Shovel and Plow
Not much more than two inches, but snow all day, and roads pretty bad.
Not much more than two inches, but snow all day, and roads pretty bad.
…last night.
No warning of approaching storm. No diminishing of a storm moving away. Just five bright flashes spaced several minutes apart, each followed quickly by a loud detonation. At first I thought a transformer on a nearby pole had exploded. By morning about an inch of wet, heavy snow, mostly melted now.
…along the Lake Geneva shore. Strong east wind, but a good day to be outside.
…another big party, this time delicious ham dinner at the Nies estate in Merton. Lots of interesting presents.
…but the day got away.
What with post party action, a second batch of Dundee cakes (one of the previous batch was attacked by a dog), and getting gifts sorted and organized, the actual wrapping postponed until morning. That’s probably okay with Santo, too, considering the fog. Rudolph will be needed tonight.
More of Tony’s delicious kapusta tonight, although the after effects are distinctly distinguishable.
Twenty people: Sally, Glenn, Andy, Kristen, Louise, Sydney, Arthur, Abby, Tony, Katy, Will, Renee, Brian, Ellie, Maddie, Becca, Ben, James, Sue, and me; not to mention Buddy, Pip, and Lucy.
…a brown Christmas.
But preparations under way, nonetheless. Dundee cakes made and done. Basement mess left by workers picked up, house mostly spruced up, Covid tests passed. We will be ready for tomorrow’s party.
Not me—at least since high school. Never enough slack time, never enough patience.
But now, with my Santa workshopping completed and Sue still sewing, I brought out the old skipjack kit that has been lying in wait at least 20 years. (I think it might have been a present from brother John.) The glue was hard, but all the pieces seem to be present—so “heave ho, and up she rises.”
Actually, rather enjoying it. Model builders have a skillset I lack, such as pre-visualizing, applying the appropriate amount of glue, and clamping fragile little pieces—but I’m learning. Furthermore, the job requires micro-manipulation—holding and maneuvering itty bitty pieces in tight spaces, which has always given me the heebie jeebies.
But, so far, things seem to be working out, and there have been no deal breaking catastrophes; even when I glued the whole hull to the cardboard below it I was able to recover and reclaim.
Deep down I know I will hit a wall—some major component will break or be missing, or the whole thing will shatter into unrecoverable pieces, but nonetheless I will persevere, and I will exhibit the finished product—whatever it happens to be. The Chesapeake skipjack was a truly great boat, especially if you like oysters.
Down to nine hours of light, but tomorrow we turn. I’m always gladdened by the turn, and glad when the holidays are behind us, and I can look forward to spring. This year Heliotrope is going in the water!
At least, the ponds are iced
Close to 16 hours of daylight in Kagawong, in the summer.
…a native American tree, as opposed to its very similar cousin, the London Plane tree. (The University is doing lots of pruning right now.)
And below are the seed balls. Very strange fruit, something like inside out dandelions. The inner parts of the cluster are feathery, for wind dispersal, I believe.
The plan is to grow some this spring, along with the shagbark hickories.
Maddie’s and Becca’s Dance Recital.
And here is a video shot by Ellie.
…with Tom and Mary—holiday get together and book marketing meeting. Also—yard pickup after the gale, which yielded two wheelbarrows-full of dropped branches and other detritus, most of which ended up feeding a fine fire in the (chiminea) fireplace. (Almost got in a good stretch of alliteration.)
And, below, the stack I brought home for the library yesterday. With the short days this time of year, and the limited opportunities outside, I’m ripping through reading matter at a frightful pace, and I can’t keep buying on Kindle. Thank goodness for libraries.
BTW, I wonder what it would be like to have a name like Merlin Sheldrake. My dad had a friend named Aethelston Spillhouse. How cool/awful would it be to have a handle like that?
…although bits of Kansas might be here. Windswept is the word.
Power out for many hours at the Nies place in Merton. Trees and branches down everywhere. Finally tapering off at dusk. Birds have consumed two feeders-full.
…as well as the heat, the storms, the fires, the floods, and the drought. Sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit here in Wisconsin ten days before Christmas.
The Walworth chapter of The Citizen’s Climate Lobby is reading Kathrine Hayhoe’s book, Saving Us, the main point of which seems to be that if we talk nicely to climate change deniers we will be able to convince them that we really are facing a crisis.
Unfortunately, I don’t know any climate deniers, so I don’t have anyone to talk to. A vocal minority, financed by polluter money, are the ones pushing climate change denial, and these misguided or morally corrupt individuals are not going to be influenced by reasonable discussion.
A sizable majority of American citizens realize that we are in the midst of a climate catastrophe. They don’t need convincing, they just need encouragement.
My suggestions for things to do:
1. Vote climate. All candidates for public office should be thoroughly questioned on their climate position, and that position widely publicized, along with their subsequent action.
2. Spread the word on, and help neighbors get going on, the Homegrown National Park movement.
3. Encourage, spread the word on, and buy the products of regenerative agriculture. Join the “Kiss the Ground” movement.
4. Initiate/participate in neighborhood/community action/projects such as community solar.
5. Support environmental organizations such as: FLOW, Midwest Environmental Advocates, and The Nature Conservancy.
All the while, of course, working to reduce personal/family ecological footprint.
Post flood basement has received new drywall, and everything else besides carpet is minor. Unfortunately, not everything will be finished by Christmas. Fortunately, that won’t interfere with ping pong.
Ancient cottonwood, now slowly returning its components to where they came from
Squash from neighbor, on tonight’s menu, with seeds saved for planting in our garden come spring.
Ted Lasso update. While season one was fun, season two was awful. The arc of a sports story can only last so long, and then the scripts disintegrate.
Sixth grade Webster Middle School band, with Katy on clarinet.
Music to my ears.
…as a risky dinner experiment.
Lots of garbanzos, an onion, a bit of garlic, and some ground beef, along with a few chiles chipotles, lemon, and spices. Worth the risk? Sure as shootin’, which I realize is not a good way to put it. Anyway, very tasty, and worth repeating.
With a south wind melting the remnants of our little snow—a bike ride and a walk to the library (to return a few items), and then cocktails in the breezeway while the garbanzos were crisping on the hob.
…unlike up north, where the snow piled deep, or in Kentucky, where tornadoes went on a rampage.
The day mostly devoted to holiday crafting, including the wreath above which Sue transformed from a dull green ring to a festive yuletide welcome, using things like home grown cones.
Bedlam at the bird feeder all day.
After a dose of world famous waffles, Irene agreed to tickle the ivories, which gave me the chance to pretend I could play the baritone sax. My favorite Christmas song, ever since I heard Mel Torme sing it.
Also, check this out: Evergleam
…and pie—with Irene, who is here for a visit.