...unless you like rain.
Breezy, coolish, dry—perfect for a long walk, motorcycle off-roading, and basic chilling out.
Everyone in this house has become obsessed with the crime/detective/mystery books by Donna Leon, which, of course, take place in Italy. (Well, Pax is only faintly interested.)
"Where the telescope ends, the microscope begins. Which of the two has the grander view?"
—Victor Hugo
Hiding from the sun and heat...at least from from eleven to four.
Pax and I walked the upper bluff trail (from Donna and Al's to Price's, up the bluff from Serendipity), and that was fine because of partial shade, but on the way back, on the road, it was hot; and Pax very much wanted to go down every driveway straight to the lake. I felt the same, but we both made it back to our driveway before heading down hill and jumping into the water.
Meanwhile, it was decided to take the Pinebox guests for a sail about 4:30, just about the time weather forecasters issued a thunderstorm and squall warning. Radar showed some red blobs moving across Manitoulin, but knowing that that was fake news—and promising to eat my hat if it rained at all—we went for a pleasant sail anyway. While we were out, the wind switched from south to northwest. In summary, the day was sunny, hot, and dry. Blowing hard from the NW now.
If I wanted sunny, hot, and dry, I'd live in Arizona.
BTW, the rock stack erected on July 5 is still standing. Curious to see how long the one pictured above holds up. I'm coming to find that stacking rocks is almost as much fun as practising a musical instrument.
Annual meeting.
Canola, eh?
Executive team.
Actually more of a neighborhood association.
Most important item on this year’s agenda, as in years past, the potluck.
...followed by hot and dry.
Quick trip to Mindemoya for dog food. Also a little swimming and a little musical instrument practice. Mixed grill at Pinebox.
Sailing and dinner with Professor and Mrs. Shorthouse...he a retired entomologist... and member of the Manitoulin Great Lakes Islands Coalition team.
Never sailing before, but enthusiastic and delighted.
Lots and lots of talk before, during, and after dinner, and not always easy to get a word in edgewise.
Rain this morning. Yes, actual rain. Not much of course, and not for long, but enough to knock down the dust and to somewhat reduce the fire risk. No real dent, however, in the drought.
I bypassed the transmission safety lockout switch this afternoon before our sail, and I think I can say that the engine now starts every time.
...and just a hint of something resembling rain.
Heliotrope on the bay for her first sail in many moons. She’s a boat that wants to move, and with a bit of a breeze she steps right out.
Engine starting still not perfect.
Sunny, hot, and dry.
Great Mexican dinner at Pinenox, complete with handfuls of homegrown cilantro.
Norm replacing the starter motor...virtually impossible in the tight space.
Sudbury, that is. To pick up the repaired Heliotrope starter motor. Almost every place in Sudbury that needs to be flat (for example the Walmart store and parking lot, just to the right in the photos below), has had to be drilled and blasted level. But then, Sudbury is a mining town. We won't mention the fact that that the new library has had to be shored up to counter-balance a strong list to port.
Sunny, hot, and dry.
Karen and Earl, Bob and Wendy, Joan, Elaine and Murray, Mary Ellen and John, Sue and me.
Sunny, hot, and dry.
Perfect weather (assuming you like dry). Sunny and warm, but with a mighty south wind.
The lower deck received a refreshing power wash (not by me) and is no longer slippery when wet (as if such a thing could ever occur). Very high speed Windrider sail in the afternoon—tearing along in heavy gusts, but always in control.
That floats on high o'r vales and hills... Except there weren't any clouds, apart from a few contrails. The drought continues.
All docked out, and it is pretty deep at the far end
We did make a run to Mindemoya for the annual hazardous waste disposal where we had to queue up in a long line of vehicles being guided to the collection point. Perhaps half an hour, or more, until we were able to unload a substantial collection of old paint.
This was one queue I didn't mind being stuck in. Glad there are so many who care about the Island.
What’s so special about islands? (See below.)
Frog hiding in one of the few moist places around here (Photo by Sue)
This may look like a giant turtle moving from left to right and leaving a track, but it's really a boulder that was pushed long distance by moving ice, last spring.
What’s so special about islands?
They are, of course, surrounded by water—which gives them a certain separation and sense of definition.
They are more or less difficult to get to, and thus tend to be less travelled and more natural. They are often slightly behind the time and seem to operate at a slower pace, offering peacefulness and tranquility. They have a relatively great amount of coastline, which gives them a relatively great amount of beauty.
They have definite boundaries, creating a sense of place. They often have a smallish population, a unique history, and a substantial number of shared interests. Islands tend to think and act as communities.
Although there is something ineffable about exactly why, islands are different. Perhaps it’s the air—if not the water. Whatever the case, anyone visiting an island feels the difference once a foot steps ashore. On an island you are somewhat removed, to someplace special.
So what’s the best way to think about islands? According to Christian Pleijel, Chair of the Nordic Archipelago Cooperation in the Baltic Sea and former Director of the European Small Islands Network, there are three helpful ways:
1) the natural landscape (the island without humans), 2) the cultural landscape (what happens when we humans move in to the island, what we do, how we survive, what we need), and 3) the technical landscape (the infrastructure we build to meet our needs of transportation, energy, water, waste and overspill we produce).
These three considerations are also an important part of the thought process of the relatively young organization operating in our part of the world. The Great Lakes Islands Coalition (GLIC). GLIC is an association of year-round-occupied islands in Lakes Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie, Ontario, and the St. Lawrence River. There are about 20 of us.
Will, on vacation in Minnesota, has thrown down the gauntlet on the Great Northern RockStack challenge.
Considering the infinite number of rocks here, just for the stacking, I had to give it a try, too.
Let the wild stacking begin.
Possible categories might be: 1) most rocks, 2) tallest stack, 3) most artistic, 4) biggest rocks, 5) most defiant of gravity, 6) arch or bridge, 7) nicest collection of rocks ready for stacking.
Same old hot, humid, and dry—but clouds were sighted in the distance, and a few even passed overhead.
The wind drops with the sun.
Met this neighbor on our morning walk
And the nights are quiet. Then then sun rises across the bay...and all remains quiet. Not a breath of air, and very little bird song. Although many birds make this place home, few of them are morning people, especially at this time of year.
By mid-morning ripples spread across the water, and by noon we have a breeze from the south. Warm and dry. Hot and dry.
In honor of global warming we decided to finish pier installation ourselves (in spite of having hired help). With this kind of weather, pier installation can easily be considered a water sport.
Every day more perfect than the last—sunny and warm, with nary a cloud in the sky.
Growth is rampant—among things irrigated. Enough oregano to supply North America; enough cilantro to supply every Mexican restaurant in Canada (I assume there are some in spite of there being none on Manitoulin); and tomatoes like I've never seen before...some almost ripe.
Out to breakfast, to Mum's, with the Pinebox contingent. Then not too much else of interest until a late afternoon trip to the dump, which was humming as a result of having been closed on Canada Day.
Cooler and less humid. Dry front last night swinging the wind from south to west. As usual, the storms coming across Wisconsin and Michigan dissipated as they reached Manitoulin.
Internet finally back—good going Vianet, you bunch of amateur hosers. Though, I must say, that having limited access to news proved to be a good thing, and made me remember how the first Gulf war, now long ago, remained unknown until summer was over and we were back in the States.
I've been getting depressed by the news lately. It is, when you thing about it, by and large, depressing. And it makes me wonder WHY ARE THERE SO MANY BAD PEOPLE? Is evil baked into the human genome?
Why are there:
Internet scammers
Swindlers
Dishonest business people
Private equity manipulators
Inside traders
Money launderers
Sex traffickers
Slavers
Domestic abusers
Murderers
Mass murderers
Wilfull polluters
Welfare abusers
Bribers and bribe takers
Corrupt government officials
Bullies
Psychopaths
Racists
Militarists
Arms dealers
War profiteers
Child molesters
Pornographers
Mobsters
Embezzlers
Liars
Psychopaths
Toadies
Sadists
Snake oil salesmen
Mercenaries
Dictators
Torturers
Scum bags
Extortionists
Traitors
Cheats
Horse thiefs
Shysters
Rip-off-artists
Pirates
Poltroons
Thugs
Goons
Arsonists
Scabs
Cheats
Republicans, and...
Trump suporters
Still very warm, but the big wind eases the pain.
WIFI internet continues to be out, now for more than 24 hours. TG for LTE.
Sailed The Windrider in the gale (reefed), and went for a swim (complete dunk). While the air is hot, the water is cold.
Enough moisture in the air to float the Lucitania.
Nice crop of radishes.
Pier work and other chores, and just as we were finishing up, the Pine Box contingent pulled in. Fashionably late dinner as a result.
Happy birthday to Abby!
...and, happy to say, quite a few monarchs have stopped by.
There is nothing quite like being awakened by the drumming of rain on the roof; and this morning, that was the case. Brief rain, maybe 15 minutes, but substantial, and, as it was unexpected but really needed, greatly appreciated.
First kayak paddle this morning, oddly enough (after the rain). Absolutely no wind, so the boat had to scribe a line through plate glass. Blowing hard from the south now. The day has been hot.
For all intents and purposes the bunkie (except for minor decor) is completed.
...for daisies, buttercups, and anemones.
Perfect evening for reading on the porch.
Reading She Has Her Mother’s Laugh.