Another Fine Storm

Lots of everything—lightning, thunder, wind, and rain. Pax spent two hours in the basement, while I watched the swirling maelstrom.

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Otherwise, prepping for another visit up Flambeau way.
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Another ‘You Make The Call’

Which should be abolished?

☐ Seat belt when driving requirement
☐ Public venue indoor smoking prohibition
☐ Covid mask requirement in confined spaces during pandemic
☐ Law requiring cars to stop at red traffic lights
☐ Age requirement to buy liquor
☐ Fines for public urination
☐ All of the above
☐ None of the above

Blogging in the Rain…

…actually on the front porch, facing west, where I can hear and see all that’s coming, without getting wet.
Sitting under an overhang watching a storm is one of my preferred activities.

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Earlier in the day, although conditions were still heated, I got in a long ride. Sometimes when I get going on two wheels (with battery assist) I just never want to stop.

Sunny Saturday…

…and once again hot. One of us did a lot today—two cars cleaned, heirloom table sanded and stained, garden watered, etc. (Hint: it wasn’t me.)

Phlox (Phlox paniculata). Phlox means flame in ancient Greek.

Phlox (Phlox paniculata). Phlox means flame in ancient Greek.

Been reading this odd and oddly shaped book (which I think is super-octavo size, and this size for a reason that I should, but don’t, know). At first I wondered why I was reading it (especially at my age—Thoreau is a young man’s hero), but now I can’t stop.

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Crickets and Cicadas

It’s that time of year already. Just a few fireflies still rising in the dusk, and mosquitos now landing less frequently.
Days getting shorter, providing relief from what has been a hammering sun.

Setting up for neighbor dinner

Setting up for neighbor dinner

Weekly spaced-out neighbor semi get-together, with takeout from the Black Sheep, a little upscale from our usual fare.

Seventy-five Years…

…since Hiroshima.

Whitewater, not Hiroshima

Whitewater, not Hiroshima

Here’s a link to a WP article on John Hersey, and his book Hiroshima, which we used to sell in Brainard’s Bookstore. Hersey was an amazing person, and his book, A Bell For Adano, is one of my all time favorites.

I recommend the article and Bell. Hiroshima should be a college graduation requirement.

Long Sleeves?

Yes, and long pants too. Excitingly cloudy, cool, and breezy. Perfect for dog walks and a long bike ride. A hint of fall. Quite delightful to see tall Queen Anne’s lace and long stemmed primrose waving in the wind. Promise of change, and a move forward to a better time.

Local townie.

Local townie.

Bird’s eye of the homestead

Bird’s eye of the homestead

Lone fan of drone practice

Lone fan of drone practice

Resurrected Lilies…

…first ripe tomatoes, first batch of basil pesto (though with plenty of basil on hand could have been made previous), and first rain in a long time (brief, but intense evening downpour).

Lycoris squamigera

Lycoris squamigera

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Matching
Who Said What?

1. How many legs does a dog have if you call his tail a leg? Four. Saying that a tail is a leg doesn't make it a leg.
2. Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for.
3. I alone can fix it.
4. Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.
5. If you don’t do everything in your power to change things, then things will remain the same.


A. John Kennedy
B. John Lewis
C. Donald Trump
D. Abraham Lincoln
E. Barack Obama

Absolutely Still

Not a breath of air. It seems that hurricanes in the Gulf or Atlantic suck all the air out of Wisconsin.

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Appears to be a bumper crop of corn out in the fields.
Locally, the squash are out of control in the garden. Need a better system, maybe something like Abby’s terraces—or perhaps asking Vi if she would be willing to donate half her yard, thus letting the vines grow freely south.

Noisy village is extraordinarily quiet. Only sound for the past hour has been the neighbor, through the back yard and two doors down, practicing her violin.

Windows Open…

…last night and all day today.

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Hot in the sun, but a few clouds helping the trees throw shade, and humidity down some. Pax panting more than usual, nonetheless, and reluctant to walk mid-day, which makes me hope it’s just summer laziness and heat hatred (emotions I share) and not something more.

Here’s a fun video for anyone who likes music with their vegetables: CarrotClarinet.

Another Day Virus Free...

…or so we think. Testing and tracing in Wisconsin is still pathetic. But, our governor just issued an exec order requiring masks. This will be challenged by republicans, and end up in Wis. supreme court, but as of August 1, the court will have a new member, a Democrat. So, we see, voting matters. In fact, right now, our lives depend on it.

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Thanks, Obama, for the great speech today.

Save The Trees

Neighborhood Association action to prevent the city from felling four beautiful trees that have graced our street for a century—because of the sidewalk problems being caused. Looks like we are succeeding. And, in the process, I’ve come to know a relatively new neighbor, who happens to be our recently elected municipal judge.

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Delicious hand made (Sue made) from scratch pizza for dinner.

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Here’s a modern poem I like:


Getting Where We’re Going

John Brehm

Surfeit of distance and the wracked mind waiting, 
nipping at itself, snarling inwardly at strangers. 
If I had a car in this town I'd 
rig it up with a rear bumper horn, 
something to blast back at the jackasses 
who honk the second the light turns green. 
If you could gather up all the hornhonks 
of just one day in New York City, 
tie them together in a big brassy knot 
high above the city and honk 
them all at once it would shiver 
the skyscrapers to nothingness, as if 
they were made of sand, and usher 
in the Second Coming. Christ would descend 
from the sky wincing with his fingers 
in his ears and judge us all 
insane. Who'd want people like us 
up there yelling at each other, trashing 
the cloudy, angelic streets with our 
candywrappers and newspapers and coffeecups? 
Besides, we'd still be waiting for   
the next thing to happen in Heaven, 
the next violin concerto or cotton candy 
festival or breathtaking vista to open 
beneath our feet, and thinking this place 
isn't quite what it's cracked up to be, 
and why in hell does everybody 
want to get here? We'd still be 
waiting for someone else to come 
and make us happy, staring 
through whatever's in front of us, 
cursing the light that never seems to change.