Calm and Quiet

No wind, no noise (except flies and woodpeckers.)

Phlox in rocks.  

No rain. Actually, a little rain—a very little rain.

Last night, after bedtime, some kind of weather came over, and as I was dozing off, I heard noise on the roof. "My, goodness—rain", says my sleepy, addled brain.

And then I come awake and listen, and yes, it's rain, and here it comes! But no, it's not, and there it goes. But yes, it's rain, and here it comes! But no, it's not, and there it goes.

Off and on it seems to come, but really it just goes and goes.  For hours and hours, or what seems that long. My hopes are raised, my hopes are dashed. My hopes are raised, then dashed. 

Finally, tired of tossing and closing my ears, I look out the window and see a big bright moon. But by then it's too late to get any real sleep.

Upshot: some pockmarks in the dust.  

Mural: pimple hoe lift inner hawses wit medal woofs shoot gnat lichen drain.

Best Wishes

Thanks everyone.  

No work today. Out to JD Gardens in Tehkummah for an elegant lunch and to pick up coreopsis for the front deck planters. Then a nice dinner, with Bob Ellen over to make it a party, and my favorite dessert, one of Sue’s traditional family recipe lemon tortes.

So, on the subject of birthdays:

I am no longer young enough to know everything.
    —Oscar Wilde

When you are over the hill, you begin to pick up speed.
     —Charles Schulz

Vee get too soon olt und too late schmart.
     —?

Victoria Day

Sunny, warm, and dry.  

Thanks to Sue for this photo.

Last day of the long weekend, and the crowds are thinning. Back to isolation, peace, and quiet.

Another morning at Heliotrope—cleaning up paint slobbers on the masts, putting in new batteries, figuring how to install the new depth finder. Then (after naps) cleaning the Windrider and prepping it for launch.

All these projects are work, sometimes hard and tiring, but still more than fun. That's why we like being here: an infinite number of interesting things to do, figure out, work on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Editor:

It looks like Waukesha will be getting Great Lakes water after all.

On May 18, the Water Resources Regional Body (established by the Great Lakes Compact) voted 9-0 in favor of letting the Wisconsin city divert water out of the Great Lakes basin.  Minnesota abstained, but the other seven Great Lakes states along with Ontario and Quebec voted to recommend.

The Regional Body did apply conditions to its approval: a smaller service area than requested, a reduction in diversion volume from 10.1 to 8.2 million gallons a day, and a requirement that Waukesha monitor treated sewage discharged into the Root River (on its way back to Lake Michigan) for 10 years.

While the eight Great Lakes governors (premiers are not included in the next decision step) will take the final vote in June, the Waukesha diversion looks like a done deal.

Some observers are saying that the diversion proposal review process established by the Compact has worked well. But others, myself included, think it has failed so far.

Basically, Compact decision-making on a diversion proposal has four components; 1) public review and comment, 2) input from tribes/first nations, 3) review and recommendation by the Regional Body, and 4) vote by the governors.

The first clear weakness in the Compact is that the first two components appear to have no significance.

The general public was deeply engaged by the Waukesha request and provided over 11,000 comments, with more than 98% of them opposed. Among the commenters were a wide range of environmental groups as well as organizations like the Great Lakes St. Lawrence Cities Initiative and the Great Lakes Legislative Caucus—organizations that represent thousands more concerned citizens.

Of all the tribes and first nations in the Great Lakes watershed none registered approval of the Waukesha diversion, while many stated disapproval.

The people have spoken, and they say no. But the process moves on.

The second big weakness in the process is that a review by the Regional Body will almost always lead to a diversion approval, regardless of what the people say. The Regional Body is comprised of technocrats, DNR/MNR kind of people, appointed by governors and premiers. No doubt these are smart, hard-working folks, but they are technicians, and they see the diversion request coming from their Wisconsin colleagues as a technical issue, one that can be resolved by tweaking. They have assumed from the beginning the Waukesha’s request is legitimate and based on real need, and it can all be worked out.

The third big weakness is the close interaction (coziness?) throughout the review process among the City of Waukesha, the Wisconsin DNR, and the Regional Body. These groups were in close contact, effectively reworking the application as a team. The public was not part of process. And, now that a new and revised proposal has been produced, it is being sent to the governors without any further public involvement.

The fourth big weakness is what’s likely to happen when the Regional Body’s recommendation gets to the governors. Although any one governor can veto the application, it will take courage to go against colleagues, and an equal or greater courage to reject the technical review and recommendation.  There could also be a worry that the review and recommendation, if rejected, would make good material for a lawsuit.

Taken all together, what appears to be a rational and technical process doesn’t work. That’s because beneath the surface it’s politics. Waukesha is an affluent and politically connected (tea-party) city, and under the current governor the Wisconsin DNR is not an impartial, independent agency.

The procedures set forth in the Compact can’t handle power politics, and it looks like the Compact is going to fail its first big test. 

Jim Nies
Kagawong, Ontario and Whitewater, Wisconsin

Sun Day

Sunny, warm, and dry. Great for tourists, who jammed the town, both up at the falls and down at the coffee/candy shop.  

Where's Pax? Enjoying his break in the shade.

Another morning of mast and boom painting—before the sun gets too high and the air too hot. Here we are taking a coffee break as an alternative to watching paint dry.

And here is Kerry's new drag bike. 115 mph in the quarter mile (is the expectation). Note the hood ornament—a bear skull chewing on a grenade, with the headlamps in its eye sockets.

Brother John sent me this link to Ed Burt's garden. If the proof is in the pudding, Mr. Burt can grow food.

Early June Peas?

My foot.  

The peas planted three weeks ago made their first appearance above ground today. Too cold and too dry. Which is one reason I bought Ed Burt's gardening book. Ed is famed for his no-irrigation approach, and I thought that might help me through dry spells.

It's a folksy, anecdotal book dictated into a recorder and then written up by the co-author. I have not yet arrived at the irrigation chapter, and I suppose it's possible I never will. But the book has already given me one good idea—amend the soil in the fall (with leaves, compost, manure, etc.) and till the amendments in then. Don't till in the spring, just plant.

Calm morning, warm and sunny mid-day, and some actual clouds by late afternoon. All the spars flipped and painted on the nether side. Then some afternoon rowing, paddling, and beach cleanup.

Sure signs of summer: pulled pork sandwiches for lunch from the chuckwagon in Kagawong—what appeared to be a crowd at the falls—and a couple of boats out on the bay.

Long Weekend...

...here in Ontario.  

Thanks to Sue for recent photos.

Long weekend—more people, more activity, more commerce, more blackflies. Today the booms got sanded. And then the mainmast, the mizzen-mast, the main boom and the mizzen boom got painted—but only halfway. Tomorrow all these spars will be rolled over and the down-sides will receive their coat.

No worries about rain interrupting the schedule. Another perfect New Mexico kind of a day, bad for growing things but good for tourism and recreation.

Two Masts Are Better Than One?

Boat work.  

Both spars sanded today (mizzen and main)—both booms tomorrow. With the weather being unrelentingly sunny and dry, we decided to take a break from interior painting and trim. Before these spars reassume their vertical position, all the lights need to be tested and a new masthead wind indicator/anemometer installed. Not to mention new paint.

On the way to work in Gore Bay we drove past the Orangutans (Lou and Julie Short) in Kagawong as they were dropping a huge sugar maple across the street from the Chocolate Factory (the lot where the BBQ chuckwagon parks). On top of that, today was the day the C. Factory reopened for the season, and coffee was free. So, with conversation and coffee, we were nearly two hours late to the boat work.

But that's Island time.

Septic System

The Randy Noble team rolled in to Pinebox about  10, and went to work. A efficient bunch, wielding immense mechanical power.

Another beautiful day, cloudless and cool. Unfortunately, the insects are getting it figured out. Black-fly hatch—and these little buggers really know how to get in your face. Midges on the move, too...swarms swarming along the shore and beginning to wind up their turbine-like whine.

Marigolds

Perfectly perfect day.  Windows open, and no fire in the stove all day—until just now.

Paint and trim. Paint and trim.

Marsh marigolds are in full bloom.

Lots of real hydro hydro is being generated.

A shattered spruce on the trail up to the falls gives evidence to some major windstorm that toppled lots of trees all across the Island.

Not much of Fraser beach remains, but Pax still likes taking a dip there. He is getting better and better.

The Grouse Are Drumming...

...but, thanks to the crackling cold, as yet no bugs are buzzing. Really cold this morning. Fire in the stove all day. We are burning a lot of wood, but so far it's only a small dent in the woodshed. By late afternoon the sum came out and things seemed to warm a little.

While I hate to repeat myself, I have to say, "More paint and trim; more paint and trim."

A new beach. Created in less than two days by high water and high winds. (This is at Geiser's place) The indentations are Paxmarks.

And here is the fire-pit yesterday. I'm not sure if it passes the Wett test (Wood Energy Technology Transfer), although it does seem wet.

Where The Water Was...

...as opposed to Where The Woozle Wasn't

Snow squalls this morning, with a brutish north wind knifing across the Island all day. So, in honor of a cold and windy Sunday, we went to Gore Bay for breakfast. Once there, we decided that instead of breakfast we would walk the dog and shop for groceries. Reason?..no restaurants open in Gore Bay on Sundays in May.

Yesterday we were both down in the dumps about Pax. Sue thought he had wrecked his operation by doing somethings stupid (which he habitually does), and me thinking the new surgeon had screwed up.

Today, though, there was almost no sign of injury and operation. He was happy, frisky, obstreperous—and all the time on four legs.

Last night's high water pushed flotsam almost up to the Zen spot.

Pax thinking about a polarbear plunge.

Full Gale

Cold and very windy. The fierce wind pushing lots of water our way and the water is way up, lapping at the pumphouse and almost carrying the dingy away. Fire in the stove all day. 

Annual May visit to the trillium woods, then annual May dinner with Murray and Elaine, at the Roosterant.

Printemps

More rain last night, not long in duration but robust in intensity. All traces of winter washed away. Everything lifting skyward and greening up. I therefore declare today, Friday the 13th, the official first day of spring on Manitouilin Island. 

Rowdy west wind all day, but mostly skipping over us here in the lee of the bluff. Chilly, but warm. The water in the bay pushed up high.

This morning, diadems. Rain drops caught in cedar twigs glinting in the morning sun.

The area around here is woodpecker heaven (and more on that later). Today, a very self-assured hairy woodpecker working the trees down by the zen spot. (I think it was a hairy.)

Rain

Not a lot, but perhaps enough to green the grass and get the peas to sprout.  

We have, what I am quite sure, is a winter wren setting up housekeeping somewhere between here and Tyson's—and what lungs this little fellow has!

In the ad nauseam department—more paint and trim.  (Note: it is important to distinguish between the "ad nauseam" department and the "department of redundancy department.")

Rain is also the title of the book I am currently reading (by Cynthia Barnett). Very interesting. Great research, very erudite.

Paint and Trim

A workday.  

Sue actually did most of the painting (I just helped on some high spots). The green is going. And while Sue painted, I worked on trim for the upper bath.

Thanks to "clever" architecture the upper bath room is one of many angles, and that means all kinds of bevel cuts, and I get confused. Too many trips up and down the ladder. But practice makes perfect, and the art of measuring slowly comes back.

Another beautiful day. Cloudless and warm. First use this year of the outdoor shower. (But we need rain!)

Large Objects

Another brilliant but very dry day.  

On the morning walk, nothing but boulders and birdsong. Boulders contribute to a luxurious quiet, and the birds give it spice. One bird song is starting to aggravate me because I know it but can't identify it—"chi-chi-chi-chu-chi."

And this object showed up in the Pinebox driveway today, in advance of installation, presumably. It is a peculiar looking boulder, but I'm sure it serves some function.

Chilly South Wind...

...but bright and sunny, and perfect for painting.  

Also good for chainsawing. (Time to clean up the poplars dropped last year by the Orangutans.)

Sixty-plus battens have been primed. Everyone is hoping (and expecting) that sixty-plus battens will be more than enough to finish off the one remaining bedroom and the porch. Everyone is getting tired of dealing with battens.

But, really, how can anyone ever get tired of chainsawing?

We had tacos for dinner because we love Hispanics.  

Nothing Like a Woodstove

Cold this morning.  A fire in the stove required before certain parties were willing to toss back the blankets—but then again, it was Mother's Day. On our dog-walk to Gaiser's, a few drops of icy rain.

By afternoon—the sun, and more than enough warmth for heavy work—perfect day, in fact, for chainsawing.

Powerless

Highly motivated to get up early—hydro off at 7, and how does one start a day without coffee?

Ontario's Hydro One is held in the highest contempt by everyone in the province, but it is the only choice. Today was a scheduled outage (and there is another coming up later in the month). I don't think it would be far off to say that there are at least four scheduled outages every year, and at least as many unscheduled ones. And this on top of extraordinarily high rates and execrable customer service. Furthermore, we cottagers have the privilege of paying for electricity in the off-season even when we are not even here and don't use any. It is interesting to get a bill that shows 0 usage but a big charge.

Anyway, the power went off at 7, but, thanks to good planning, well after showers and coffee in this household. In honor of the occasion, we drove to Providence Bay for a low-power picnic. We walked the boardwalk, walked the beach, enjoyed the rain, and then came home and had our picnic on the dining room table, where it was warmer and drier.

Light rain overall, but dark and cold, and we had to light a fire after lunch. But then, just as the hydro was scheduled to come on at 2 p.m. the sun came out, beating Hydro, which did not actually arrive until 4.

The beach at Prov is not in good shape. Little left, actually, and what remains cannot be groomed because of Pitcher's thistle. Prov is trying to stage a comeback, but the village is facing a significant problem with its biggest asset.

Perhaps enough rain to convince the peas and onions that the time is at hand.

Boats

Heliotrope and Wood Duck.

Got the shrink-wrap of Heliotrope, the lifelines back in place, and the new batteries and electronics on board. Planned our attack on the masts—which need repainting, a check of all the lights, and a new wind instrument at the top.

That took the morning and then some, although around here work doesn't start very early. Lunch of sandwiches from the Valuemart in the shelter above the Gore Bay swimming beach (now about the width of a sidewalk). Then we walked out on the new jetty which juts out almost halfway across the bay and makes for a truly protected inner harbor. It is a beautiful piece of engineering (and will get its own blog post sometime).

This afternoon, while Sue worked on her huge fabric hanging, I planted peas and Spanish onions. The soil is dry, so nothing will happen until we get rain.  

Then the first kayak paddle of the season. Getting in the boat requires standing in the water, and that numbs the ankles. But it's worth it, especially when you can paddle right through the gazebo Murray and Elaine set up on their Viewpoint.

No fire in the stove all day, which is good and bad.