There's No Place Like Home...
...and it's nice to have two. Settling back into fall and winter mode, here at Whitewater house.
Sunrise in St. Ignace.
Sunset in Whitewater.
And we live on a good street.
Eight Russ signs at present--soon to be nine.
Terrible, Horrible, No Good...
Really Not So Bad Day.
Six hours of dirty work and heavy lifting--the dreaded annual shutdown. And then, when you need to take a shower, there isn't one.
Opening day is much more fun.
Thanks to Sue for photos.
This Side of Paradise
(sorry F. Scott). But if you like sailing and swimming; silence and seclusion; wind, waves, and weather; birds, bears, and bats; frogs, friends, and family; this particular place comes pretty close to perfection.
And now, the days here are numbered. In fact, you could count them on one finger.
Lagoon full of tadpoles. Since Florida is not an option, I suggest digging deep in the mud, pretty soon.
A substantial stone that hasn't rolled for about 10,000 years.
Pinebox Mobile Unit heading for the highway, and points south.
Road work. There will be no washouts next spring.
More roadwork. How I love a shovel, let me count the ways.
Bye-bye, big bay.
Chilly today. Down into the 30s tonight. Yes, it seems to be time to either dig into the mud or head south.
Thanks to Sue for some of the photos.
There's a Certain Slant of Light...
...autumn afternoons (sorry, Emily).
Wild west wind. Scattered clouds racing across the blue sky, dropping occasional scatters of rain.
Road work--clearing and deepening the up-slope ditch.
(Just had to move inside to avoid a sudden downpour.)
Pinebox shut down today, and this house about 87% done.
T.S. Eliot says April is the cruelest month, but, much as I love October, sometimes I think it is.
Cleared the stove of ashes earlier--now time to light it up. Chilly!
Change of Season
Another warm front last night bringing substantial rain but no cooling. Another front this evening, but this time, almost certainly, a cold one.
And, almost certainly, the last 70 degree day until next summer.
Today: log splitting and woodshed replenishment, small engine winterizing, porch plastic-wrapping. As with all wildlife, preparation is key.
Magic Mix
Morning row for Mimi, while Bob and I went to Meeker's trout farm at Lake Wolsey.
Photo courtesy Mimi.
Meeker's Magic Mix
Mike Meeker addressing a group of university aquaculture students.
Trailer-full of mix heading ino the garden.
T'giving, CDN style.
Real Canadian thanksgiving is on Columbus Day, but since most of us are departing Serendip prior, today was the day. So, with neighbors, at Pinebox, smoked chicken, stuffing, squash gratin, cranberry, potatoes, and other delicacies, plus pie.
And as the plates were being washed up the rain came down.
Picture Perfect
Lovely day. Bob Ellen, and John and ME over for burgers and VP debate.
Travel, Travel
Depart Whitewater in pre-dawn fog. Wend through Milwaukee rush hour traffic. Roll across the UP in sunny warmth. Cross the Little Current swing bridge shortly after sunset. Arrive in Kagawong by the faint light of a sliver of moon.
Regroup
Change the eight to eight ones and regroup, as Tom Leher has said. And we are. Reconfiguring for transition back to travel, and Canada mode.
Cdb.
Whitewater garden still producing--squash, and lots and lots of tomatoes.
Erik and Robin
A big, fun, family wedding.
O'wock
To Oconomowoc to see Becca, Maddie, Ellie, and parents. Somehow things got too busy for photos.
Halloween tryouts.
Some great bike riding in the drizzle, along with games and Friday fish fry.
Fox Pointed
Lunch, park, gymnastics, dinner--among other things.
Up above "Courage," on her way back down after almost touching the ceiling.
Road Weary
Back in Whitewater. Strong tail wind all day-- almost chilly tonight in south-east Wisconsin.
Luxuriant clouds and the occasional rain cell.
Cool and Damp...
...interrupted by an hour of sunshine during which we picniced in a sheltered spot out of the wind alongside Old Mill.
Did Alice eat the wrong side? No, we think Tamiasciurus.
Truck and trailer loaded for the season's penultimate home trip.
September Rain
Rain beginning before midnight and lasting until after noon. A goodly amount but still not enough to cause runoff.
Perfect weather for a slow start followed by a leisurely finish.
Testing various gizmo options to see how we can get the debate. And feeling nervous because it's not easy to debate a solipsistic serpent.
Last of the Windriding
After a fine morning sail the Windrider was hauled, and power washed--marking the end of a memorable season (which included the impossible incident).
Patrick's Windrider
While we were pulling out, another boat was setting up-- a Norse faering boat-- a beautiful, twenty-foot, wide-lap lapstrake, four-oared, sprit-sail yawl-- an ancient Norwegian, small-craft, fishing boat.
One could have a thousand boats and still not have half the cool ones.
Tranquility
Deep calm after all the wind and surf of the past two days. A few tourists wandering the lower village, but still a pervading sense of quiet, and downwinding. Whitetails and turkeys on Main Street. Right now both a crow and a pine squirrel complaining about things (probably me) and breaking the stillness.
Mist rising in the cold morning air over at the mouth of the river.
Phragmites! Down at the end of the lane, by Woods. After reconnaissance, a little spraying (this is the right time of year), and next spring-- some chopping.
Ahoy there! What kayak is that?
High Society
Dinner party with some of the Island's artsy and theatrical folk...at sailing acquaintances Jean and Dave's place at Norm's campground on lake Kagawong. Good food and lively, eclectic conversation.
On another note, high five to William on his fifth birthday.
Rainy Equinox
Rain and mist and drizzle on this the first day of fall. North wind, providing a soft sonic background--waves endlessly coming ashore and curling up amongst the rocks. Frequently, the sound of rain on the roof also in the mix.
Day of reading, naps, and contemplation interspersed with dog walks and a muddy bike ride to the marina.
I have a distinct (though typically vague) memory of rainy childhood days when a few of us neighbors would gather on a porch to play board games and snack on crackers and cheese. (I think that's where I developed my fondness for cheese and crackers, undiminished to this day.)
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"The recurring cycles of the year, rooted in "the pilgrimages of the sun," are-not simply entertaining phenomena, to be noted at our convenience and for our enjoyment, but signs that the cosmos is still intact, that we remain included in something larger and more reliable than our own short-lived enthusiasms. It is for this that we need to know that insects will hibernate, that turtles and warblers will migrate and return, that the tide will retreat, the ice let go, the earth tilt back toward the sun, and the grass reawaken."
—Robert Finch