Thursday, 21 August 2025
I know you’re supposed to eat more protein as you get older, and I’m surely more elderly, in fact elderly enough to eat more protein. The latest numbers I’ve read are that I should bump it up from my “adult” days on the order of 20% to something like 70 grams or more (probably more). I need to consult nutrition tables to figure out how to do that.
Wednesday, 20 August 2025
This bunch is leaning toward the light. I feel like I’m doing that now, as the dark has arrived early…accompanied by thunder and precipitation…whatta surprise (remember yesterday).
Tuesday, 19 August 2025
We almost always come through Cincinnati on I-75, or parallel side routes; however, today we took to the side streets and ended up on I-71, which gave us this different view of downtown.
They both cross the Ohio on the same bridge. The traffic was moving just fine.
Climbing away from the river, we spotted this whimsy.
[By focusing on Cincy, I can easily avoid discussing the traffic *fun* we had in metro ATL during rush hour, complicated with rain. However: home safely.
Monday, 18 August 2025
Yesterday was a darned gorgeous day, clear skies, low AQI, moderate temps…we enjoyed it thoroughly…and got many chores wrangled. Nevertheless, we pulled out this morning, and rendezvoused with a dear, dear friend we haven’t seen in too, too long for lunch. We didn’t boat to the restaurant, but, as you can see, we could have! I did see a great blue heron flop in right behind a heron statue, not shown. We gabbed with BFF, and munched on lunch, and laughed and got caught up and remembered old times, too. Fabulous.
If the first photo was lunch view, this is pylon view…shot by my loverly spouse, thanks so much. And we rolled south, and rolled south some more. Observing the ditch-side vegetation in southern Michigan and into Ohio, and I submit a nickname for I-75: Teasel Alley. [Quick internet look-up: teasel is invasive in the USA…who could tell? 🤣 ]
Sunday, 17 August 2025
The light was just right to show off the wood flakes in this finishing material on the porch. Believe it or not, this is not a B&W image…you’re just looking at grey paint.
Saturday, 16 August 2025
8:45am. Let me draw your attention to the wave action product. I was surprised to find two sticks perpedicular to the waves, although one is parallel, which is what I remember seeing ?every? time. I arrived too late for the sunrise, but I could see the far shore more clearly than I have seen for days. Yay.
3:45pm. Another short shower. I raced around closing windows, but not too much as the temps were dropping from the oppressive 79°F, so I wanted to capture whatever cool the breezes brought.
Not much wind, but it came up and blew lightly in from the west. Change, to the south. Oops, switched again, to a bit from the north. See: the window closing dance.
After the storm drifted away, it actually felt cool. Cool: magic. [Still sticky, however.]
Friday, 15 August 2025
The apples most exposed to the sun are beginning to color. They’re also gaining size, and squeezing each other…or something that causes the apples to drop sporadically.
The apples on the ground are like magnets for the deer, munch munch. They stand around as at a buffet, munch munch, so there’s, uh-hem, a downstream effect—watch your step.
Thursday, 14 August 2025
IMHO, the sky shows that the AQI is at a reasonable level this morning. Yay.
At the beach, I discovered that our last day of rain brought down one of the dead birches. The trunk is remodeling the beach.
AQI was rising by evening time. Darn.
Wednesday, 13 August 2025
MaNachur rained herself out in the dark hours, so that I found this spider web plastered onto the screen—obvious against the tree-obscured dawn sky…however, I could not get the focus correct. Ahhrrrghhhh.
A few moments later, the next screen had no web, but instead gem-streaks—and a first peek of the sun.
Tuesday, 12 August 2025
We had another late afternoon/early evening rain/no-rain rotation, once again substantiating the “if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes” saying. Sometimes it’s more like a half-hour, but the pattern remains.
Also, I learned the Norwegian word fallvinder, which refers to strong downdrafts (at tornadic speeds) along the coast, that descend from the land across the coast, then compromising watercraft. The word was in a NYTimes article about experimental archaeologist Greer Jarrett, who’s been imitating Viking sailing, mostly long-distance trips along the western Scandinavian coast. Fallvinder were an underestimated danger Jarrett’s voyages highlighted. The boats were mostly 30-footers, and not the longships favored by artists and film-makers; he says they’re what most folk used. His over two dozen voyages illuminate what routes, islands, and ports were mostly likely used, and not necessarily previously known.
We experinced no fallvinders today at the cottage.