Warm and damp. Thunderstorms and snow in the forecast, and now tornado warnings. Who could ask for anything more?
Squash part of the menu tonight. This homegrown beauty was picked last October.
Squash are one of those survival foods that could get you through the winter back in the day (back when there was winter). Very tasty, too, with just a pinch of curry powder dissolved in butter and then ladeled over the baked fruit.
Red-wing blackbirds at the prairie pond.
Lots of them, sitting high on the stalks of last summer's compass plants, and loudly advertising themselves. I'll have to look back to see how past years compare, but as of now their arrival seems early.
...as they would say in the Department of Redundancy Department (found in most universities).
Snowdrops, poking up through grass, not snow.
Snow once again mostly gone. Long bike ride (Whitewater circumnavigation) in prep for some Texas riding. Going east a breeze. Going west a real struggle, with a huge wind on the nose.
Plenty of wind for iceboating, but up at Battle Lake, Minnesota, Sunday's races were called off due to snow. That left Tony with two seconds and a "Did Not Start" (DNS) score of 14 (there were 14 Nites on the line). Total score then of 18 (14+4), which gave him a fifth place. If he'd got even a 5th in the race he missed he could have won the regatta—once again a reminder that the early bird gets the worm.
I'm trying to decide if Tony's success on the ice is a matter of excellent training and coaching, or some other factor.
More of these signs popping up around town. Actually, if you look at it, the slogan is a poem (at least in English). Brief, but good. Five syllables, so pentameter, with five monosyllabic feet, all equally stressed. Nice alliteration. Fun to say: wham, wham, wham, wham, wham. Emphatic. My only suggestion would be to change "Has" to "Hath." That would give the poem a suggestion of having been around for a long time, and the "H" sound (voiceless glottal fricative) rather the the "S" sound would contribute to the alliteration, or so it seems to me.
Will, Kate, and Ab here for an overnight, with Tony at Battle Lake, Minnesota, for the International Skeeter Association annual regatta. (He is beating the big names on the racing circuit and could win the whole thing.)
Here, we have had a slight return to winter.
Elsewhere, the younger Nies family is enjoying an even bigger slice of winter at their north woods cabin— where the ice remains thick enough for ice fishing and recent snow is sufficient for snowmobiling.
Heavy thunderstorm last night. Intense lightning, loud thunder, lots of precip including much almost perfectly round, clear, crystal ice marbles which rolled off roofs and down downspouts and accumulated in glistening piles. Pax, with Mimi in tow, opted for the basement.
My guess is that this one storm raised the level of Michigan/Huron three inches. Tonight—raw and wet, and starting to get slippery. Out for fish with the neighbors (the ones who didn't quite make it to our last outing).
Chilly and gray.
Rain now, edging toward snow. But what about the robins? I heard them this morning, and saw one this afternoon.
Another warm one.
Warm except right next to Lake Michigan, which is where we were again. Got to see Katy this time.
Ordered garden seeds—mostly beets, along with a few beans and a few squash. Whitewater garden will be leaning heavily to beets this year, and beans are about the only thing that will grow in Kagawong garden.
We grew no beets last summer, and canned no beets this past fall, and this winter (so-called) has been difficult without our dinner staple of pickled beets and cottage cheese.
Sunny and in the upper 60s.
To Fox Point to pick Will up at school. Then a long lunch at a congenial restaurant in Whitefish Bay (where we played 3-card stud, Jokers wild) while we waited to be served. After lunch, quite a bit of bike riding, including a slow race and then a fast race (to Doctor's Park). And all that followed up by a game of baseball in which quite a few pitches ended up as home runs.
And while all that was going on, Mimi was Oconomowoc-ing with Maddie and Becca.
What a day.
...with increasing overcast.
Tunnel under railroad tracks along the Rock River trail in Janesville. Pax really wanted to explore.
While Sue kept her doctor appointment, Pax and I walked along the trail running along the west side of the Rock River in Janesville. Great trail; would be fun to bike. (Actually, Janesville is loaded with interesting trails and parks and greenways—who knew?)
Much later, sitting out on the back patio tending the grill, a rattling and tapping on what remained of last fall's leaves. And then, just after I pulled the pullet from the coals, a downburst. Rain is in the forecast.
...and winging north. (But far too high to photograph.)
Delectable breakfast at the DayByDay in St. P. with Nik and Ru.; then the less-than-five-hour-drive (including stops) back to Whitewater.
Once home, bike rides and pedestrian walks in the unseasonable warmth—which would be a lovely February respite if global warming was not dangling its sword of Damocles overhead.
Turn back you silly cranes; wait for April.
Visiting Niki in St Paul. Great lunch, fancy dinner out, good convention, and a long walk with dogs along the river. Exceptionally mild weather and lots of people out enjoying it.
With Will and Katy. With Will riding his big, new 20 inch bike. Also, poker, Uno, Osmo coding, reading, wrestling, and going out for pizza. And during all that, complete forgetfulness in regard to taking pictures.
Seriously warm, strangely warm, though in fox Point a breeze off the Lake kept things cool most of the day, until the wind shifted.
42nd Street
Elaborate production, with lot and lots of great tap dancing.
Speaking of tripping the light fantastic...
On his way over for hors d'oeuvres prior to the show our neighbor fell coming up the front steps. He spent the evening in the hospital instead of the audience. He's fine, with no serious damage. But it made for a jarring evening, and we're all still hurting.
Washington is being infiltrated. Where is J. Edgar Hoover when we need him?
The high today was the temperature at which water turns to ice. Moderate for February, but to us spoiled softies, it seemed cold.
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For the most part, I minded not how the hours went. The day advanced as if to light some work of mine; it was morning, and lo, now it is evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished. Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at my incessant good fortune."
—Thoreau
...and still counting.
To avoid disasters, such as the time we ended up at Steak and Shake, and to avoid the crowds, we opted to go out for lunch instead of dinner—to the great little Irish pub in Fort. Then, for dinner—a picnic, replete with a fire on the patio, three bean and potato salad, and bratted wurst. Can't get more romantic than that, I don't think.
Sunny, moderately breezy, and rather warm.
Pax and I got in a big loop walk and a bike ride to the prairie.
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Shifting back to yesterday... A few hours after the wild iceboating, a walk in Doctor's Park down to Lake Michigan, which was not at all frozen. On the beach, we looked out and tried to imagine what was going on across the water.
Katy and Will enjoying an air bench.
Walking, or trying to, the balance beam.
And here is a video Tony shot yesterday of one of the races:
Anticipating what was to come, five Nite racers (Bri and Tony among them) were on Pewaukee ice and set up by 8:30—in the morning, on Sunday. Shortly thereafter, the temperature rose above freezing and the wind began to build. But the five Nites got in two wild races, with me, on foot, as official starter and scorer.
Conditions were so wet and wild that everyone's face mask became water-logged, which made breathing difficult. The masks therefore had to be pulled down below chin, exposing skin, and after the second race most the five faces were bloody from the impact of flying ice chips.
Such is the sport.
As this was not an official club race or sanctioned regatta, we had to deploy our home-made marks (orange skirts by Mimi) for the first time ever since constructed over a year ago. Once tension on the bungee was adjusted properly they stopped blowing over, and served their purpose well.
By the end of the second race it was obvious that anything more would be suicide. The wind was screaming. And, of course, all the meltwater from the entire lake was being pushed down from west to east, and when we got back to the staging area by the launch ramp it was under four or more inches of water. Not to mention that parked trailers were being blown ashore.
We waded around ankle deep in what might factually be called ice water long enough to get the sails down and the boats on the trailer, but then hauled out and did the bulk of disassembly and covering-up in a parking lot somewhat sheltered from the gale.
Such is the sport. Then again, it's hard to imagine anything better.
Blowing like stink yesterday—gale warning tomorrow. Today, with iceboat racing called on, absolutely flat calm. Bri and family took advantage of the situation (after abandoning boating) to do some rocket launching, and the missiles parachuted down almost exactly where they blasted off.
Here in Whitewater, just a gray day, pretty much unsuited for any fun outdoor activity. On top of that Pax heard a noise this morning and became a reluctant walker.
On to spring, or winter, or something.
Solid, hard, relatively smooth ice—and a lot of wind.
Bri took off work early, and at 2 we set the boats up on Pewaukee. Then an hour and a half of crazy fast sailing, chasing each other all around the lake. Not sure if the right word is exhilarating or terrifying. And the flying ice chips hurt.
Pax had fun too.
Bright sun, and now bright moon, but cold air. That's the good cold because it's appropriate for the time of year and because it makes ice.
The bad cold is the drippy, sneezy, head-achey kind that saps one's energy. Begone dull germs.
