Not quite, but we have been decimating the woodpile.
Cold, with another big rain event forecast.
I had planned to do a review of Richard Powers’ novel Overstory, but an hour’s worth of wrangling with recalcitrant scanning software has made that a tomorrow project.
Anyway, the sandbox is ready to be moved into position and filled with...sand.
Burt Farm “Smokies” for dinner.
...all except the ashes, which are slow.
New sandbox under construction, actually almost done. Also, about 20 of the 55 8-foot cedar 2x6s destined for the boardwalk cut down to size. And Pax to the vet for some minor surgery. He’s kind of out of it at the moment, and so is our WiFi. Therefore a brief blog posted by LTE.
Cold and rain, rain and cold. But no matter.
Ready for use, but no use yet
First to Tekummah and JD Gardens to pick up a coreopsis, as a gift, then, after noon, to a “Come and Go” in Gore Bay in honor of the 60th wedding anniversary of Don and Joan Lloyd.
~~~~~~~~~~~`
…and here is a little thing from FLOW (Traverse City, MI)
Being a Good Ancestor
It’s not often that we think about what it means to be a good ancestor. But our close friend and elder, Frank Ettawageshik from the Little Traverse Band, recently challenged us and others to ponder this fundamental question in his keynote speech at the annual Northern Michigan Environmental Action Council Environmentalist of the Year award gathering. And I thank him for this opportunity to consider the legacy that we leave behind to our children and generations to come.
Being a good ancestor is a big responsibility. It can feel overwhelming, so I first focus on what I can do as an individual. Living as intentionally as I can is the best way I know to take responsibility for my personal actions. Globalization of our economy often makes individual lifestyle choices complex, so I try to eat, shop, and live as locally as possible.
Collectively, being a good ancestor means that when we create things, we need to consider the full life cycle from cradle to grave. If we did take this responsibility seriously, toxic and persistent chemicals like PFAS would not exist. It’s the unprecedented and cumulative impact of all our human actions that is accelerating the extinction of up to one million plant and animal species according to the UN’s latest report.
Being a good ancestor means being deeply respectful and connected to nature. Maintaining a healthy Great Lakes ecosystem is not only good for us to assure clean, safe drinking water, but also for all animals, plants, and life that depend on these life-giving and sustaining waters. This ancestral reverence echoes in The Water Song, which states: "Water, we love you. We thank you. We respect you."
Lovely, if variable weather—clouds, rain, but mostly sun. And warm enough to require no morning fire, and now, no evening fire (so far).
In no particular order: first tree frog heard; lots of jays and mergansers; quite a few warblers and nuthatches, kingfisher, pileated woodpecker gliding out of pre-history and into the back yard; tinge of green up on the bluff; maples showing red; marsh marigolds showing yellow. Our four, potted coreopsis dug out of the chip heap apparently alive; parsley, cilantro, and basil seeds planted; herb garden trimmed of last year’s growth.
And, in the work department (Sue): front deck railings power-washed; raspberry brambles trimmed; outdoor shower prepped for use.
All in all, rather a fine day.
Great humanity, careful observation, fine thinking, and skillful writing—by an ordinary person.
...and very high deep blue water, at that.
2019
2019
2019
And here is a photo taken by Sue exactly five years ago.
2014
Bob has headed back home, after immense help here in the early stages of the annual cottage restart.
And, while he was driving, we slowed down a bit—mostly dinking and recuperating.
...wood and lumber.
Tree hugger
Long felled ashes, finally sectioned
To Noble lumber in the morning to pay bill for deck materials and get a few sticks for the new sandbox. To Taylor sawmill in the afternoon for cedar planks needed to resurface the deck-to-pier boardwalk.
Deck repair almost complete. All that’s left is hanging the gate.
New grill now almost in its permanent location, old grill seriously deformed by avalanche.
New griddle seasoned, and working on breakfast (buttermilk pancakes)
...aka deck work.
That’s Bob underneath
Progress is being made, though we took a good part of the morning to hike up along the raging river to the falls.
...and drying out.
Some chores possible and accomplished, to Mindemoya on errands, and Bob Cave here to help out with deck reconstruction.
...and chilled, and soaked. (Scroll down, s’il vous plait.)
Tyson’s creek
Pinebox swale
High water surf
The significant rainfall forecast proved to be accurate. Tyson’s creek is running hard, and our up-side road ditch is working at nearly maximum capacity in its effort to prevent erosion.
In spite of all the moisture we got a few things done, and the new grass seed has had plenty of opportunity to imbibe.
Cottage living, countless tasks. (See below.)
Incoming beaver. When he saw Pax he slapped his tail.
Lane is bare in the maple stretch.
And those countless cottage living tasks usually involve transferring heavy objects to either a different elevation or a different location. Lots of heavy lifting. But hey, we signed up for this regimen.
Part of today’s heavy lift was getting ready for tomorrow, which has a special weather statement—significant rainfall. Just so you know, we did get ready—rain all day tomorrow will not slow us down in the least, though we might take a few minutes out to read books or listen to music (or take a rainy day nap).
...water, and no leaks. Fire in the stove all day, and house warming up nicely. Everything unloaded and most things stored properly. Larder stocked with an adequate supply of groceries. Even a short dog walk, around through Tysons (the creek is running merrily). (All this frequently interrupted by conversations with friends met along the way, which is why we are behind schedule.)
It was right about 3 a.m. last night that I found the Guzzler pump, and it was exactly where I left it last year when I finished fixing it.—in the garage lean-to. And darned if it wasn’t in exactly the same spot this morning when I took a look. However, (and this is revolutionary) I didn’t need it.
Shop-vacs can rattle around the sub-conscious only so long before they demand real world trial and testing. So, this morning, a shop-vac was schlepped down to the pump house, a shop-vac plugged in, a s-v hose duct-taped to waterline intake—and then, behold, in less than a minute, 100 feet of 1.25 inch black poly totally filled, and water dribbling out around the jet pump. This, let me say, is significancy better than the way things were back in the day (e.g. last year, and the year before that and, and, and…) It used to be that the normal, necessary routine was to kneel before the Guzzler pump, in gurgling mud, and pump strenuously, for 20, 30 minutes.
Do fish think? Yes, but not fast enough!
Thamks to Don Lloyd for mentioning the shop vac idea.
almost settled in. All systems functioning except for water. We got the 100-foot intake line deployed, with the foot-valve out nice and deep, but could not find the guzzler pump needed to draw water up to the jet pump. I vaguely remember taking the guzzler home for repairs.
So tonight we are roughing it easy—after a delicious dinner at the Lloyds, at which Murray and Elaine were also guests. Good to be back on the Island.
Made to St. Ignace, but the trip seemed unusual. Perhaps because it was Sunday and many people out. Perhaps because of sun and warmth (apart from one intense shower) No ice, no snow (except for scraps in deeply shaded hollows), no runoff. It felt, somehow, that we had leapfrogged spring.
Pax, of course, who has been itching for a swim since New Years, dove in at Menominee and again at Manistique, and again at Ignace.
All told, seven plus hours of high speed driving and we made it part way around Lake Michigan.
Sunny, very warm, and Saturday. (Continued below.)
All the many ball fields fully utilized. Playgrounds spilling over. Lawn mowers mowing lawns. Dog walkers walking dogs.
Hot-rods and motorcycles, using noise to let all the world know how powerful they are. Pickups squealing tires.
And, superseding all that, the annual Spring Alcohol Consumption Festival! Lawn parties at every frat house and flop house. Throngs of erstwhile scholars roaming the parkways and cutting through back yards. Alpha males bellowing (is it residual bullfrog or howler monkey DNA?)
So, time to head for quieter pastures. Of course, we will be leaving lush green lawn, tulip and saskatoon, redbuds and rhubarb…in exchange for drab, bare forest, and isolated piles of snow.
Actually, however, looking forward to it.
The rosemary has moved outdoors too. Good luck in the wild, noble herb.
...in Oconomowoc. Mimi helping out while Renee away. Then me too, in the afternoon, including a bike ride with the girls.
...and it’s making him anxious. He’s become a Klingon, always at the side or under foot. I can tell that all week long he’s had Canada on the mind. He can sense the time of year.
Yet, we pack. I had to move the truck halfway into the garage in order to keep the multitude of objects (mostly tools and such) safe from the unending rain.
Starting to pack up, but a quick afternoon trip to Fox Point to see everyone, including Will’s soccer practice/scrimmage (2 goals), Katy in outfit heading off to dance practice, and then Will doing a little two-step with Pax.
