Printemps

More rain last night, not long in duration but robust in intensity. All traces of winter washed away. Everything lifting skyward and greening up. I therefore declare today, Friday the 13th, the official first day of spring on Manitouilin Island. 

Rowdy west wind all day, but mostly skipping over us here in the lee of the bluff. Chilly, but warm. The water in the bay pushed up high.

This morning, diadems. Rain drops caught in cedar twigs glinting in the morning sun.

The area around here is woodpecker heaven (and more on that later). Today, a very self-assured hairy woodpecker working the trees down by the zen spot. (I think it was a hairy.)

Rain

Not a lot, but perhaps enough to green the grass and get the peas to sprout.  

We have, what I am quite sure, is a winter wren setting up housekeeping somewhere between here and Tyson's—and what lungs this little fellow has!

In the ad nauseam department—more paint and trim.  (Note: it is important to distinguish between the "ad nauseam" department and the "department of redundancy department.")

Rain is also the title of the book I am currently reading (by Cynthia Barnett). Very interesting. Great research, very erudite.

Paint and Trim

A workday.  

Sue actually did most of the painting (I just helped on some high spots). The green is going. And while Sue painted, I worked on trim for the upper bath.

Thanks to "clever" architecture the upper bath room is one of many angles, and that means all kinds of bevel cuts, and I get confused. Too many trips up and down the ladder. But practice makes perfect, and the art of measuring slowly comes back.

Another beautiful day. Cloudless and warm. First use this year of the outdoor shower. (But we need rain!)

Large Objects

Another brilliant but very dry day.  

On the morning walk, nothing but boulders and birdsong. Boulders contribute to a luxurious quiet, and the birds give it spice. One bird song is starting to aggravate me because I know it but can't identify it—"chi-chi-chi-chu-chi."

And this object showed up in the Pinebox driveway today, in advance of installation, presumably. It is a peculiar looking boulder, but I'm sure it serves some function.

Chilly South Wind...

...but bright and sunny, and perfect for painting.  

Also good for chainsawing. (Time to clean up the poplars dropped last year by the Orangutans.)

Sixty-plus battens have been primed. Everyone is hoping (and expecting) that sixty-plus battens will be more than enough to finish off the one remaining bedroom and the porch. Everyone is getting tired of dealing with battens.

But, really, how can anyone ever get tired of chainsawing?

We had tacos for dinner because we love Hispanics.  

Nothing Like a Woodstove

Cold this morning.  A fire in the stove required before certain parties were willing to toss back the blankets—but then again, it was Mother's Day. On our dog-walk to Gaiser's, a few drops of icy rain.

By afternoon—the sun, and more than enough warmth for heavy work—perfect day, in fact, for chainsawing.

Powerless

Highly motivated to get up early—hydro off at 7, and how does one start a day without coffee?

Ontario's Hydro One is held in the highest contempt by everyone in the province, but it is the only choice. Today was a scheduled outage (and there is another coming up later in the month). I don't think it would be far off to say that there are at least four scheduled outages every year, and at least as many unscheduled ones. And this on top of extraordinarily high rates and execrable customer service. Furthermore, we cottagers have the privilege of paying for electricity in the off-season even when we are not even here and don't use any. It is interesting to get a bill that shows 0 usage but a big charge.

Anyway, the power went off at 7, but, thanks to good planning, well after showers and coffee in this household. In honor of the occasion, we drove to Providence Bay for a low-power picnic. We walked the boardwalk, walked the beach, enjoyed the rain, and then came home and had our picnic on the dining room table, where it was warmer and drier.

Light rain overall, but dark and cold, and we had to light a fire after lunch. But then, just as the hydro was scheduled to come on at 2 p.m. the sun came out, beating Hydro, which did not actually arrive until 4.

The beach at Prov is not in good shape. Little left, actually, and what remains cannot be groomed because of Pitcher's thistle. Prov is trying to stage a comeback, but the village is facing a significant problem with its biggest asset.

Perhaps enough rain to convince the peas and onions that the time is at hand.

Boats

Heliotrope and Wood Duck.

Got the shrink-wrap of Heliotrope, the lifelines back in place, and the new batteries and electronics on board. Planned our attack on the masts—which need repainting, a check of all the lights, and a new wind instrument at the top.

That took the morning and then some, although around here work doesn't start very early. Lunch of sandwiches from the Valuemart in the shelter above the Gore Bay swimming beach (now about the width of a sidewalk). Then we walked out on the new jetty which juts out almost halfway across the bay and makes for a truly protected inner harbor. It is a beautiful piece of engineering (and will get its own blog post sometime).

This afternoon, while Sue worked on her huge fabric hanging, I planted peas and Spanish onions. The soil is dry, so nothing will happen until we get rain.  

Then the first kayak paddle of the season. Getting in the boat requires standing in the water, and that numbs the ankles. But it's worth it, especially when you can paddle right through the gazebo Murray and Elaine set up on their Viewpoint.

No fire in the stove all day, which is good and bad. 

First Amendment

Not even a hint of cloud in the sky. Chilly in the shade, warm in the sun.  

To Taylor sawmill this morning, to order up more battens and trim boards— for the upstairs bath, one upstairs bedroom, and the porch. (The end is in sight.) A walk with Pax along the river, helping him exercise his bum leg. Also, plastic wrap removed from the porch, and the back deck swept clean (mostly residue from the icy snow pile, which is now quite gone).

And, garden amendments: 40 liters of Meeker's Magic Mix (fish compost) and 36 kilos of "fumier du mouton," which I think translates to "stinky sheep fumes." Plus one wheelbarrow-full of variegated beach glop, and a nice pile of leaves Sue raked off the driveway. This may seem like enough of a first amendment, but really when you turn it all into a 96 square foot garden it amounts to little. And, I'm starting to think that the beach glop might have been a mistake—what kinds of lifeforms are lurking in it, ready to strangle the tomatoes?

Thyme Marches On

Dark, chilly morning with spatters of rain.  But well before noon all soggy thoughts dispersed, and a bright sun, making garden work a sweaty exercise, in spite of a cool onshore breeze.

Trimmed up the herb garden, with Sue suggesting I do it in the fall instead of now because thyme goes to seed, and we now have it popping up all across the gravel driveway. Which makes me wonder what would happen if we didn't pluck it out—would  we create a road back in thyme?

I'm not sure which little one put the stones on the log, but they are still there.

Thinking garden, I decided to try adding some beach glop, as a form of compost. If you think about it, beach glop should be very beneficial to growing vegetables. Certainly, they have seldom encountered it in the wild.

The photo above does not show it, but the garden plot was studded with clumps of clover. Using the narrow spade I tipped them all upside down, knocked the dirt off as best as possible, and threw the roots over the side...jettisoned them, in fact. While clover is a legume and therefore most likely fixing nitrogen in the soil, space in the garden is limited and I don't much like the taste of it. The worms, in contrast, apparently do, because beneath each clump were many.

The bit of rhubarb root given us last fall by Don L. is apparently establishing itself alongside the garden. Once can never have enough rhubarb—I'm heaping Whitewater rhubarb compote on my yoghurt every morning, and feeling mighty fit as a result. (Actually, rhubarb being so early, was a godsend to early settlers who were close to scurvy when May came around.)

Waves in the Firepit

Another beautiful day on the Island.  

The wetland out front remains brown.

River running hard, but not flooded. Word has it the smelt run last week was wonderful.

Hosteen Turtle, biding his time along the river, is growing lichen, thus adding verisimilitude to his presence along the path.

Wind building from the south-east this afternoon with waves rearranging the charcoal in the firepit. Lots of stuff has washed away and lots of stuff has washed up. We have a collection of logs that I don't remember meeting previously.

Breakfast at Mum's! Also a brown loaf, and just one apple fritter (which is being doled out piecemeal, over time). We went to Mindemoya on business, you understand.

Removed a spruce that had fallen across the Pine Box driveway, and then the top fourth of a smallish poplar that had come down on the Pinebox garage roof. Now we can drive all the way around the U-shaped driveway, which I did today in collecting stuff for the first dump trip of the year. Dennis, the dump meister, his usual self—cordial, but anxious to move me along so he could talk at length to one of his buddies in the car just behind.

As we were out doing chores, Murray drove by (and stopped) on his way back from Gore Bay to buy a new pump for his water system. They arrived yesterday, so we beat them by a day. All is well with them except for the pump, but that is very much to be expected, here in cottage country.

Swept Out and Settled In

Lots of mostly pleasant chores today accomplished at an enjoyable pace.  

In the maple forest on the way to Murray and Elaine's...leafless.

Unmelted patches along the lane.

Water continuing to climb, and aiming for the pumphouse.

Back deck snow removal operation.

Brilliant day. After a chilly start, still and warm—eventually much warmer than inside the abode. Shoals of ice piled up on the south side of Gooseberry.

Shoveled some of the snow pile on the back deck figuring that if I didn't do so we be climbing a glacier in June in order to reach the outdoor shower.

A Fire in the Stove, Water in the Pipes

All is well in Kagawong.  

May 1—quite a fine day to arrive. High alto-stratus with a diffused but bright sun...and warmth...60 F, or thereabouts. The house still standing and exhibiting no signs of neglect. Pine Box looking good. Evidence of previous minor erosion but not much flowing now. Swales wet, but not full. Much colder inside than outside, but a big fire in the Osburn, a radiant heater cranked in the upper bath, and some pretend baking in the oven, and we are warming. It will take my feet a while though, since they were wading.

Snow on the north slopes and in sheltered locations, but no ice on the bay. The bay flat calm, which facilitated the deployment of the water line. I waded to within an inch of the top of the chest waders and lowered the pipe-stand with its attached foot-valve. But with the water so high it was not out far. So, the two of us turned the Suzie P (strangely yellowed over the winter) right-side-up and launched from land. Using the the marking float line, I heaved the pipe-stand off the boulders and Sue rowed, and now we have the foot-valve somewhere out by Clapperton—in very deep water.

The water is high, higher than it was last October—and we are very early in the annual water cycle. While nothing is knowable in advance, historically the water continues to rise until somewhere in July. We are definitely on the upside.

Apart from the waterfowl on the bay you would not know it was spring. Mostly pale shades of gray and brown, with the hardwoods maintaining a dormant appearance. Very little green.

But all is quiet—very quiet. When the gulls shut up there is basically nothing to hear—and I like that. An absolute silence like this is good preparation for listening to Rachmanioff's "Variations on a Theme of Chopin."

The only problem is...I don't have my chartreuse Rockport baseball cap. Forgetful as I am, yesterday I left it hanging on a plant-stand outside Aunt Janet's house, where we enjoyed a visit complemented by kringle and coffee. Maybe too much kringle?

Obviously, Vianet works...couldn't be blogging without it. And, (I will say this sotto voce, so as not to jinx it) it seem to be faster than it was last year.

So, in summary, we made it back to where we once belonged.

North With (To?) The Spring.

We outran the rain, and found warmer temperatures as we came north. Cloudy but mild in St. Ignace. No ice. Ferries running. 

Water along Green Bay as high as I can remember seeing it, and it has flooded the phragmites, killing a lot of that noxious weed.  The beach at Manistique almost gone with phrag roots holding the last bit together. We are starting to discuss whether, last fall, we pulled the dock sections high enough up our beach. 

Lively Tea Party

Ellie's big sixth, complete with Mad Hatter. Lots of fun and games. 

Now We Are Six

By A. A. Milne More A. A. Milne

When I was one,
I had just begun.
When I was two,
I was nearly new.
When I was three,
I was hardly me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was five,
I was just alive.
But now I am six,
I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six now and forever.

Also, first rhubarb harvest. 

Pax is Back, and We Are Packed

Pax walked a big loop at the prairie, in the cold, damp wind, almost the whole way on all four. Full recovery looks to be in the cards! 

Thanks to Nik for this pressed flower card. All natural.

Last minute errands and vehicle loading. A cold, gray day.

Rain Changes Everything

What was hard, harsh, ragged, and rough, changes quickly into luxuriant, lush, lissome, and alive. 

Some light rain this afternoon. Maybe enough to do some good, but certainly enough to dampen the lawnmower man who managed to arrive here for the first time this season, just as the drops started dropping.

A package from Nik today, including some Giant Peruvian Inca Corn. This is the answer to the parched corn conundrum. The bag should come with a warning not to open.

And, another package—this one from Mark Smit. He and I had been talking about the amazing—truly spectacular—accomplishments of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) during the Depression, and he sent me this book about CCC Company 1608. I've come across CCC works in Illinois, Wisconsin, Arkansas, Michigan, and, I suspect other places, and always been astonished by the quality and beauty of the work. This was one of the greatest government programs ever, it made the country a far better and far more beautiful place. I can't wait to read this book. We need an ongoing CCC, now and forever.

Packing for Kagawong

Trailer mostly loaded. Piles of things in the breezeway. Pax getting nervous.

Cloudy and chilly, with a substantial NE breeze. Thirty degrees colder than yesterday at this time. Still no rain.

One Horse Town...

...certainly an underestimate because without doubt there are more. Horses are allowed in the City, so I presume chickens and goats are as well.  And, really, it all makes sense since some find the distinction between farm animals and college students razor thin.

Can't buy a drop of rain here. Storms all around, and even a storm warning, but nothing but warm winds and the occasional big clod, I mean cloud.. 

Magical Party

Katy's big sixth, complete with a (very skilled) magician. Big crowd, good food, great fun, and no meltdowns. 

And after the cake everyone was outside riding bicycles, including these two.