Again too hot and buggy to enjoy the odious tasks of winterizing. But we did go for a fine late afternoon swim (having to climb over boulders to swimming depth), and the chilly water served well as balm for heat related aggravations.
Powerful, but narrow, band of thunderstorms slipped by just about suppertime, providing a nice cool-down.
Thomson’s and Lloyd’s for dinner. Sue did a lot of hard work in a hot kitchen.
I'd complain about the weather if it weren't worse pretty much everywhere else. It is hard, though, to do the necessary shut-down chores when it's so muggy and buggy.
Humid, in other words.
Gore Bay
It was hot and sweaty work, but, as time is running out, trees got planted. Three larch (tamarack), two black locust, and four Kentucky coffeetree (started from Whitewater seeds). Not that there aren't enough trees here already, but because the stand of tall, spindly ash trees between the front deck and the shore is not going to be here forever, replacements must be underplanted—or else. It will be interesting to see what the property looks like in 50 years—with any luck a few ash will remain, along with some hackberry, swamp white oak, larch, locust, and coffeetree...plus native cedar, balsam, and spruce. And, of course, poplar.
We are focused on shutdown. Though it feels like we just got here, the plan is to pull up stakes on Sunday.
Seems to have become a habit, on these lovely autumn afternoons. Brisk NE breeze today, giving us a lively ride all across the bay, and back, while playing games with some substantial waves over on the west side.
Crossed paths with Wolf on the way back, as the wind was lying down.
Only two sails on the bay all day long. And we are feeling guilty, when so much of the world is being ravaged. Perhaps Mother Nature is letting us know that she won't be trumped.
Thanks to Sue for the photos.
While life here may not be too wild, there is a lot of wildlife.
Long ago now, back in the spring, I was worried that our little red squirrel population had been wiped out. Recently, however, it has been obvious that I was wrong—the population seems strong, just spread out so that each squirrel has its own territory sufficient for survival. Today, as I wandered around, I was scolded by quite a number of individuals.
This flock is oblivious of the day on the calendar marked "Thanksgiving."
And the white-tailed deer? They are getting their darker winter coat, but seem to have no idea what season is actually approaching. It's almost to the point where deer-catchers (like cow-catchers) will have to mounted to the front end of automobiles.
Too warm for work, and thanks to colds, not enough energy to do any anyway. Did manage a dump run and a little grocery shopping.
Sunny, and windy. A little evening rain breaking a long dry spell.
Apparently hurricanes to the south make for spectacular summer weather in the north. We have, however, been rather hoping for a return to fall.
Although the marina is closed, quite a few people were around town today, including a family of five, with twins, at the beach, and a rally of more than a dozen Miatas by the farmer's market pavilion.
The face in the umbrella.
I think he's scowling because of the weather(too hot and humid) and because those of us here are under the weather to a greater or lesser degree.
...weather system. Calm. Warm, and humid, and sunny (with a strange high cloudiness). Things getting dry, and water level dropping (partly, I believe, due to high pressure pushing the water away from here).
Geese heading south, and sandhill cranes flocking in preparation for their migration.
Sunny, warm, gentle breezes. Crickets. (Unfortunately mosquitos also.) Morning fog, evening quiet, with the occasional call of a bird I don't recognize. And...afternoon swimming at Sandy Beach!
See link to article below, and then screen captures of comments.
Heliotrope has had canvas removed and systems winterized; almost ready for hibernation. On a new steel cradle, too.
BTW, Brainard Wheeler Nies was a big fan of "Zen in the Art of Archery," and recommended I read it.
Down to the nubs.
While we disassembled and floated in, Patrick helped with lifting the sections up out of harm's way (we might hope). The lake is doing its annual drop now, and, under normal conditions, breaking spring ice should have a hard time causing damage.
Downhaul not tight enough.
Gloriously beautiful day, but now with the wind back, and that powered a lively sail on the Windrider (note Patrick to leeward). Later, a bike ride to Sandy Beach with Pax.
Nuthatches currently abundant around here, almost as thick as the unseasonal pestilence of mosquitoes—making the forest sound like a barnyard with all the babbling and gossiping.
perfectly still. Stark contrast with points south.
Good day for yard work, laying in an ample supply of small cedar and balsam bits as kindling, hauling Murray's road trimmings to the dump, cleaning up the road ditch, bike riding with Pax, making chicken pot pie, and watching hurricane Irma. Fire in the stove this morning.
...with a shrinking pier.
Back down to just the three of us, and things are increasingly quiet, though with getting Heliotrope ready for haul-out, shortening the pier, and having dinner at Ellen's, the day still lacked sufficient hours.
Note: water bearable and brief swimming possible, but an hour of pier work left a lingering chill.
Pinebox crew has pulled up stakes and is heading south to storm ravaged Texas. Heliotrope sailed in high winds, but with a fine crew, to Gore Bay.
In Gore Bay. Lots of weather too.
Sue's rainbow from last night.
Unlimited weather today. Most of the rain falling from clear skies. Lunch cruise on Heliotrope with a fine breeze that rapidly faded to oblivion. Dinner here right Caves and Pinebox.
And the Caves are here.
...thunder in the evening... with a peek of sun at suppertime.
Below, the View From The Bridge, or rather from under it. Up a Lazy River, but with the big water so high plenty of depth for a dinghy. Salmon have been sighted coming in, but not by me.
Brunch of pancakes and sausage at Pinebox—fine fare for a rainy morn.
...the kind of September ...
...when chilly, rainy mornings requiring a small fire in the stove give way to sunny, warm afternoons with a lively sailing breeze.
New bit of artwork—leaves—made by Julie Shortt of the Orangutans. Each leaf is made of species wood: left to right, cedar, white oak, red oak, basswood, elm, and maple--all on a slice of ash cut on the property.
And, this year's addition to the macrame (also a fine art) wall.