…at Racine. Just for an outing, and some wind off the water.
Photo by Sue
Pax splash. Photo by Sue
Wind Point
Quick drive by Pugh’s Pierless Marina, which looked pretty much the same as it did 44 years ago, when Vixen was there. Then on to North Beach Park and Wind Point. Lunch at the park.
…along with Wisconsin sweet corn and tomatoes, making for a pleasant pandemic day.
According to what I’ve read, this was John Lewis’s favorite poem:
Invictus
William Ernest Henly
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
…a fine plant by any name. Lots and lots of it in the prairie.
Plan to harvest a few seeds in a few weeks. And, below, our “walk” in the woods. Thought we would enjoy a shady amble, but a recent hatch of bite-bugs got us scampering pretty good. Pax enjoyed it, more than we did.
And, in the aerial department:
Hiding from the heat (and humidity).
Devolved volunteer Black-eyed Susans. The original plantings were double flowered.
Luna moth under development.
…for a visit, and a little hedge trimming.
Shade, and nice cool mud. Who could ask for anything more?
Plum torte, carrot tart, and Gazpacho.
Off and on all day—thunder, drizzle, downpour.
Spaced out neighbor dinner this evening, but under a roof, on a big screened porch. Below, a quick prairie overview.
Windows open most of the day.
Early grocery shopping, haircut, farmers market, catfish on the grill. Such a busy day.
If you’re up and about, or even on cloud 9, drop in for a little social distancing.
Warming up and humidifying again, but bearable.
Here’s an interesting article by Karen Attiah, Gus’s daughter.
…bringing a breeze, and less humidity, and cooler temps. Windows open—and actually nice to be outside.
Air traffic controller—in training
Weather perfect for sitting in the shade.
On to September, or maybe January.
…but, although still humid, more bearable temperature.
Pax, instead of refusing, enjoyed walking again.
Here’s a one-minute overview of the prairie, currently entering its yellow phase.
Storm after storm, with heavy downpours. And, in the midst of it all, an hour and a half zoom chat with the Spalding’s (in Estes Park).
…to be a tomato plant. Or a corn plant, or a rutabaga, for that matter. Last night’s rain was followed, this morning, by a very heavy downpour (vertical stair rods) of at least a half hour’s duration. After our mini-drought, some flooding.
Then the rain tapered off and the clouds dissipated, more quickly than I would have liked, and the sun came out… and the cook-off commenced. Pax refused to walk more than half way up the block, for which I am thankful. While dogs don’t like what we’ve got here, vegetables seem to.
Six o’clock thunderstorm, replete with clouds, wind, rain, and a lower temp.
A walk in the shade with Pax, shady, yes, but still hot.
And when the rain came, we cooled our heels.
Change needed in physical and political climate.
…of high pressure. Cloudless, windless, and hot.
…in my memory. Planet baking, virus raging, racism thrashing, Americans locked out of the rest of the world, and a madman in the Whitehouse. Still…
…a holiday spaced-out patio picnic with the neighbors, featuring Green Egg brisket and Sue’s world-famous potato salad.
Seems like it. Sun and heat have been baking the land, so come dusk we will wield the hose.
Purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea) like the weather more than I do.
…about temps in the nineties.
It’s hard in the heat, in the Time of Covid, to get enough exercise, but we did wrestle with an overgrown (volunteer) redbud early this morning, and got it pruned back to to civilized status.