a sugar daddy, that money would just fall out of the sky, and then BAM. We got what we needed, and I realized my longing for money, which I had initially dismissed as inherently evil, causing even greater tension within myself, was just a normal human thing, nothing to worry about.

I mean, I was chastising myself for wanting things like a house that looks somewhat finished! Hot and cold running water indoors! Money to pay off the last propane tank fill so we could get the next one! And maybe, just maybe, new running shoes. I'm a materialistic, greedy wench! ;)

It doesn't help that my spouse and I have entirely different attitudes towards money, and the handling of it. By most standards we should have been doomed a long time ago. But somehow through our differences we still see the value that lies within our family, and it is precious. But it ain't easy.

In the midst of it all I started reading Elaine St. James' book, Simplify Your Life. It came in a box of books I received from a local Facebook/Blogger friend (not the same one who brought the yeast; social media has been very good to me locally!) After the first few hints, I was almost laughing hysterically, while I realized "How could I simplify my life any further? If simplicity means getting rid of high heels and frequent restaurant dinners, I'm already way beyond there!"

I realize there are people out there living an overbooked, overly materialistic life. And the book was written in 1994, long before the bubble burst. But still...The Hermit and I were discussing the other day about bathroom plans, and we both decided why bother with an indoor toilet if we can get by (as we have, for seven years now) without one? Why defecate indoors? Why waste water flushing waste to a septic system? (we still will run washing and kitchen water to a graywater system)

I know, it sounds radical. But would it have sounded radical less than a hundred years ago, when outhouses were the norm and $20,000 mound septic systems were not required by law? Who decided we should not be able to make that choice? (Our township is one of the few where you can still make the choice in some circumstances)

Life as we know it is bound to get "simpler" whether we like it or not. For many of us, it's a paycheck away from involuntary simplicity. I don't have much time for magazines that preach simplicity but devote pages to expensive interior design and gadgets designed to help us "simplify" things. Real simplicity comes from living without, and making hard choices.

Nettle/dandelion beer

WHAT?!

She's crazy, I tell ya,

Beer from NETTLES? And I've heard of dandelion wine, but BEER? From the GREENS?

I did it. Today, because I was fascinated with the idea that in other times, other cultures, people (especially women) brewed beer from ingredients other than malted barley and hops, I brewed a beer from stinging nettles. And dandelions.


Of course, dandelions are in no short supply. And on my 40 acres, I have a couple reliable sources of stinging nettles, one of them being a flower bed right outside the house. Why nettles choose to grow there I do not know.

I did add a few non-locally harvested ingredients, among them lemons and ginger root. I also added some lime basil, because I had it, and because I thought it would add a good flavor.

Nettles, dandelion leaves, dandelion root, ginger root, and lemon zest were boiled for about half an hour, or until the leaves barely retained any leaf structure. Meanwhile, two pounds of brown sugar (that's one whole bag), and cream of tartar and the juice from the lemons (4 of them) were mixed together. When the whole mess was done boiling, I strained the liquid into the pot with the sugar and stuff, and let the sugar dissolve before pouring it into the fermenter (the 5 gallon glass carboy in the top picture). After a couple of hours, when it had cooled to slightly warm to the touch, I added the yeast.

The yeast is a story of its own. You can buy bread yeast in any store, and it might work for brewing beer, but if you want the kind of yeast that works best for brewing beer, you generally have to buy it from home brew supply stores. Being short of cash and not wanting to drive 100 miles to a brew store last week, I made an appeal over Facebook to see if anyone in my area was keeping any yeast cultures and could spare some. To my great surprise, a local Facebook friend and musician, whom I had only just recently met in real life in a chance encounter in line at the grocery store, contacted another friend of his, who had a packet of yeast to spare. Say what you will about social media, but I have gotten to know a few people locally through Facebook whom otherwise I would not have met.

A few hours later, carbon dioxide is happily bubbling through the air lock, a sign that fermentation is well on its way. We'll see how this experiment tastes in a few days. I don't expect it to be like any beer I've tasted before, and that is part of the fun of this whole project! I like that I didn't spend about 30 bucks on a pre-assembled beer kit. This is far more adventurous.

Wildlife at Target Field

Thursday night's Twins game against Baltimore wasn't the most exciting game to watch on TV. A light rain was falling, and Joe Mauer was out of the lineup with a bruised heel. The Twins just couldn't seem to come through with hits when there were guys on base.

But there was one unlikely star of the show that night: a kestrel. Right in the heart of downtown Minneapolis. This bird decided the right field foul pole was a great place to hang out. After all, there were lights, and where there are lights, there are moths. And that means EASY DINNER!

The announcers and camera operators caught on to this spectacle in the middle of the game, and soon close ups of the kestrel were shown on the scoreboard and broadcast on TV. When the bird caught a large moth and started eating it (shown above), the crowd went wild.

Of course, birds and baseball are two of my favorite things, and I was thrilled to see the attention being given to an avian guest at a ball game. Actually, I am intrigued by the phenomenon. Maybe it's part of the novelty of outdoor baseball for a team that has played over 25 years indoors, under a dome on a sterile Astro Turf field. Baseball was meant to be played outside. People were meant to be outside. And if a small falcon can cause so much excitement, there is hope for humanity.

national day of...

warning...semi rant ahead...

First of all, I will make myself clear. If you spent today in prayer, alone or in the community of others, I respect that. And in the U.S. and a lot of other nations, we are fortunate to live where the act of prayer is allowed, even encouraged, and not driven underground.

That said, I do not feel it is the business of our government to go about promoting prayer. As much as I feel it is not the business of our government to promote meditation, yoga, Tai Chi, reading "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books, dancing naked around a bonfire, or any other practice that suggests spirituality.

I am not a praying person. I always felt strange petitioning some father figure Up There, who already was supposed to know my needs and have some Divine Plan for me, with my own needs and wants of the day. I learned at an early age that we do not always get what we pray for. So why pray? But if it brings you peace, that is good.

I would rather see a "National Day of Reconciliation". "National Day of Talking To Your Neighbors". "National Day Where Hate Is Forbidden". "National Day of Tearing Down Walls". Prayer is easy. Action, not so much.

You may say I'm a dreamer... but am I the only one?

surreal...

Mr. Attitude called me outside to see this extraordinary scene this evening.

spring metamorphosis

The big burst of spring color is happening. I love this time of year perhaps even more than fall, because these colors represent new growth and rebirth. In the spirit of personal growth and rebirth, I convinced myself to go for a run this morning, and I even made it over four miles. I had not been running for a while; for some reason I was not excited about it this spring and the excuses were flying everywhere. So instead of fighting it I gave myself a break, with the promise that I would return to running...when I was good and ready.

It was one of those dramatic skies. Morning had dawned clear and blue and sunny, but the clouds started rolling in about the time I decided to go running. If I had waited ten minutes, I may have decided the wind was too much...which is of course another excuse. As it turned out, I had a great run despite the wind, and I even put up with holding the camera in one hand the entire way so I could take pictures of the ever changing skies and the spring color. These tamaracks are definitely a bit wind-tossed.

Marsh marigolds are blooming in profusion, a week or so earlier than normal. These were just up the road from my house, in an area where there are flowing springs in the ditches. I was wondering if that was watercress next to the marsh marigolds.

I have been feeling the spring metamorphosis in another aspect of life--my music. In the past month or so I have played my instruments more than in perhaps the last six months total. Sure I have talked a lot about my musical efforts on this blog, but until now something was missing, that personal commitment to make music a part of life rather than just a hobby I participated in once in a while. I always had reasons/excuses why I wasn't making it happen. But for whatever reason, that has changed. Yesterday I took the day off work and played guitar, banjo, and mandolin from about 9 AM-3 PM or longer. I worked through some fundamentals on guitar, learned some new chords and scale patterns, and learned another Greg Brown song (Billy From the Hills). I don't know where I'm going with this, but for now I don't care. I'm finally breaking down the personal barriers to doing what I love, and I think good things will happen with it.

springtime in the woods

This lovely island woods on a lake in east central Minnesota was where I spent my lunch break today. Alone. I like it that way.

The spring beauties and anemones were in bloom. Too bad the work camera wasn't focusing the best, but you get the idea.

And I found just what I had hoped to see. Trilliums were just coming out. I don't have any of these white trilliums in my woods, so it is nice when I can find one to photograph up close.

Adventures in overdubbing

Before you read any further, if you have a high speed connection, please open a new browser window, go to my new MySpace page, and listen to the uploaded song while you read the rest of this post.

Today was one of those wonderful musical days when one thing leads to another, and before I knew it I was in the midst of my biggest recording projects ever. It started innocently enough, with some intense arpeggio practice on mandolin. Then I happened to turn to the page in my music notebook that had the lyrics to a Bob Dylan song I really like, "Tomorrow Is A Long Time". I put down the mandolin, picked up the guitar, learned the chord pattern, and decided to do an impromptu recording of myself singing and playing the song on guitar, just a rough draft so I could work out a mandolin accompaniment later. My arrangement is based on Nickel Creek's recording of the song, and I did my best to sound somewhat like Sara Watkins. :)

The rough draft came complete with Sally's toenails on wood floor, and even a rawhide bone drop in the last chorus. But the guitar playing was pretty even, and I liked what I heard in the vocals. That's a rare thing; usually I have a hard time appreciating my own voice. So I kept the track. Then, in the early afternoon, I moved out to my new recording studio:

The Hermit traded for this camper trailer that's nearly as old as I am, and in almost better shape. Since Mr. Attitude was watching TV in the house and Calvin was video gaming in the cabin, this was the only choice for a quiet place (the flickers and sapsuckers were making way too much joyful spring noise outside). And quiet it was; with the door and windows closed it blocked out most outside noise.

I set up inside with my flute and mandolin, a glass of iced tea, and my Tascam GT-R1 portable recorder, on top of the cabinet in the middle. I spent a lot of time practicing flute with the base track, recorded one take, then found out I had set the input level so high the flute was overpowering everything else. So I adjusted levels, did a couple practice takes of about ten seconds each to make sure the levels were right, then I recorded the flute track. Right after I turned the recorder off, Mr. Attitude appeared and wanted to be my sound man. :)

The mandolin track took a lot longer, due to the need for iced tea refills, and interruptions from Calvin and Starflower. Not to mention my own developing sense of perfectionism; even if this was purely for my own recreation, I wanted this song to sound somewhat professional. So I practiced the mando with the dubbed guitar/vocal/flute track until I had an idea where I was going with it. I noticed the battery on the recorder was getting down a bit, so I hoped I could get something good recorded in one take. The first take sounded good enough for me.

I can now appreciate the process of audio recording. While this is a rough demo by any standards, I have learned what it takes to put a song together. My inner perfectionist would still be out in the camper, going for the perfect mix, and I know this song will evolve a bit as I work with it. But it's a big step for me, putting it up on MySpace for the world to see!

Quiet

This blog has been quieter than normal lately, and normally I would apologize. But just as the tides ebb and flow, so does my state of mind. I've come to accept that driving myself to blog every day, or reveal all of the latest changes of nature, which is in a constant state of change, when I am turned inward and distracted, is not normal and is fighting the flow of things. So there is nothing to apologize for. Rest assured, however, that this blog is a part of me and to quit altogether would be to commit a violent act of disregard for myself and all of you, the people I have come to know through this blog. So I will not apologize, but rest assured, when the quiet storm is over I will have stories to tell.

A mosquito is trying to bite my fingers as I type. Ah, the curses of an early spring!

Play ball!

Well, the Twins have now opened up their new baseball field with a victory over the Red Sox, but baseball season for me officially began today with the seventh and eighth grade teams' first games. They played on the home field against my mom's hometown. The seventh grade team (Calvin is in seventh, by the way) was scheduled for the second game so I took my time getting there after work. I ended up getting there just in time to see Calvin come in as relief pitcher for the EIGHTH GRADE team! I guess they are a couple players short so they fill in with seventh graders. Calvin started for them in right field.

Calvin pitched a good inning, not allowing any runs. He had very good form; I could tell all those miles I drove to and from pitching camp this winter were not in vain!

This baseball season is going to be fun to watch!

My new license plates, and how to have a great birding day without really trying

Today after lifting twenty trap nets on a local lake and doing spleen and kidney-ectomies on a bunch of unfortunate fish (sampling for the latest fish disease, VHS, to come our way), I decided to leave work early. I had a book to pick up at the library, and when I pulled up to the combined library/city hall/license center I remembered my driver's license had expired on my birthday, and I needed to renew the license tabs on the Subaru. And it's payday tomorrow, so I could do that.

Minnesota has been issuing special habitat license plates for a while now, and last year they unveiled four new designs. I had decided a while back that when I had to buy license tabs I would get one of the new plates. I was torn between one that featured a chickadee, and one that featured a lady's slipper, our state flower. It was a close race, but the Hermit already had the chickadee plates, and a botanical plate just seems so...cool. :) Although there is some pink overload in the background...why not bog green, like where these flowers grow?

When I arrived home I installed the new plates, then Sally was insisting that I take her to the pond. Of course I could not resist. After all that, I had exactly twenty minutes before I had to drive back to the school and pick up Calvin and his buddy from baseball practice. I had heard an unusual bird song from the (new and improved) back yard, so I grabbed the binoculars and a beer and sat at the table we had set up out there.

I don't think I saw the singer of the unusual (and still unidentified) bird song, but I did see something flitting around in a spruce tree. It was difficult to zero in on it because it was one of those little birds that is constantly flitting. I started thinking of possibilities in my head: Yellow rumped warbler? This early? Then I thought: Golden crowned kinglet. A possibility, and definitely in the size range. I finally saw the eye line, and a flash of yellow on top of the head. YES!!! I'm sure golden crowned kinglets are everywhere, especially in the spring, I had just never gotten a good look at one! LIFER!!!

Then it was time to make the fifteen mile drive to school. I must have been especially attuned to the look of the trees along the road a couple miles from our house, because I noticed a bird out of the corner of my left eye. It was sitting in an aspen tree near the road, but sitting differently than most birds: it was parallel, not perpendicular, to the tree branch it was on. It was also an unusual size, maybe blue jay size but definitely not blue jay. I had to slam on the brakes and back up.

I did not have my binoculars with me, so I'll have to rely on what I saw with my naked eyes. The sunlight was doing weird things with the bird's back, maybe highlighting some iridescence. But what I saw was dark, with a light front, and a woodpecker-like bill. Its level of wariness was also notable: it did not fly even when my car was about thirty feet away and stopped. I studied it from every angle I could, and I have to go with my gut feeling: Black backed woodpecker! They are uncommon, but definitely not improbable around here as I have seen them before.

Sometimes you see the best things when you're not really trying to see anything.

Open water

I apologize for not posting more frequently in this, the most exciting of seasons. It's all happening so fast this year I can barely step back and process it all. It seems like a dream: warm temperatures came and snow started disappearing in mid March, and I sat there waiting for things to return to normal, for a blizzard or deep freeze or something. It never happened, and here I sit in a comfortably warm house that will not need supplemental heat tonight. In early April!

The ice went out on all the lakes in the area this week. According to records kept by my grandpa at the lake home now owned by my uncle, this year was the second earliest the ice disappeared from that lake. The records probably go back over 30 years. Today we spent a nice Easter at the lake, watching various ducks, grebes, geese, and herons on the water.

Of course with my job monitoring fish populations, ice out meant work. I had meant to take Thursday and Friday off and spend some time with the kids while they had some time off school for spring break. Instead I was one of the first people out on a boat on a couple of lakes, setting nets and checking them for fish. I can't complain, how many jobs are there where you get paid to go out in a boat, but suddenly I'm feeling the need for some time off!

The warming and thawing has finally resolved a situation we had here with the pond over the last two weeks. The pond was flooded from melt water that had nowhere to go because an outflow culvert under our driveway was blocked with ice. Finally some time last night the water broke through the ice and I can just imagine the powerful rush as the water flowed through and lowered the level of the pond by about a foot. Thank goodness there was no damage to the driveway.

Tonight the frogs are singing, and I can even keep my window open a bit to hear them. Maybe I will hear the northern saw whet owl I heard last night as well.

hooded mergansers

These three sharp looking guys were cruising the pond this morning.

the day Sally dreams of all winter

The day the pond is free of ice, and Mom beckons, when she comes home from work, with the magic word: POND! It's enough to send Sally into a frenzy.

I also had to supervise some lawn tractor driving. Starflower and Calvin are getting pretty good at it. I have promised Mr. Attitude that I will give him lessons. When I'm ready.

spring sightings

The pond is almost ice free. I would say totally but it's supposed to get pretty cold tonight so more ice will form. And the culvert under the driveway is still plugged by ice or something else. No more water has entered the equation, and there is not significant rain in the forecast, so I'm just hoping it thaws soon.

Today I finally spotted a pair of sandhill cranes flying, while I was commuting home. Kestrels have arrived, and northern harriers once again amaze me with their beautiful, effortless flight. And I saw the first turkey vulture soaring above the town of Sandstone today. Turkey vultures make me think of Lynne. Not that she's a "vulture" in the sense of the popular definition, far from it, she is a beautiful, fun, caring person who happens to have a personal affinity for the oft maligned turkey vulture. I like them too.

My lawn tractor arrived yesterday. I took it out for a spin, and I admit John Deeres are pretty nice. Calvin and Starflower have been taking turns driving it around the yard. I hope the enthusiasm continues once I assign them various tracts of land to keep mowed this summer!

At work, I have been practicing the Zen of fish net mending. It is really kind of fun once you learn how to do it right. Fun, that is, unless one is subjected to a radio station blaring '80s rock music, or political discussions between my coworkers. I forgot to bring my iPod today. I will definitely remember tomorrow.

Our blessedly warm March is turning colder for a few days. That will give me an excuse to not go running. I have not been feeling the running bug lately. Same with music. On one level it irritates me that I can't seem to rise beyond that, but on another level maybe I need to take it easy and approach it again in a few days. Whatever. I wish I, like the kids, had a week's spring break to look forward to after tomorrow. I'll take a couple days off if work doesn't heat up. If it's just net mending, it can wait.

what a few stitches cost

Did you know a trip to the emergency room for stitches costs 700 dollars?

I got the bill for Starflower's recent incident the other day, and it nearly blew my mind. I knew we were talking at least a couple hundred bucks, but wow.

I was grateful for the bottom line: "Expected insurance coverage = 100%", although I knew better. We have not met our deductible for the year, so we will have to pay about $150. Still, I am more fortunate than a lot of folks in that my job provides health insurance.

While I think a lot needs to be done in the way of cost containment, personal responsibility, and defining why it is that people need to be on so many prescription medications anyway, I am glad this nation has finally taken a big step towards providing affordable health care for most, and guaranteeing that those who need it most will not lose it. After all, stitches happen, despite our best efforts at prevention. Although maybe next time I'll do them myself! (Taking them out myself saved us/insurance at least a $120 doctor visit.)

43

Well, I guess I don't feel all that different. Better than I have in years, in a lot of ways. My forties have been a lot more fun that my thirties. I think wisdom finally comes around 40. Or so it was for me.

Guess what I got for my birthday? A LAWN TRACTOR!!! No, actually it wasn't my gift, we just happened to have bought it this morning. It will be delivered Wednesday. Even though we don't have any mowable grass yet, I can't wait!!! Our last one kicked the bucket over two years ago.

dude, where's my culvert?

I think I can say unequivocally that ice skating season is over. Actually this year we did not get out skating once. The ice formed, then enough snow fell before the ice was thick enough to support its weight so there was slush. Then slush froze into hard bumps that even the best Zamboni would not be able to resurface.

The ice has been retreating at a pace unusual for March. The weather lately has been a blessing for a winter weary soul (and a blessing for our heating bill, which could use a break). Yesterday and today above 60 degrees = unbelievable (but very likable). I think after the last few years we deserve a March like this.

This fast meltdown and runoff has posed a bit of a problem though, and it's not just the mud in the driveway, which may go away sooner than normal if this continues. The problem is, the pond is at record high water levels. That means that at some point, water is not flowing out of the pond.

This is a view directly below the pond outflow culvert. So water is flowing through that one fine. But there is another culvert, underneath our driveway. There is lots of water above the driveway, but little below. A-ha.

I decided to investigate this matter today instead of going for a run. The pond outflow runs north through the outflow culvert and the driveway culvert. This is an important fact: The driveway shades the outflow below it so that thawing happens more slowly. I entered the ditch north of the driveway, and at first could not even see any sign of a culvert. Then, as I examined more closely, I saw, just above the surface of an ice pack, a curved form that looked like the top of a culvert. I chipped out some ice with a heavy spud bar (ice chisel) and it did indeed appear to be the culvert I was looking for.

I continued to chip away at the ice, thinking perhaps I could break through. I could have broken through, with unlimited strength. The ice was still sturdy and unrelenting, and finally I gave up with the idea that I had speeded the process. Just a little.

I am not too concerned at this point. Most of the snow has melted, and the pond is as high as it is going to get. Unless, of course, we get a couple inches of rain in one night. Then maybe we would be faced with a driveway washed away, unable to drive anywhere, huge excavating bill to get things back to normal. Nope. Don't even want to go there.

Hopefully another day or two of this wonderful weather will resolve the problem.

Amazing Grace

The other day I had a rare moment alone in our acoustically wonderful house, and my flute was in my hands. The recorder was also nearby, so I turned it on and started playing an old favorite tune.

I think I played it better than I ever have.

I learned this version of "Amazing Grace" when I was a senior in college. The flute section played this in unison as part of our program for our band tour to Arizona and California. I have since played it many times at church services. I have played it at three funerals: my grandpa's, my great uncle's, and my mom's.

This is one of those tunes that just transcends everything.

the hill run

I have been easing myself back into running for the last week or so, and it feels great to be out there on the thawing gravel road right around sunset. Today I took a turn from my usual run, which is relatively flat, and climbed up some 70 feet of glacial moraine terrain in the first half. 70 feet might not sound like much to you mountain dwellers, but it provided a challenging workout for me. And I was up to the challenge! 3.2 miles total, and I didn't think of checking the clock when I went out but it was well under an hour.

High temps in the 40's predicted all week, with lows above freezing and maybe rain tomorrow. Snow is disappearing fast, and mud is everywhere. Welcome Spring!

Sunday night unwinding

I am recovering from another Sunday drive. The Hermit signed the boys up for a baseball clinic that meets for six Sunday afternoons...100 miles away from here in a suburb of Minneapolis. Furthermore, the boys need to provide their own catcher, and since The Hermit isn't quite up to squatting, kneeling, and everything else a catcher does, that would be me. They are receiving great instruction in the fundamentals of pitching. I am learning a lot too, and gaining a lot of respect for pitchers, and catchers. But when all is said and done, it eats up seven hours of a Sunday. Only two weeks left.

I want to thank everyone who contributed to I and the Bird 120, and everyone who came by to read it. It was fun putting the whole thing together, and I was able to reconnect with some old birding blogger friends and meet a few new ones.

I have my own budding young birder here. Mr. Attitude spotted three ruffed grouse in an aspen tree at twilight last night, and a short time later told me about a strange noise he heard in the woods. That noise just happened to be the saw-whet owl that's been calling for the last week! I showed him a picture of the owl in a bird book, then I presented him with a copy of a bird guide specifically written for kids. That book was a gift from a blogging friend, Cindy Mead, and unfortunately I don't have a link to her blog handy right now. Mr. Attitude sat right down and started reading. I would tell you of what he thought about the Roseate Spoonbill, but that is another post in itself, a post I hope to write this week!

Today on the way to baseball camp Mr. Attitude and I noticed several bald eagles and several red tailed hawks. We also saw a flock of crows mobbing a red tailed hawk.

I haven't had as much time for music as I would like, but in a rare moment when I had the house to myself I turned on the recorder and cranked out possibly the best version I have ever played on flute of an old favorite song. I will make it into a video so I can post it here.

Mud season is here. I can't complain about the weather, it's been sunny with highs in the 40's this last week, and it's expected to continue, but our driveway is becoming its annual mess. With a plan we have made, however, this will be the last year of impassable conditions on our driveway.

Our newest chickens have been stepping up egg production. It's nice to have three dozen fresh eggs in the fridge!

A week ago Saturday night, I was in the emergency room with Starflower as she got stitches above her right eyebrow. She and Mr. Attitude were messing around in Calvin's room, and next thing I knew she had hit her head. These things happen; now all three have had stitches and/or staples. Yesterday I took it upon myself to remove the stitches. It's not that difficult; convincing a kid that you know what you are doing (even when you don't) is the hardest part! That, and I could have used a pair of reading glasses. My eyes ain't what they used to be! But despite my visual shortcomings, everything turned out fine.

We now have a soprano saxophone player in the house. Calvin has played alto sax in the band for two and a half years, and out of the blue he started telling me he would like to try soprano sax. Cool! That has always been one of my favorite instruments. So I talked with the band director last week, and he just happened to have one available for Calvin to try out. He brought it home over the weekend, and I even got to have a little fun with it.

That's about all I can think of now. So many thoughts, so little time.

I and the Bird #120: March

Welcome to this week’s edition of I and the Bird. Since the name of my blog, Sand Creek Almanac, is a twist of the title of Aldo Leopold’s classic, A Sand County Almanac, and it is March, let us begin with Leopold’s musings on March:

One swallow does not make the summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of a March thaw, is the spring…a migrating goose, staking two hundred miles of black night on the chance of finding a hole in the lake, has no easy chance for retreat. His arrival carries the conviction of a prophet who has burned his bridges.

– Aldo Leopold, essay “March” from A Sand County Almanac, 1949, Oxford University Press

Here in Minnesota, USA, March is a month of limbo. The calendar says winter is over, but we know spring won’t arrive until at least mid April, when our 10,000+ lakes finally emerge from a covering of ice. A warm sunny day is as much a possibility as a blizzard or a cold frosty night. We may peel off a layer or two of clothing, but we don’t pack away the long underwear…yet. (We’re saving it for the first Twins baseball game in their new outdoor ballpark!)

Perhaps it is because I was born on the day of the vernal equinox, but I find March to be the most hopeful month of the year. I listen for the first joyful honking of Canada geese. I eagerly anticipate the first sighting of a male red winged blackbird staking out his marshy territory. Although robins overwinter in some scattered areas, my first March sighting of a robin is a cause for celebration. The pair of sandhill cranes that nest in the shrubby wetland by Sand Creek near my house raucously announce their arrival in the latter part of the month. Just the other night I was thrilled to hear the call of a northern saw-whet owl. The cycle of life continues.

Bird bloggers seem to embody this spirit of March hopefulness year round. Whether they travel great distances to enjoy seeing new species, or delight in the drama in their own back yards, birders are aware and open to the wonder that is always present in life. I am pleased to present another fine collection of bird blogging!

In the Backyard

Jayne has the privilege to see a raptor in her backyard regularly, and she shows how the red shouldered hawk got its name!

Amber's Texas bird lounge took on a wintery look, attracting many visitors!

Another Texan, Kay, shows that if you build it (or fill up your feeders and baths) they will come!

There are two lessons to be learned from The Geek In Question: 1) Sometimes a bird will wait while you run inside to get your camera, and 2) Your mother in law can wait--photos like these are worth it!

March means it's time for spring cleaning, and even Carolina chickadees are getting into the spirit! Thanks Alan!

The Grizzled but still Incorrigible Scribe Himself (perhaps the longest Blogger handle ever) lives and writes by a river in Ohio. He is a newcomer to I and the Bird, and I introduce you to him via his observations of great blue herons fishing-Wow! Can they EAT!

Close to Home

RuthieJ, a fellow Minnesotan who knits, birds, and writes about it at Nature Knitter, takes us on a Sunday drive by the Mississippi River.

JSK had an opportunity to zero in and identify some ring necked ducks on a local river.

Of course, when your home is an RV, everywhere is close to home! Dawn's latest home is in Arizona where she went on a quest for a rare visitor.

And, was anyone in the USA and Canada NOT watching the final Olympic hockey game? Wanderin' Weeta and I were perhaps the only two. She found a great opportunity for an uncrowded beach walk.

Travels with Birders

Aimophila Adventures goes to Kootenai Lake, and the owl he found is way too cute.

Laura escaped this year's brutal New Jersey winter temporarily for sunny Florida.

Carrie went on an owl prowl in Canada, and let me tell you, this is one of those blogging moments when the telling of the tale is as sweet as the destination!

Mike Bergin, while in Ecuador, got up close and personal with some antpittas. What's an antpitta? I've learned so much from hosting this carnival!

The Horned Guan. It's a bird that requires tremendous physical exertion, careful planning, and a lot of luck to see. Nate gave it his best.

Birds in the News

It seems this ivory billed woodpecker thing won't go away, even after five years. Grrlscientist wonders about this "faith based birding", and asks if we shouldn't maybe spend our time and money on birds that are proven to still exist.

We know corvids are intelligent birds, but is there a limit to their problem solving ability? And do the corvids really care? John at A DC Birding Blog reports on the latest research.

Birds Up Close- Photos and observations

What's a shikra? Otherwise known as the little banded goshawk, it is a beautiful bird that looks a lot like the northern goshawk I sometimes see here. Thomas at Nature Magnified, of Karimannoor, India, gives us the details.

I don't think I've ever had a bird give me the evil eye, but it sounds like the yellow eyed junco would do it. BEWARE! Alison of IBIS tells us how to ID this bird of high altitudes.

Pileated woodpeckers. I love 'em. And by my unofficial poll, they are the most-often mentioned species in this IATB edition. Adrian at Voyages Around My Camera gives a good account of these giants of the woodpecker family.

Kestrels are another sign of spring where I live. Thanks to Moe of Iowavoice.com for showing one in its striking beauty.

I used to listen to Marsh Wrens singing at night at a house I lived in that was...next to a marsh. I never knew they built such elaborate nests! Thank you Larry for the details and photos.

Birds in Dreams

Yes. I do dream about birds sometimes. And sometimes I can't remember if it was a dream or reality. Our dreams reflect aspects of our lives. So what do these dream birds represent?

Birds and Life

Sometimes an everyday walk can provide extraordinary moments. Often birds provide the gateway to those moments. Have I mentioned pileated woodpeckers already? They cannot be mentioned enough. Robin never fails to notice these wonderful moments in nature.

A beautiful tribute to an eagle that stole Vicki's, and no doubt many others' hearts. Fly free, Spirit.

Looking towards the future, a mom writes about birds, feathering the nest, and the little milestones of childhood.

Thanks to all for being out there and sharing it with everyone! Next edition is at Birder's Lounge!

I and the Bird: call for submissions!

I am way late on this. I have known for several months that I would be hosting the 120th edition of I and the Bird, the carnival of bird blogging. But nevertheless, the event has sneaked up on me and the time for submitting your excellent bird blog post for inclusion in this edition is NOW! Well, actually you have until Tuesday, but don't leave me hanging! Drop me an email with a link to flutemandolin AT gmail dot com. Thank you!

Egg comparison

On the left, a "local" egg from our very local huge chicken operation that stinks up the air regularly. Our school is downwind from this hatch house, and we always dread a wind from the northwest if there be football games, or baseball, softball, or track meets.

On the right, one of our homegrown eggs. They have not had any special organic feed, nor have they had much space to roam. This is just what it's like to have fresh home grown eggs. I can almost see the Omega 3's!

I and the Bird #119

Since I have nothing to say here, as has been the February curse, go check out I and the Bird, the carnival of bird blogging, over at the eloquent Laura's blog, Somewhere in NJ.

I'm up next for hosting, so if you have anything bird related, let me know! My e-mail is on the sidebar, or just leave a comment and I'll get back to you.

My coworker saw a red headed woodpecker today. Damn. I mean, good sighting! ;) I haven't seen one in years!

Testing 123...

This is a test of 1) my new AMAZING toy (more below); 2) my fledgling skills at creating a video from audio and still pictures on Windows Movie Maker; and 3) my ability to record myself without freezing in stage fright.

For my anniversary/early birthday present The Hermit got me something I didn't even know I'd been wanting: a portable digital audio recorder. Well, actually it's way more than that; it has a tuner, preset rhythms, effects, it does everything but play flute/banjo/mandolin/whatever for me.

There's so much I want to do with it I didn't know where to begin, so I thought I'd just pick one of my favorite songs, play it, and try not to be too much of a perfectionist about the finished product; after all, I was more anxious than anything to share some of my music with you! This is an Irish reel called "The Laurel Tree".

There's much more where that came from. I promise.

synchronicity

A couple weeks ago I commented on RuthieJ's blog about how beautiful I thought southeastern Minnesota looked, but that I had hardly ever been to that part of the state. Really. I have been to the far northeast and southwest corners of Minnesota, and spent some time in St. Peter and Park Rapids, but by far most of my Minnesotan experience has been limited to the east central part of the state.

Last week at work my boss asked me if I would be interested in a training opportunity to be held this fall in southeastern Minnesota. In previous years I would have balked at the time commitment, but now I think the time is right. Plus, in these economic times, I see additional training as a valuable asset in making myself indispensable. ;)

So it looks as though I will be spending a week or two in October in far southeastern Minnesota, becoming fluent in fluvial geomorphology. And maybe spotting some migrant birds?

They say there are no coincidences. I'm starting to believe they are right.

just an update

No, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. I have just run into a paucity of bloggable moments, coupled with a paucity of computer time. Someday I will have my own laptop. Darn kids.

Seriously, in late January/early February, nothing is happening in Minnesota. I haven't even had any notable birds at my feeders. I have heard a few great horned owls calling, but generally there is a lack of wildlife wonder around here.

Today I cleaned/organized the room that will eventually be The Hermit's and my bedroom. A little wiring, a little drywall, and get the tools and building supplies the heck outta there! I am so ready to have a finished house, and so realizing it's not going to happen any time soon.

Starflower and Mr. Attitude were having a good time sliding down the stairs on a piece of cardboard that was part of the box our big TV came in, the box I finally removed from the future bedroom today.

Calvin's basketball season is winding down. They have one game left, at a town so far away I probably will not be attending. But the game I watched this week was good enough for me. He scored six points, had some great defensive moves, and played almost the entire second half. One of his best friends was on the other team, they had the same number, and ended up guarding each other...fun to watch!

In musical news, we have a new Yamaha keyboard in the house, with (literally) all the bells and whistles. Starflower and Mr. Attitude needed something better than our 20 year old muddy sounding Roland for piano practice, and we don't have a good place in the house for a real piano. But when you have a gazillion different sound effects, a real piano would just be so BORING! The interesting part is, Calvin has taken a great interest in the new keyboard. He has never taken a piano lesson, but he can figure out how to play the trumpet part from a band song on keyboard (Calvin plays alto sax). I know enough about playing music to think that is amazing.

So that's the news from the doldrums of winter.

my one wild and precious life

Tell me, what is your plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

- Mary Oliver, from "The Summer Day"

I have still been feeling the winter blahs lately. The temperatures dropped this week and we were flung back into the throes of a normal Minnesota winter. I have to remind myself in just one month it will be March, the month when spring begins to unfold.

Out of boredom, or maybe desperation, I went to the library one day and ended up browsing the aisle that contains "religion", "psychology", "self help", "nature", and "auto repair". It is, after all, a small library. I ended up with a self help book written by an architect. Really. Sarah Susanka, of "The Not So Big House" fame, has a book entitled "The Not So Big Life: Making Room for What Really Matters". Of course I have been living the experience of building the "not so big house" for a while now, and I have learned a lot about interior design from her books. And who says you have to have a degree in psychology to write a self help book anyway? It's been done.

I'm about halfway through, and while I enjoy the architectural perspective, I realize it is just another self help book. And I realize that my life is not so big to begin with, compared with the examples. But like any good self help book it has gotten me to think about my life. In one chapter there is an exercise that asks the reader to "recall any situations where Providence moved to create the perfect conditions for your own exploration or pursuit of an interest or passion." For some reason I thought of something I had never considered before.

When I was in sixth grade, nearing my twelfth birthday, I played the violin. I was doing okay, pretty good really, but for some reason it just didn't excite me. Then one day, I don't know how or where I came up with the idea, but suddenly I just knew: I wanted to play the flute. What's more, I knew I was going to do it. My conviction must have impressed my mom, who went so far as to speak with the coordinator of musical education for the school district. After all, they needed all the violinists they could get and flutists were a dime a dozen. But I ended up learning the flute, even accompanying the church junior choir and playing a solo on Easter Sunday, barely six weeks after I started!

So where has the flute taken me? I only wish that passion and confidence had stayed with me, that I had dared to dream I could be...a flautist. But then again, I would not be here in this life I know, so let's not even go there with the "what if's". But I still have the passion for music, and it's been showing itself more often in the last year or so. What if I could still invite that passion to move me to action, to make my life more about music?

Then yesterday I was tagged in a Facebook note by my dear blogging/FB friend Jim. He asked to respond to the question "What are my plans for living my one wild and precious life?" (See the Mary Oliver quote above)

My plans? Have I ever had any? It seems I've just been rolling along with the flow. I like a lot of things about where the flow has taken me, but what if I had the courage to make plans? I know, nothing makes God laugh more than humans making plans. But somehow, and this is going to sound incredibly stupid, I never realized I had the choice to make things happen and live my dreams.

So my plans? Practice. More practice. Make a commitment to play music with others. Print a business card: "Musician". Write those songs I've been meaning to write. Sing whenever the mood hits me. Join in. Play flute under the bridge even when there are canoeists within earshot. ;) I knew it when I was not yet twelve. I've been ignoring it for way too long. I plan to be a musician. Well, I already am, but I mean even MORE of a musician. One who actually is heard in public.

I have been having some incredible times with the flute lately. I'm reeling on the reels, and jigging with the jigs. Not that I'm ignoring the other instruments; the guitar was out of its case for a while, as was my singing voice. Both were fairly in tune for having been ignored so long!

I remember the year of the great gray owl...

...and perhaps the greatest thing that came of it.

Five years ago we were in the midst of a northern owl irruption that I may never see the likes of again. Great gray owls were everywhere. Sometimes it was difficult to drive on the roads without hitting one; I never did, but I did pick up one or two unfortunate ones and brought them to the local wildlife office. I looked forward to my 30 mile commute, eager to see just how many owls I could count without really trying.

I was sort of in a sleepy mode in need of awakening back then. We had lived here just over two years, and were just coming off being very close to moving away in what I understand now would have been the mistake of our lives. God acts in strange and mysterious ways, and there had to be a God to have orchestrated that in the twisted way it turned out for the better. Maybe someday I'll be ready to tell that story. Or not. All that matters is that we are still here.

But for now, it was the year of the great gray owl, and I was feeling kind of lonely and isolated, and I somehow found out about blogging. "Cool", I thought, and signed on and started one up. I had to think a bit about the name; what to call this crazy journey I was now about to document to the world? Out of the blue it came to me: Sand Creek Almanac. A nod to Aldo Leopold, and a recognition of one of the important natural features on our land. Well, not so natural in that it was ditched straight as an arrow about 90 years ago, but maybe I will do something to fix that some day.

I did not expect much at first. I did not even own a digital camera then, so no day to day photographic owl updates. I was writing, and with that I found an important outlet I had been missing. Then I got my first comment. I think it was from Dan of Through the Woods (formerly A Payne Hollow Visit). Wow, I thought, people anywhere can find what I write, and some even are moved enough to share a few words with me?

So it's just kept on growing from there. I know there are some that think blogging is dead since Facebook and Twitter took over, but I still think there is a place for each kind of social media. For the record, I enjoy Facebook in moderation, but it can never replace the depth of what I want to write here.

My fifth "blogoversary" was yesterday; I don't know how I missed it! I feel as if I've been no less than reborn by blogging. I'm not being sentimental, I really think blogging has taught a social recluse like me how to connect with people. I have met a few new friends in person, and consider many more as true friends. I enjoy the day to day exchange through comments, and I have learned so much from all of your blogs. So a toast to five years at Sand Creek, may there be many more, and may I always awake to find new posts from my blogging friends!

the winter blahs

It was a beautiful Sunday for January, partly cloudy with a high of 38. It's the middle of a 3 day weekend for me. Yesterday I went running for the first time in a while, and I was all excited about making an effort to stay in shape over the winter and to get outside and enjoy life.

So why did I spend most of my day indoors, half heartedly doing random things and not enjoying much of it?

I feel like I've hit a wall. Stuck in a rut. I think maybe no small factor is the fact that we are still two months away from spring. Sure it's nice to be halfway done with January and to be having great weather at this point. But February, for all its brevity, can be the longest, dreariest month of the year.

It also doesn't help that I am aching from my exercise efforts yesterday. I wore my boots running, and while they supported my feet just fine they weigh about twice as much as my running shoes.

On the bright side, I have played lots of flute and banjo this weekend, and I can tell the more I play the better I get. I saw a bald eagle while I was running yesterday. And today Mr. Attitude, while playing video games, spotted a hawk flying outside. It landed in a tree long enough for me to get a look, with binoculars, and I decided it was either a juvenile Cooper's or a juvenile goshawk. I didn't know what details to look for that would distinguish the two while I was looking. Judging from the map, it is more likely a goshawk, which would be a great yard bird sighting!

And the Vikings scored a convincing victory over the Cowboys. Now I'm not nearly as much of a football fan as I am a baseball fan, but it's fun to have Minnesota go this far in the playoffs!

Maybe watching a little "Cheers" and "Frazier" with Mr. Attitude will help. :)

making bigfoot tracks

A late Christmas present arrived yesterday. A long time ago, The Hermit returned something to a sporting goods store and got an in-store merchandise credit, which in a moment of guilt, weakness, or whatever, he gave to me. From time to time I had thought of what I might spend it on, but I never made up my mind and forgot about the whole thing for a while.

Until last week, when we saw some snowshoe tracks when we were driving around. That made me think...I sure would like some snowshoes...oh yeah...the merchandise credit! I quickly went online and found a reasonably priced pair of recreational snowshoes. Notice the "made in the USA" label; these were made by Redfeather in LaCrosse, Wisconsin.

I took them for a test drive today, through some tamarack woods behind the house, along the creek for a while, then across the sedge and alder swamp to some aspen woods. I found out quickly that snowshoeing is not just a walk in the woods. You have to lift your legs more than with regular walking, and even with snowshoes I was still sinking in about six inches with each step. At around 170 I am probably close to the upper recommended weight for this model, so that didn't help. But then again if I do this whenever I can it will help me to lose that extra 30 pounds.

I saw lots of signs of wildlife: rabbit highways are everywhere, and once I got into the aspen woods I saw lots of deer tracks and even deer beds like this one:

As the deer's body heat makes a depression in the snow, the snow helps to insulate the deer and keep it warm. I saw at least a dozen of these beds in the woods. One of them was right next to this:

This is a deer stand we built about 15 years ago. I have hunted from it once or twice, but not for a long time.

It was tough going, even with snowshoes, across the swamp where sedges hold a layer of snow above the ground. The actual snow depth is a foot or less, but I was breaking through two feet or more of snow crusted sedges. But it is even more difficult for the deer, who don't have snowshoe feet.

My wildlife highlight for the day was seeing a snowshoe hare, white as the snow! Of course it was way too quick for me to get the camera out of my pocket. But the real thrill was just being outside in the middle of winter. From time to time I would stop, breathing in the cold air and the silence. I felt alive, not hibernating. The swamp was a challenge to get across, but the big thing was, I was outside.

Here's a view of my house you won't often see.

early morning mandolin

I had a little extra time this morning, for a change. Starflower had to wake up early to make it to school on time to leave for a special science field trip. She's been excited about it all week, partly because in one of the sessions she signed up for she gets to dissect a cow knee, and partly because only a few selected "smart" students from fifth and sixth grade get to go on this trip. The Hermit drove her to school, so I had an extra half hour to myself.

I was feeling a little guilt over not keeping up my resolution the last couple of evenings. I had forgotten how I don't get home until after six and then there's dinner to make and all that, and I'm usually pretty exhausted afterwards. I was also feeling a little guilty about not having played my mandolin in a while, which is probably why I had a dream that someone gave me three "extra" mandolins they happened to have lying around. So I tuned up the mando and played for ten or fifteen minutes. It was a nice quiet morning meditation.

That is, until the phone rang. The thirteen year old girl down the road missed the bus, and was wondering if I could give her a ride. Again. That's the second time this week. I suppose I could say no and leave her to face the consequences, but I'm not her mom. I'm beginning to suspect maybe her mom isn't even at home, or if she is, she has picked up some old destructive habits and is sleeping it off. So a ride to school is no big deal.

Time to mobilize the remaining troops. I enjoyed this so much I might keep the alarm set for 5:30 every day.

a resolution

I quit making New Year's resolutions a long time ago. I love the idea of New Year's Day, a clean slate and all that, but if you live in the northern latitudes you may understand that the darkest coldest time of the year is not the time to tackle vices with any success. The vernal equinox might work better for that. :)

But in the spirit of the season, I offer one resolution that so far (for 2 days) I have kept: I will play a musical instrument every day. I don't care if it's one minute or four hours, just the act of getting an instrument out of its case, holding it lovingly, and playing a note or song or two is something that brings me joy. And why not take the time every day to do something joyful?

the eagle and the raven

The Hermit and I went for a New Year's birding drive this morning. I had planned on going for a morning walk, but with temperatures hovering around zero I thought I might freeze my face off or something. The rest of the weekend does not sound much better.

We drove to the feeder where a few days earlier, on the Christmas Bird Count with Lynne, Steve, and Jim, I caught a brief glimpse of what we decided later was a Spotted Towhee. This bird is very rare in Minnesota, and I think this was the first record of it ever in this county. At any rate it's a lifer for me, although I can't remember how many birds are on my life list. Two hundred or so.

The Hermit and I did not see the towhee, nor the female red winged blackbird that had been there for the CBC, nor the male cardinal (believe me, it's a rarity around here). We did see chickadees, blue jays, and downy woodpeckers. We drove for miles after that and enjoyed the dazzling sunlight, the beauty of the woods and cabins covered in snow, and the old barns and the bogs. But it was what we saw before we even got to the towhee spot that will stay with me for a long time.

I spotted something soaring in the sky. "Eagle!" I called out even before I got the binoculars focused. "Two of them!" The Hermit called out. Indeed there were two birds, but I noticed one of them was smaller, darker, and had a wedge shaped tail. Raven!

What was so odd, so strangely delightful, was that the eagle and the raven were soaring as if they were a pair. The eagle was the leader, and the raven imitated every circle, every wing stroke, staying near the eagle as if they were united in some unseen way. There was no sign of aggression, as ravens and crows often show towards raptors. The two unrelated birds were soaring in harmony. We watched in awe as they circled off into the distance.

Now you may believe in messages from some higher power, or you may believe all the messages are already written down, or you may not believe at all. I do think I was meant to see this. And on New Year's Day, I think it bodes well. May we all accept our differences and fly together as the eagle and the raven.