Friday, 4 July 2025
When I think of viburnums, I think of these snowball bushes. Turns out Ötzi, the mummified fella found in 1991 emerging from melting ice on the Austrian/Italian border in the Alps, was carrying arrows with viburnum shafts. Of all things.
Wednesday, 2 July 2025
Some days are just a blur; today was one. I’m good, though…leftovers make it easy (for example).
Tuesday, 1 July 2025
Today was between two nights with rain, and I hear tonight’s weather events will include storminess. Fun (sarcasm). 🙃
Monday, 30 June 2025
Fennel flowers…in the porch light, so more golden than in reality.
Saturday, 28 June 2025
We had maybe eight cars in front of us at the toll booth. We could see the northbound traffic going on and on. The back up started at the very top of the brige, and by the density of traffic we saw south of there, it backed up further within just a short time. Soooo glad we were southbound.
But why so much traffique? Model change-over?
This Ohio slow-down must have just happened before we got to it. I saw one vehicle and one person (neither looking damaged, although the car was pointed north and had a soft rear tire, oops) standing outside it talking to cops and firefighters. I wasn’t rubber-necking, though, mind you. 😉
Note the general haziness in the bridge picture (high, thin smoke?), and the pretty darned clear sky in the second photo…further south in Ohio, after dark, we came upon wet pavement, and these drippy roses in a rest area (obv: evidence of rain).
That’s it. I’m going to avail myself of the easy upload using my phone hotspot…such efficiency! 😎
We’ve been seeing lots of fireworks as we continue south toward KY…several towns were having strawberry festivals, but not in Dayton or Cincinnati. Curious. 🤩
Friday, 27 June 2025
This morning’s murky sky was from moisture; in fact, it may well be raining across the lake, as the trees there are scarcely visible. BTW, this log was out in knee-deep water yesterday—shows the power of breaking waves.
These bushes are heavy with blossoms, denser than we remember from previous years. Of course, the blooms additionally are heavy with rain accumulation. I can’t remember what The Botanist called them; with a little help from plant recognition software, I’m pretty sure they are Kolkwitzia amabilis, beautybush to everyday folk.
Thursday, 26 June 2025
The storm the other day brought this lupin down across the path, and my eye was caught by the complex patterns in in the blossoms.
I can’t know, of course, but perhaps when I stopped to take this picture the seed tick I found inside my elbow a couple hours later crawled onto me…ick. I quickly removed it, then took a shower with lots of soaping, followed by a complete towel scrubbing.
Tuesday, 24 June 2025
Last summer, roughly midsummer as I recall, we were leaving and I had two green onions that were somewhat scruffy, and not worth transporting 1K miles, so I stuck them in the garden mound. One disappeared, but this one is thriving, in bloom, even.
Monday, 23 June 2025
I went to the beach to see the sunrise, and caught the post-rise glow…over a slightly roily lake. It’s been at least a day of the lake being in motion, and that changes the microbiome…I found ten large leeches while walking the beach cast ashore by the relentless turbulence, and snagged them each with a stick and tossed each in the woods. Me and the wind: altering the microbiome.
Returning to the cottage to make coffee, I spotted the sun illuminating a lupin that’s already displaying fuzzy pods.
Since today was to be hothothot, even more than yesterday, we decided to visit the largest and deepest of the Great Lakes, the S of HOMES. This is the flag display standing at attention in the south (offshore) wind at Grand Marais…the Michigan one.
At the end of the peninsula bracketing Grand Marais’s bay, we walked out toward the lighthouse. This is looking west along the beach…you can see there’s some overcast obscuring the distant dunes. Indeed, several times at the cottage, we’ve smelled a touch of the smoke still being generated up in Canada.
We drove west to the mouth of Hurricane River, one of our favorite stops. The offshore wind means the biting stable flies are epic in the quiet air, so we didn’t hike to the Au Sable Lighthouse as we typically do.
We spotted this pair of Amanitas adjacent to the along-the-beach path aka the North Country Trail…and (haha) unaffected by the biting flies…. Not so, the two of us. Back on the road, we turned up the fan to discourage the biting flies that followed us into the car…they head for the windows and the ankles…and they are per-SIS-tent (ouch; their bite is sharp).
