Noticeably more, morning and evening. Over an hour more.
Today a walk at the Meyer Nature Preserve, south of Eagle. Hundreds of acres of prairie and oak savanna.
The lane pictured below is not drivable for the public, but it is a nice walk, and a mile down it is an old log cabin (also pictured further below), and the headwaters of the Mukwonago River (not pictured).
To hang out, lube a bike chain, play an elaborate board game designed by Katy and Will, and have a little Chinese takeout.
The Skipjack is ready to sail.
The Chesapeake Skipjack model is complete, at least as complete as it will ever be. Countless hours, plenty of frustration, but lots of fun.
Sometime after Christmas Sue straightened up the basement and came across a box that had been kicking around various basements for more than thirty years. The box, from Midwest Products in Hobart, Indiana, had been opened, but close inspection suggested that, although the supplied glue had long solidified, all the various bits and pieces of a model of a Chesapeake Skipjack were present and intact.
After some internal debate I decided it was now or never; I had the time, the weather was suggesting indoor activities, and Sue had cleared all her sewing stuff off the dining room table. The agreement I made with myself was that I would give it a try and continue until major structural failure, or until things got so bolloxed up that continued work would be pointless. (N.B. the last time I built a model was probably in high school when I slapped together a plastic airplane.)
So, I set up a job board on the dining room table (over the usual cushioned pad, of course). There, the project was visible and enticing. (If I had set up on the workbench in the basement we’d be talking about something else besides skipjacks.) And I went to work—ten minutes here, fifteen minutes there, sometimes even applying a few drops of glue late in the evening after watching an episode of something (such as The Detectorists, which I highly recemmend.)
It was a challenge. Building a model like this requires an “infinite capacity for taking pains,” and a willingness to have your fingers stuck together. Any model builder, in this case me, (and this model required quite a bit of fabrication) really needs to solve a great many intractable problems and to invent a great variety of unique tools (mostly clamps, such as rubber bands). But, that’s the fun of it.
This skipjack model required 365 discreet operations. But, of course, when those operations are done improperly and then have to be undone and redone, that number increases substantially. But then again, fixing messes is part of the fun, is it not?
The one obstacle I had most difficulty with was the overall tininess. Big, clunky fingers have trouble with the minutiae—and can do a lot of damage, especially when they jerk back from some inadvertent disaster. I could never have finished without the help of more nimble fingers and more acute eyesight.
Would I do it again? Maybe, next year. Meanwhile, let’s go oystering,
Switch from model boats to bluebird houses.
Fellow Urban Forestry Commission member, Bill, actually has a greater interest in birds than in trees, especially purple martins and bluebirds. He came up with the idea of selling bluebird nest boxes at our First Annual Tree Sale, coming up in April, as a fund raiser. So, today, he and I got to work on 8 boxes.
Each box consists of 7 pieces, and today we got them all cut and drilled, and ready for assembly tomorrow.
It was just as in my little story, “To Build A Birdhouse.” Bill even brought kringle.
…and it feels like it. Back to cold, although the Woodstock marmot did not feel the caress of sunshine.
Thought I was going to finish the Skipjack model today but underestimated the difficulty of the chainplates, deadeyes, and shrouds. Even with Sue’s steady hands, keen eye, and sewing prowess, only one of four sets got finished, despite the fact that swear words were abundant.
Finish line in sight, however, not that far over the horizon.
Always good to keep in touch with longtime friends, so lunch with them on the day before Groundhog Day in the town where Groundhog Day is an annual celebration.
And, while together, we work on solutions to problems like the separation of church and state, voter stupidity, and anti-vax-and-mask insanity.
Furthermore, today marks the beginning of February, which is good because February is a good month, primarily because of its brevity.
The feature of certain trees to hold on to their leaves beyond fall, through winter, and into spring.
As in this young swamp white oak (Quercus bicolor). Many oaks are marcescent, as is one of my other favorite trees, the American beech (Fagus grandifolia). The rustling of marcescent trees makes a cold winter’s wind rather more enjoyable.
…on Lake Geneva. (Or anywhere else, as far as I know.)
But we did have a nice walk along the Fontana (Buena Vista area) shoreline.
The newly opened 3rd St Market Hall. Great variety of unique food and drink. Shuffleboard, bags, mini golf, selfie parlor—all kinds of fun things to see and do, and taste and savor. And very busy after just two weeks partially open. Congrats Janowiecs for this unique urban renewal project.
…and Sequence.
…doing what?
A little Arboretum stuff, and then, whenever I walk by, a good ten or fifteen minutes dropped on the Skipjack model. I continue to follow my standard procedure—make a big mistake and then figure out how to fix it—which does consume the minutes. (Still fun.)
When the winter chrysanthemums go,
There’s nothing to write about
But radishes.
—Bashō
In fact seventeen below zero, which feels feels a little cold.
Apart from a walk around the block, I avoided the great outdoors, dinking around here and there on odds and ends and bits of this and that, while Sue helped out with basement remediation in Cedarburg. Seems to be a plague of basement remediation going around these days.
…apart from grocery shopping.
The Snowman
Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
Had 4-wheel drive engaged on my way to this evening’s Urban Forestry Commission meeting. The streets have not been swept totally clean since last night’s snow, and the low temps are keeping the snow cover firmly, and squeakily, in place. It was even colder when I came out of the meting than it was when I went in—some meetings, enjoyable as they may be, can run unnecessarily long.
Earlier in the day the bedroom bookshelf project came to completion. Thanks to the remediation company for the material.
…and enough to require shoveling, or snow blowing. As is traditional in this neighborhood, nearly all the nearby neighbors out before nine, moving snow and hobnobbing.
Refilled long before anyone got hungry.
In other news, my pin vise arrived in the mail (on Sunday!?) But glad to get it nonetheless, since I can now drill the required one thirty-second inch holes in the mast, boom, and bowsprit of the Skipjack model, and can thus continue fabricating this lovely soft water craft.
…perhaps? Out on Rice Lake (Whitewater Lake) where we walked this afternoon.
Warmer, but it still feels cold.
Noon rally at the clock for an end to gerrymandering. Similar gatherings all around the state. Nice turnout (more than in the photo) and nice short speeches. Cold and windy.
Even colder and windier when later in the afternoon we met Bri at Pewaukee to remove the iceboats from the ice. The area around the ramp still mostly open water, in spite of the low temps, so we had to carry the boats off and then finagle the trailer around a narrow ice shelf all the while working to keep it from sliding sideways into the deep. A bit of work, but otherwise a piece of (ice cream) cake.
…because single digits outside are not very appealing. It’s so cold outside, in fact, that compost won’t.
Good day to turn from model building to bookshelf manufacturing. The remediation folks left behind several beautiful pine boards, and since I have several unsightly book piles in the bedroom, the project seemed to suggest itself. The case has to fit over a vent, hence the holes. Of course, I blew it on the blind dadoes. The top shelf still needs its edges routed.
…seed catalogs. Hmmmn…what to grow this year?
And…a couple of mysteries today: The upper section of Katy’s clarinet seems to have been replaced by an imposter. Who done it? And…in spite of very cold temperatures a big puddle of water was discovered in front the the ramp on Pewaukee, making the planned removal of the boats problematic. (Yesterday’s big south wind and warmer temps caused a big downward heave right at the ramp, and that, of course, filled with liquid.
Bri and I surveilled it this aft, and, knowing that every problem wants to be solved, and that the the boats are safe, decided to let Mother Nature take care of it. It’s cold and getting colder, and the ramp will almost certainly repair itself.
Boat and trailer de-bird-pooped, cleaned up, checked over; tool bag updated; trailer tires topped up. Now snuggled into Vi’s side yard (very kind of Vi to accommodate). I’m hoping for a chance to show off this ancient, classic beauty as she swoops across perfect ice on a perfect wind on a perfectly warm and perfectly sunny day.
Otherwise, made a little more progress on the skipjack model. I continue to plug away, and, so far, although many mistakes, no catastrophic, project-ending failures.