Sue finished up prepping Heliotrope while I helped Kerry with the framework of the garage-side lean-to. We all (Pax included) heard occasional loud rumbles, in spite of the clear sky.
At times like this it is important to remember how far sound travels over water, and/or the power of the Great Manitou.
Morning spent finishing Heliotrope's pre-launch checklist. (All systems appear to be operational.)
Afternoon spent stepping the mast on Windrider, and then dropping her back into her element.
Perfect day (if you don't mind sun). Loud surf early, about dawn, with the wind from the northwest. Then about nine an abrupt shift 180 degrees. Loud surf now with the wind ESE.
Sue on Heliotrope, me on Windrider. Hot work becasue of intense sun, but now launches are immanent.
Pine pollen paint.
Took a little time off boat work to train the binos on a Tamiasciurus, who was chittering now and again while working through the ash trees off the front deck. Although it was not immediately obvious, s(he) appeared to be pulling leaves that had a curled edge. Then she would hold those leaves with both hands and scrape them with her lower teeth—like a human eating an artichoke. A bit of detective work later, I came to think that she was eating eggs, the eggs of some flying insect that lays them on the underside of ash leaves. Not the emerald ash borer I'm pretty sure. Eventually, I found a number of leaves having circular masses of little yellow eggs on their underside, but still not certain if Tamia likes them sunny side up or over easy. Either way, these eggs must be a stopgap food source until the pine, spruce, balsam, and cedar start producing seeds.
...which is fun if you like it and have unlimited time. Busy all day but still no shortage of things for tomorrow.
Cloudy, damp morning giving way to sunny, hot, and humid afternoon. The horseflies have made their appearance.
A big red blob on the radar racing across northern Wisconsin, where it knocked the power out in the Minocqua/Tomahawk area where the Janowiec family were renting a cabin and boating, over a long weekend. Dark clouds to the west in the American Soo, where, oddly enough, the power was also out. Then, although we drove fast, lightning and raindrops somewhere around Bruce Mines. Back over our stern quarter, towering cliffs of blue-black cloud. And then, wending along the lovely Mississagi River just west of Blind River, blinded by horizontal rain and flying tree shrapnel. From there to Espanola it was heavy weather. But we made it.
"One can never complain about rain" has long been my refrain, so I won't start now.
Lovely cool temperature this evening (upper 50s.)
Catching minnows? in the fire pit.
Paradox.
Summertime party.
Lots of fun, mostly outside, but also some "Coding" and some microscopy. Delicious brisket prepared on the Green Egg. Very warm and very windy.
The garden, such as it is, has been restored to something close to civilized. Piles of galinsoga have been removed, but some still lurks (as I can see in this photo). Given decent precipitation (plus an additional weeding and some thinning) we may have an ample beet crop this fall.
But we did so anyway, to the post office and then back along the big loop. By the time we, Pax and I, got home we were panting.
Another remnant of the big storm.
Most of the rest of the afternoon was spent in air conditioning, which was turned on today for the first time this year.
And, while everything is still greenly lush, we have, with alacrity, gone from soaked to dry. It felt it prudent to water the beets and tomatoes.
On the last day of school, while waiting for Katy to get home. Will will now be K5 and Katy 2nd grade.
Summery day, starting cool but warming fast.
With Sue off on her southern errands, Pax and I had the day to ourselves—for walking, bike riding...and reading.
Reading The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate, by Jacqueline Kelly. Nominally a young adult novel, it is actually a marvelous piece of literature, and I am a bit abashed at not having known of it previously. No werewolves or vampires here, instead lots of good science woven into a coming of age story. As the title suggests, the great Mr. Darwin contributes subtly to the story, which is set in the year 1899, in Fentress, Texas.
Brilliant writing by an author who is also a lawyer and a practicing physician.
Oh, to be a polymath.
Big softshell soaking up the sun on the bank of Whitewater creek.
With Whitewater neighbors.
Prairie thistle.
Wild indigo.
Long-time friends, sailing buddies, iceboat aficionados—whom we have not seen for years.
The early June prairie, coming into its own after the spring burn.
Lovely day with a fine wind.
The daddy-daughter way.
...or rather Amalia's, in Oconomowoc, a favorite place, with the Nies clan.
Then a morning of fun on Victoria Lane while we waited out the thunderstorms.
This evening, the first real taste of what summer can be—hot and humid, with everything growing like mad.
And, let it be known that Maddie has a loose tooth!
...from the movie Moana.
Katy's performance, of the above song, at school (very well done), then lunch with her and Will at our favorite little restaurant in Whitefish Bay, and then an afternoon of summer fun.
Here, while Katy and I are playing 'hangman,' Will has decided I desperately need a haircut.
In Whitewater.
Long drive. Pleasant hour's stopover in Manitowoc to visit with Aunt Janet. Big traffic backup just north of Milwaukee causing us to exit the interstate and zig-zag home.
The Whitewater yard green and lush. Rosemary bush looking good. One of the new blueberry plants uprooted and gone—who would do that? Garden pretty much a mess with galinsoga still present. Surprisingly, no mosquitoes.
...Boatyard Bloomed. (Sorry, Walt.)
Actually, not fully out, here on the last day of May.
Chilly, gray, and damp. Prepping for travel tomorrow.
Covfefe.
It is now possible to walk completely around the house without walking on gravel, which is important when you are walking barefoot, which some smaller people do. About thirty flags, some pretty big and heavy, sourced from Foxtower Road. Dug in, leveled, and backfilled. Fortunately, it was a cool and breezy day, with occasional clouds. Meanwhile, Sue got a lot done.
It was a beautiful day.
Or, rather, polished old-timer.
Sails hanked on, deck and coach house scrubbed, topsides waxed and polished. Almost ready to go.
Two breweries on the Island now, and this one in Gore Bay expanded, but closed while we were there. Pax was thinking about applying for a job but then realized they already have growlers.
Beaver work, right on the path between us and Tysons.
Shift of direction. From cottage to boat.
But not a lot done. First trip to Gore Bay we removed the shrink wrap but then found no key in the "Never Remove The Key From This Place!" place. (We suspect Mark, Norm's assistant, as the culprit, and have high hopes of tracking it down.) Second trip, with the spare key, the power washer failed to work. (Ice damage, I think, and repaired now, I hope.)
So we decided to roust the sails out of the cabin where they were obstructing progress and pretty much everything else, only to meet an abrupt squall from the south which make hanking on sails nothing but foolhardy.
Above, Tyson's creek is still running merrily, though probably not enough to entice spawning trout. Also of note, mosquitoes have made their grand entrance and are now very annoying.
Sunny and warm. Bi-annual Manitoulin Trade Fair in Little Current, just as an outing. (Delicious grilled sausages for lunch there, btw.) Scenic back roads home.
Then, with the trailer hooked up, south-west to Foxtower Road (just a little ways towards Gore Bay beyond the dump and down Pleasant Valley) where we muscled up a load of limestone flags (some with coral fossils still attached) that had been scraped up from the escarpment as part of a drainage ditch improvement project.
Little Current, with swing bridge in distance. Photo by Sue
Farm, with stones, near Sheguiandah.
Finished porch, awaiting grandkid-made pendants which will be hung from the cedar slab above the couch.
New flagstones in rough position prior to digging in.
The idea behind the new stone path is that it should be possible to walk barefoot from the front deck or from the sandbox, or really all around the house, without it feeling like you are walking on a bed of nails.