North Woods Day
Chipping ice, cleaning closets, hiking to the point, sitting in front of the fire.
Chipping ice, cleaning closets, hiking to the point, sitting in front of the fire.
Still winter but very nice up in the north woods.
Or what were, in drier times, farm fields. Big, low-lying fields adjacent to the Rock River, on the outskirts of Fort.
White pelicans, which have, in the past decade, begun reappearing in Wisconsin. This flock of maybe a dozen birds is probably on its way to Horicon Marsh or Green Bay. Not sure what they are eating here as the water is only half a foot deep.
The in-town part of Fort is also experiencing high water—but still about 3 feet below the record flood.
...all around, in the air and on the ground. Many other species, too (redwings, killdeer, and the like)—enjoying sun and warmth.
Pax, washed and combed (after months of neglect), now has the mane of a lion and the wool of a sheep. With a little shearing he could contribute to a very nice cardigan. Furthermore, he is letting us know that he has had enough of the indoors—and while not demanding a walk, he is emphatically requesting to be outside.
We got to watch Ellie play in her second-ever volleyball match, and that was fun. We had planned to head up to the Janowiec cabin after that, but held turned back due to report so frozen pipes and septic problems.
Projects and errands and—dog washing. Pax is now a wooly fluffball, in need of shearing.
This afternoon to an open house for a neighbor down the street who is running for municipal judge. After that, out for fish with two other neighbors across the street. That followed by sequence.
My bracket is badly busted. And the Mueller Report is out, whatever that means.
Full scale, full throated, all-out musical production of the play presented by the third and fourth graders at Katy and Will’s elementary school. Sets , costumes, props, lighting, and lots of music. Quite incredible. Katy was bot a statue and a ballet dancer.
First Day of Spring, and Sue’s birthday.
Even some snowdrops and squill. Unfortunately, the moon not visible through heavy clouds and light rain.
Snow remnants shrinking. Flood water receding. Days getting longer. Basketball brackets filled out.
Where’s Paxton?
Lots of sandhills overhead, and, from the sound of things, on the ground.
...and maple syrup on the driveway. And, a nice bike ride. Spring is in the air.
Blackbirds here (at least a few) even though most non-flowing water is still frozen.
Here, ice is on the move.
Bri lost his protest, but the verdict was rendered by a kangaroo court and will be appealed. As a newly elected member of the INCA Board he plans to work on professionalizing protest procedures.
Shortly after noon, all boats, trailers, and then people, were off the ice, and not a moment too soon.
And, of course, earlier in the day, there was Tony’s adventure—a faultily installed pin fell out of his steering mechanism during one high speed race, leaving him with no way to steer and thus no way to stop. He had to climb out of the cockpit and, as a human sea-anchor, drag behind the boat to bring it under control.
Everyone’s looking forward to next year. What a sport.
~~~~~~~
In remembrance of poet W.S. Merwin:
Variation on a Theme
W.S Merwin
Thank you my life long afternoon
late in this spring that has no age
my window above the river
for the woman you led me to
when it was time at last the words
coming to me out of mid-air
that carried me through the clear day
and come even now to find me
for old friends and echoes of them
those mistakes only I could make
homesickness that guides the plovers
from somewhere they had loved before
they knew they loved it to somewhere
they had loved before they saw it
thank you good body hand and eye
and the places and moments known
only to me revisiting
once more complete just as they are
and the morning stars I have seen
and the dogs who are guiding me
Jumping Jehoshaphat. Race two of the Nite Nationals and Bri t-boned another boat and pretty much cut it in half. Everyone okay. Mr. T-bone protested Bri, and then Bri protested him back. Bri will win.
With his boat out of service (significant but not major damage) Bri drove to Whitewater to retrieve Nite #300 so that he would have a boat to sail on Sunday. And, as he was pulling into the launch site back at Lake Kegonsa,, the axel on that boat’s trailer broke. And, at the big dinner tonight, Bri is being elected to the position of Secretary of the International Nite Class Association (which is then followed by the positions of vice-commodore, and commodore).
Meanwhile Katy’s dance troupe won Platinum at a major competition, while Will visited here—keeping Mimi and me busy most of the day.
The Nite Nationals have been called on, on Lake Kegonsa, just south of Madison. Early start tomorrow, so many boats arriving and setting up this afternoon. But conditions are bad. Ice pure slush, at least near shore, and the on-ramp very tenuous—and, of course, the on-ramp is also the off ramp.
With the help of other would-be sailors Bri and I pushed the tandem trailer onto what could be called ice and set up 351 and 165. I decided against launching 300. For me, discretion became the better part of valor.
Thirty boats, or more, have signed up, so it could be chaos at the ramp early tomorrow. I’m good with not being part of it, though I am looking forward to stopping by to see how things go. While hoping for the best, my prediction is one slow first race and then unsailable stickiness ever after. And, of course, three races need to be sailed to complete a regatta.
Sometimes it’s good to be older, and possibly (though not necessarily) wiser.
Soft water and hard water. The dinghy got its bottom painted, and the iceboat came out of cold storage because, surprisingly, the Nite Nationals have been called on. (Note: I plan to be involved but not to race. I could sail one or two races; but three, four, or more are more than I can handle, and if you don’t race all the races you end up at the bottom of the standings, and that is not exactly where you want to be.)
Above, the flood continues. Knee deep at the skate park.
Above, bottom painted. Below, iceboat getting ready.
I had the iceboat opened up and airing out in the balmy sunshine until the rain came and a little thunder thundered. The mini storm was the advance edge of the strong cold front—and it is once again windy and cold. (But that could be good for the regatta.)
Yesterday, too, but I didn’t want to jump a claim. Today for sure, but no visual yet. It seems early, but with all the melting, patches of bare ground are beginning to appear.
A little rain overnight, and continued warmth, leading to lots of runoff. The creekside path is flooded out, looking more than ankle deep in places.
Hardly anything more interesting than watching water. Minor topographic divides, and within inches the flow can move in opposite directions, but always finding a way down. Good fun, trying to think like water.
Dinner out and then Sequence in with across-the-street neighbors, now that Jane is home form the hospital and doing well. Guys won three of five.
...requiring creepers on the morning walk but only boots on the afternoon hike.
The last job on the dink prior to painting. Time, perhaps, to think about oars.
I know I’ve posted this before, but at this time of year I can’t help it.
To think to know the country and now know
The hillside on the day the sun lets go
Ten million silver lizards out of snow!
As often as I've seen it done before
I can't pretend to tell the way it's done.
It looks as if some magic of the sun
Lifted the rug that bred them on the floor
And the light breaking on them made them run.
But if I though to stop the wet stampede,
And caught one silver lizard by the tail,
And put my foot on one without avail,
And threw myself wet-elbowed and wet-kneed
In front of twenty others' wriggling speed,-
In the confusion of them all aglitter,
And birds that joined in the excited fun
By doubling and redoubling song and twitter,
I have no doubt I'd end by holding none.
It takes the moon for this. The sun's a wizard
By all I tell; but so's the moon a witch.
From the high west she makes a gentle cast
And suddenly, without a jerk or twitch,
She has her spell on every single lizard.
I fancied when I looked at six o'clock
The swarm still ran and scuttled just as fast.
The moon was waiting for her chill effect.
I looked at nine: the swarm was turned to rock
In every lifelike posture of the swarm,
Transfixed on mountain slopes almost erect.
Across each other and side by side they lay.
The spell that so could hold them as they were
Was wrought through trees without a breath of storm
To make a leaf, if there had been one, stir.
One lizard at the end of every ray.
The thought of my attempting such a stay!
...and by afternoon enough sun and warmth to melt the slick and slush.
Below, Katy helping to shape a template for the skeg. She is good with tools, and a whiz at clamps.
Yesterday’s rain scoured a thick crust of salt off the truck; almost looks as if it went through a carwash. Less praiseworthy, the gutter extensions that run under the sidewalk on the south side of the garage remain frozen, and therefore roof runoff fritzles out the joint between the downspout and the extension. This ice clog is caused, of course, by the shoveling of snow off the sidewalk, thus allowing cold to penetrate deep enough to freeze the extension.
Have to admit, the extra light is creating a touch of spring fever, aggravated by a rather serious case of oyster deficiency anemia.
Sole possession of three dogs all day. A coterie of canines forever underfoot.
Rain, sometimes substantial, and nowhere for the water to go.
Perfect day for watching some basketball.
Quite amazing how fine forty feels.
And we have a little melt at last.
Of course, this wintry winter is not a release from global warming (it’s been warm elsewhere), but more of a symptom. Perhaps, as this article argues, it would be beneficial to think of climate change as aliens threatening invasion of Planet Earth.
...when not much of import besides grocery shopping. On the plus side, the wind has subsided and the temperature has risen almost to the point where melting might be a possibility—a few damp spots in evidence where salt lingers. Sue to Fox Point for a bit, and me to the basement when not out with Pax.
And, now there are three—Buddy and Pip have joined us for two days.