Guest photos today, and a guest blogger tomorrow. Fine day here—ever changing sky, wind boxing the compass then fading with the sun.
Pax led Ab on several long walks (and swims) along the Petoskey waterfront. And now Morgan is here too to join the vacation fun.
Photo by Mary Ellen of first anemone up north
Fifty laps within one crew shift, or two and a quarter miles. Pax had a good day too
Long walks and even a swim.
While I made no crochet progress I did get to almost understand the basics of cribbage.
Work in progress— —by Abby
…around the CVU compound equals one mile, and the record number of laps completed in one day, so far, is 56.
And crochet lessons have begun. While I’m not the most apt student, it’s fun seeing the room become a gathering place for all the many folks interested in this fiber art.
As these photos show…
…the sun broke free when afternoon clouds were blown east by a wind off Lake Michigan.
Then Abby showed up, and the day got brighter yet.
(Nurse Aaron pulled some strings and arranged to help with a walk on the wild side.)
A superlative book of indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants.
Petoskey stones gathered by Bri and Mimi from the shingle beach
Here are two excerpts—first the traditional indigenous origin story, second the key points of the Honorable Harvest. Many fascinating chapters including: Maple Sugar Moon, The Three Sisters, Honorable Harvest, The Sound of Silverbells, Putting Down Roots, Witness to the Rain, Defeating Windigo.
Turtle Island
The aboriginal creation story
She fell like a maple seed, pirouetting on an autumn breeze. A column of light streamed from a hole in the Skyworld, marking her path where only darkness had been before. It took her a long time to fall. In fear, or maybe hope, she clutched a bundle tightly in her hand.
Hurtling downward, she saw only-dark water below. But in that emptiness there were many eyes gazing up at the sudden shaft of light. They saw there a small object, a mere dust mote in the beam. As it grew closer, they could see that it was a woman, arms outstretched, long black hair billowing behind as she spiraled toward them.
The geese nodded at one another and rose together from the water in a wave of goose music. She felt the beat of their wings as they flew beneath to break her fall. Far from the only home she'd ever known, she caught her breath at the warm embrace of soft feathers as they gently carried her downward.
And so it began.
The geese could not hold the woman above the water for much longer, so they called a council to decide what to do. Resting on their wings, she saw them all gather: loons, otters, swans, beavers, fish of all kinds. A great turtle floated in their midst and offered his back for her to rest upon. Gratefully she stepped from the goose wings onto the dome of his shell. The others understood that she needed land for her home and discussed how they might serve her need. The deep divers among them had heard of mud at the bottom of the water and agreed among them to go find some.
Loon dove first, but the distance was too far and after a long while he surfaced with nothing to show for his efforts. One by one, the other animals offered to help—Otter, Beaver, Sturgeon—but the depth, the darkness, and the pressures were too great for even the strongest of swimmers. They returned gasping for air with their heads ringing. Some did not return at all. Soon only little Muskrat was left, the weakest diver of all. He volunteered to go while the others looked on doubtfully. His small legs flailed as he worked his way downward and he was gone a very long time.
They waited and waited for him to return, fearing the worst for their relative, and, before long, a stream of bubbles rose with the small, limp body of the muskrat. He had given his life to aid this helpless human. But then the others noticed that his paw was tightly clenched and, when they opened it, there was a small handful of mud. Turtle said, "Here, put it on my back and I will hold it."
Skywoman bent and spread the mud with her hands across the shell of the turtle. Moved by the extraordinary gifts of the animals, she sang in thanksgiving and then began to dance, her feet caressing the earth. The land grew and grew as she danced her thanks, from the dab of mud on Turtle's back until the whole earth was made. Not by Skywoman alone, but from the alchemy of all the animals' gifts coupled with her deep gratitude. Together they formed what we know today as Turtle Island, our home.
Like any good guest, Skywoman had not come empty-handed. The bundle was still clutched in her hand. When she toppled from the hole in Skyworld she had reached out to grab onto the Tree of Life that grew there. In her grasp were branches—fruits and seeds of all kinds of plants. These she scattered onto the new ground, and carefully tended each one until the world turned from brown to green.
Sunlight streamed through the hole from Skyworld, allowing the seeds to flourish. Wild grasses, flowers, trees, and medicines spread everywhere. And now that the animals, too, had plenty to eat, many came to live with her on Turtle Island.
Honorable Harvest
• Know the ways of the ones who take care of you, so that you may take care of them.
• Introduce yourself.
• Be accountable as the one who comes asking for life.
• Ask permission before taking. Abide by the answer.
• Never take the first. Never take the last.
• Take only what you need.
• Take only that which is given.
• Never take more than half. Leave some for others.
• Harvest in a way that minimizes harm.
• Use it respectfully. Never waste What you have taken.
• Share.
• Give thanks for what you have been given.
• Give a gift, in reciprocity for what you have taken.
• Sustain the ones who sustain you and the earth will last forever.
Sorry to have missed yesterday’s blog…due to circumstances beyond our control a slight deviation from the plan.
Very nice place. Got a little something planned for Friday, but until then reading, relaxing, and chatting in beautiful Petoskey, Michigan.
Ah, yes.
St . Ignace
After a fine morning—first with the Nieses and then, briefly with the Janowiecs.
Bullfrog
New Janowiec boat
On its way to a new owner after 19 years.
Soccer, bike ride, dogs, conversation, sushi! Plus brief intersection with Mobile Pinebox
...stepping out on the big stage!
...bad day for planting— sunny, hot, humid, and still.
Garden soil nothing but sticky, gluey glop. Nonetheless, a decade of discounted big box tomato seedlings were wedged into the ground. Beets and squash will have to wait for cooler and cloudier conditions.
Otherwise, a day of errands and chores.
...for wild and rampant growth. Warmth, sun, and lots of moisture.
After last night’s rainstorm, this morning you could actually hear the grass growing...or you could have if this wasn’t “Noisy Village.” Surprisingly, however, very few bugs.
Too warm for yard work, but yard work nonetheless, including garden. The green manure cover crop was mowed; tomorrow beets and squash will be planted, based on the assumption that the galinsoga weed has been out performed and over dominated.
Before
After
Intense green everywhere, grass, forb, shrub, tree.
Yard work, managing the green, and then Ellie to riding lessons, at a new place, a beautiful farm, providing a great new teacher.
...after a brief stop in Fox Point for a little dancing, basketball, and pizza.
From what could be seen in the fading light, the yard looks pretty good.
...all the electrons have been blown out of the house. (Another unscheduled power failure, in other words.)
The Purvis fish tug coming in out of the blow
And with the high wind, high water. The Kagawong small boat harbor is pretty much overwhelmed.
Most of the day spent working on the boat. Grubby and sore and looking forward to a nice warm shower, except, no, no hydro and therefore no shower. But we can warm our pizza on the outdoor griddle. (See below)
Low of 3 forecast for tonight, with a chance of frost.
(This blog made possible by LTE.)
Actually decided on a wood-stove-warmed pie.
Midges. A thousand thousand (thousand thousand) small creatures, all with rapid wing beats, all along the shore. Each sound infinitesimal, but all together—loud. D above middle C, I believe, but occasionally an instantaneous rise and drop in pitch. How does that happen? Is there a conductor?
Also in the noise department, a robin, noisy, over by Tysons. This must be an industrious robin because getting here from points south means quite a trip, with a good long stretch over water. And, additionally, a bull frog, chug-a-rumming down in the marsh grass of the swale.
Today was also Heliotrope day. (More below the photos.)
Shrink wrap off, hull and deck power-washed, hull wiped down with magic hull cleaner, etc. Lots of awkward, damp, and moderately annoying chores. But just when you start to get cranky, you realize that what you are doing is boat-work, and there is almost nothing better than boat-work, and you remember all the many past years of boat-work, and you can visualize the boat looking fancy as she splashes back into her element. That’s when you know you would rather do almost nothing else.
Pier sections and landings moved up as high as they will go, and still getting soaked. Ninebark bushes wading up to their ankles. For us, sitting on the porch, or on the deck, and watching the waves roll in, it’s easy to start imagining that our feet might get wet. Record high water for this time in May. A big Nor’easter could do some real damage.
To Gore Bay in the morning to work on Heliotrope. But, just as we arrived and were starting to cut away the shrink-wrap, a dark cloud passed over and some rain came down. We debated waiting it out, and then headed home for lunch and a nap.
...and lemon meringue tort...and Sequence. Gaiser’s and Lloyds for dinner. Lots of prep work, but worth it.
...of the garden.
The blacker stuff on top of the soil is fumier de mouton
Gardening, though work, is fun. A swarm of blackflies in your face diminishes it some. Nonetheless, tomatoes, radishes and peas were planted in the thoroughly turned and weeded plot. Radishes never seem to do well here, and peas have a habit of net getting harvested, but beans are going in soon, and they seem to prosper.
some days, not so much.
The old-timer Mindemoya farmer who gave us our iris does well with tulips too
Grocery shopping in Mindemoya took up the fore-noon.The afternoon’s big accomplishment was a trip to the dump. (Of course, both took much longer than necessary due to road construction.)
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The present-day and the close-at-hand, the private, small scale wild places, are as astonishing as the long-gone and the far-afield. —Robert McFarlane
As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens. —Stephen Graham
Out of many favorite trees, the beech is perhaps the most.
I remember being awestruck as a kid by the beeches of western Michigan, around Saugatuck. Huge trees, with smooth, gray skin and muscular limbs. And then there is the very old weeping beech in Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin, that knocks my socks off whenever I see it, every year or two.
This little tyke (photo above) was trying to establish itself in an inauspicious spot down along the Lane, and I thought that maybe it would enjoy trying out a better place that both of us would appreciate. It’s an experiment, with hope that the transplantation was done successfully, and that the new location will be felicitous. Some beeches live 500 years. Wouldn’t that be nice.