Warm and Damp

Little thunderstorm in the morning, big one in the evening. In between, drips and drizzles. Definitely growing weather. In fact, a new covid pastime in rural Wisconsin is corn-watching, in which you find a wide shoulder on a quiet country road, pull over there (preferably with lunch or a snack), and spend an hour or two watching corn grow.

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In honor of the season:

Let America Be America Again
BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

 (America never was America to me.)

 Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

 (It never was America to me.)

 O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe…

…O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

 Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!


Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!

Summer Exemplar

Couldn’t be any closer to perfect, at least if we are talking about the weather. Sunny with cottony cumulus, some of which tried to pile up to nimbus stage. Low humidity, gentle temperature, pleasant breeze.

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Odds and ends. Sue helping with projects in Fox Point. In grocery shopping today (I went at a low traffic time) it seemed that about two thirds of the customers were wearing masks (along with all employees, of course). I steered an obviously wide path around the clueless.

Bike Paradise

Manitowish Waters. Miles and miles of trails of all kind—paved, gravel, and…twisty, boulder-strewn, semi-vertical, very skinny mountain bike horrors. Somehow I got on a stretch of one of those…and lived to tell about it. Of course, for Will, Katy, Ab, and Tony, trails like that are cotton candy.

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And, later, back at the boathouse, a torrential thunderstorm, aka a duck-drownder.

How Old Is This Big Oak?

Definitely old growth.

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First, measure up four-and-a-half feet, which is where you measure DBH (Diameter at Breast Height).

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Mark it with a piece of tape, and then start measuring.

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Keep measuring.

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When you run out of measuring tape (in this case at 120 inches, or 10 feet), mark the spot. Then measure from that point to your starting point.

In this case we had 120 inches, plus 26 inches, which when added together equals 146 inches, which is almost 12 feet. That’s the circumference. Now, to find the diameter we divide by Pi. So, 146/3.14= 46.5 inches, which I am rounding up to 47 inches. That’s the diameter.

Now, to estimate the age of the tree, you need to know what kind of tree you are measuring and then use some kind of Growth Factor chart. See the previous post. (You can download a Step-By-Step Guide, which includes several charts.)

This tree I know as an old friend and as a burr oak. And, when I look at the charts, it appears to be off the chart. More than 152 years then, and probably in the 160 to 180 range. This tree, it would appear, was seedling sometime before the civil war, sometime before Wisconsin became a state, and back when Wiitewater was a campsite.

Glacial Drumlin

Perfect day for a ride. On the Glacial Drumlin Trail. This time from Sullivan to Jefferson, just over 10 miles. Sue was kind enough to drop me off at the start point and pick me up at the end point. And while I was riding, she and Pax walked, hung out in a park, and read books.

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Mostly a tunnel of trees, an arching canopy, sometimes low enough to give a thwack on the helmet or require a quick duck of the head. Old RR right of way, sometimes elevated, sometimes sunken like the Natchez trace. All gravel or compacted dirt. A feeling of wild, although never very far from a highway. Just over 10 miles, with an average speed of 14 mph, and a fun factor of 9.8. A covid adventure par excellence.

Clogged Eavestroughs…

…causing overflow. In between storms, gelatinous globs of late season pear leaves mixed with recent, though mushy, maple samaras were removed, and then the gutters ran clear. After the first storm, conditions remained tropical, but late in the afternoon a lovely cold front blew through, and now—windows wide open, and a little light rain being swirled around by a vigorous north-west wind.

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