Dark, drippy, misty, moist. Temperature just above freezing, though the driveway required creepers this morning. On the up side—it could have been snow, which would have diminished the chance of further iceboating in the near future.
On this fine Wisconsin farm the laundry goes out no matter how dismal the meterological conditions.
Great day on the ice for kids and dogs. Lots of people got to do lots of sailing. At one time, down at the far end of LaBelle where the lake is wider, I caught a good breeze that kicked me up to an exceptionally high rate of speed. "Oh, this is fast," I said. But, as we know, the faster an iceboat goes, the more wind it makes, and that combined with a bit more of the actual stuff kicked me up to the next orbital level. "Oh, this is really fast," I said. And then it happened again. And, it was at this point that I realized human beings were not designed to travel at such extraordinary speeds.
Now, when the younger boaters were aboard and the dads were driving, the boat was held down to velocities more compatible with continued existence.
Perfect black ice and just the right wind, and, when hiking up (which we are not supposed to do), it was possibe to see the bottom of the lake flashng ever so quickly by.
Over to Madison for lunch with Nik at the store, then to Oconomowoc to meet Buddy and to sharpen iceboat runners, then back to Whitewater for some Chinese and an episode of Longmier.
A chill mist in the morning air. Bri reports that boats were sailing on Lake Labelle this afternoon, in beautiful sunshire and with a nice breeze. Planning on the same tomorow, and maybe all 5 grandkids can get in a ride.
It's hard to get a word in edgewise when you have dinner with two professors and their wives, but still and all it was a lively and fun conversation with people who are deeply involved in and worried about the policial future of the state and the country. The Hartwicks invited us to their house along with the Compases, James and Eric being the two guys who stayed with us last summer on their bike-ride from Whitewater to New York.
While we did not come up with any definitive solutions to all our problems, James gave us a take-home copy of Blue Jeans in High Places by Wisconsin activist Mike McCabe (which includes a dedication to Lori Compas (who ran for state senate two years ago)). James says it offers hopeful ideas about the way forward.
Chilly night last night and below freezing all day today, so I anticipate iceboating this weekend, in spite of a forecast warming trend. That would be early, although I have dim memory of ice and Thanksgiving. Usually, the first great ice is on Christmas day and the last great ice is on Boxing day.
And, it being a cool and cloudy day with little wind and no precip, I rode my bike to Robin's Nest (where I get my occasional hair cut), cutting across campus and weaving among students intent on getting to or coming from class, which made me remember, mostly fondly, when I did that. Oddly enough, as I was nearing my destination I came up behind Bob, the neighbor across the street and two doors down, (a somewhat reclusive retired professor), and I asked him, as we pedaled, if he was riding for recreation or destination. He replied that he never rides for recreation. Then, as I was turning into Robins Next I saw him chain his bike to a lampost in front of Subway. That made me wonder if there might be a clansdestine underground retired revolutionaries luncheon group, or some such, although Bob hardly seems an anarchist. Next time I see him head out on his bike, I'm sticking with him.
...once again.
If you are doing a daily blog, and you want it to be at least moderately interesting, then you have to go interesting places and do interesting stuff. Today the most interesting thing was going to Janesville, and Janesville is probably not the most interesting place in the world (although my opnion of the town has improved as I've come to know it). We did get new "allergen" furnace filters and a new humidifier, and we are both feeling much better (although the new purchases have just now been installed and cannot possibly have had any impact). (As a side note, the T'giving flu count is now up to 7.)
The squirrels have finally noticed what to them might seem low hanging fruit. So far, however, none has breeched the defences, and I am enoying watching the failure of their clever strategems. This guy, below, got a few nibbles before experiencig a humiliating pratfall. (Note: I like squirrels—whenever they are not in the back yard trying to steal bird food; after all they give Pax a lot of exercise exercising his instincts.)
Perfectly fine day with, for a short time, the needle just touching the freezing mark.
Like many, we are sturuggling to be all better, and looking forward to that time.
Conditions have moderated to what can only be considered pleasant winter weather, and Pax and I got in two long walks. But even with the temperature improvement ice boats are coming out of storage; Number 165 scheduled to be extreacted from Roger's barn Thursday afternoon. There could well be sailing this weekend. (Assuming anyone is well enough.)
Through reddit I came across the following video of extreme craftsmanship, possibly an inspiration to all of us who try to make nice things, in whatever medium:
When it's this cold the creatures outside need fuel to keep the home fires burning, and the back patio, with its bird feeders, was a busy place today.
Showing up were sparrows of several varieties, house finches, juncos, chickadees, nuthatches abd doves, along with a downy woodpecker, a red-breasted woodpecker, a cardinal, and a jay,
And, of course, the squirrels, although none has yet attempted to climb the pole or to make a long leap from the housetop. Maybe this year's cohort is more sensible, or maybe it's not yet cold enough to provide sufficient motivation.
Finished Nature's God: The Heretical Origins of the American Republic. Heavy going in spots, heavier than I thought, but I blundered on. Out of the 500 pages between covers 100 are footnotes (in small type). I can't imagine sitting down to a task like that.
And here, my final quote:
To many people today it seems distastefully condescending or elitist to suggest that there is something flawed in the common consciousness of things, something that induces people to fight for their own destruction.
Yet the common man, stumbling through the distorted landscape of human passions, is prone to believe that piety means attacking those who believe differently, that the law is nothing more than a hindrance to personal satisfaction, and that virtue and happiness are necessarily opposed. How can such unreasonable and rebarbative individuals be included in a project to seek their own self-realization and that of their fellows in a political order that is organized around the pursuit of understanding?
Some days are more interesting than others.
Still above freezing on our morning ramble, and with the recent melt much was revealed; Pax turned the outing into a breakfast walk, finding tasty morsels all over the park. Though I try to discourage such scavenging I usually arrive too late to do any good. Then, our afternoon outing uncharacteristically brought us back to the park, and Pax unerringly retraced his morning steps, but he found little the second time around.
By noon the thermometer had begun a long slide, one that is forecast to bottom out in single digits on Tuesday. The refreeze after the pretty-good melt makes for tricky footing, and it becomes imperative to go where you are watching.
And below is a shot taken before the recent thaw, illustrating, I think, that things have been slightly out of order...
as have the human occupants of this house.
Sue is down and out with the flu (another Thanksgiving casualty, with more sure to come) so Pax and I drove Aunt Janet back to Manitowoc, and a brave soul AJ is, running the gauntlet of assorted ailments (such as my endless cold). It should be noted that Aunt Janet has a great many stories to tell, and not all of them have plots with happy endings. One grim tale, told on the way from Manitowoc to Whitewater lasted from Milwaukee until the garage door came down at 275 N. Esterly. AJ should have her own serial podcast—it would be a smash hit.
On the way back home this afternoon Pax and I swung by the Manitowoc harbor for a look and a stretch, and although the sun was out and the temperature in the upper 40's, the remnants of all the recent cold were still evident.
...and the white splash in the background is a wave breaking on the outer wall.
Meanwhile, the inner harbor was clear of boats escept for a privately owned steel trawler of about 50 feet from Oslo.
And, back in Whitewater, the evidence suggests that the squirrel-proof bird feeder has survived its first day without depredation.
