Big Party
In honor of Will's 6th.
Errands and Projects
...and a ride to the prairie. Another perfect (if dry) day with a cool north wind counterbalanced by a bright, warm sun. In spite of everything, Pax and I got in a bike/run to the prairie, which has now almost completed its annual cycle. (I plan to put together a photo essay of a prairie year, from spring burn to first frost.)
Big bluestem, about 7 feet tall.
Perfect Weather, Busy Day
But no rain for a month.
Now the summer perch flips twice and glides
a lateral fathom at the first cold rain,
the surface near to silver from a frosty hill.
Along the weed and grain of log he slides his tail.
Nervously the trout (his stream-toned heart
locked in the lake, his poise and nerve disgraced)
above the stirring catfish, curves in bluegill dreams
and curves beyond the sudden thrust of bass.
Surface calm and calm act mask the detonating fear,
the moving crayfish claw, the stare
of sunfish hovering above the cloud-stained sand,
a sucker nudging cans, the grinning maskinonge.
How do carp resolve the eel and terror here?
They face so many times this brown-ribbed fall of leaves
predicting weather foreign as a shark or prawn
and floating still above them in the paling sun.
Richard Hugo
Another Blog?
Abby is suggesting that I do another blog (actually that Pax and I do it)—a two-or-three-time-a-week nature/scientific blog—completely separate from this blog but loosely affiliated with KWill Publishing. Aimed at middle school level readers. No personal or family stuff, just our observations; perhaps called "Rambles With Paxton" in deference to Steinbeck's "Travels With Charlie." Or something else?
I guess that seems like a good idea? (Writing is pastime, after all.) So, as an audition (or pilot blog post), please see below the fold. (N.B. I can only write one blog a day so what's down there will have to do.)
I can say, however, in passing, that a dry cold front moved though last night, and conditions are now very pleasant, if also very, very dry.
Right now I can see four squirrels working in the back yard. They hop from one spot to another, stop, sit up, maybe chew something, then hop to another spot. Often they dig. Once in a while they chase each other up and down a bush.
I call what they are doing work because they stick to it, never seem to take a break, and do it from first light until it’s too dark to see. Each squirrel seems to be working on its own, no teamwork, but never any real fights either.
I’m quite sure that they are not just snacking all day long, but actually thinking ahead, planning for the future so to speak. They take the things they find—seeds, nuts, dried crab apples, dried bits of mushroom—and bury them. They are putting these food items into storage, for the lean times to come.
Wait, I just saw one of my backyard workers jump at a robin—shooing it away from a tasty morsel.
I know they are burying some of the stuff they collect because I find little divots all over the yard, and because every spring sunflowers sprout up in odd places (seeds taken from the bird feeder). One morning last winter I saw a dozen squirrels gathered underneath the feeder.
Why are there so many squirrels in this neighborhood? Could there be too many? One or more of them chewed a hole in the corner of my neighbor’s garage door, because, I assume, dog food was stored inside. We found a big squirrel nest in the attic of this house when we moved in. ( But I found their sneaky entrance holes and patched them up.)
Its a basic fact of ecology that a population of animals will keep expanding until the resources they are living off are used up. Then “survival of the fittest” kicks in.
I think the large population of squirrels in this neighborhood is the result the the great number of trees, including many oaks and walnuts, in all the yards and especially in the park across the street. Also a lot of bird feeders. Also because of a lack of predators.
Actually, I should say, because of a small number of predators. We can't forget about Pax. Pax, as we know, is a terrier, born and bred to hunt rodents. When he was younger he used to chase every squirrel he saw, and would sometimes catch one, which was a rather gruesome and unhappy ending for that animal. Survival of the fittest again—Pax catching the slowest ones, those not quick-witted enough to know a dog is dangerous, or those just not fast enough to make it to the safety of a tree.
Are predators necessary and good? Aldo Leopold thinks so. His essay “Thinking Like a Mountain” in A Sand County Almanac shows what happens when predators are wiped out.
Pax isn’t mean and nasty, btw. He isn’t cruel, either. He’s just doing what comes naturally.
Did I say that the hard working squirrels in my back yard were thinking ahead and planning for the future? On second thought, I don’t think so. What I really think is that they are motivated by instinct. They have a feeling in their bones that if they don’t do all their collecting, hopping, and digging right now they won’t be around next spring.
Countless Little Things
Unpacking, sorting, rearranging, replacing, hooking up, reconnecting. (And, almost everything working.)
Evening visit to Whitewater City Market. Pulled pork sandwiches from Casual Joe's smokehouse.
Yes, the joys of civilization. Of course there were nearly half a dozen major siren events, and the "Proud Boys" are back in the house around the corner with their big Trump banner across the front of their garage. (In fairness, they are the oddballs in Whitewater.)
Furthermore, Pax loves retracing his favorite routes and checking up on past events, and he even got to chase a cat.
Slightly Disoriented...
...but, overall, glad to be home.
The ideas is...you come home in the fall when the weather up north is cold, damp and trending awful; and you want to retreat and retract into a snug space where you can tuck yourself away for the winter. So what do you do when it has been 91 degrees (F) pretty much since you began driving at 8 a.m.?
You unpack the vehicles, turn on the AC, and be glad you are not in Puerto Rico.
Red Sky at Morning
However, the only warning seems to be a heat advisory.
Water system pulled and cottage winterized (one can hope), and on the road by noon and to St. Ignace by six.
And another phantasmagorical face, this one smiling “see you soon.”
Ninety-eight Point Seven
No, not the temperature (though close), nor the number of mosquitoes per cubic centimeter (though close), but the amount done in terms of shutting down and packing up. We are close to departure-ready, and looking forward to air conditioning and junk food.
Winterizing Hotly
Again too hot and buggy to enjoy the odious tasks of winterizing. But we did go for a fine late afternoon swim (having to climb over boulders to swimming depth), and the chilly water served well as balm for heat related aggravations.
Powerful, but narrow, band of thunderstorms slipped by just about suppertime, providing a nice cool-down.
Last Hurrah
Thomson’s and Lloyd’s for dinner. Sue did a lot of hard work in a hot kitchen.
I'd complain about the weather if it weren't worse pretty much everywhere else. It is hard, though, to do the necessary shut-down chores when it's so muggy and buggy.
Haze, Fog, and a Little Rain
Humid, in other words.
Gore Bay
It was hot and sweaty work, but, as time is running out, trees got planted. Three larch (tamarack), two black locust, and four Kentucky coffeetree (started from Whitewater seeds). Not that there aren't enough trees here already, but because the stand of tall, spindly ash trees between the front deck and the shore is not going to be here forever, replacements must be underplanted—or else. It will be interesting to see what the property looks like in 50 years—with any luck a few ash will remain, along with some hackberry, swamp white oak, larch, locust, and coffeetree...plus native cedar, balsam, and spruce. And, of course, poplar.
We are focused on shutdown. Though it feels like we just got here, the plan is to pull up stakes on Sunday.
Afternoon Sail
Seems to have become a habit, on these lovely autumn afternoons. Brisk NE breeze today, giving us a lively ride all across the bay, and back, while playing games with some substantial waves over on the west side.
Crossed paths with Wolf on the way back, as the wind was lying down.
Only two sails on the bay all day long. And we are feeling guilty, when so much of the world is being ravaged. Perhaps Mother Nature is letting us know that she won't be trumped.
Thanks to Sue for the photos.
Tamiasciurus, Meleagris, Odocoileus, etcetera.
While life here may not be too wild, there is a lot of wildlife.
Long ago now, back in the spring, I was worried that our little red squirrel population had been wiped out. Recently, however, it has been obvious that I was wrong—the population seems strong, just spread out so that each squirrel has its own territory sufficient for survival. Today, as I wandered around, I was scolded by quite a number of individuals.
This flock is oblivious of the day on the calendar marked "Thanksgiving."
And the white-tailed deer? They are getting their darker winter coat, but seem to have no idea what season is actually approaching. It's almost to the point where deer-catchers (like cow-catchers) will have to mounted to the front end of automobiles.
Not Much
Too warm for work, and thanks to colds, not enough energy to do any anyway. Did manage a dump run and a little grocery shopping.
Sunny, and windy. A little evening rain breaking a long dry spell.
Best Day of Summer So Far
Apparently hurricanes to the south make for spectacular summer weather in the north. We have, however, been rather hoping for a return to fall.
Although the marina is closed, quite a few people were around town today, including a family of five, with twins, at the beach, and a rally of more than a dozen Miatas by the farmer's market pavilion.
Who Is This Guy?
The face in the umbrella.
I think he's scowling because of the weather(too hot and humid) and because those of us here are under the weather to a greater or lesser degree.
High Pressure...
...weather system. Calm. Warm, and humid, and sunny (with a strange high cloudiness). Things getting dry, and water level dropping (partly, I believe, due to high pressure pushing the water away from here).
Geese heading south, and sandhill cranes flocking in preparation for their migration.
Summer, Finally
Sunny, warm, gentle breezes. Crickets. (Unfortunately mosquitos also.) Morning fog, evening quiet, with the occasional call of a bird I don't recognize. And...afternoon swimming at Sandy Beach!
Telic or Atelic
See link to article below, and then screen captures of comments.
Heliotrope has had canvas removed and systems winterized; almost ready for hibernation. On a new steel cradle, too.
The Problem of ‘Living in the Present’
BTW, Brainard Wheeler Nies was a big fan of "Zen in the Art of Archery," and recommended I read it.
Disap-pier-ance
Down to the nubs.
While we disassembled and floated in, Patrick helped with lifting the sections up out of harm's way (we might hope). The lake is doing its annual drop now, and, under normal conditions, breaking spring ice should have a hard time causing damage.
Downhaul not tight enough.
Gloriously beautiful day, but now with the wind back, and that powered a lively sail on the Windrider (note Patrick to leeward). Later, a bike ride to Sandy Beach with Pax.
Nuthatches currently abundant around here, almost as thick as the unseasonal pestilence of mosquitoes—making the forest sound like a barnyard with all the babbling and gossiping.