We paused our chores list and headed north to see The Big Lake. Grand Marais harbor.
Mouth of Hurricane Creek.
Coaster brook trout resting during their travel upstream to spawn in Hurricane Creek. These fish were something like 15 inches long.
Walked a mile and a half east to Au Sable Point Lighthouse.
Pleasant shoreline view. You cannot see the annoying biting stable flies. You cannot see how warm/humid it was.
Large insect with ready to pop lilies-of-the-valley.
Large and growing asparagus. I see five shoots; they were not this tall yesterday.
Growing mesclun. I think four different types have germinated [Approximately the same spot as the photo two days ago. Science is fun!]
The morning sun center-targets this window, which is mostly terrific and sometimes situationally over-bright.
I am surprised these trilliums are still lovely, although they are showing a bit of age. In partial sun.
I set my mission this morning to eradicate a population of Heracleum maximum, or phytotoxic cow parsnip, from the ditch up the way. It’s the broad-leaf in the foreground. Public property, but no one else is inclined to remove them.
I did a lot of tromping around and dug up that big pile of nastiness on the blue tarp. I didn’t get all of them, but I did get all the big plants and most of the small ones. The sun moved and the humidity was high and I tired, so I quit before complete eradication. No one stopped to ask what I was doing. I mulled over several quips if someone stopped to say something like, “Hey, lady, there’s no strawberries there.”
I deposited the toxic remains in the old well hole I’ve been using for two years now, and covered them with an old tarp and a much older ancient canvas tent. That tent was purchased in the early 1960s and I slept in it many times. Coleman, of course.
More fun is that at least one more species from the seven promised in my supermarket mesclun packet is germinating.
The rain you see on this barberry was yesterday; the hummingbirds were today. No snap; they are busy creatures, zip zip gone.
Mesclun appears! Germination success! Only one of the seven advertized species/varieties, however, I’m hypothesizing based on that the plantlets all look like this.
Leaf miners in…I thought it was moss from standing above it…now, a close-up, hmm…dunno; I am not a botanist.
And, for grins, “way too much coffee.” It happens.
The Botanist called this the Siberian apple, and said it was planted to be a pollinator. Even the deer won’t eat the fruit, he said. Indeed, even in the spring I have found apples below it on the ground when there are (nearly) none in the rest of the orchard.
It has an odd shape, and this is without pruning for in excess of six decades, perhaps longer.
I just Goo-d Siberian apple, and did not find this (crabapple, yes). Must be something missing from my info, or possibly my impatience with my hinterland internet connection (and thus reluctance to keep scrolling down…and waiting waiting waiting).
We did outdoor chores through mid-morning, then de-ticked (one, on me, walking) and bathed. Fuddled around, then decided to head out for A Better Grocery Shopping Experience. We have three choices for that, each about 90 miles away: Escanaba to the WSW, Marquette to the WNW, and Sault Sainte Marie to the ENE. We chose Escanaba.
That means we saw the M of HOMES. Here is Manistique bay, and its stubby lighthouse marking the west side of the river mouth /outflow /channel.
Rain off and on during most of our trek, but the predicted precip didn’t materialize at the cottage until after we returned, perhaps 5pm. Plenty of wind, too, so not pleasant outside at all. Now we’re hunkered down with cupboards full of fine grocs, and even a new small-medium sized fan (for summer heat, although 80s are forecast for next week).
Today was laundry day, only one load, a medium sized machine in the establishment we visited. Of course, the “regular” machines hold about half what my home washer holds, so I’d call them minis, while the washer we used holds more than our home machine. Happily, we had sunshine the rest of the day to dry our dungarees and tees. So: yay.
Then, in the late-day sun, when I was out dumping compost after dinner/supper, I spotted this trio, part of a larger group we’ve been seeing that numbers in the range of a dozen. Our tick-bearing, four-footed friends.
I’ve been waiting for this: my first quiet, clear morning artistically generating ground fog.
Yeah, I know eclipses are show-stoppers, but ground fog comes more often, although not frequently enough that it’s not special when it happens. Shown here with this year’s ringfort (aka small, elevated garden), planted with mixed greens (center), amidst a ring of basil seeds. Stand by to see what germinates and survives; give me/it time.
See the darker green in the center and center right of the foreground(ish).
That’s chives mixed in with the grass, with their darker green stems compared to the grass.