Fowl Weather

Great day for ducks. But at times, almost a duck drownder. Wild winds and sheets of driven rain, which, at, least, cleared any remnant snow off the small, already frozen lakes.

On the way home from groceries Pax and I were dropped off on the far side of the prairie, for a good long walk home. He had not been out much previous, so it seemed like a good idea. But it wasn’t. We got drenched and blown sideways, but worst of all, noise from the University stadium (where a football game was in progress {some people don’t have the brains they were born with}) spooked him and then all he wanted to do was get home in the shortest amount of time possible. Oh, well.

Not a big fan of George H.W. who passed today, but I do admire him for some things. I especially agree with these statements: “There can be no definition of a successful life that does not include service to others.” And, “I have found happiness. I no longer pursue it, for it is mine.”

Shopping Spree

Well, not exactly a spree.  But we did go to Mayfair mall (Pax loved it), got a few things, but mostly realized that non-online-shopping is not-all-that-great. Of course, it’s hard to beat lunch at the food court.

Pax and I got in a late afternoon walk, and on it saw waves of geese heading south.

Christmas is coming.  

A Little Elf Work

Christmas is coming early this year. 

So a little prep work necessary today.  

Nice Kind of Cold

Pax and I got in a big loop and a prairie loop today, and although it was cold, it didn’t seem cold.  

Beautiful ice, possibly strong enough to walk on

With lots of sun, little wind, and the right attitude, cold doesn’t have to be cold.

Meanwhile, I made another attempt at writing an early-reader Pax story:

Walking With Pax

 On our walk today Pax went hunting.

 “Oh, no, Pax! Don’t do that!” I shouted. But it was too late.

 ***

 Pax was born to hunt. He has good eyes, good ears, and a really good nose. If I hide in the park when he’s not looking he can always find me just by sniffing. He also has sharp teeth, and he can run really fast. He has everything he needs to catch prey.

 When Pax was young, squirrels were his prey. If I let him off his lead in the park he would stand still and stare at a squirrel near us. Then he would slowly lift one paw and slowly take a step. He would stand still again, and then take another quiet step. He was sneaking up on the squirrel.

 Closer and closer. The squirrel would look around, but then Pax would stand still. Slowly, quietly, closer and closer…

 Then, JUMP! Pax would jump at the squirrel and the squirrel would jump away and start running toward a tree.

 Lucky for squirrels, our park has lots of trees. Pax would get close, but end up with only a mouthful of tail fur.

 When Pax got older he stopped chasing squirrels. He knew he couldn’t catch them.

 ***

But on our walk today it was snowing. It had been snowing all night so the snow was deep. Pax loves snow. He likes to jump in it, roll in it, and when he is thirsty, eat some of it.

 Today Pax raced to the top of the big hill in the park. He beat me to the top. When he got there he saw a squirrel, and the squirrel was not near a tree.

 “Oh, no, Pax! Don’t do that!” I shouted.

 Pax did not hear me. He was hunting!

 Pax did not wait and try to sneak up on this squirrel. He knows about snow. He knows that with his long legs he can go fast.

 The squirrel did not know about snow. It didn’t know that for animals with short legs snow means slow.  It got too far away from a safe tree.

 Pax was quick. He caught the squirrel before it got close to a tree. With his sharp teeth he grabbed the squirrel by the neck and gave it a big shake.

 “Oh, no, Pax! Don’t do that!” I shouted. But it was too late.

Auld Lang Helmet

Yes, Ellie’s riding helmet. 

We spent some time adjusting the helmet before departing for the riding stable. Then some futzing with booster seats in the crew section of the truck (Becca coming with). Then off to the riding lesson, about 20 minutes away. It was only when we were puling into the parking lot that it dawned on us that the helmet never made it into the truck. With no loaner helmets available, our only choice was returning home.

Ellie and I thought it might be good to kick ourselves, while Becca offered up the idea of a punch in the stomach.

Disappointment all around, but at least there is small likelihood the auld helmet will be forgot again and never brought to mind.

Cold Shoulder

Winter storm and blizzard warnings amounted to a light dusting overnight. Snow south, apparently, but we were bypassed.

What Snow?

Mowed leaves, modified ice boat trailer, cut away invasive mulberry, walked with Pax—all completely snow-free in spite of an original 9 am snow warning. And still nothing as of 6 pm. 

More concrete  

And some nice stone work dating from 1870 

Turkey Soup for the Stomach...

 ...simmering now on the stove. Not a bad kind of soul food for a damp and dreary day. 

Willows

Willows lose their lanceolate leaves
Late, but at long last.
When williwaws whip leaf away from limb
Folioles whirl aloft, then lapse in lazy loops
To lie, belatedly, in loveliness layered on the land.
—JBN

Thought Experiment

Perfectly fine Friday here today. Clean-up, yes (mostly Sue), but then a walk around campus, and for me, a bike ride. No BF shopping. Advantage taken of the fine weather to fire up the big snowblower—in anticipation (winter storm advisory for Sunday)(better now than in the thick of it)(started on the second pull).

Thought experiment below the photo.

More concrete

Theory of Justice

Assume you will someday be reincarnated. You know you will be human (not an eagle or a frog) but you don’t know anything else. You don’t know what sex, what color, what physical appearance, what intelligence, what handicaps, what country you’ll be born in, whether rich or poor, whether orphan or royal scion. You could be anything!

In his book A Theory of Justice, the political philosopher John Rawls describes a thought experiment along these lines.

In this experiment, you are part of a group of people gathered to design their own future society, gathered behind “a veil of ignorance.”  (No one has any idea about the next incarnation.) None of you knows his or her next place in society, class position or social status, fortune in the distribution of natural assets and abilities, intelligence and strength and the like.

So, given this setup, what kind of society will your group design?

As Rawls puts it, if you know you will be wealthy you might find it rational to advance the principle that various taxes for welfare measures be counted unjust.  If you know you were going to be poor, you would most likely propose the contrary principle. Etcetera.

If denied basic information about one’s circumstances, Rawls predicts that important social goods, such as rights and liberties, power and opportunities, income and wealth, and conditions for self-respect would be “distributed equally unless an unequal distribution of any or all of these values is to everyone’s advantage.”

Seems reasonable to me, but far from the actual situation. Certainly at this time of thankfulness, we can be thankful that we, as a family, did very well in the incarnation lottery this time around. But we can also think about those who didn’t, and perhaps work toward a worldwide society that doesn’t assign most of its people to a very unfortunate starting position.

Happy T’Giving 2018

Family gathering for fun and good food.  

“...through the white and drifting snow...”

Quick inch right about sunset. 

T’giving prep (mostly Sue). I tried to get a head start on the rutabaga but, then started multitasking and burned the first lot.  

Out of the Barn

Nite iceboat  #10, also known as Wombat, has been pulled out of Roger’s barn. She is now, almost, poised to slide without delay onto the first sailable ice. (And, as the photo below shows, ice is being made.)

Ice-making is happening early this year, causing hope to spring eternal that we will get many square miles of it, pure black and unblemished by white. #351 is totally ready, waxed and polished and sporting a new cover. #165 has recently undergone plastic surgery and is now in the beauty shop getting gussied, and Wombat, old faithful Wombat, probably close to her 60th year on the hard stuff, is seriously planning on winning a race this time around the marks.

Odd Structures...

...in Whitewater.  Whitewater is not the place you would look to for fine architecture or quality residential construction. But it is a good place to prospect for rundown oddities.

This fascinating structure straddles Whitewater Creek. Could be fun to rehab and take off grid with a small water turbine in the “basement.”

And this place should probably be turned into a winery, assuming some of the vines have fruit.

Slowish Sunday

Bright sun and little wind, but, then, not much in the way of temperature. 

The beauty of concrete.

I’ve decided (been prompted?) to try writing a series of beginning reader stories featuring Pax as either the protagonist or the sidekick. And, since I have little else to say about today, here is one attempt. (Kids are scatologically oriented, one needs to remember.)

Not The Best Walk

Our walk today was not the best.

 We started our walk, and then we saw a man with two dogs walking towards us. Pax does not like those two dogs. Those dogs look mean and their bark is too loud.

 The fur on Pax’s neck stood up. He started to growl.

 “What should we do?” I wondered. Pax doesn’t like to fight.

 “Come, Pax,” I said. “Let’s cross the street.”

 No cars were coming. Pax and I quickly crossed the street. We walked on that side. The man and the two mean dogs went by on their side.

 “It’s okay now,” I said to Pax. But Pax was not okay. He pulled and pulled on his lead.

 “Oh, no,” I said. “I know what that means.”

 When Pax pulls and pulls on his lead it means he has to poop.

 Pax likes to be away by himself when he poops. He likes to go off lead. He likes privacy.

 But sometimes he can’t wait. “I know,” I said. “Sometimes when you have to go, you have to go.”

 This time he went right in a lady’s front yard. Even worse, the lady was watching from her porch.

 “Now what do we do?” I asked Pax, but he was busy and did not seem to hear.

 “Good morning,” I said. “Pax is sorry he had to poop in your yard.”

 When Pax was done I scooped the poop.

 The lady was nice.  She smiled. “That’s okay,” she said. “Thanks for picking up.”

 After that Pax and I walked home. We did not see any more mean dogs and Pax did not have to poop again.

 But our walk today was not the best.

Second Snowfall of the Season

About an inch overnight. 

Canadian Hemlock in the back yard, thoroughly enjoying the weather.

Since snowy, I shopped and sautéed, while Sue settled in to sew.

In The Gutter

Gutter cleaning, again.  Semi-annual, not-so-fun task. Birch, oak, maple, and pear the primary culprits, along with a great number of red pine needles in the north-east quadrant. Soggy, gooey masses, and occasionally, a solid, frozen chunk. Chilly on the hands. But, having priced gutter leaf guards, I’ve decided that my hour and a half on the ladder was worth its weight in gold.

Heron Pax and I met on today’s walk

With The Boys

Two on two. Quite a challenge, but lots of fun.  

It Can’t Be Cold...

 ...if it’s sunny. Warm enough by afternoon for a bike/run to the prairie (though even with gloves, the fingers were numb). Pax weather.

The little graphic below was inspired by my appreciation of being retired.

A Cold One

Sunny and cold today, clear and cold tonight, with the thermometer dropping, I predict, into single digits. That will make a lot of ice—more than the little skim seen below.

Ellie to horse-riding this afternoon, while Sue hung out with the boys. (Too much going on to remember to take a photos.) But they are getting big and very mobile, not to mention cute.

It Was A Dark And Chilly Day

Not really cold, but  we are not really ready. In February a day like this would go down as tropical. The lack of sun, I think, and the damp feeling, contributed.

Sue spent a bit of time cleaning up old computer files and came across this, below. Since there is little else to report or comment on…

~~~~~~~~~~~`

Even Further Adventure of Pax

 The plan was to help George move his Southcoast 22 across the Bay and help him haul it out and then store it away at Berry Boats. I was going to accompany George on the water, while John would meet us at the marina with his truck and George’s trailer.

 George lives north-west of here, a brisk 10 minute walk along Serendipity Lane, on the end of Gray’s Point. Rather than walking there this morning I asked John to drive me down. I had my hat, my slicker, and John’s handheld VHF, and, of course, Pax. Pax always prefers to be part of things and today made sure he was not left behind.

 So we drove down to the Griffith’s place, John and me up front, Pax in back. George met us at the turnaround on his driveway where I gathered my stuff and got out. John turned the truck and headed back home, with Pax now riding shotgun. John drove home, pulled in his drive, parked, and got out. Pax jumped out too.

 George and I meanwhile walked around his cottage and down the path to the beach, and then waded out to the boat where we lowered the motor, started it up, and cast off the anchor lines. I walked us out to deeper water, and as George shifted into forward I climbed aboard, with the boat headed out of the cove and around the rocky spit of Gray’s Point. As we gained deeper water and were able to swing east and head toward the marina, George looked aft and said, “My God, something is coming after us.”

 Absolutely right. Not a beaver. Not a muskrat. But a little head with a topknot and floppy ears, and most definitely Pax, swimming hard, swimming fast.

 George cut the motor, and when Pax caught up I hoisted him aboard. I used the handheld to hail Kagawong marina and ask them to call John’s cottage and leave word that we had a dog aboard the boat.

 When he got the word John gave up his Paxton search and drove over to the marina. Pax put his soggy head on my lap, endured the ride, and when we reached the marina went about his business. He didn’t help much with hauling the boat, but he definitely was part of the action…which was always his plan.