A-Sailing We Will Go
To Harbor Island for swimming, lunch, and just a bit of exploring.
Thanks to Sue for photos.
Lamb Chops
At the Shorthouse trailer at Batman’s park on Sheguiandah bay.
Very different from here. Tasty dinner. Interesting conversation.
Meanwhile, lots of fun was had at Providence Bay, then at the marina and high dock, and then at Pine Box for tacos.
Pizza Night...
...and delicious it was, especially the crust.
Kids and company had a very full day hiking to the falls, swimming under the falls, swimming at the beach, etc. etc. We also tried Windriding, but the north wind and biggish waves brought that up short. However, after that there was PIZZA!
A Little Biking...
...and a little more rain.
Kids mostly off playing with friends, and while Sue went grocery shopping in Gore Bay, I got to go for a bike ride with Bob and Wally. (Feeling guilty)
And then, again just before supper, another intense but short cloudburst—and my drought anxiety is easing.
Rain, Actually
The first thunderstorm in a long while. Lots of thunder, and some heavy rain... for about 10 minuets. Still, way better than nothing.
Ab’s friend, Molly, and her two kids here for a bit, giving Kate and Will someone appropriately aged to play with.
Pork Chops and Pesto Pasta...
...on the deck. J & ME joining. Biking, swimming, and even a little sailing...during the only part of the day when the wind failed.
The drought continues, and the forest, and all its residents, is suffering.
Photo by Katy of starving Tamia
Stack by Will
Sunny, Hot, and Dry...
...but good for other things.
Photo by Katy
Honestly, the frog got here on its own.
Photo by Abby
Good Fun
Water sports in the morning including Abby sailing Geode. Evening bike ride, with Mark, for me while the fam played solitaire and swam.
Smoked Out
Dense smoke rolling in just after breakfast. For me, difficult driving to Little Current to attend a meeting. For those looking forward to a day outdoors on Serendipity...the need to stay inside. The forest fire over towards Killarney continues to burn.
Some photos thanks to Abby.
The Adventures Continue
Perfect weather for being in and on the water.
Very Full Day
Waffles, kayaking, biking to the marina, jumping off the high dock, tacos, jumping off our dock, reading on the porch, and finally heading up to bed.
They’re Here
Late arrival but still a little daylight left.
The first thing, or maybe the second or third first thing was a quick dip in the lake.
Is It Already Late Summer?
Signs point to yes. Crickets, grasshoppers, ripe raspberries, tansy—and no blackflies, mosquitoes, or horseflies.
Photo by Mary Ellen
Also, fledged flycatchers. These two flew the coop today, departing Pinebox, along with their mother, for parts unknown. And over this way, our robin and her one chick left perhaps ten days ago.
But it can't be late summer; I just got here.
Preparations
At the sandpit at 7:30 am—only time operators are available to drop a bucket-full into my truck.
The sand is deep, ready for boxers.
And new porch screen doors have been installed, to deter inquisitive squirrels.
Mostly cloudy and very cool. (I found it a nice change.) Very windy, too, and the marina jam packed with mariners, some at least, of questionable maritime ability (I helped one of them come in).
In The Cool Of The Night
Excellent variety of weather. A little rain, dramatic clouds, strong wind, and now surprising cool.
Lunch with Therese at the former Gordon Lodge in Gore Bay. Partially renovated, and now called something like "The Water's Edge." The food was o k , but in the hour and a half we were there we were the only customers. On the up side, we had coffee on the lawn with a good view of the penultimate leg of this year's North Channel race.
Totally Tamia
Tamiasciurus hudsonicus, that is.
Yesterday one came through the (loose) screen onto the porch. Today these two, above, seemed to follow me around. I wonder if the drought has reduced the food supply—I don't see much in the way of cones or cedar seeds. Perhaps they just want someone to write a story about them.
Take a look at the feet in the top photo—a most capable appendage.
Blowing like stink from the West. Marina packed tight.
Soaked
Nighttime storm, plus brief morning cloudburst. Twenty-five gallons in Geode alone. Fire ban still in effect, but the drought, I think, has been broken.
Pax is totally confabulated. A rough night last night, Mimi away, Pinebox offering succor and the world's tastiest kibble, and, all day, the immanent threat of just a bit more precip. He is away visiting as I speak.
The stack still stands, in spite of sturm und drang.
BLTs tonight with homegrown Ts and a side of beans.
Last night's storm was a slow mover. Pax sensed it when all I could hear was absolute silence, and all I could see out the window was a fine bright moon. Maybe half an hour later I hard the first faint rumble. Maybe half an hour later, the first sweep of wind blowing away the calm. And then, well after that, the first tentative rain.
All that time I was pretty sure that the rain part of the storm would fizzle out or go elsewhere—but it didn't, and when the rain came down it did so enthusiastically and for quite a long time.
Early Morning Feast
Hundreds of gulls flying up and down the shore, hungry for shadflies. The hatch was late this year, and there was some concern the population is down, but this morning the gulls seemed to think all was well. While shadflies can be annoying to non-gulls, their presence indicates healthy water.
Sue departed for Wisconsin just as the gulls had enough light to hunt—and drove all the way to Milwaukee in one stretch, solo.
It is a bit addictive. Can't be in a rush; have to use the Zen mind and let the rocks stack themselves. Always amazing when it works.
Delicious meatloaf at the Pinebox.
Smoke...
...this morning, and even scarier, yesterday morning. Yesterday, shortly after reveille,
it was busy on the Lane. Everyone was up—sniffing—with smoke definitely in the air. Neighbor Al called the fire department, and almost immediately the siren sounded. I grabbed my bike heading down towards the Woods' place, and as I was getting close, a jeep, containing a volunteer firefighter, came roaring up behind. The two of us got down to Woods' beach and stood sniffing and staring into the fog...but nothing, no fire or flame. Apparently other firefighters scrambled too—to Maple Point and out to the Grandor/West Bay side of things. But nothing, nowhere. Turns out the smoke was/is coming from the big fire north-east of here, up on the French River and near Killarney.
We had clouds and pretend rain most of the day today, and there is hope that the afflicted area got real rain. Still, it's scary, and everyone here is glad of the fire department's rapid response. We are hoping for no smoke tomorrow, and some real rain later in the week, but we remain cognizant of the fact that breaking the back of a drought is not easy.
The barkentine above, a training ship for young people, smashed into the dock this morning, breaking the big iron casting around the bowsprit that tensions the dolphin striker. Took a big chunk out of the dock too. Maybe a little more training is in order, for someone?
Pity the Poor Loon
We’ve got Digger wit his unmuffled cigarette boat, a variety of jet skis operating out of the more recent nouveau riche cottages south on the Lane, and the thumping bass of a rock band “tuning up” over at the marina. Plug your ears, it’s Summer Fest in Kagawong.
This little private yacht may like being part of the noisy village. Either that or they made a bad mistake coming here when they did.
How could I fail to mention that IT RAINED last night, A light rain, a gentle rain, but rain, and for maybe two hours. I stayed up the whole time listening to the sound patterns on the metal roof. Rain, for those who don't have metal roofs, is not a steady, uniform phenomenon, no—instead, the intensity fluctuates by the second. So, for two or more hours I listened—first for the little whispers, and then the brush strokes on a snare drum, and then, but no, never the tympani—always saying, "yes, come on, yes, come on, you can do it," afraid to move in case I might jinx what was happening, and occasionally saying, "thanks rain, thanks...even this little bit is better than nothing."