Burning Pinecones

So many cones came down last fall (it was a mast year) that we have been overrun. Saving them proved messy and inconvenient, and they're prickly. Sue bagged them all, and, even after today's burning, we still have one bag full, if anyone is interested. They do burn nicely and make a bright flame. 

T'giving prep (Sue) and Wombat iceboat plank work (me). Frosty, foggy morning, but warming to sunny and pleasant afternoon. Not at all conducive to ice formation. But the forecast looks much more wintry.

Long call from Irene for Sue and long call from FLOW friend Eric for me. Commiserating. 

The Well-Tempered Garden

Previously I had used a shovel as a broad-fork to open up the soil to at least a shovel's depth. Today I worked the mini-tiller over the bed, tilling in a fair amount of previously mowed leaves. I have yet to rake things level and tidy up—due to insufficient time. Once smoothed out, it will be ready for frost and snow, freeze and thaw, to finish the preparation. And then, come spring, just the tiniest incisions where seeds need to go.

I'm thinking I may have outwitted (or at least out-waited) the galinsoga, so next summer it's all about beets—some squash and some tomato, yes, but heavy on the beets. This year, for the first year in memory, we have no picked beets, and our menus are much poorer as a result.

Last evening, quite after dark, our odd, across-the-street neighbor (who some think is a vampire) came out with his lawnmower to attack the the thick layer of leaves dropped in his yard by a big, old silver maple. He mowed and he mowed, and this morning I found most of the residue out in the middle of our street. Not to worry, it is no longer there.

Occulted Moon...

But we gave it a shot.  

Gaillardia, still somewhat gay.

No moon here.

In honor of the exceptional moon, we went with neighbors Dave and Sylvia out to the Whitewater industrial park, where we could find an unobstructed eastern horizon. We found it, but blocked by a rare occurrence of cloud. I turned the camera to the west, where the sky was clearing, but saw little evidence of moonrise there.

Even a cloudless rise would have been, however, not quite like a moon over Mudge.

Hockey, Qwirkle...

...window cleaning, and lunch.  (All at Fox Point)

Gearing up (and there is a lot of gear).

In the white helmet. What a stance; he's a natural.

Fast, too.

Last night's moon. Looking forward to tomorrow's.

Katy, her friend Esme´, and I had a lively game of Qwirkle, interrupted a few times by fruit rollup shenanigans, and other hijinks. Abby, with Sue's help, got almost all the first floor storm windows cleaned while Tony attacked mounds of leaves with a blower strapped on back, repaired doors, etc.
Leaves, storms, ice...'tis the season.´

More Frost

But still lovely fall weather.  

Three trailers-full of tightly stomped (by Sue) leaves delivered to the Ww compost site, and pitch forks and shovels needed to hack through the compacted masses and get them off-loaded. What's left in the yard will be ground up and tilled into the garden.

The iceboats came out of Roger's barn today (in anticipation of winter), and the sad thing was—his farm is being sold. We will miss Roger, and his beautiful barn. Roger is a fine fellow, and his farm is the source of the fabled Susie Pea. (It was on the burn pile.)

Roger, being a farmer, pays close attention to the weather, and he let us know, in no uncertain terms, that winter is actually coming. So, perhaps, although there has been no snow or rain, our preparatory efforts will not have been in vain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
   Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
   She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
   She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
   Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
   The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
   And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
   The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
   And they are better for her praise.
       —RF

Tea and Oranges

Or is it coffee? We had both this morning, as an anodyne.  Good day for housecleaning, Sue, and garden turning, me.

Actually, these are rose hips, at Kathy's next door, with even more vitamin C than oranges.

The garden being turned.

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair, 
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice. 
     —Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning, 1923

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night forever
And you know that she's half-crazy but that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China...

     —Leonard Cohen, Suzanne, 1966

Goodbye Leonard, I liked your work. (You too, Wallace, of course.)

Today We Had The Changing Of Screens

And then dinner in Oconomowoc.  

Whitewater house is an older house with the old-fashioned kind of screens and storms that need to be changed with the seasons. Quite a bit of work, which is why we do only about a third of the windows. Work, yes, but also a ritual, so not entirely unpleasant. With the screens down and the storms up the house feels snugged and prepped for what's to come. Assuming something's coming.

Later, good fun and a good dinner at Victoria Lane. All of these girls like ham. One is deeply devoted to mashed potatoes. Another crazy about cranberries. A third all about blueberries.

Perfectly Cloudless...

...but still a very dark day.  

Letter to a friend:

Hi. We are holding together. Our sympathy and support to F— let her know that we will endure, and eventually overcome.

Last night was a nightmare. I had to leave the election “party” across the street early and head to bed, with a double dose of blood pressure medicine and a tranquilizer, even though I hate taking medicine, and I slept little, if at all.

Good long conversations with A and B today, both of whom have a big investment in the future. I think we agreed that barring nuclear war we will survive the next four years. And we seem to think that the next four years will see the formulation of a magnificent and enduring progressive coalition (likely with Obama as a catalyst).

A and I are working on writing a platform that will tempt all the red-neck, flyover ignoramuses to actually think about what they are doing, and possibly vote for self preservation.

Pax and I  took an extra long walk today (mostly flat, with thick atmosphere), avoiding the least bit of political discussion, and that helped. 

I hope you and L, and F and J are doing okay. It helps to have friends and family in times like this.

Take care, and think positive.

—Jim

Day of Wine and Roses...

...or perhaps, an Invasion of the Body Snatchers. 

No matter how the election turns out it will still be true that millions of Americans will have voted for perhaps the most loathsome, despicable, and vile individual to ever to live in this country.

As David Brooks (conservative NY Times columnist, and former Republican) says in today’s column, “most disturbing, all of this {cruelty, bigotry, narcissism, selfishness, etc.} has been greeted with moral numbness. The truest thing Trump said all year is that he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and not lose any votes. We learned this year that millions of Americans are incapable of being morally offended, or of putting virtue above partisanship.”

These people, supposed Christians among them, walk among us. As in the book and film The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, they look like humans, but beneath the exterior they are—alien.

Although truly deplorable, these aliens can’t be deported, and they are entitled to vote. So, somehow, if the country is to live long and prosper, they need to be brought back into the fold—brought back into the society of reasonable, thoughtful citizens, caring more about country than about wacky single issues, conspiracies, or personal resentments.

I suggest three things: 1) universal basic income, 2) the world’s best (free) public education through at least grade 16, and, 3) universal public service for all young people (either military or in something like the depression era Civil Conservation Corps {CCC} [which was utterly amazing]). Each of these will have the effect of:  getting disparate folk to rub shoulders; of providing shared experience; and of making obvious the fact that we inhabit a great country and that together we can make it almost as good a Canada.

The End of a Good Trip

Back in the land of breathable air after good times in Colorado.  

Now gearing up for tomorrow. Anxiety.  

Hiking Lumpy Ridge

Long high hike along Lumpy Ridge, which has, fortunately, moderate ups and downs, to the perfect place for a picnic. 

Lunch spot, where, after lunch, we spent more than an hour watching a drama unfold high above us—see below.

The guy in the crack was stuck for over two hours while rescuers worked on getting ropes to him and guiding him off the face. The guy in the red jacket is one of the rescuers.

Great balance, for now.

Elk like cool temperatures.

And, apparently, horses can read.

Exploring the West

Our well informed guided tour continues.  

Breakfast way up in Allens Park, coffee down in Lyons, dinner back in Estes. 

Rocky Mountain National Park

Hiking in the mountains at over 9,500 feet (and still breathing).  

Hanging Out In Estes

Very bright sun, but cool in the shade. A little hiking and walking around town. Lots of conversation. Lunch at Nepalese place, dinner at a western saloon.  

Seven Thousand Eight Hundred Feet

In Estes Park at Spalding's.  

This Can't Be November

Sweaty hot, even in shorts and t-shirt.  

Pond unfrozen.

Iris blooming!

But, at least,  almost all birch leaves down, and swept up.

Mid 70's today, and humid. This can't be good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ox Cart Man
By Donald Hall

In October of the year, 
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,   
counting the seed, counting   
the cellar’s portion out,   
and bags the rest on the cart’s floor. 

He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather   
tanned from deerhide,   
and vinegar in a barrel
hooped by hand at the forge’s fire. 

He walks by his ox’s head, ten days
to Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,   
and the bag that carried potatoes, 
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose   
feathers, yarn. 

When the cart is empty he sells the cart.   
When the cart is sold he sells the ox,   
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year’s coin for salt and taxes, 

and at home by fire’s light in November cold   
stitches new harness
for next year’s ox in the barn, 
and carves the yoke, and saws planks   
building the cart again.

All Hallows Eve

To Manitowoc today for a visit with Aunt Janet.  Cloudy, cool, windy—tailwind going north, headwind returning south. Right now, trick-or-treaters at the door.

Ice Boat Swap Meet

Annual event in Williams Bay.  

Lots of murals in Delevan—the circus town, and, surprisingly, one of the centers of the now long gone Wisconsin tobacco industry.

On the way to Williams Bay, on the day before Halloween. Did someone over plant?

At the swap meet, where ice boats and ice boat parts are bought and sold.

On the way to the swap meet I had to stop in Delevan for a bit of brecky (spinach and feta omlet) at Elizabeth's (which was thronged). At the meet I neither bought or sold anything, but did catch up with a bunch of old friends (acquaintances), some of whom are getting older.

October Country, or, Something Wicked This Way Comes

Thanks, Ray Bradbury.  

Where's Waldo. Who cares? The pertinent question is: Where are  Katy and Ellie? Where are  Maddie and Will. And, where is Becca!

We just had to stop by Victoria Lance this afternoon to pick up the jet-ski which needs to be taken to Roger's barn in exchange for the iceboats. And it looks like the timing was good, as we arrived just before the well-costumed gang headed off the the Oconomowoc Halloween parade.

Buddy Come Home

This lucky dog has had two full weeks of being waited upon, hand and foot, by Mimi, Bubba, and Pax. He went home today, but we are not sure how he will handle it.

Anyway, while we were dropping off the dog we got to see the Halloween parade at Katy and Will's school.