Late Bloomer

Such an odd plant is Witch Hazel, blooming as it does in autumn, and after frost. Somehow, these flowers get pollinated (by wind? by lady bugs or boxelder bugs who seem to swarm in the fall?) The genus name means "together with fruit," because this year's flowers are on the plant along with the results of last year's flowers—in our particular case a few knobby little things that look like tiny, flat acorns. These knobby little things are capsules that split explosively about 8 months after flowering, ejecting the seeds with sufficient force to fly for distances of up to 33 fteet. So far this season we have received no shrapnel wounds although we sit out on the back patio near the plant most evenings. Furthermore, we have heard no explosions (although living in a village as noisy as Noisy Village what would you expect?)

And here is what happens when you don't mow your grass:

Two old railroad rails have been abandoned here (it's what used to be a siding I suspect), and a mowing tractor has never been able to get between them). The result: a nacent forest. Nature abhors a vacuum. Mow early and mow often.

Cold Front

The front passed through in the early morning hours, with a spatter of rain, and then a lot of wind combined with falling temperatures. Riding my bike to get a haircut, uphill and into the wind, I was not sure I would make it on time, if ever.

The bulk of the downed oak leaves have been consolidated and will be donated to the recycling center. Everything else that comes down between now and snowfall will be mulched and fed to the garden.

Pax and I went to Whitewater Lake for a bit of a walk, and then to the flowing well to reload on spring water. Coffee is so much better when there is not the slightest hint of chlorine. This time we got 9 gallons, which when computed out equals 144 cups, or enough to last well into next week.

Hotsy Totsy

Hot. 80 degrees, more or less. A very summery Indian summer kind of day. Raking leaves was sweat work, as was mowing lawn. But the glass is low and dropping, so change is on the way.

Here is the Oconomowoc Halloween update:

Who is that masked chicken?

And, more Halloween yet to come, here in Whitewater, where Halloween happens on Halloween. (Though it might be a more typical Halloween—windy, cold, and raining.)

Mount Horeb

Properly pruned apple trees.

And the prairie / woodland interface at Holy Wisdom.

Over to Mount Horeb (a beautiful little town) for some lively dog walking along a ravine in the driftless area, a little bit of shopping at the Duluth Trading Company store, and lunch with Nik at the Grumpy Troll. Then, on the way back, another long dog romp at Holy Wisdom, where we came across one woman in deep comtemplation, and a couple of bird watchers, but otherwise had the place to ourselves. Holy moly. Happy dogs.

Holy Jack-O'Lantern, Batman

In spite of illness, the Nies girls got to dress up and step out—Elsa, Anna, and the Boulder. (Notice how the Boulder is capable of levitating.)

(Halloween returns have not yet come in from the Janowiec side of things, and will be posted separately.)

Here in Whitewater it was homecoming, replete with crowds and noise. We decided to get out of town and go for a hike at Bald Knob (part of the Kettle Moraine State Forest) , but when we got there we found the parking lot full, which proves two things:  1) beautiful fall days in the Kettle Moraine bring people out, and 2) not everyone goes to football games. (Of course UWW won as it always does.)

So, instead, we went for a 45 minute walk in the UW Whitewater praire and woodland, where we didn't meet a soul apart from local woodland residents and Pax had a wonderful romp. Of course, the sense of walking in the wilderness was diminsined somewhat by the sound of halftime festivities blasting over the stadium's lound speakers less than a mile away. 

After the walk it was beets, as one might imagine. The diminished Whitewater garden production was supplemented by a peck or two from Ab's farmer friend, but we still ended up with just 7 quarts and 5 pints, which is down somewhat from our typical annual production.  Blame it on these goofy weeds.

So, after beets and before dinner we were sitting out on the back patio hoping for a little peace and quiet when what shows up but a robin. A highly vocal robin, sitting in the balsam and letting all hell break loose. This guy was loud, using every possible robin vocaliztion—almost painful to our ears. After about 15 minutes of this we heard some sort of answering robin call far off to our south. For a while it seemed to be coming closer, and our vocalist redoubled his efforts. But then the answering call seemed to get lost and wander away. 

By now we were rooting for the loudmouth and were sad to see his mighty efforts come for naught.  But as we were about to go inside we noticed what looked like a robin in Vi's big maple, and that's when the music stopped.

Obstacle Course

To Victoria Lane over the mid-day to help out a bit with three sick kids—croup and stuff like that. Ribs went on the Big Green Egg about 8 a.m., before the trip to Oconomowoc, but looked to be perfect when we got home at 3:30 (the grill was set as low as it will go). Definitely not burnt, so looking forward to the taste test.

The late afternoon turned out to be almost too perfect—sunny, warm, and calm. Sometimes on our ride/run to the prairie Pax and I encounter no one. Today it was three joggers, three bicyclists, two hound dogs, a couple strolling hand-in-hand, and a wee little lady moving slow. We actually had to detour around her twice, both coming and going. There is a lot to be said for foul weather.

Costumer

Mimi set up shop in the basement, with needle and thread, and eventually emerged with these—two Elsa's and an Anna. (Becca is trick-or-treating as a boulder, and Will and his dad are matching Supermen.) Let's hope October 31st is warmish, or these girls will be Frozen. (Abby, of course, will be a chicken, perhaps a Super Chicken. Bri and Renee are keeping their costume designs close to the vest, but when the secret leaks out it will be posted here.) 

Will and I took off for a few hours on an adventure this fore noon, and it is fun to see how two of us can have a running conversation for hours at a time. He can be talkative.

At one place on our ramble the strong south wind was causing a blizzard of maple leaves, which we tried to catch. One hit me in the face and stuck to my glasses,. Will thought that was pretty funny.

Hard Frost...

...followed by Indian Summer. All across town this morning maple leaves were raining down (with a quiet clatter) in the still, cold air. By afternoon it was summery—clear sky, bright sun, and warm. The only thing missing—smoke from burning leaves, perhaps one of the most nostalgic of fragrances.

Maple leaves are coming down.

But willow leaves are hanging on.

And the serviceberry, and Vi's flowering crab, have completed their terms of service. Vi's crab has been swarmed by fauna this past week and is now stripped bare. (There must be something especially tasty or nutritious in this fruit since many other crabs around town remain untouched.) And the silver lances of the budding Amalancher have now become fire-tinged foliage, about to drop. Good job, everybody.

An October Day

Roses (next door at Kathy's) continue to bloom, late in the season.

And the oaks continue to gyre and gimble in the wabe.

A cool, gray day with a chilly north wind. A trip to the dentist put a dent in even that. But later Pax and I got to take a good walk, Sue came very close to finishing this year's costumes, and the front yard, full of birch leaves, got raked. So, not a total loss.

........................ 

At my age things do not occur; they recur. 

Easy Street

Jack Frost paints hosta.

North Esterly Avenue, from Main Street to Starin Park, has 18 houses on each side, for a total of 32, or if you like math, 36. Of these, nine have Mary Burke for governor signs on the front lawn, and that makes it Burke-9 and Walker-0. (More math.) I always wanted to live in a neighborhood that kind of jibed with my political sensibilities. Of course we had no idea of the street's political leanings when we moved here. So what is it? Providence? Fate? Luck? Intuition?

..............................

If we do not change our direction, we are likely to end up where we are going. 

     —Chinese proverb

History teaches us that men and nations behave wisely once they have exhausted all other alternatives. 

     —Abba Eban