White and Bright

Sunglasses vs snow blindness. Cold, still, and clear.

Glacier

Given the current political situation (which to me seems like a slow-motion coup d’etat) and the exalted status of its great leader, I am reminded of Shelley’s great poem:

Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Snow Job

Lots and heavy. Many neighbors helping each other as it tapered off late, but still a real workout. And, a real ice-wrecker.

Name That Tune

Will’s soccer game in the morning, followed by lunch in Shorewood. And this evening music trivia at Dem Party hq in Elkhorn.

Photo by Abby

Five teams, 80 questions. I got one. But thanks to Sue and Dave, our team came in 3rd.

Wilding

Excellent book by Isabella Tree. Got me thinking about lots of things.

Isabella and her partner decided to quit farming their extensive estate about 40 miles south of London, and then to rewild it. Added ancient breeds of cattle, horse, and pigs, and then let things go. Fascinating results.

In addition to other things, they encountered significant pushback from neighbors who were appalled by the sudden flush of “weeds” like Ragwort and thistle. Things didn’t look pretty (though eventually nature cleared things up to some degree). So what about here in Whitewater? We cut the grass, rake the leaves, trim the bushes—unlike the neighbor across the street. Last year we even hired a lawn service to deal with the proliferation of creeping charlie. Who’s right?

I have always believed that esthetics matter: the only good garden is a beautiful garden; a yard should look well kept; unkempt places are the result of laziness.

Am I wrong?

I do know that the yard here has half a dozen trees and dozens of shrubs that were not here originally, providing shade, shelter, and food for wildlife. And, while some of the autumn leaves are removed, others are mulched. All kitchen scraps, along with leaves and garden residue, are turned into compost. The yard service was a one-time thing.

Since I live in town, I’m willing to accept a compromise—wild is good, but it must look good, too.

But then, what about the Kagawong property?

Carpet Cleaning…

…so Pax and I lit out for the territories, including Haumerson pond along the Bark River in Fort.

We did help put everything back in place. and it is amazing how just having to move things around provides motivation to sort, clean, rearrange, and discard. Significant improvement.

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The question is not what you look at, but what you see.
—Henry David Thoreau

Where Sandhills Can Take You

So. new friend Tom (a fine artist specializing in horses) is interested in illustrating my sandhill crane story. He hasn’t done much in the way of birds, so asked me to search the web for representative crane shots to use as subjects or models. Encouraged by his wife, he also asked me to check with the people behind any of the photos chosen.

By Michael Williams

So I did. Some of the best photos I found were on a tumblr blog by a fellow named Michael Williams. I wrote to ask permission and he responded:
“Hi Jim. I would be delighted for your friend to use my sandhill crane photos as models for his illustrations. Since the actual photos won't be reproduced there is no need to credit me in any way. Though I will be grateful if you can send a copy of the book. What an honor!”

Since then we have become something like pen pals, and the photo above was shot this morning by him on his morning walk—a vermillion flycatcher. Piecing things together from his blog and correspondence I’m guessing this photo was shot right around Bisbee, Arizona.

Mike tells me that there are a present about 27,000 sandhills currently at Sulfur Springs Valley, which is not all that far from Bisbee.

A Nip From The North

No nonsense north wind cooling things down.

Library

But, in spite of which or because of which, the two iceboats (165 and 351) on the tandem trailer got moved from a hidey-hole in downtown Milwaukee to a storage unit in Oconomowoc where they are more readily available at a moment’s notice. Theoretically, that moment could be this weekend, although now I’ve heard snow has crept into the forecast. Back from that errand, Pax and I followed a winding route, upwind and down, to the library where we forestalled a fine. 

Rinse and Repeat

Pax got his first bath of the year, partly because he was stinky and partly because it was a sunny day with a temperature above freezing. (And now, after a brushing he looks fluffy.)

This being his first bath of the year makes me wonder how many baths in total can be expected for 2020. More than two, certainly. Less than ten, certainly (he has already missed January.) Of course the Manitoulin skunk and gunk possibility has to be factored in. (Anyone want to make a guess? Free bottle dog of shampoo to the winner.)

So, what to do when you are clean as a whistle and fluffy as a buttermilk pancake? Right. Bike run to the prairie, but actually avoid the prairie (because, in spite of the weather, it is still snow impacted), and, instead, tool around on the now clear sidewalks of Prairie Village.

And now, on to Iowa.

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.

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. 

Holding The Fort…

…for a while, while the parents break away for a night out.

Five kids for four hours = much fun but a significant energy expenditure.

Meltdown

Above freezing for hours today, removing some of the hazardous stretches along sidewalks. But now, after Friday fish and then table games with the neighbors, more snow. No worries, though—in the forties tomorrow.

Winter Blues

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

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.

Ice Checkers

Lake Geneva smooth as glass, but still liquid, except along the edges. Lunch at Chuck’s (pretending the iceboat was out front), and then a walk with Pax around the extraordinarily beautiful campus of George Williams College.

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.

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

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

The Office Is Closed…

…on Sunday morning. However…

…we did have World Famous Waffles, today hand-crafted by Ellie.

After a bright morning, a gray, damp, and chilly afternoon—good mainly for reading and basketball.

Pandemonium...

…of the good kind. All five Nies kids, with their dad, for fun and dinner.

Slush and Fog

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

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.

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.

Fun In Oconomowoc

Got to do things with each of the Five. “How To” booklet with Becca. Chat on the way to gymnastics with Maddie. Immigration survey with Ellie. Horseplay and other roughhousing with Ben and James. The boys are really talking now.

Fractals