Musings

Roof chair

I think I could easily outline three different stories that include this scenario. Details: chair is not lashed to the vehicle, and the yard has no similar chairs.

A movie world

I know it’s obvious that a walk in an urban neighborhood is a different experience than a walk in a rural place.

I’m pretty sure this is evidence of a movie/TV shoot being broken down. Takes many, many cables for the many lights and cameras. I saw at six guys doing the breakdown, making these careful coils of cables. Also, about seven houses facing this park had bunting and lawn decorations, plus “homemade” signs about never forgetting 9/11. I’ve never seen such decorations in real life.

And a pretty. With a typical surprise insect.

Sightings

It’s always tough to leave the Upper Peninsula. Sightings of two rainbows over green, green farmland tempers the sadness, however.

Mass upgrades underway here at our overnight stop. I heard meowing as I approached the sinks. Pretty sure it wasn’t the vanities complaining about being displaced.

Day of drama

First drama was a population explosion, overnight mind you, of tiny gnats…which meant the spiders got busy, and the porch was decorated with web-caught and un-caught gnats.

Second drama was a lowering sky to the southwest…which meant it slid past us to the south, but it wasn’t clear whether it would follow that usual pattern or not for quite a while. As I was out walking.

The third dramatic event was that we attended a live music event! Meet AnnMarie Rowland, singer, song-writer, story-teller, and writing teacher. Covid struck and separated the Michigan native from her love, a Canadian. Now, all is well. She got a special exemption to travel to Ontario late last summer, and they got married, and now she can easily border-cross. As she said, “Sixty years old, and I HAD to get married!”

Still dry, dry, dry

We did get rain during our small dinner party on the “sun”porch, but only enough to almost make the upper surface of the hillfort garden-let damp.

I am my husband’s smart speaker. I’m smart (asserted modestly), and I speak (undeniable). [I’ve been hearing too many prompts on the radio….]

Talking fencepost

The story of rural agriculture decline in marginal areas like the central Upper Peninsula in one image; that’s what this decrepit fencepost “says” to me.

Great day

I’m calling it a moon walk. To a swamp and back.

Then, we ventured over toward Canada (border still closed), and watched this upbound freighter motor along. The landmass to the right is Canada. The closer island to the left is USA territory, or more truthfully, birdlandia.

The freighter has made the turn to head for the open waters of Lake Superior, and the sky shows many rain streaks. It eventually reached us, and we retreated indoors. With our whine.

So much fun to see long-time friends again, and to give and receive hugs. We laughed and told stories like always and my heart is well warmed.

Shades of blue

I know this as forget-me-not. [Internet search….] Taxonomically, they are the Myosotis genus. I think this is M. sylvatica, and native to Europe, however frequently I find it around here. Probably another escapee from the great-grandmother garden. Like the lupins.

Totally different scale; could be a farm complex on the prairie during the green season. But, no; up here by the sub-tundra, under a threatening sky that only produced a few drops of rain and no storm.

Layers of history

Today I walked around the old economic heart of A Real City.

The Beating Heart was these falls, the Upper Saint Anthony Falls, now marred? by a lock and dam.

The power the river generated, and this is the Mississippi so it is a mighty generator, ran the Gold Medal Flour mill on the south/west side…

And the Pillsbury mill on the north/east side. This is the underbelly of the mill complex. [Note fisher-person.] Now the mills are no longer milling, and this sacred place of the people who were here before the EuroAmericans arrived is irretrievably altered.

I quite enjoyed walking across the curving Stone Arch Bridge that seems to connect the two mills. It’s a pedestrian bridge now, although it was built for rail cars. The water on the left is the lower end of the Pillsbury millrace (it seemed to me), and the bridge crosses the main channel of the Mississippi.

And all this? Yup. Couldn’t have put it better myself.

Crossing the plains

Steady eastbound motoring brought us from pastured beef with oil drilling, to pasture plus some row-crops (seemed almost exclusively wheat), to less and less pasture and more and more crop-fields.

Somewhere in there, the oil machinery disappeared, and then we got a few wind turbines. A few of these old-style windmills were scattered throughout.

Now, no photo, we’re in almost entirely row-crops, and no cattle/pasture whatsoever. Rain expected overnight, which is good as it is a bit dry; however, accompanying tornadoes are not desirable.

A more precise title might be along the lines of “Central continental longitudinal topographic and land use drift,” but, duh, too unwieldly.