Schnitzel and Sequence
Impeded somewhat by malfunctioning water pump.
The Big Stink
Contemporaneous with Kagawong SummerFest. Big windrows of rotting shadfly remains pushed up along the shore, combined with copious quantities of seagull poop. Both the village beach and Sandy Beach have "No Swimming" signs posted. Rather substantial bummer on this busy weekend. But otherwise, the Island is hopping.
SummerFest included rides on the giant "Metis" canoes. It did look odd, though, to see "voyageurs" wearing splash jackets and PDFs, or do I mean PFDs? And where was the gonfalon?!?
The Historical Museum featured a "barbeque" as a fundraiser, specializing in commercially pre-formed burgers and general-purpose hotdogs. Only trouble there was how they forgot to put the raw meat on the grill until the queue wanting to buy was about 10 deep. We gave up and went up the hill to the Main Street Cafe (which used to be alongside the Esso). Busy up there too, but management capable of serving customers.
The quilt show in the Park Centre was our favorite part of SummerFest. Contemporaneous with the show, Sue has, just today, finished her incredible, two-sided wall hanging. All that remains now is the hanging. I've become a great fan of fabric art, btw.
Also of note, the Susie Pea has been rejuvenated. A little epoxy here and there, and a sweet green paint job. Oars brought back to life, too. What a boat.
The Wind Finally Quit...
... after what turned out to be a three-day blow. Probably very bad for the shadflies (and for certain Nick breaks up with Marjorie).
What change. After three days of dark skies, off-and-on rain, and roaring surf—flat calm and blue sky.
Below, a bit of yesterday (shot by Sue).
Stairway To Heaven...
...or at least to the camper.
A fun project for a cool, damp day.
Iridescent, silvery-green arachnid who joined me in the outdoor shower today.
Now more than 48 hours of northeast blow. Bad news for the shadflies who have been emerging the past few nights and trying to mate. Conditions seem to be settling, though, so I doubt we will equal Hemingway's Three Day Blow.
Tempest
Strong northeast blow with big surf. Chilly, gray, with occasional rain. Actually quite wild out in the Bay—not a day to be sailing by choice. How very different from yesterday—the many moods of Mudge.
In recognition of the weather, waffles. Pine box brought the bacon.
Photo by Sue
If nobody else, Pax loved it, and he got in a good number of high-speed, up-and-down-the-beach, wave-biting romps.
No worries about boats, at least.
Pea Soup...
...to begin with, followed by warm, humid, mostly sunny, and mostly windless.
Too warm for meaningful work. Between naps, however, able to squeeze in dog walks, bike ride, kayak paddles, Wind-ride (not much wind), and episodes of swimming (light breeze blowing in so water nice).
The past three nights have seen small flights of shadflies, but nothing like some of the big explosions we've seen in the past. (The gulls in the above photo have been gorging, however, on what there was.)
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When you look at this beach (above), and then think about all the dozens of kids who jump off the high dock every day, you have to come to the conclusion that this would be a perfect place for log rolling instruction and competition. Do you not?
Asclepias
The milkweeds, now blooming. And traces of their magnificent perfume are now wafting on the breeze.
Much sun, little wind. Water warm enough for swimming.
Rocks and Stones and Trees
Also, sun and clouds and wind.
Blue flag
Bay breeze
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
—Wordsworth
Very Green and Very Blue
Windy but beautiful.
And a bit of yellow, as in this, our special patch of loosestrife.
Laundry day. Weekends have cheaper hydro, but this kind of drier is free, and it leaves the towels comfortably rough and smelling sunny.
The bean patch is growing well and blossoming. We might have a good crop of beans and peas. Tomatoes, not so much. And, just for the record, I have not watered the garden once yet this year.
TGIF...
...although the same goes for S,S,M,T,W&Th.
A laid back, quiet kind of day. Some restoration work on the Suzie P, the Little Dingy That Could—rescued from a burn pile at Roger's farm, south of Whitewater, long ago. The P is now in her eighth year of faithful service, I do believe. What I can't believe how useful this little boat has been. And no one is going to believe how prim she'll be looking in just a day or two.
Surprise, twenty-minute downpour this morning, then sunny, warm, humid, and calm. Until now. For the past hour the Great Manitou has been rumbling and grumbling off in the distance, but now seems to have us surrounded.
Geode Sails Again
And, although a mono-hull dingy can be a bit tippy, and can capsize (unlike a trimaran), Geode felt good to be sailing agin—after how many years? With the right wind, this boat could be a very fine trainer.
Considerable cloudiness and afternoon thunder, but nothing much in the way of rain.
(Thanks to Sue for the photos.)
Crowds...
Plus rescue at sea.
Crowds at the beach, at the marina, at the farmer's market, and at the library book sale. The good weather has brought everyone out.
To get away from it all, and to take advantage of a strong south wind, we decided to go for a sail on the Windrider. Once out of the harbor we noticed that a rental 10' Tango sailboat appeared to be in trouble—rapidly being blown down wind and out to sea. Getting a line to him and getting things squared away for a tow took a bit of doing but proved to be good practice. The rescued party expressed much gratitude once back at the beach, and the boat rental agent learned the importance of a chase boat (we hope).
Mostly Along The Shore
And, actually, first swim.
Geode all spiffed up, thanks to Sue, and looking very good for her age.
Full Summer
Sunny and warm. Lots of activity, on this the last day of the big Canada Day weekend.
(BTW, minimal fireworks all weekend—possibly because the Tetrazzinis have been conspicuously absent?) Pax and I grateful.
Talking with Bruce, the marina manager this morning, he said that yesterday afternoon, when the sun finally came out about 4, after multiple cameo appearances, he sold 40 ice creams in the space of an hour and a half. Lots of pent up demand, apparently.
Morning bike ride to the marina and then a motor back on Geode which needed cleaning and a few repairs. (A few flat rocks brought along as ballast; you can never have too many flat rocks even if you don't need ballast.) Evening hors d'oeuvres on the lower deck, first time this year. In the photo above, clockwise from extreme left: Purvis whitefish dip, JBN's world famous green toast (using home grown chives and garlic scapes), medium spicy salsa, Ma Bensch pickled herring (imported from Wisconsin), and the Heliotrope world renowned canapé consisting of a Triscuit covered with liverwurst, an onion fragment, and hot mustard. What flavors!
Almost equalling the view.
Run For Cover
Lots of people around for the big weekend but also lots of weather. Whenever the rain would stop (which it occasionally did) everyone would come out of hiding and onto jet skis, fishing boats, ATV, and bicycles; also onto beaches and footpaths, docks, and boardwalks. Then the next storm, and all would vanish. And then the sun would emerge again...
So much water. Necessary to raise the pier. No beach left for boat storage. Tyson's creek running full.
Also of note: The Pinebox contingent arrived last evening, and this morning, between storms, the water line was installed and brought up to operational status.
Addendum: "Fools Rush In, Where Angels Fear To Tread" (See below for regular blog. )
Be Not Impatient (a sonnet)
By JBN
Let me admit of yearning for the new,
Impatient with the now, and tired of then.
Things yet to come o’r filling every view—
Obsessed with moving on, and knowing when.
When twelve, at last, sixteen the perfect age,
And when sixteen, all thoughts for twenty-one.
Long school days spent so bored and hot for change—
A dream of work, if college ever done.
Oh, when, at last, to lead a lass to bed?
That job for which I’d be the perfect hire—
And when some children, should I ever wed?
How hard the wait until time to retire!
Yet, when I look beyond tomorrow’s door
There’s one event I’m not impatient for.
Gone Cruising...
...to Harbor Island to anchor, have lunch, and take a nap. What was supposed to be, and what started out as, a mostly sunny, warmish, light-wind day...turned out to be a mostly cloudy, chilly, very windy day. (Twenty-plus knots out in the channel.) But, however, all in all, good practice and good fun—if you like that sort of thing.
Only problem—with water so high Pax and I had trouble finding a place to go ashore. What used to be the patio and front yard of the old lodge is now a tangle of poison sumac and poison ivy, and anything resembling a beach is under water. We did see a loon, a pair of gold finches, nuthatches, crows, and a hawk, along with gulls, and terns. So, if nothing else, it's a good place to be a bird.
ALSO: Happy Canada Day, and happy sesquicentennial—all you canuck hosers.
Mix of Sun and Clouds...
...and considerable wildlife.
Eight legs.
No legs.
Heavy runoff after yesterday's rain. Mostly cloudy and humid, making work a sweaty affair. To Gore Bay in the morning for the farmer's market (very limited), and to Burt Farm (good meat selection). Conditions are not favorable for farmers—too much moisture and not enough sun—and our garden here is suffering from the same state of affairs.
Thirty Gallons...
...or more, scooped by hand, quart by quart, from Geode. In other words, a lot of rain from early morning until about noon. By late afternoon, sunny and steamy; and now, faint rumbles from afar, sending Pax to his hidey-hole.
How many eons did it take to break bedrock and bolulders down to coarse sand?
The high water has re-arranged area beaches‚which are actually undergoing constant change. Now in most places the fine, hard sand has been overlaid with coarser stuff.
UPDATE: Pax was right. Big Thunderstorm. Huge rain, perhaps the heaviest I've ever seen here.
Oh, Climate Change, let me count the ways... Feeling pretty good that we are elevated and have state of the art drainage.
Steak ala pluie.
View From The Bridge...
of the Windrider (which doesn't really have one). Blustery day with wind from the south-east, giving us a lively first ride of the season. Storms, reportedly, in the offing.
Forenoon spend shoveling gravel, again, but this time for Bob Ellen who is working to get his place ready for visitors.
Some like to shovel, as they say, and that some seems to include the two of us. (Bob and Wendy spent several hot, dripping days over here, long ago, helping us bend rebar prior to the pouring of the foundation, we must remember.)
Last night we watched a memorable, and if you like poetry, unforgettable film called Paterson. It's about a bus driver who writes poetry, and it is set, of course, in Paterson, NJ., which is the locale of William Carlos Williams' epic poem known as Paterson. (Nota bene: Williams is, in a way, a subtle character in the film.)
Also, I might refer any interested parties to a previous post which featured The Red Wheelbarrow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This Is Just To Say
William Carlos Williams, 1883 - 1963
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold