Sun!

A welcome sight after a week of gray.

IMG_4779.jpeg

Over to Shorewood on an errand, so a chance for brunch with Abby at the Blue Egg; and if you have any interest in brunch, the Blue Egg menu is globally inspired. Quite a place, actually. (And fun discussion.)

IMG_5633 copy.jpg

And quite a breath of fresh air after chain smoking the impeachment hearings. My big takeaway from the hearings is that the United States has been under attack by Russia since at least the 2016 election, is still under attack (and we have 2020 on the horizon), and that the Republican party doesn’t care. The current political climate of conspiracy theories, alternative facts, Twitter trolling, etc. is right out of Russia’s playbook. It’s Pearl Harbor in digital form, and the current administration has surrendered to the enemy because they think the enemy will help them win elections.

More Testimony

More hours devoted to watching impeachment proceedings. A pivotal point in the history of this country, I believe. Will we continue be (more or less) a representative democracy or will we devolve into a strong-man led, Russian-style oligarchy?

Swamp white oak, which holds its leaves long after they have finished their primary work

Swamp white oak, which holds its leaves long after they have finished their primary work

Another day of dull, gray nondescript weather.

Epic Ballad

Not here, not today, but in the poem below, published in Indian School Journal, in 1913. Hodjkiss was Cheyenne/Sioux, and almost nothing else is known about him. Skilled poet, though, as evidenced by this driving, carefully rhymed ballad, written in English, which was likely not his native tongue.

IMG_4763.jpeg

Song of the Storm-Swept Plain 

William D. Hodjkiss

The wind shrills forth  
From the white cold North  
Where the gates of the Storm-god are;  
And ragged clouds,  
Like mantling shrouds, 
Engulf the last, dim star. 

Through naked trees,  
In low coulees,  
The night-voice moans and sighs;  
And sings of deep,  
Warm cradled sleep,  
With wind-crooned lullabies. 

 He stands alone  
Where the storm’s weird tone 
In mocking swells;  
And the snow-sharp breath  
Of cruel Death  
The tales of its coming tells. 

 The frightened plaint 
Of his sheep sound faint 
Then the choking wall of white— 
Then is heard no more,  
In the deep-toned roar,  
Of the blinding, pathless night. 

 No light nor guide, 
Save a mighty tide 
Of mad fear drives him on; 
‘Till his cold-numbed form  
Grows strangely warm; 
And the strength of his limbs is gone. 

 Through the storm and night 
A strange, soft light  
O’er the sleeping shepherd gleams; 
And he hears the word  
Of the Shepherd Lord  
Called out from the bourne of dreams. 

 Come, leave the strife  
Of your weary life; 
Come unto Me and rest  
From the night and cold,  
To the sheltered fold, 
By the hand of love caressed. 

 The storm shrieks on, 
But its work is done— 
A soul to its God has fled; 
And the wild refrain  
Of the wind-swept plain,  
Sings requiem for the dead.

Waffles and Ping-pong…

…in the morning, damp and chilly walk in the afternoon. (And even that tenuous, in so far as it’s now some sort of hunting season and Pax is hearing things.)

IMG_4761.jpeg

Ping-pong is only fun when you have reasonable competition; otherwise it’s mostly ball chasing (usually requiring a prone position with arm wedged under an item of furniture). Kate and Will are fun to play, and a number of matches were tied at game point.

Much Better…

…above freezing, with verifiable sunshine. Walking without creepers once again possible.

Adjustments.jpeg

But, too much of the day spent on watching the impeachment hearing. Can’t help but find it fascinating—not just history in the making but also the play of logic and obfuscation. For those of us who like idea mapping (and wish we could do it well), a rich source of source material.

On the productive side, plank finished, anti-theft bird feeder prototyped, and what looks like a pretty tasty made-from-scratch chicken pot pie now in the oven.

Just Pax and Me

Sue south.

IMG_4722.jpeg

Breakfast with the boys at Amalia’s. Work on the iceboat plank. Balance of gutter cleaning work. Prairie walk. Gray and chilly day (with a winter warning again in the forecast).
If I remember rightly, one of the first photos I ever posted as a blog, many years ago now, (November 14, 2011) was of gutter cleaning. Some things bear repeating (though it helps to have waterproof gloves).

Ice On The Ponds…

…and more and deeper cold forecast, so could be sailing soon. Time to finish up iceboat plank repair (WEST epoxy with adhesive and fairing fillers).

IMG_4705.jpeg

Fall Leaves Fall

Emily Brontë

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

A Cold One

Hazardous morning walk—ice underfoot some places, salted walks other places (which Pax finds very uncomfortable).

Shagbark hickory holding on to its leaves

Shagbark hickory holding on to its leaves

Afternoon walk at the prairie not slippery, but, with a bit of a breeze, quite chilly. However, according to an article sent by Abby, “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing,” and we were well dressed, including Pax who has on his winter coat.

Some sanding and epoxy work on the iceboat plank asking for attention in the basement. And for dinner, homegrown squash soup along with ale-steamed Prince Edward Island mussels (which brings back memories of Philadelphia).

Up To The Hubcaps…

…in mud, when we took the trailer-full of leaves and tomato vines to the Whitewater compost site. I would have taken a photo there except I try not to post scary pictures on this blog. (One would think that the City could afford a load of gravel since, unlike every other town, it provides no curbside leaf vacuum service.)

My favorite hemlock

My favorite hemlock

In addition to that grisly task we dropped off an extraordinarily heavy dresser at Goodwill in Janesville, bought a bag of PEI mussels at the J’ville Festival store, got flu shots at Walgreens back in W’water, and then, to top things off, cleaned the east side gutters—which were packed solid with pine needles, oak and birch leaves, snow, and ice. Painfully cold even changing gloves every few minutes.

More Theatrics

Over to American Players Theatre in Spring Green (with neighbors), for a production called “Doll House, Part 2.” I was able to get away quickly right at the closing curtain because Pax was waiting in the car and needed a walk, and that was fortunate for everyone because I never had to express my opinion of the play.

IMG_4701.jpeg
IMG_4700.jpeg
IMG_4702.jpeg

Also fortunately, on the way home we were able to stop at the Arena Cheese factory, in Arena, for some cheese—10 year cheddar, bleu, and smoked Gouda.

Fast Moving Clouds…

…with a sense of changing seasons in the air, along with trying to adjust to the time change. Dark by 5?

IMG_4699.jpeg

Pax loving it however, asking me to race him on our bike/run to the prairie and back. Three-year-old Kentucky Coffee Tree (started from seed) transplanted from it’s nursery in the back yard to a prominent spot in the front yard. Leaves raked (with completion in sight). House straightened. Kids returned to their rightful owners.

And the book, One Size Fits None, subtitle “A Farm Girl’s Search for the Promise of Regenerative Agriculture, completed. Overall, well written and interesting, though many of the ideas are not all that new:
“When it comes to farmers’ markets, buzzwords like ‘grass-fed’ and ‘local’ might attract customers initially…” but what Gabe is trying to do is convince people to buy his products because of the regenerative agricultural system they represent. “When customers come the first thing they want to know is, where do we come form? Then they want to know GMO or not? That’s number two. Then it’s antibiotics, hormones, and grass finished. What we’re trying to do is sell the whole story. We’re trying to produce healthy food on healthy soils…”