Time for goldenrod.
Yes, we have thistle. Although I control it on our stretch of the road, others don't. In some ways the plant is attractive, and butterflies seem to love it.
Goldenrod, queen anne's lace, tansy, and thistle. I can never resist picking a tansy leaf, rolling it up, and squeezing for the fabulous, pungent smell. I don't eat it, but back in the day it was thought to control flatulence brought on by eating too many fish or too many beans.
Unlimited sun, almost no wind, warm water. Beaches thronged. Plans to sail the Windrider thwarted by lack of air.
But the swimming was good.
A family of young Jay's hopping about and making strange mewling sounds on the north side of the house, by the sawed-off cedars.
And, Gooseberry Island is back. Two days after my third chat with chart-plotter manufacturer, Garmin, a FED-X truck showed up on the driveway and supplied me with a micro-sd card, supposedly loaded with the proper charts. It took over four hours for the contents of the card to be uploaded to the chart-plotter, but once done, Gooseberry was back in this world, along with the Clapperton channel, Kittiwake Rock, and a host of nav aides, depth contours, and hazards to navigation. This is what the device was supposed to display at the outset. Working properly, the plotter (combined with the new wind gauge and depth transponder} will be remarkably useful.
Sue's strings have kept the mergansers off the dock (because mergansers leap up from the water) but now the gulls have moved in and become squatters (they fly in), and,so, a vigorous scrubbing is occasionally required. Pinwheels are back up in the vain hope the gulls will be scared off, but how ridiculous is that?
And, another capsize today. This time—the worlds' greatest sailor—P.D. Perhaps more accurately, the world's self -proclaimed greatest sailor. And this capsize done with very little wind. Great merriment and much hilarity on the dock.
In these hot, dry times Pax has become an avid swimmer. He even goes out over his head.
Visitors away this morning (but coming back soon). Afternoon spent hauling brush from Serendipity Lane to the dump (remains of tree trimming).
Fine sail.
Fine sail.
Swimming and boating. Boating and swimming.
Huge wind, but warm and sunny. Fun everywhere: marina, pier, lower deck.
Another basically rain free rain. Maybe half an hour of medium light precip, enough to make outdoor showers showery, but not enough to soak the ground.
Kids so busy they fell asleep within the first paragraph of our current chapter the BFG.
Sunny and HOT. The only place to be was in the water.
The Windrider is back in the water with the mast pointing up.
The best place to be today. Very hot. And very windy (which made it bearable). Lots of swimming; morning, noon, and night.
Hot and humid, with a severe thunderstorm warning. Ten minutes of rain as the system split around Manitoulin. At least the kids got a drink.
Full day—swimming in town and hanging out at the marina, swimming off our pier, picking peas, playing in the sandbox, catching raindrops (while they lasted).
Family has arrived, bearing gifts, foremost among them glasses.
An enthusiastic start to a fun time, with the kids remembering everything, and wanting to do everything, all at once. Pax, too, is glad for the company. And at bedtime, the first chapter of the BFG. I think perhaps my favodrite thing in all the world is reading good book to little kids.
...and very few mosquitoes.
Lots of milkweed and little moisture. Another day of perfect weather. Morning spent on puttering projects, with an afternoon triathlon—walk the dog, ride the bike, paddle the kayak. A pair of goldeneyes making themselves at home on the boulders in front of Pinebox.
Some rain last night, at least enough to bother Pax, and a few claps of thunder (even more bothersome). But overall a wimpy storm, which is all we've had this year. Ten years ago last week we experienced the infamous Manitoulin micro-burst which knocked out power for, what, a week, and leveled hundreds of old white pines on the Benjamins. Plenty of wind today, though, ripping over the bluff and racing across the bay. Nearly lost my hat when Pax and I went to the marina to check the boat and buy ice. And before I could do that I had to remove a sizable dead balsam that had fallen across the driveway. (It's not easy being a tree around here.)
Otherwise, the weather delightful and perfect for puttering.
Maybe. Moderate rain for the past half hour, and maybe it will continue.
Sailing with Mark on Heliotrope this forenoon. It was supposed to be Mark and his wife and two kids, which I was looking forward to, but only Mark was able to come. Maybe good, because the wind kept building. Given the situation, we turned the sail into a lesson on reading the wind, tacking and gybing, docking, and reading charts and plotting courses. It is fun to go out with someone avid to learn and more than capable of it.
Tacos tonight at Pinebox. Home-made corn tortillas and home grown cilantro. Pretty high yum factor. Afterward, with the rain, Pax was not desirous of coming home so he is having a sleepover at Lacy's. Rain at Pinebox is almost inaudible whereas here it is loud.
Picture postcard perfect. Maybe too perfect. Moderate crowd in the lower village and very few individuals interested in the dunk tank, or flush your friend apparatus, which was my bailiwick. Actually chilly when the sun went behind a cloud. No parade this year and no pony rides. But quite a noisy firetruck.
Concert on the dock tonight, which I think I won't attend. This afternoon as Pax and I were taking our bike ride over toward Sandy Beach one of the lower level Topazzini life-forms shot off a few bottle rockets—in spite of the fire ban. That pretty much wrecked the balance of Pax's afternoon, and I don't think he'd like me gone this evening. Perfect, chilly night for sleeping—assuming no more rockets, and other noise levels remain under control.
Above, some of the excavation occurring along Highway 540 between Kagawong and Gore Bay. For some reason, the contractor felt the need to dig into the shoulders on the hill rising up on the west side of Ice Lake. But what a beautiful revelation—millions and millions of years of Earth history and climate change. The top layer, the blocky gray and brownish layer, is the limestone of the Niagara escarpment, laid down over millions of years by bits of shell falling to the bottom of a warm, shallow sea.
Striking change in the weather. But not enough real precipitation to ease the drought or cancel the fire ban.
More rough conditions at the marina making life uncomfortable for an older couple in a motion sensitive, patched together aluminum cruiser. We seasoned dock hands tried to help with additional lines and adjusted positioning.
Dinner at Pinebox, with Murray and Elaine in attendance. Just your everyday sartu di riso as the main course. Translated from the Italian it comes out as "stuffed rice cake."
Another day of high and gusty winds, slowly backing from south to west. If one ignores the Manitoulin drought it was a very pleasant day—hot in the sun but perfectly fine elsewhere. Even some clouds after noon.
All the high wind seems to have piled up the water in the North Channel. The Wood Duck canoe thought about taking itself for a swim, and the estuaries along the beach where spring runoff cuts through to the lake were flowing backwards.
John and I took a stab at the outboard, changing the oil, replacing the gas, squirting WD40 into the cylinder, etc., but no go. So, up to Oliver at Berry boats. Email from there a few hours later (since I have no phone) that the little engine that couldn't now could.
Hauled the boat and towed it back to the driveway where it underwent considerable pumping, swabbing, and reassembling. Only one broken piece of rigging, but an easy workaround seems quite doable. Tomorrow John and I are going to tackle the motor.
Evaluating the situation.
Towing helpers to shore. BTW, this is what the underside of a Windrider looks like.
Another day of honking south wind, with extreme gusts. Perfect day for tipping over if one were so inclined. Wiltingly hot in the sun and out of the wind. But transcendental on the lower deck where occasionally it was necessary to grab the woodwork to avoid being blown to Tysons.