This time James, Ben, Becca, and Maddie performing. Pictured below, just a third or so of the ensemble. Polished and entertaining show.
And, before heading to the concert, an experiment, the results of which are palatable, though definitely room for improvement.
No, not more Christmas shopping, because that’s all done, but…
The old Fort water tower
…a high reading on the barometer, actually 30.52 inches of mercury, which is a strange way to say that a lot of atmosphere is piled up above us. What it means in terms or weather is cloudless skies, no wind, and the chance for warmer temps—in other words perfect day for a bike ride. I’m guessing that today may be the last of the season; most likely it’s time to move the e-bike to the basement where the battery won’t be bothered by intense cold (assuming we have any anymore).
No, not the place where Moses got the tablets…
…but the attractive little town (heavily Norwegian) in the beautiful landscape of the eastern driftless area. We seem to make an annual pilgrimage to the Duluth trading store in town, although we never really buy much of anything. The Viking Bar and Grill a few doors down has a great burger, however.
We did find a few Xmas items in Madison, on the way home, luckily.
Beautiful, mid-October-like weather.
Ignoring the wide world and its unrelenting awfulness.
Wishing for snow, however, right here, and right now in the middle of December.
Seasonal projects continuing at a less than breakneck pace.
Also, taking bets on whether or not this location will have a white Christmas.
…at least a little.
And, much of the day devoted to upcoming festivities.
No snow, no ice, no sun. Just damp and dim with late mornings and early afternoons.
…through a wild, whipping, western wind, especially wicked when not with it.
Above, a marcescent swamp white oak, in the park.
Bouncing around, this time up north to help shuffle iron.
for a bike ride. Sunny, still, and almost 50.
Once rolling, it was hard to stop.
And for dinner…
…but none here.
Photos from Bob. Looks like the water of the bay is still open.
And, in other news, the 2022 Underused Housing tax bill receipt has arrived just a few days after we posted the 2023 form. Lots of money being spent on postage.
Light overnight snow, gone by mid-morning. Still no chance to use the new snow blower.
Above, young hemlock, enjoying the weather. Below, garden soil being tilled by frost.
Garage door thoughtlessly left open when we departed Whitewater Saturday morning. Neighbor called Sunday evening to let us know that it was unclosed. She did not want to enter on her own, so police were called for a walk-through. No intruders, no damage, nothing missing. Only problem, after being open a day and a night and a day, an open 20 pound bag of birdseed tipped and spilled across the garage floor. So somebody saw an opportunity.
Festive in Minocqua, above, cloudy, damp, and chilly in this location.
…and then lasagna.
Help with delivery from Milwaukee to Minocqua.
With some personalized touches.
…to the month.
I don’t envy the neighborhood squirrels. Soggy and cold it is out in the wild. So, turning thoughts to popcorn balls, Dundee cakes, and molasses cookies.
Popcorn Balls
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup syrup
1/2 cup water
1 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp vinegar
Boil to hard ball stage.
Reduce heat to low and stir in 1/2 stick butter.
Pour in thin stream over popcorn, stirring until well and evenly coated.
Butter hands, and avoid burning them when shaping.
…mostly of the Christmas kind.
Just random tree shots above—two photos not related.
One wish list included: Elemental Dragon vs the Empress Mech, Mandalorian Fang Fighter, Imperilin Dragon Hunter Hound… and, Tranquil Garden. Quite a range there, though all are Legos.
Some creature left its mark in the snow.
Sunny and still, and above freezing by afternoon.
With the month coming to a close, here is Frost’s take on it.
My November Guest
—Robert Frost
My sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
A stop at Sharla’s, in a corner of the old Carnegie library on the defunct campus of Milton College, for coffee and scones. A good way to make routine errands more palatable.
Having come across a free and easy way to access ChatGPT, I gave the robot a try.
A few days ago
Me:
Write me a haiku poem about the first snowfall of the year.
Robot:
Snowflakes gently fall,
Blanket of white on the earth,
Winter's soft embrace.
Not bad. 5,7,5 for a total of 17 syllables, as required. And you can tell that the robot is really feeling the seasonal emotion.
All of us wannabe poets should probably move on to something like pickle ball.
And visit to Antler Circle
