And Down They Come

After a night of hard frost, many trees, though not all, let their leaves drop by means of batch processing.

Letting Loose

For three wild days they clung to twig and branch
As the November gale ripped limbs from trunks
And toppled ancient boles.

Then morning broke, clear, and calm, and cold,
And one by one, then many at a time,
The golden leaves let loose, and rattled to the forest floor.

It might have been the frost that bid them go,
Or, it might have been some rhythm eons old.
—JBN

Boo

Chilly trick or treating, and first frost of the season expected tonight. About 80 tricksters, and most of the candy gone (which is a good thing).

Harvested the last of the tomatoes. Maybe some will ripen; the others might be fried. Hate to waste them.

Also finished the first sanding of the kayak. The boat has now been moved to the basement for epoxy and varnish.

Rainy Afternoon…

…greatly improved by home-grown squash soup with smashburgers, plus a little time spent getting reacquainted with the Aerophone (been a long time since I last practiced, and the fingers forget).

In preparation for a Tamia and Tig presentation Monday at the Senior Center and Tuesday at the Library I’ve been going through some old files. Here’s one I might use as a handout: Refuge and Outlook

Terrifying...

… high speed ride on ATVs (one piloted by Bri, the other by Renee) on a narrow, steep, twisty, puddle-pocked and boulder strewn trail in the Harrison Hills of northern Wisconsin, surrounding the Nies cottage. It was cold, but the kids—even the little ones, and the dog—seemed to love it… and everyone survived. Tel père (et mère) tel fils (et filles).

The Rain Held Off...

…until the fun was done.

To Boulder Junction for lunch, where, alas, we found the recommended place would not be opening until 3. Not to be distracted, we chose the Boulder Beer Bar—and the choice was fortuitous…great Bloody Mary and excellent pulled pork, along with the full “up-north” Wisconsin ambiance.

On the way back, on County M, we diverted to a Northern Highland State Forest campground, and then drove a few miles on a tunnel of trees—along the east side of Trout Lake.

Well, That Was A Flop

The Whitewater Chamber of Commerce and its Economic Development Authority came up with the idea of a “Story Telling” weekend to promote the town. Various activities, such as open mic at the bandshell for people who like to talk. And things like that.

One component was intended to feature local authors—so, in a closed-off alley downtown, local authors were invited set up tables featuring their wares, and, at scheduled times, to read selections of their work. Being what some might loosely consider an “author” I agreed to participate (although pretty sure I should have been far, far away, perhaps picking up hickory nuts.)

Here’s my table. (Thanks to Sue for helping me set it up.)

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Needless to say, on this chilly and very windy day, the narrow alley became a wind tunnel, and good parts of the 5 other “author’s” tables shredded and blew “from far and eve and morning, and yon twelve winded sky.”

For the three hours I was in attendance, the entire venue had a total of 3 bonafide customers, all of whom bought my books. No one else made a sale. Nonetheless, 3 of the other “authors” went up to the mic and read, although their words blew beyond comprehension before anyone in the non-existent crowd heard even a smattering of them. I caught snatches…of a monster rising out a a bay in Japan, of something intended to be poetry about something I couldn’t decipher, and then a list of a watercolor painter’s favorite colors—pretty sure red was at the top of the list.

Ah, well. Good practice, eh?

Nuts on the Noggin

I had despaired of finding hickory nuts this fall since we got back from Manitoulin long after the squirrels got into the trees. But, today, on our walk in the prairie, we passed under the majestic hickory I have probably showed off here before, only to hear thwaps and whallops of something falling from the sky whenever wind shook the tree limbs.

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Although the squirrels (and weevils) had been busy, as evidenced by all the shrapnel and drilled nuts lying on the sidewalk, when we went off the path and into the goldenrod we were able to collect a good number of what might be viable seeds, especially since some of them fell as we were gathering.

The experience of standing under hickory rain made me remember the hickory tree at the lake end of the sidewalk, by Wolf’s, in Crystal Lake. I’m almost certain I remember listening to nut drop under that tree, and I am certain we harvested the nuts and ate them.