Lighter Later
At least a little bit. Marginally noticeable, though mornings are still dark.
Cold, with a biting wind—Pax weather in other words.
At least a little bit. Marginally noticeable, though mornings are still dark.
Cold, with a biting wind—Pax weather in other words.
A small gathering on a school night, and then Ellie off to ride.
Roaring wind all day, and temperatures dropping steadily.
...and lots of it.
Ponds and streams out of their banks. Warm enough when the rain quit in late afternoon to go fo a bike ride. Where is winter?
~~~~~~~
Out here, there’s a bowing even the trees are doing.
Winter’s icy hand at the back of all of us.
Black bark, slick yellow leaves, a kind of stillness that feels
so mute it’s almost in another year.
I am a hearth of spiders these days: a nest of trying.
We point out the stars that make Orion as we take out
the trash, the rolling containers a song of suburban thunder.
It’s almost romantic as we adjust the waxy blue
recycling bin until you say, Man, we should really learn
some new constellations.
And it’s true. We keep forgetting about Antlia, Centaurus,
Draco, Lacerta, Hydra, Lyra, Lynx.
But mostly we’re forgetting we’re dead stars too, my mouth is full
of dust and I wish to reclaim the rising—
to lean in the spotlight of streetlight with you, toward
what’s larger within us, toward how we were born.
Look, we are not unspectacular things.
We’ve come this far, survived this much. What
would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?
What if we stood up with our synapses and flesh and said, No.
No, to the rising tides.
Stood for the many mute mouths of the sea, of the land?
What would happen if we used our bodies to bargain
for the safety of others, for earth,
if we declared a clean night, if we stopped being terrified,
if we launched our demands into the sky, made ourselves so big
people could point to us with the arrows they make in their minds,
rolling their trash bins out, after all of this is over?
With the girls.
And afterward some time playing with the boys. Bri in Rome for the week.
Two races for me, out of three, and I am still walking.
Beautiful day, but tricky sailing—ice continually getting softer and softer; and wind varying from brisk to nothing. I did not do a good job of rounding marks or coming downwind. But it was a good shakedown, and I can still walk. Sue come over to Pewaukee to join me for a late lunch, and to help me pack up.
Too sore to consider racing tomorrow.
Finally. The boat looks great, and everything worked (apparently reassembled properly).
Whitewater neighbor/friend Dave came with to Pewaukee—to see what iceboating was all about, and to help out. As might be expected, the wind was too light to keep the boat moving with two people in the cockpit. Other boats (two) were out moving marginally, but I did not want to head across the lake and leave Dave standing around. So, I got out and let him drive (with the occasional push) for a while, and then we went for lunch. The Sports Dock has the world’s most amazing tuna melt, and, on my advice, we split one. (They are not only tasty but also enormous.)
I was thinking that Dave might get hooked on the sport, but I get the sense he already has enough fun with his airplane.
At last. The holidays are over. The days are getting longer. Spring seems a possibility (and spring is followed by summer).
And, Wisconsin has a new governor, and he says he is going to use jiu jitsu to deal with all the lame duck legislation, meaning he is going to ignore all the restrictive nonsense and let anyone who doesn’t like what he does sue him. Way to turn the tables, Tony. And, on top of that, we have a new U.S. House of Representatives.
Onward. Per aspera ad astra.
Not so nice for walking.
Slushy and/or slippery. Penetrating damp wind. Dogs returned to their rightful owners in Fox Point, and then, by way of an outing, a late lunch in Whitefish Bay.
Big hawks and little hawks.
A large hawk (or more than one) has been hanging out in the park, which, of course, is very heavily populated by squirrels. Twice in recent days Pax and I have seen a raptor carrying a rodent. (The park has to be a very happy hunting ground.) (I’m thinking maybe a red tailed hawk, but we have not been able to get close enough to be sure.) And then one or more smaller hawks have been tending the bird feeders in the neighborhood. Big pile of feathers in the front yard a few days ago.
Today, as we walked the empty (but slippery) campus we saw half a dozen crows mobbing a big hawk. The crows took turns banging the hawk’s back. Pretty obvious that crows don’t like hawks.
Here is a shot of Serendipity Lane, sent today by Joan Lloyd. Looks kinda nice,
The biggest event tonight just might be the New Horizons flyby of Ultima Thule, the most distant object yet visited in our solar system.
The photos, however, will take a while to arrive back on planet Earth, seeing as Thule is 6 light-hours distant.
Bad weather at this location on the home planet—rain most of the day, now turning to snow.
Not the best for dog walking.
You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen—
You are a hundred wild centuries
And fifteen, bringing with you
In every breath and in every step
Everyone who has come before you,
All the yous that you have been,
The mothers of your mother,
The fathers of your father.
If someone in your family tree was trouble,
A hundred were not:
The bad do not win—not finally,
No matter how loud they are.
We simply would not be here
If that were so.
You are made, fundamentally, from the good.
With this knowledge, you never march alone.
You are the breaking news of the century.
You are the good who has come forward
Through it all, even if so many days
Feel otherwise. But think:
When you as a child learned to speak,
It’s not that you didn’t know words—
It’s that, from the centuries, you knew so many,
And it’s hard to choose the words that will be your own.
From those centuries we human beings bring with us
The simple solutions and songs,
The river bridges and star charts and song harmonies
All in service to a simple idea:
That we can make a house called tomorrow.
What we bring, finally, into the new day, every day,
Is ourselves. And that’s all we need
To start. That’s everything we require to keep going.
Look back only for as long as you must,
Then go forward into the history you will make.
Be good, then better. Write books. Cure disease.
Make us proud. Make yourself proud.
And those who came before you? When you hear thunder,
Hear it as their applause.
Perfect day for ice boating, with a fine breeze.
Only problem a lack of ice, with the nearest sailable being Puckaway. Instead of sailing, then, considerable dog walking.
And for dinner...
... a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.
— Groucho
Not much today besides reading and dog tending. Sunless, cold, and damp. Now, freezing mist.
Temp dropping slowly, and light snow all day. No real accumulation.
Quite a bit of moisture in this latest weather event.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville.
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénêtre mon coeur ?
~~~~~~~~
Not much else today besides rain and dog tending.
~~~~~~~~
And here two quotes more relevant today than ever:
“Never wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.”
~George Bernard Shaw
"Never argue with an idiot. You won't convince them of anything
and they will wear you down with their experience at being an idiot."
~Mark Twain
...but where they once were lost they now are found.
And Nite 165 is finally reassembled and ready to race (assuming the weather cooperates).
Buddy and Pip have joined us for a week, so it’s a three dog night, with rain in the offing.
Traditional fare, much of it from the family cookbook; including sausage/egg casserole, baked orange infused French toast, curried fruit—plus ham, world famous waffles, a cheese plate, two kinds of pie, and… the list goes on. There were a few leftovers. Sally and Glenn in attendance plus Sue’s cousin Patty and her two adult kids. Happy Christmas to all.
...overhead as we were leaving Whitewater for Fox Point.
Some afternoon fun Including a game of kickball with Will. Then church service. Always great to hear a pipe organ. And quite something to watch Katy singing out the carols. That girl likes to sing, and that girl has a voice.
Perfect day, perfect ice. But, it being the day before the day before—and seeing as how Nite #165 is fresh out of the bodyshop—sailing was honored more in the breach than in the observance. In today’s moderate breeze the guys on Pewaukee were hitting 50 mph, so it would have been nice to be there.
In lieu of sailing, I worked on putting Solstice back together (a few pieces of hardware are still missing) while Sue did a major houseclean in anticipation of the upcoming holiday brunch.
Ice boating on the morning agenda but…
…a few minutes before departure for Pewaukee, a call from Bri with the news that Ellie and Becca had been throwing up all night. With sailing plans scuttled, the Whitewater contingent decided, in keeping with the iceboat theme, and go pick up #165 from the bodyshop where it had been repainted. The route included a swing through Oconomowoc to drop off hand sewn ornaments Sue had despaired of completing in time but had actually finished. Then, as we neared O’woc we got a call telling us that Ellie, with her dad, had recently taken an ambulance to the hospital.
Soon after getting up and out of bed Ellie had passed out. Actually, she and her dad were standing side-by-side, brushing teeth, when she keeled over. Dehydration was the cause, and she is fine now. Becca’s all better too.
The timing was right, and we were able to bring Bri’s truck with us to the hospital so that he and Ellie might have a way home. And not long after we arrived Ellie was discharged.
After that we drove in to the north-west part of Milwaukee and loaded the boat onto the newly renovated trailer.
Not quite the day planned, but we did make it home in time for (take-out) dinner.
A short, dim day with a chilly north wind.
Here’s a link sent me by Trina with lots of great solstice info. It should also be noted that tonight we have a full moon and a meteor shower, but around here if you look up you won’t see anything of that. On the up side—the days are now getting longer and the summer solstice is coming into view.