Rain, squalls, windshifts, black clouds, patches of blue, south wind backing to west, clear sky, evening chill—atumn on the Island.
Log splitting and path chipping the major accomplishments.
Woodshed starting to fill up but still a long way to go
Paths maintained and improved
But…breakfast at Mum’s (met Therese), a little fire in the stove, reading, napping, the occasional dampish dog walk, and stir-fry for dinner. Endurable.
Photo by Sue
Big NE blow all last night and all day today.
While nothing like what is happening elsewhere, we are experiencing erosion too.
The raft formerly anchored in front of the senior Lloyds’ place broke loose. Glen came and got us, and then we called in quad-equipped reinforcements. High and (almost) dry now.
And, on a sadder note, Pinebox moved onto the mobile unit and then headed on down the road (headed for points south). (Even though the lights don’t work.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Going to watch the debate tonight (thanks to a VPN). Top of the list for me right now: Buttigieg, Yang, and Warren.
First time for me all year. I was happy to see her, but she did not seem that happy to see me.
As above, she has been busy dropping seeds, of which there are unlimited quantities since this is apparently a mast year for cedars.
In additional news, Pinebox has pulled their waterline and are prepping for departure.
Heavy morning rain followed by warmishness and humidity, with the threat of more weather. Pax off balance all day.
When you have all the time in the world, you can spend it, not on going somewhere, but on being where you are. So I stretch out, close my eyes, and listen to the rain.
—Braiding Sweetgrass
…errands? Actually for anything, though errands muscled out most other things. Morning fire, a few open windows in the afternoon. Split a lot of recently cut cedar for kindling. Blackbirds flocking. Autumn.
…with the help of Mark and Lisane.
Also with helpers Ava and Emma.
And it was chilly! Overall, however, a fine fall day, wrapped up with a little confab with Pinebox on the lower deck.
Bracket fungus discovered (and photo’ed) by Sue.
And a wattle hurdle made by me for no reason except to provide an opportunity to use my bilhook.
The hurdle is made of poplar saplings, about 4 years old. Seemingly a lot, but all harvested honorably. They are clonal sprouts that have grown up since the big Hydro clearing job, and they were all growing under the wires, thus with no hope of maturity. Further, the harvest took only a tiny fraction of the sprouts competing for the newly available sunshine.
…and late morning, too. Another good bit of moisture, necessitating the bailing of dinghies and kayak.
Mimi is nurturing the two chrysalises resulting from two tiny caterpillars captured by grandkids. Word has it that hundreds (maybe thousands) of monarchs are staging on the south shore of the Island and feeding voraciously in preparation for their journey south, including many miles across open water. I hope our fledglings make it to the south shore, and then across the big lake, and then all the way to Mexico.
…and piles of wood mulch.
Nothing like spring boat work in the fall. Repainted the cabin top with non-skid.
Meanwhile, tree trimmers were here taking down a trio of moribund ashes and a quartet of deceased balsams.
But, as the old stuff comes down, we continue to plant new—a few decades from now this little bit of forest will be slightly different from what it once was.
Cloudless sky, warm sun, cool west wind. Did it really rain all yesterday?
And the closed bottle gentian. In time, we can hope, to be pollinated by a muscular bumblebee.
Breakfast at the golf course, oddly enough, with the Pinebox contingent, and after that, rain. And it hasn’t stopped yet. Drizzle, downpours, thunderstorms (and the obligatory power outage). All productive activity postponed in favor of reading, napping, and sitting on the porch immersed in the weather. Lots of moisture. A day like this every so often isn’t so bad.
The time of the year retired teachers appreciate most. Instead of back to the classroom, it’s out and about, with both the crowds and mosquitoes finally gone.
A little beach cleanup at Lacy’s Landing
And then, further shore examination. Photo by Mary Ellen
…and lunch with Wikwemikong elder, Josh. Interesting and productive conversation about aboriginal wisdom and its importance in the present day. Something good may this way come.
Version by John Stokes and Kanawahientum, 1993,
as printed in Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer, 2013
Today we have gathered, and when we look upon the faces around us we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now let us bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as People. —Now our minds are one.
We are thankful to our Mother the Earth, for she gives us everything that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her. It gives us joy that she still continues to care for us, just as she has from the beginning of time. To our Mother, we send thanksgiving, love, and respect. —Now our minds are one.
We give thanks to all of the waters of the world for quenching our thirst, for providing strength and nurturing life for all beings. We know its power in many forms—waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans, snow and ice. We are grateful that the waters are still here and meeting their responsibility to the rest of Creation. Can we agree that water is important to our lives and bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to the Water? —Now our minds are one.
We now turn out thoughts to all of the Fish life in the water. They also give themselves to us a food. We are grateful that they continue to do their duties, and we send to the Fish our greetings and our thanks. —Now our minds are one.
Now we turn toward the vast fields of Plant life. As far as the eye can see, the Plants grow, working many wonders. They sustain many life forms. With our minds gathered together, we give thanks and look forward to seeing Plant life for many generations to come. —Now our minds are one.
When we look about us, we see that the berries are still here, providing us with delicious foods. The leader of the berries is the strawberry, the first to ripen in the spring. Can we agree that we are grateful that the berries are with us in the world and send our thanksgiving, love, and respect to the berries? —Now our minds are one.
With one mind, we honor and thank all the Food Plants we harvest from the garden, especially the Three Sisters who feed the people with such abundance. Since the beginning of time, the grains, vegetables, beans, and fruit have helped the people survive. Many other living things draw strength from them as well. We gather together in our minds all the plant foods and send them a greeting and thanks.
—Now our minds are one.
Now we turn to the Medicine Herbs of the world. From the beginning they were instructed to take away sickness. They are always waiting and ready to heal us. We are so happy that there are still among us those special few who remember how to use the plants for healing. With one mind, we send thanksgiving, love, and respect to the Medicines and the keepers of the Medicines. —Now our minds are one.
Standing around us we see all the Trees. The Earth has many families of Trees who each have their own instructions and uses. Some provide shelter and shade, others fruit and beauty and many useful gifts. The Maple is the leader of the trees, to recognize its gift of sugar when the People need it most. Many peoples of the world recognize a Tree as a symbol of peace and strength. With one mind we greet and thank the Tree life. —Now our minds are one.
We gather our minds together to send our greetings and thanks to all the beautiful animal life of the world, who walk about with us. They have many things to teach us people. We are grateful that they continue to share their lives with us and hope that it will always be so. Let us put our minds together as one and send our thanks to the Animals. —Now our minds are one.
Now we put our minds together and thank all the Birds who fly about us and greet the day with beautiful songs, and remind us to enjoy and appreciate life. The Eagle was chosen to be their leader and to watch over the world. To all the Birds we send our joyful greetings and thanks. —Now our minds are one.
We are all thankful for the powers we know as the Four Winds. We hear their voices in the moving air as they refresh us and purify the air we breathe. They help to bring the change of seasons. From the four directions they come, bringing us messages and giving us strength. With one mind we send our greetings and thanks to the Four Winds. —Now our minds are one.
Now we turn to the west where our grandfathers the Thunder Beings live. With lightening and thundering voices they bring with them the water that renews life. With one mind we send greetings and thanks to the Thunderers.
And, now we send greetings and thanks to our eldest brother the Sun, who is the source of all the fires of life. And, now we put our minds together and give thanks to our oldest Grandmother, the Moon, who lights the nighttime sky and moves the ocean tides. And, now we give thanks to the Stars, who are spread across the sky like jewelry and who guide us on our many ways. With our minds gathered as one, we send thanks to the Sun, and the Moon, and the Stars. —Now our minds are one.
We gather our minds to greet and thank the enlightened Teachers who have come to help throughout the ages. When we forget how to live in harmony, they remind us of the way we were instructed to live as people. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to these caring Teachers. —Now our minds are one.
We now turn our thoughts to the Creator, or Great Spirit, and send greetings and thanks for all the gifts of Creation. Everything we need to live a good life is here on Mother Earth. For all the love that is still around us, we gather our minds together as one and send our choicest words of greetings and thanks to the Creator.
—And, now our minds are one
At M’Chigeeng. Interesting, but mainly as a chance to chat with Algis. Good crowd enjoying a good hobnob along with the fine weather.
Also vast amounts of terrifying junk food.
Earlier in the day, a little sailing.
Photo by John
…and low temperatures. Drenching thunderstorm last evening, so all things still growing well watered.
Joint effort with Pinebox on fish (Purvis whitefish dredged and then cooked on our outdoor griddle) tacos, with local ground cherries and side-yard cilantro as part of the pico.
Earlier in the day, in fact very early, over to Prov. Bay to watch dredging of Mindemoya River, done to accommodate salmon schooling offshore.
Followed by breakfast with Therese. and Marc at the restaurant run by Russians.
When the power goes out across Manitoulin you get the kind of real dark few people ever experience. Dark the way it used to be. It took us a few minutes to close the books we were reading and get a few candles going, and then, before long it was time for bed. Hydro posted an anticipated restoration of midnight, but shortly after we had settled in the power came back on—and we felt disappointed. Real dark is actually rather nice.
How dark was it, you ask. Clearly, the answer is obvious—darker than the inside of a cow.
Strong wind, squalls, sun, a brief shower, now chilly—house all closed up and sweatshirts on.
A few leaves tinged with red and gold. Really? This soon?
If a picture…
Decent rain last night, but even more wind.
Below, various stretches of the “woods walk” Pax and I take daily, and that the grandkids took when they were here.
It makes a nice loop, the same route but always different.
In other news, big party here this evening in honor of the departing Lloyd’s.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Path
RUNNING along a bank, a parapet
That saves from the precipitous wood below
The level road, there is a path. It serves
Children for looking down the long smooth steep,
Between the legs of beech and yew, to where
A fallen tree checks the sight: while men and women
Content themselves with the road and what they see
Over the bank, and what the children tell.
The path, winding like silver, trickles on,
Bordered and even invaded by thinnest moss
That tries to cover roots and crumbling chalk
With gold, olive, and emerald, but in vain.
The children wear it. They have flattened the bank
On top, and silvered it between the moss
With the current of their feet, year after year.
But the road is houseless, and leads not to school.
To see a child is rare there, and the eye
Has but the road, the wood that overhangs
And underyawns it, and the path that looks
As if it led on to some legendary
Or fancied place where men have wished to go
And stay; till, sudden, it ends where the wood ends.