Hydro out from 9 to 3, but garage shelving more or less completed nonetheless. (Nothing like a good old fashioned hand saw.) And, a small to medium fraction of all the stuff needing to be stowed, was.
Warm and sunny. (Actually, too hot for work, at least for me.) Black flies giving way to mosquitoes. Still no sails sighted on the bay. Maybe we should do something about that.
Continued dinking around in the garage‚building shelving now for all the incredible amount of stuff that has accumulated over the years (and was hiding below and on tip of the old camper). Pax was bored the while, but eventually got to go for a run and a swim.
Weir Farm
Weir Farm National Historic Site is located in Ridgefield and Wilton, Connecticut. It commemorates the life and work of American impressionist painter J. Alden Weir and other artists who stayed at the site or lived there, to include Childe Hassam, Albert Pinkham Ryder, John Singer Sargent, and John Twachtman.
Weir Farm
Marilyn Nelson
Not vistas, but a home-sized landscape,
beloved rooms storied, painted, lived.
A farm bought with a painting
and a ten dollar personal check.
And almost from the beginning,
the intention to pass on
what an artist sees, what artists make.
A parcel of land, a vast legacy.
Admire the houses, barns, outbuildings,
and studios, uniformly Venetian red.
Respect the visible sweat work of stones
laid in walls and foundations, terraces and walks.
Admire the sunken garden, the wildflower meadows,
the path through thick woods to the fishing pond.
Walk through the farm envisioned by artists.
Admire the home artists made.
Or you can step from a museum’s polished floor
across a carven, gilded threshold
into the farm reimagined in brushstrokes.From that wooden bridge over there,
hear those three women’s tinkling laughter?
Over there the other way, see
the black dog panting near the youngish man
lifting stones into a half-built wall?
Step out of the frame again, and be
enveloped in birdsong and dapple.
Feel the welcome of small particulars:
the grove beside that boulder,
the white horse tied in front of that barn.
With eyes made tender, see
those elms, from shadows on the grass
to the highest leaves’ shimmer.
With your friends, lovers, family, stride
across this chromatic broken brushwork.
Sit a minute at the granite picnic table
with the artist’s daughters, dressed in summer white.
You can daub this earth, so lyric, so gentle,
from the limited palette of your own love right now.
Any place you care for can hold an easel.
Everything around you is beautiful plein air.
...warm and humid, and still a bit buggy. With the occasional tree frog.
Bluets
Who you gonna call?
We've been foamed. (And what a tough, hot job it is.)
... on a bit of a holiday.
To JD Greenhouse in Tehkummah for lunch and to buy coreopsis (since last year's plants—perennials supposedly—have not yet shown much sign of life). The soup was good but the coreopsis were either pink or variegated, neither of which is totally desirable.
Wending our way back, on the Bidwell Road, we stopped at the very odd Har-Cor Greenhouse, and discovered just the coreopsis required.
Very warm, and the blackflies are thick as...well...flies.
On and in the water today, at least a wee bit.
Perfectly calm all morning, so we fiddled with the first official, stepping-stone part of the pier. And, we boarded the Susie Pea to look for the concrete block that we left last fall to mark the far end. Having found that, we decided to venture forth and search for the holy grail—the big concrete block that has for many years been the anchor for Heliotrope's mooring. Search as we did last year, it remained unfound. But today, in spite of an ill-timed breeze and consequent ripples, Sue found it. It is now buoyed, and it will not be lost again. Sue also cleaned and pressure washed the Windrider, and with the new rudder I installed yesterday, she is ready for a wet bottom.
Sunny and warm, bringing out the first of the season's series of pests. Blackflies.
Flat calm all day, until now. Now a substantial west wind coming down the bluff swaying the treetops and sending cats paws across the bay. Two jays sitting just outside the porch watching us as we watch them. The only sound—birds and wind.
Other firsts (besides bugs)—first outdoor shower (Sue), and first extended porch sit.
Pleasantly cool onshore breeze, good for things like painting Aspenite, replaced about 5 p.m. by a pleasantly warm offshore breeze.
Jumbo Magna-Tiles? King-sized house of cards? And who could be the mastermind behind all this prepratory painting?
Perfect day for Long Weekend visitors.
The odd aspen/poplar at Fraser Beach just leafing out
Marsh marigolds
Back in the Aspenite painting business
Lots of cars up by the Falls, parked as usual along the road, in spite of the new "verboten" signs. Apparently, quite good business in Upper Kagawong. Lower Kagawong seemed to be doing okay, too, with two rather well attended garage sales, and Kuku Hut, and Chocolate Works doing a strong trade.
...with rain
Much needed, but ill-timed. Damp and cool, so glowing coals in the stove all day. Managed a walk to the falls as light rain was beginning, and a walk along the Lane during an afternoon lull. Overall, a quiet day in the country.
The Lloyds and Thomsons over for dinner and some music. Murray on accordion and me on Aerophone, with a singalong. (No photos)
And speaking of noise, the loons have started up, as they seem to every evening about this time. Loud and startling.
...and wood-chipped paths.
Planted, in this place...peas, beans, radishes, beets, and cucumbers. Nothing expected to grow, as the soil is dry and there's no rain in any forecast. Should have planted prickly pear?
Planted, in these places, where irrigation is the norm, cilantro and basil.
The perennial garden is showing chives, and oregano—and, apparently, volunteer garlic. No sign yet of sage or thyme.
A nice, well-insulated, bug free, comfortable extra bedroom will certainly be an improvement over the 35-year-old camper.
But no rain. I think I might have to start complaining about the lack of rain, even with the long weekend coming up.
Poobably, this blog should have been titled “First Day Without Fire” because that’s what it was.
Still damp along the trail from Thomson's to Tyson's
Rhubarb compote on top of Balkan-style yoghurt. Pretty much the tastiest breakfast ever.
And a first fire-up of the grill
Garage clearing and garden prep. Hot in the sun, but who's complaining? Oh, right, me.
Murray tells us that it is possible to stand on his beach (or our beach) at night while waving a flashlight towards the marina (actually the old mill) and see the the light show up on the Kagawong web cam. We are going to try that, sometime.
...weather, among other things. Bright sun, pleasant temperature, no wind. Actually, we have had almost no wind since the May 10 gale; it's as if all the available wind was used up in that one big blow. Current conditions good for power-boaters, but not so good for sailors, except at this point there aren't any.
Here's the new garage decoration—a sort of modified, mini hex. Three copies of this have beed made, and as of now, two delivered.
Canadian long weekend is coming up in a few days—the official start of summer.—and already the scene is heating up. Still, this evening all is quiet, with the merganser splashdowns and takeoffs the only noticable noise.
Sunny, warm, and no bugs yet. Nice view of ripples and catspaws, being pushed north by the first breeze in many days.
The bent maple at the bend in the lane—no leaves yet.
The bluff-side ditch being cleared by Sue.
Projects were begun, and some accomplished—all at a reasonable pace—including leaf clearing, and the reestablishment of a VPN.
... of course not. But it can't be Mother's Day without world famous waffles somewhere. And all was good until we discovered that, although here in the land of trees, we had no maple syrup. Once over the shock we improvised—using jelly, strawberries, and my favorite, blueberries dusted with powdered sugar and then drizzled with fresh lemon juice.
Nice to see rhubarb coming up. Earlier in the week I made rhubarb compote and then Sue made rhubarb pie, from stock harvested in Whitewater.
Pax and I getting ready for coffee on the deck and some morning pretend tai chi.
And, today, the camper trailer that has for so long resided in the garage has moved on to new adventures. Somewhat sad to see it go since it's been here for over a decade and has provided quite a significant number of sleepless nights.
...after a trip to Espanola to pick up the Windrider discovered near Desbarats on the trip up, and now owned by Bob Cave.
Going to the dump is just part of life in the north, and sadly the dump "mall" has had a steep decline in the quality of castoff merchandise. We are "shopping" for the soon-to-be garage bunkie.
Brilliant, warm sun with a good bit of cool in the shade. The lake, all day, as flat as my singing. Looking like ice, but quite sure not because a couple of soft water boats were out tootling around on it
Oddly enough, the weather here is much nicer than that in Wisconsin.
Fine day for working outside.
Vernal swamp
Tyson's creek
Removed three toppled balsams and a good bit of other windfall. Reestablished/rebuilt the path to Tysons which was obliterated by the big ice heave. Bob Ellen, with his pal Sonny, stopped by for a chat.
Some heavy rain, and even a few rumbles of thunder, last night, washing away all remnants of winter.
Nothing is much more fun than lying in bed listening to a downpour hammering on a metal roof. Except if you are Pax. Mimi was her usual good sport—making him a thunder tent in the lower bedroom, and then moving down to the lower level herself.
By late morning the clouds had been blown away by a powerful WNW gale. Even now, the trees outside this window are being lashed by the wind and the whole-house vent is clanging. And it’s chilly in the wind, almost cold. But warm and cozy inside.
We took advantage of the conditions to tow the foot valve assembly out to deep water, and with the water this high 100 feet from shore is pretty deep. The tail wind made rowing easier.
Vianet tech here this afternoon and we are now now wi-fied.
Those little things in the distance are not ducks but foot valve floats.
Partly sunny, warm and windy. No ice left in Mudge Bay, A few chores accomplished, including grocery shopping in Gore Bay, but at a sedate pace. Dinner at the Lloyds, with Murray and Elaine, who arrived today.
...now combined with the rustling, tinkling shiver of moving ice. What a phenomenon. To think that a bay this big could freeze solid, four feet thick, and then could, eventually, be reduced by sun and wind to tinkling shards, and back to waves.
Evidence suggests (see below) that another big ice event occurred when we were not privileged to watch it—the shoreline has been significantly rearranged.
I was thinking of kayaking amongst the ice floes, but that’s going to be impossible because tomorrow there will be none.
No WiFi until Thursday, so I am struggling to type this on a mini keyboard bluetoothed to my phone.
Gooseberry