The Dawn’s Awake

Sun at last, and warm temps to boot (though, as iceboaters, these we should not be wanting). Furthermore, Abby, Kate, and Will came by for a visit. Sledding was still possible. Ping-pong, of course, And then a college visit. Coffee, cookies, ice cream, etc. at the Union—after lots of walking with the prospective students.

IMG_5192.jpeg
IMG_5196.jpeg
IMG_5199.jpeg
Jumping Jehoshaphat

Jumping Jehoshaphat

Otto Leland Bohanan

The Dawn’s awake! 
   A flash of smoldering flame and fire
Ignites the East. Then, higher, higher, 
   O’er all the sky so gray, forlorn, 
The torch of gold is borne. 

Winter Blues

Well, not necessarily, but apart from lowering gray and crusty white there’s not much other color.

IMG_5180.jpg

I’m thinking about all those tulip bulbs planted last fall. And about the sweetgrass seeds stratifying in the fridge. Also looking through the Johnny’s, Gurney’s and Jung’s catalogs and thinking about dark red beets. Color would be nice.

Burning Through The Birdseed

Bought another 80 pounds today at Farm & Fleet. But 80 pounds is less than 100 pounds, which is what would have been needed (or more) if not for the new, high-efficiency, rapaciousness-resisting feeder.

IMG_5139.jpeg

Besides stoking the feeder I managed to finish framing Elaine’s watercolor of Heliotrope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dust of Snow
—Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Mushroom Bourguignon…

…on a day quand il est difficile de marcher.
Ice, snow, freeze, thaw—making for treacherous spots here and there along the route. And that means clanking around in creepers, though they are needed only occasionally. Pax doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like my slow pace. He doesn’t like our truncated routes, complaining with tug and frown when we don’t go where we are supposed to. And, he misses the bike runs to the prairie.

IMG_5137.jpeg

On the up side, we have mushroom Bourguignon for dinner. (Photos below.)

IMG_6876.jpeg
IMG_5166.jpeg

Slush and Fog

And now rain, with some kind of snow forecast to follow. So not so nice for outdoor action.

IMG_5140.jpeg

The DN class iceboat North American Regatta just wrapped up in Montana, and their ice was not all that much better than ours.

Adam Schiff’s closing statement tonight will be remembered as one of the great speeches in American history.

Coppice and Pollard

Reading the book Sprout Lands, by forester William Bryant Logan, who, while not a great writer, knows a lot about trees.

IMG_4612 copy.jpeg

Above are London planetrees (aka sycamores) in Geneva, Switzerland. These are very old trees, thriving for centuries, thanks to pollarding. In summer these trees sprout immense umbrellas of greenery, making this avenue along lac Léman a delightful shaded corridor.

So, if this is pollarding, what is coppicing? Pretty much the same thing, except that the pruning takes place at ground level rather than 6 or 8 feet up.

Coppicing and pollarding have been practiced all over the world for millennia, and are more or less responsible for human civilization. If you don’t believe me, read the book.

The Eve of St. Agnes

St. Agnes' Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was! 
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, 
And silent was the flock in woolly fold: 
Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told 
His rosary, and while his frosted breath, 
Like pious incense from a censer old, 
Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, 
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith…

IMG_5125.jpeg

One of the greatest poems ever penned. Full text here: Eve of St. Agnes.

I like to reread it once a year on this particular date.

Winter, Genuine and Authentic

Wet, heavy snow this morning, requiring the services of a snowblower. Whole neighborhood out, about 7:30, working on snow removal.

IMG_5100.jpeg

By afternoon, rapidly falling temps and a biting wind. While Pax and I got in one good walk, we settled for the back yard after that. And, to ward off cabin fever, we watched an Illinois basketball game, first of the year. Oddly enough, Illinois is somewhat back, ranked this week, for the first time in years, in the top 25, and number 3 in the Big Ten.

Here Comes The Snow…

…and there goes the ice, although a few of the bigger lakes remain open.

Adjustments.jpeg

Before the snow, a few hours playing with Ben and James, as well as Ellie, who was home recuperating from a bout of flu. Ellie and I played Otrio, which is fun (if you don’t mind losing to young people), and then did math homework, which is just about as much fun as anything else.

Black Soldier Flies…

…are in the news. In fact a recent post on the newsgroup Resilient Manitoulin has them for sale at a price of $10/100, or ten cents apiece (for the grubs, of course, which are otherwise known as maggots).

IMG_5091.jpeg

It’s probably obvious at this point that blog topics are in short supply at the moment. Nonetheless, black soldier flies are interesting. They have immense potential. They reproduce rapidly, eat garbage and compost, and produce prodigious amounts of high quality protein. (They may already be part of our diet —disguised as protein shakes and the like.)

But I did not come here to talk about flies. In the photo above, the stripes are lines of dried saline solution, which is applied to sidewalks all around campus in advance of adverse weather. Nowadays saline stripes are a fairly reliable predictor of coming attractions, up there with the barometer. Sharp cold last night, today, and tonight. Ice is being made, but, of course, the snow will soon be coming.

It’s Debatable…

…but torn between watching the debate and watching an episode of Mrs. Maisel, season three.

IMG_5078.jpeg

I don’t want to watch Bernie bellow, Biden bumble, or Warren whine. (Come on Amy, come on Pete.)

Pax and I tanked up at the flowing well and then walked a bit of Kettle Moraine, where the temperature was above freezing and all the iced-up trees were dripping off their loads.