…the iceboat, that is.
Been reading a summary of the recent Misery Bay Climate Change Roundtable, conducted by Al Douglas (owner of Hideaway Lodge and president of Climate Risk Institute). Things become more personal when they are close to home:
…and poco moto while you’re at it. Another practice session with Irene (while Sue with Jayne). Great fun, good sounds, and the only real problem getting the repeats right.
After practice, dinner at Craft Urban in Geneva (Sue now joining us), right across the street from the Unitarian Universalist Society of Geneva. Incredibly fine food, some of the best I’ve ever had.
Frosted face and numb thumbs on our morning walk. But really, temps nowhere near zero. Iceboaters should consider this t-shirt and Bermuda shorts weather. Time to practice being warm when it’s cold.
Barometer low, windy, light rain, bottom falling out of the thermometer. Below, more Whitewater shots (overly doctored with a phone app I’m learning). The middle image is of the University’s new cooling plant—apparently it is equipped with a wall made of LEDs, (and I guess that’s good).
Katy’s dance recital.
Sue put up Christmas. I helped—by gluing a few dough ornaments back together.
Wind from the south; chilly, but warm enough for a bike ride to the prairie.
December Morning In The Desert
— Alberto Rios
The morning is clouded and the birds are hunched,
More cold than hungry, more numb than loud,
This crisp, Arizona shore, where desert meets
The coming edge of the winter world.
It is a cold news in stark announcement,
The myriad stars making bright the black,
As if the sky itself had been snowed upon.
But the stars—all those stars,
Where does the sure noise of their hard work go?
These plugs sparking the motor of an otherwise quiet sky,
Their flickering work everywhere in a white vastness:
We should hear the stars as a great roar
Gathered from the moving of their billion parts, this great
Hot rod skid of the Milky Way across the asphalt night,
The assembled, moving glints and far-floating embers
Risen from the hearth-fires of so many other worlds.
Where does the noise of it all go
If not into the ears, then hearts of the birds all around us,
Their hearts beating so fast and their equally fast
Wings and high songs,
And the bees, too, with their lumbering hum,
And the wasps and moths, the bats, and the dragonflies—
None of them sure if any of this is going to work,
This universe—we humans oblivious,
Drinking coffee, not quite awake, calm and moving
Into the slippers of our Monday mornings,
Shivering because, we think,
It’s a little cold out there.
Little wind, and warm enough for a walk to the post office, and then back the long way, as well as a loop around the prairie just before sunset.
A little workshop work (Christmas is coming), erection of prototype anti-starling bird-feeder, Aerophone practice (11 different instruments for the church gig), and new wipers and an oil change on the truck, which, surprisingly, is coming up on 5 years old.
Email from the Ice Yacht Club commodore, however, letting everyone know that some real ice-forming cold is coming, and to be prepared.
Lawyers and bankers related to Kagawong lot.
Bright sun and a brisk cool breeze. Pax has been so charged up lately his mohawk is standing on end, so a long walk was just what he needed.
Below some Whitewater sights along the way.
In the afternoon, to Oconomowoc to help out a bit, where Mimi had been filling in most of the day. Below, Mimi and the boys devouring some takeout.
To Irene’s to practice for our upcoming church gig. Forgot to take photos, but great fun, and we actually sound pretty good.
Also got to play with her new rav drum and didgeridoo.
the irresistible confection. Every year about this time tubs of the stuff appear on endcaps at the grocery store, and that’s all it takes. Super sweet and salty, but containing a legume, so ever so good for you.
Who needs pie?
Semi-soggy and somewhat uninspiring. Drizzle turning to light snow.
A walk around a deserted campus, a little elfish workshopping, groceries. And now, looking forward to dinner, an episode, and reading.
Dusting Marilyn Nelson Thank you for these tiny particles of ocean salt, pearl-necklace viruses, winged protozoans: for the infinite, intricate shapes of submicroscopic living things. For algae spores and fungus spores, bonded by vital mutual genetic cooperation, spreading their inseparable lives from equator to pole. My hand, my arm, make sweeping circles. Dust climbs the ladder of light. For this infernal, endless chore, for these eternal seeds of rain: Thank you. For dust.
An evening of fun.
Snow only a memory south of Stevens Point.
Grass and leaves, here, instead of snow. Rumors of another foot or so tomorrow in Flambeau. Maybe a little rain here. And now time to unwrap some delectable leftovers.
Good company, good food.
Nice place to be almost snowed in.
…providing incentive to head north to Flambeau ahead of the blizzard.
Once here, Chinese checkers, poker, solitaire, and lots of other fun. Wind blustering now and snow just beginning to fly.
…walking in a bit of state forest, filling water jugs at the ever flowing well, washing the truck, Texas green chili, and a bit of Xmas elfin.
…fading to dim afternoon, and then still-unanticipated dark. The solstice is approaching. On the up side, all snow is gone, and throughout the neighborhood leaves continue to be raked.
According to an article I read today, Mr. Rogers’ (of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood) favorite saying is this:
“L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.” (From The Little Prince.)
…with the neighbors. Visit to indoor farmer’s market in the morning. Bike ride in the afternoon. Sunny and cool—pleasant.
And below, grass doing an impersonation of Pip.
