Finally, Some Clouds

Seems we've been living in New Mexico the past few weeks, dry and sunny and desert-like. But today a few clouds, and even a few widely scattered spatters. I've been starting to worry again about water levels.

Front yard birch signing off for this year.

Front yard birch signing off for this year.

Pax and I encountered lots of robins on our afternoon walk today. Lots. A flock. Maybe they think this southwestern weather will not last much longer? And on on prairie path, we had to avoid stepping on dozens of grasshoppers, some dead, but most immobile and unresponsive. I'm thinking the brief cold snap got to them, and their only future is in their progeny.

I'm at the point in the Audubon biography (1820) where he is, now in middle age, floating down the Mississippi, with nothing much more than his gun and a dog, completely destitute and depressed, hoping to find birds to draw so he can possibly put together a book which people might buy. Meanwhile his wife and two children are in Cincinnati trying to survive. I keep wondering if he will bump into Mark Twain, but of course, Twain wasn't on the river until almost forty years later. (Audubon did go squirrel hunting with Daniel Boone and he did extort money from the brother of the great English poet John Keats.)

Witch-hazel

Not the Halloween kind of witch, but the water witching kind. Odd plant—blooms after frost at the same time last year's fruit are maturing. North American native.

Witch-hazel in full bloom.

Witch-hazel in full bloom.

Busy day in the back yard. Lots and lots of insects, all apparently unharmed by the recent freeze. Also, lots of birds, perhaps enjoying the fall seed bounty or perhaps the bountiful insects. And this evening, two bats cleaning up the darkening sky.

Bats, without eyes, see the world probably not that much differently than we do, in some ways even better. Different signals come to the brain, but the brain creates what becomes the moving picture. And, along the same lines, raptors, and probably most other birds, have a very short neuronal path between eyes and muscles and thus can react almost instantly.

Big day for Canada. Ding, dong, the witch is dead. Or, more prosaically, the oil-soaked robber baron has been thrown out.

Warm and Windy

Strong southwest winds shaking the deadwood out  of the trees. Not the best day for bike riding, but quite a good one for dog walking.

Reading John James Audubon, a Biography, by Alexander B. Adams. Seeing as Katy and Will (along with their parents) live next door to the Schlitz/Audubon Center, I figured I might as well know more about the namesake. Finishing this book, I will have to read about Schlitz. It turns out that for the first half of his life Audubon was striving (lazily) to be a merchant, and pretty much the only thing he succeeded in selling was whiskey. So perhaps Schlitz/Audubon makes sense. A shot and a chaser, or rather, a chaser and a shot?

Puff, the Magic...

Thanks to Katrina for this amazing photo; it could go viral:

Cold over night, but warming dramatically into a perfect Indian summer day. (Indian summer being defined as warm, sunny and dry, often with little wind, after a killing frost, or so I think.) (It is actually very dry here, too dry, all across the state of Wisconsin.)

But, taking advantage of the fine weather, I took the bike for a ride—the big loop, circumnavigating the City—which amounted to 9.95 miles with a average speed of 10.48 mph. I will argue that the speed is acceptable because I had to stop briefly several times, and over over half the route was done on sidewalks.

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"...and frolicked in the autumn mist..." or should we say sunshine?

The Play Is Not The Thing

Over to Mineral Point for the annual southwest Wisconsin art tour, and for our semi-annual meet up with the Russo's (Batavia H.S.)

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Then to Spring Green and the American Players Theatre (on the Wisconsin River very near Taliesin and the House on the Rock) to see Edward Albee's Seascape. Albee may have written the Zoo Story and Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf, but when it come to Seascape, all I wanted to do was e-scape. A high-priced hour-and-a-half of pain—but the lizards were good.

Light the Fire

First, we fired up the chiminea and reduced a season's worth of twigs and other droppings to ash (while watching the sunlight slide down the back yard tree trunks. Then, when the cold crept in, we moved into the breezeway, where the pilot light was ignited and the little fake woodturning stove was turned on—the first time since March. Now that it's on, the pilot will stay that way until next March, gently warming the little room in which it sits and making a bigger fire available at a moment's notice. To every thing there is a season. Freeze warning tonight.

Last harvest from the Neglected Garden.

Last harvest from the Neglected Garden.

And, some aspens on the prairie's edge.

And, some aspens on the prairie's edge.

 A comment based on NYT columnist Tim Egan's most recent column:

So, this "Tea Party Republican woke up, turned on the lights (powered by the TVA), washed up (with water regulated by the EPA), had breakfast (with food approved by the FDA and the USDA), checked his bank account on-line (using the internet invented by the Department of Defense) to be sure his Social Security had been deposited in his bank account (insured by the FDIC), checked his stock account (regulated by the SEC), then drove to town (on a highway built with federal grants and in a car that had passed safety and emission standards) to go to the post office to mail his check to support the candidate who promised to "get the government out of our lives."

Bring In the Rosemary

The average first day of frost here in southern Wisconsin is October 15. Last night we came close—I actually thought I saw some frostiness on the roof of the community center in the park as Pax and I were taking an early walk, but, back home, the stuff on the top of my truck was wet and not white. Tonight could be different. And tomorrow night almost certainly. Time to cover anything tender if an extended season is desired.

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Down to Geneva today to help Sue (a little bit) with the setup of Janye's new apartment in Holmstad. Roads there and back packed solid no matter which way you turned.

Black Willow Twig...

...apples. Small, dense, tart, tangy, and tasty.

City Market, Tuesdays from 3 to 7, in the downtown park by Cravath Lake. A new thing in town, started last July. But well done. Many vendors and a great variety of products, including meats, much produce, baguettes, and of course, kimchi. Also food carts selling Mexican, hot soup, coffee, and wood-fired pizza. A large cistern of cold spring water for the taking. Bike stands and waste baskets. Very nice, with a real French feel.  I bought a bag of Black Willow Twig, and boy, are they good. Good going Whitewater.

My right rear tire had a hole in it the size of a pencil—like it had been shot by a 22. Totally shot in other words. But the local Chevy dealer was extremely accommodating and I now have a new tire and a revised tire pressure system that knows which wheel is which. Good going Whitewater.

Long Day

Aunt Janet and I got a good start this morning, about 9, on our trip to Manitowoc. About 10:15 we stopped at Bywater Lane, Fox Point, for a visit, and a cup of coffee. Then on our way—headed for a a very tasty lunch at Maretti’s Deli, near St. Vinny’s in Manitowoc. Along the route plenty of lively conversation, although we did listen to two podcasts: Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, and RadioLab.

So, with Aunt Janet back home, I turn and head to Whitewater. I decide to wander, knowing that Sue will be spending the night at the convent in Aurora, not exactly a novitiate—just crashing at Collette’s place while in town working on relocating Jayne. Larking about, I get off the highway at Lake Church and dogleg my way down the lakeshore, staying as close to the water as possible, to and through Port Washington.

Back on the interstate, picking up speed to beat the rush through Milwaukee, I notice a low tire pressure warning on my right front wheel—33 pounds and dropping—within seconds, 24, 16, 9, 3, 2, and 0. I make it to the narrow shoulder in heavy, thundering traffic and ask Pax if he has any ideas, but al he’s thinking about are the hock waves shaking the vehicle as transports roar past. I fish through the glove box to find the number of roadside assistance that was part of my purchase package.

The folks on the other end, somewhere in Georgia are very pleasant and say help will be on the way promptly…with an estimated wait time of one hour and fifteen minutes. That’s when I turn to Siri. “Siri,” I say, “call the closest police station.” And she does, instantly. Fifteen minutes later a police officer (from Mequon) pulls up behind me, lights flashing, and says he is here to help. And he does too. Not only does he give me the confidence to actually get out of the truck without being turned into bug-splatter, he serves as page turner for my owner’s manual. Because of liability issues he can’t really provide any physical help, but it is very windy so by holding the manual he really helps move the project along. 

(I interrupt here to suggest: whenever you buy a new car, and well before you go on any long drives, park the vehicle in the driveway and PRACTICE changing a tire.)

So, with the officer holding the manual and pointing out various illustrations, I figure out how to remove the jack and tools from storage, lower the spare from its nest under the bed, disconnect the unbelievably heavy wheel from its suspension wire, drag the gigantic thing out from under the truck, and find the spot on the axle that doesn’t mind being jacked up. It’s the right, rear tire, not the front as indicated by my tire pressure system.

Then I swing into action. (If I remember correctly, way back in the distant past I had all my eighth grade computer science students build a Hypercard stack that showed, step-by-step (with illustrations) how to change a tire.

This officer has to be impressed seeing an old, one-armed paper hanger proceed with such fluid efficiency.  He does help me lift the big old wheel onto the bed of the truck, and I’m thankful for that because otherwise it would have been left in the weeds.

Finally, back on the road, for a mile or two when traffic comes to an abrupt halt, and I sit still for half an hour, forcibly keeping myself in calm and patient, as I have been instructed. When an exit inches into reachability I peel off I and wander slowly through Wauwatosa, or wherever.

When “civilization” finally recedes in the background I notice, looking up, a dirty yellow sky. “This doesn’t look good,” I say to Pax. (Of course, he has earlier come to the same conclusion.) Then we hit violent winds and spitting rain. The phone rings and it’s the guy with the tow truck telling me he is on his way and it won’t be long. But, by now, we know where we are, the spare tire seems to be holding up, and we roll into Whitewater well before the University carillon starts chiming seven p.m.

Totally Midieval...

...the wedding, that is.

And here is the toast written and presented by the father of the bride (thanks for letting me post this,  Chris):

We hereby propose a feudal attempt to capture the middle ages.
Not unlike this mead, love has been brewing, as Katrina Anne has been grooming squire Dan for joust this moment in time.
Together they will cross the drawbridge to their middle ages, and on to their days of old.
Please join me in a medieval toast to Squire Dan and Lady Anne.
May they grow together whatever my happen.
May their honeymoon be filled with knights in amour.
May hartsong fill their castle however re-moat, and warm their hearth.

Iceboats on the Move

Nite Number 165 (Solstice) and Nite Number 10 (Wombat) were moved out of the Whitewater garage (where they were hogging almost all the space) and down to Lou's place in Fontana. Lou and Bob are going to be working on various projects—the objective of which is two beautiful boats on a decent trailer when the ice is first sailable.

Earlier in the day Pax and I did our first big loop in a long time, and we were sweating well before the finish line. Brief rain this evening, with cooler temperatures coming, I do believe. The rain had no effect on firing up the Green Egg.