Musings

Last week was just about the perfect time to visit southern Michigan, except for the heat, as it was in the throes of the green season. Recent rain changed the palette and brought the verdancy nearly to its peak. John and I walked along Sycamore Creek, and the woods floor was damp and smelled of the best of shadiness, as the canopy leaves are full out. In the spots where we came out into old fields we found happy spring growth, unfortunately especially of PI (my friend and yours: poison ivy).

Here you can see the typical Michigan non-winter landscape mosaic of field and forest, sewn together by fencelines—with or without fences—sometimes with exotic species, like these flowers, that make dramatic visual borders.

Do not expect it to look quite like this in Ohio, BTW, as down there they pretty much plow right up to the blacktop, unless there are steep drainage ditches. Either way, colorful fencelines are absent.

Posted at 5:09 PM | Comments Off on Green scenes

In the public library late this afternoon, I picked up White Crosses, by Larry Watson*. Immediately, an image of the crosses on the hummock on the edge of Seney, called Seney’s Boot Hill, popped into my mind. This was one of my favorite stops on our tours of the north woods during my childhood. I was spellbound by the oblong depressions, the dampening of my footfalls by the thick layer of brown and crisp needles, and the susurration of the breeze in the pines above.

Bodies were regularly planted in this cemetery back in the heyday of logging, when, like the miners of the “Old West,” the loggers would get their pay and head to the bars and bawdy houses of Seney for some R&R. Inevitably, fights boke out, and sometimes a logger would die with his boots on, and the town would do its civic duty and plant the fellow out here on the edge of the Tahquamenon swamp.

More recent do-gooders have added new crosses, and generally keep the place, well, spruced up.

* An anonymous reviewer found Watson’s tale “annoying,” but I didn’t know that when I brought it home. Perhaps my experience will be different.

Posted at 5:48 PM | 2 Comments »

Oddly named Fivefingers, these shoes seem like a great idea, unless your toes don’t repond well to this much circumscription or you want some arch support.* My conclusion is that the designers picked the repellent yellow/blue contrasting colors because they were thinking about diving and underwater visibility.

I’m safe from checking these Fivefingers out, however, as there are only a few scattered dealers carrying them on their shelves. And, besides, I’m SUCH a Keen** fan!

* Kudos to my SIL for suggesting I take a look at these fine foot-coverings.

** Sorry, obnoxious site; pages are slow to load and hyperactive with presumed impressive programming—NOT.

Posted at 5:44 PM | Comments Off on Toe shoes

I often forget just how large New York is—the state!—and how varied its terrain is. We zoomed through the state and city just after Thanksgiving, as you can see from this trip down memory lane. Here’s the view from a peak whose name I’ve forgotten that K and I hiked up to.

Regarding Sunday’s entry, I’ve also added a (crude) map showing where Eagle’s Nest is. That long skinny lake to the northwest is Long Lake, but the one just east of it (and NNE of Eagle’s Nest) has the best name: Fur Farm Lake. Yes, because back in the Old Days a harvesting concern was quartered there. Google’s gotten some bad data, however, because the big lake to the north of these two (no!, not Superior!) is labeled “Camp Seven Alke”. And that last word is a typo for LAKE.

Posted at 10:22 PM | 1 Comment »

Excellent news late today: word is my bro and his climbing buddy got out, and were to fly back to Seattle tonight.

Out, as in (as I understand it), choppered off the flank of Mt. Baker, having gotten trapped there days ago by bad weather.

Any bets on how long it is before he heads way up above the snowline again? My money’s on less than six months….

Posted at 9:23 PM | Comments Off on He’s out!

Much of today my mind has been split between thoughts of Mt. Baker, AK and highland Mesoamerica in the Early and Middle Formative.

Musing upon a gorgeous sunset (or sunrise, when on the East Coast!) is a partial antidote.

Posted at 10:22 PM | Comments Off on Waiting day

Spring rains are quite special, progressing with soft, light precipitation. Newly leafed out plants almost murmur their pleasure at the cleansing and nourishment of nature’s libation.

Walking this morning, John and I got a major dose of spring rain, colorfully evident before we left on the weather radar, returning home dripping and ready for towels and a change of clothing.

Meanwhile, the house is redolent, as promised, with Chinese five-spice rubbed ribs slow-roasting in the oven.

Posted at 3:30 PM | Comments Off on Spring rain

I don’t know butterflies, but this looks like a sulfur type (Colias spp.)

The other day Anne (29 April) posted a recipe for her favorite BBQ sauce, and I started salivating. That recipe is very similar to my old favorite sauce, but recently I revamped the sauce, and I’ve posted my new favorite BBQ sauce recipe in the Food Fun section. I love that sauce over country-style ribs, roasted in the oven!

I’ve also posted a short-ribs recipe that is a bit different, as the flavors are dominated by the complexity of Chinese five-spice powder. This makes a great company-sized feed, and is super with an ice-cold beer!

I admit that we have left-over tamales from Cinco de My-oh yesterday, so I won’t be making any BBQ today, but it’s on the to-do list for tomorrow!

Posted at 10:54 AM | Comments Off on BBQ love

On today’s visit to Piedmont Park, we saw Madame Mallard, with her brood of three active youngsters, making their way along the shoreline flitting and investigating every little thing. Even Madame had a difficult time being very interested in Mary Jo’s stick, although she tried hard to seem enticed. The little guys, however, just ignored the outstretched hand.

No doubt they will soon learn.

Posted at 5:01 PM | Comments Off on Mallard four

The kind of chestnut I dream about these days….

When I walk in the Southern woods, like we did last Sunday, I look at downed tree-skeletons and wonder if this or that specimen is a chestnut. Most were taken by disease years ago, and the forests were combed for their wood, because it is so fine. You still see the occasional American Chestnut, but it is almost always less than twenty years old (or so), ’cause after that, the disease downs them, even today.

Indeed, the missing chestnuts and passenger pigeons make today’s Southern forests quite different than those of the precolumbian past.

Posted at 3:48 PM | Comments Off on Chestnut dreams