Shad Upon

About a month late, the shadflies have arrived, thick as flies, which is good because their presence indicates excellent water quality. J&ME drove through a swarm a few days ago and had to stop to scrape the windshield and headlights. The road by the marina has become greasy with squashed carcasses. And the seagulls, opportunists that they are, are here in countless numbers, feasting till they drop, and then settling on the beaches where they go through all phases of the digestsive process.

Shad flies, aka, fish flies, Mayflies (where would that be?), and ephemera. As dusk descends, they rise from the water like upside down rain, molting, the then airborne, doing the dance of love, knowing full well that in 24 hours they will be gull chow, road kill, or soon-to-be-hosed-off boat bling.

Is there a lesson here we could learn from? 

The coreopsis are in bloom, too.

Cardinal Flower

Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis), now in bloom all along the shore. The question is, how will it handle growing in 6 inches of water, and will it be able to propigate itself in such a wet envionment. 

Today a mix of sun and cloud, with afternoon thunderstorms passing to the north over the mainland but sending their reverberations all the way here, causing Pax to seek cover under a bed. 

We straightened water lines, moved lumber and various other objects, and even started working on getting the rain barrels operational.

Made a deluxe tortiere for dinner. 

Near Disaster

Yestarday evening a strong north-west wind was sending in a big swell. Before bed, I nervoiusly checked the Windrider. The boat seemed to be handling whatever was thrown at it quite well, working a bit on its rack, but otherwise fine. And I was able to convince myself that the wind would moderate and back to the west as it usually does. So, good night sweet boat, and flights of wavelets rock thee to thy rest.

At 1:15, however, I awoke to the roar of a wind that had veered to the north (and actually built in strength) and to a huge and pounding surf. 

What to do seemed to be the question. Going out into a malestrom in the inky black, and trying to get the boat off its rack, turned into the wind, and on course to the marina seemed a poor, if not lethal, option.  So I went with option two.

Option two consisted of taking one of my seldom used "Don't worry, be happy," sleeping pills, going back to bed, and hoping for the best.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Windrider is the sun.
Arise fair sun...and show me that the boat is still where it is supposed to be.

Coulds obscured the sky, however, and the Windrider was not in its wonted place. In fact, the rack was tipped on its side and the boat was about 10 yards downstream, bobbing in the waves, held a few feet off the rocks by the water-line and the little stern anchor I now  habitually attach.

Sue helped me heave the boat around into the wind. She held the pitching bow as I got the motor running and clambered aboard. She stepped back to give me room, with waves coming over her shoulders, and I was off on a fast and fantastic ride to the marina. 

So, this is now the third or fourth such escapade in my limited memory. But it will be the last.

For the rest of the day we turned our attention to more lubberly persuits:

De Fence

It's one thing to have a garden as an alturistic support of wildlife. It's another thing to have a garden with the expectation of some produce. This year, this so-called garden has been nothing but a predator feeding station. And I've never known anything that loved not only green tomatoes but also the top half of substantial tomato plants.

Hence the need for fencing. Admittedly, this year's garden is beyond redemption, but we still  might see a few onions, and maybe even a few tomatoes, possibly a few radishes. But a garden is a forward looking thing, and even now I'm anticipating bumper crops next year.

This is the semi-finished project. The last step, tomorrow, will be to drape bird netting over the central pole and down around the edges.

Then let the varmints try. 

(Top photo courtesy Mary Ellen.)

Showers?

Sue was halfway through her morning shower when I heard the dreaded words, "there's no water!" Sure enough, the ground fault receptacle in the pumphouse had become faulty, and that necessitated a trip to Mindemoya for a new (non-ground fault) receptacle.

Then, late this afternoon, just as I was about to take Pax for his run, the rumbles started, and we ended up having a good old fashioned wave of storms. Real duck drownders. What was once getting pretty dry is now pretty wet. 

J and ME for dinner of Burt Farm ribs and then some Sequence. Pax lying low. 

Sail Race

To Gore Bay this morning, to pick up a few things at Burt Farm, to pick up a whitefish filet or two, and to prod Norm into working on Heliotrope's water pump. While there we witnessed the start of leg two of the new Meldrum to Little Current yacht race that has replace the MacMAN. Appeared to be about 12 boats in two heats, and looked like fun.

Back home, odds and ends, and late afternoon a Windride, with the wind piping up, to everyone's surprise, past gale conditions. Nothing but fun on the 'Rider.  A day of brilliant sun.

Wild Life

Baby tree frog on kayak

Baby mergansers, maybe a baker's dozen?

And my favorite cottage lunch: powerfully aged Mennonite summer sausage, a Montreal style pickled egg, a cube of strong cheese, and some potent ginger beer. Flavorful!

And, as we were sitting on the deck prior to dinner, two great blue heron glided in and settled on either side of the pier, knowing full well that our new wetlands are brimming with tadpoles and frogs.

High Winds, High Water

The predicted norther eventually showed up, with earnestness, and, surprisingly, high water. The Susie Pea, finding herself with water under the keel, contemplated an extended voyage, and the kayaks went for a hobbyhorse ride. These conditions—high water and  high winds from the north—re-sculpt the beaches just as the ice does, grinding away intrusive vegetaion, shifting sands, exposing, and even moving substantial rocks. Walking back along the shore from our Sandy Beach run, Pax and I found it to be tough going—in some places I sank above the ankles is what is a good imitation of quicksand.

Rock and Roll hall of fame down at the marina, but all the boats (Heliotrope, Windrider, dingy) are doing fine. And, all the weak points in the Heliotrope mosquito-bugger defenses have been reinforced. That was today's project.

The wind is now backing to the west but not diminishing. Sitting in the Zen spot, looking at the near shore, I found it quite fun to watch the bigger waves come combing through the pier, sending up a spurt between each slat.  Let the good times roll.

Aeolus on Steroids

James and Eric must  have left from the boat before dawn, headed south to South Baymouth, and possibly on down from there. If they didn't, they have surely been blown back above the Arctic Circle by our southerly afternoon blast. The only sign of their stay on the boat was a lot of bloody mosquito mash on the bulkheads. (Screen was loose.) 

Fearing the worse, and anticipating a swing to a predicted big blow from the north, I sailed the Windrider (main reefed) upwind through the gale to the marina, where is is now safely, if temporarily, ensconced. Would never do that with any other boat.

Almost calm now, after a few rumbles of thunder and some spatters of rain (while I was dumping at the dump). But so far no big northerly blow.

Reading a fun science fiction book (it is hard to find good one when you have read pretty much all)—Ancillary Justice. 

(No photos) 

Day on the Water

Took professors James and Eric for a good long sail on Heliotrope, and later in the afternoon, Eric for a fast ride on the Windrider. Nice guys, these two, though obviously demented in wanting to ride bikes over long distances. (Thanks to John and Mary Ellen for babysitting Pax while we were out on the water.

After hors d'oeuvres on the lower deck and shiskebob back in FoamHome, and as light was fading from the sky, they saddled up and pedaled off to marina where they will once again sleep on the boat before depating before dawn for South Baymouth and the 9 a.m. ferry, and then, eventually, Niagara Falls, and perhaps New Youk city. Good luck is all I can say. (They really did appreciate getting off the bikes and onto boats and into water.)