Sunday, 9:00 AM. 25 degrees F, wind mostly W, light. The humidity is 76%, and the barometer stands at 30.16 in. There are low dark clouds on the eastern horizon, which the sun is valiantly struggling to get through, but so far it has only managed to produce a few silvery streaks. The rest of the sky is darkly overcast. It is a dull, gray, quiet morning.
Ice formation was obvious on the quiet waters of the channel yesterday, the ferries leaving a visible track in the otherwise difficult to discern skim coat of freezing water. There has been enough wind and current since to dissolve it all except for a few patches of white ice, floating at random like oyster crackers in a bowl of soup.
Yesterday the feeders were visited by a male purple finch, a welcome addition to the grays and blacks of the chickadees and nuthatches. The chickadees are constantly busy pecking a the branches of the big lilac bush on the corner of the deck. I suspect they are eating scale insects… gray, flat, crusty, immobile objects that are easy to overlook unless you are a small bird looking for a winter snack.
I am well into historian David McCullough’s new biography of the young Theodore Roosevelt, Mornings On Horseback. I have never been much of a fan of T R, considering him rather dangerous and imperious, although interesting indeed. It is a day for birds and books.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
THE DOG WITH THE PEPSODENT SMILE
Friday, 9:30 AM. 23 degrees F, wind SW, breezy. It is a gloriously sunny morning and a great improvement from the dark, dismal mornings we have been experiencing. The sun casts strong shadows in the woods, like black ink lines drawn on white paper. The sun is so bright it is startling. Andy is cooking pancakes, and the morning aromas are delicious.
I told you yesterday about Buddy’s misadventures and misbehaviors, which we thought were over the top. Over the top has been “topped,” but no real harm was done and it wasn’t, technically, Buddy’s fault, as a lot of strange things can happen when there are four folks “of a certain age,” as they used to say, and two dogs, occupying the same rather limited territory.
Let me say first that we all, humans and dogs, are getting along very well, despite the incident which I am about to relate. In other words everyone is still talking and laughing about it. Except dogs don’t laugh. They can, however, smile, as you shall see.
It all started with a truly fine dinner, Andy cooking fall-off-the-bone, delicious baby back ribs, properly accompanied by Joan’s tian, which is a baked combination of layered sliced potatoes, tomatoes, and zucchini, the layers interspersed with gruyere cheese and placed on a bed of onions. Of course a few glasses of decent wine accompanied the meal. Good conversation followed a good meal, which was rather inevitably followed by some dozing in front of the fire.
Joan, as usual reading a book, was startled by a rather strange sound, sort of a combination of clicking and clacking, and upon looking up from her book her first intuition was that Buddy or J.D., the Larsen’s dog, had purloined a rib bone from the garbage can, which would not be a good thing since either dog could easily crack it, and bone splinters are not suitable for even a dog’s cast iron digestive tract.
Expecting to see a bone in Buddy’s mouth (he was at her feet making the strange noise) she was indeed startled to see him smiling at her. It was so human a smile it was actually unnerving. How could a dog have so angelic a smile, she pondered. The teeth so white, so even, so…like a person’s! It was a smile like they advertise on TV these days, sparkling white, a veritable Pepsodent smile!
And it was, certainly, a human smile! But who’s smile was it? Was the dog possessed by some ancient, or not so ancient, spirit? Was Buddy an avatar of some sort? Then the awful truth dawned on her! She knew that smile! She recognized those teeth! They belonged to someone in that very room!
One of us, upon falling asleep, evidently removed his false teeth, perhaps intending to put them in a pocket, and drowsily dropped them on the floor. So Buddy, who assumes that anything falling to the floor is is his, decided to try them out. Joan, as soon as she realized the situation, shouted “drop it,” and a visibly shaken dog did just that, while Joan quickly if somewhat reluctantly retrieved them, evidently little the worse for wear, although badly in need of a soaking in Efferdent.
So, who’s smile was Buddy wearing? As they used to say on the old time radio shows, “only the names have been changed, to protect the innocent, “ and the owner of that wonderful smile shall remain anonymous..
I told you yesterday about Buddy’s misadventures and misbehaviors, which we thought were over the top. Over the top has been “topped,” but no real harm was done and it wasn’t, technically, Buddy’s fault, as a lot of strange things can happen when there are four folks “of a certain age,” as they used to say, and two dogs, occupying the same rather limited territory.
Let me say first that we all, humans and dogs, are getting along very well, despite the incident which I am about to relate. In other words everyone is still talking and laughing about it. Except dogs don’t laugh. They can, however, smile, as you shall see.
It all started with a truly fine dinner, Andy cooking fall-off-the-bone, delicious baby back ribs, properly accompanied by Joan’s tian, which is a baked combination of layered sliced potatoes, tomatoes, and zucchini, the layers interspersed with gruyere cheese and placed on a bed of onions. Of course a few glasses of decent wine accompanied the meal. Good conversation followed a good meal, which was rather inevitably followed by some dozing in front of the fire.
Joan, as usual reading a book, was startled by a rather strange sound, sort of a combination of clicking and clacking, and upon looking up from her book her first intuition was that Buddy or J.D., the Larsen’s dog, had purloined a rib bone from the garbage can, which would not be a good thing since either dog could easily crack it, and bone splinters are not suitable for even a dog’s cast iron digestive tract.
Expecting to see a bone in Buddy’s mouth (he was at her feet making the strange noise) she was indeed startled to see him smiling at her. It was so human a smile it was actually unnerving. How could a dog have so angelic a smile, she pondered. The teeth so white, so even, so…like a person’s! It was a smile like they advertise on TV these days, sparkling white, a veritable Pepsodent smile!
And it was, certainly, a human smile! But who’s smile was it? Was the dog possessed by some ancient, or not so ancient, spirit? Was Buddy an avatar of some sort? Then the awful truth dawned on her! She knew that smile! She recognized those teeth! They belonged to someone in that very room!
One of us, upon falling asleep, evidently removed his false teeth, perhaps intending to put them in a pocket, and drowsily dropped them on the floor. So Buddy, who assumes that anything falling to the floor is is his, decided to try them out. Joan, as soon as she realized the situation, shouted “drop it,” and a visibly shaken dog did just that, while Joan quickly if somewhat reluctantly retrieved them, evidently little the worse for wear, although badly in need of a soaking in Efferdent.
So, who’s smile was Buddy wearing? As they used to say on the old time radio shows, “only the names have been changed, to protect the innocent, “ and the owner of that wonderful smile shall remain anonymous..
THE LAST TIME I CHECKED...
Saturday, 10:00 AM. 26 degrees F, wind WSW, light. The sky is clear, the humidity 79%, the barometer at 30.04 in. The soft colors of dawn were reflected in the congealing waters of the west channel this morning, pinks and oranges and purples hardened into a sheen of iridescent green. As the sun rose the thin coat of ice quickly melted and the bay is again clear all the way to Washburn, twelve miles to the south.
The lower Chequamegon Bay is now ice covered from Ashland to Washburn, the ice as far north as the south channel, which lies between Long Island and Madeline Island.
Andy and Judy and Joan and I went to The Village Inn at Cornucopia for fish fry last night, joined by mutual friend Myron. The fish choice was lake trout, whitefish and herring, all fresh from the lake that morning. I had the herring, which I find every bit as good as the other fish, although it is a seasonal catch and not always available.
Andy and Judy left for home after breakfast this morning, and the last time I checked all of us were in possession of our teeth.
The lower Chequamegon Bay is now ice covered from Ashland to Washburn, the ice as far north as the south channel, which lies between Long Island and Madeline Island.
Andy and Judy and Joan and I went to The Village Inn at Cornucopia for fish fry last night, joined by mutual friend Myron. The fish choice was lake trout, whitefish and herring, all fresh from the lake that morning. I had the herring, which I find every bit as good as the other fish, although it is a seasonal catch and not always available.
Andy and Judy left for home after breakfast this morning, and the last time I checked all of us were in possession of our teeth.
Friday, January 4, 2013
THREE LESSONS
Thursday, 8:30 AM. 19 degrees F, wind WNW, light with moderate gusts. The humidity is 80%, the barometer stands at 30.14 in. It was a pitch black dawn (if that’s not an oxymoron). And the dark clouds are just now been pushed to the eastern and southern horizons, where they resist further movement with sullen determination. If it weren’t completely contrary to the laws of planetary motion I would think the sun to be stuck somewhere in the southern hemisphere, as it has made no evident progress in almost two weeks since the winter solstice. But it promises to be a blue-sky day!
Buddy is literally in the dog house, after being a very bad dog yesterday morning. After we came in from our walk he was playing loudly, barking and charging around, tossing his toys, which we allow because it causes no harm and is rather endearing. But, unsupervised, he chewed up a new cover I had just purchased for the grill, and demolished a pair of old binoculars that he took down from a shelf. I think he swallowed one of the lenses, as it is nowhere to be found.
This all started several days ago when Joan let him play with and chew on an old slipper of hers. She denies any responsibility of course, saying that I am the dog person, he is my dog, and I should have confiscated it. So I have learned three lessons from this little episode, which I pass on particularly to my male counterparts.
Lesson one: don’t let your dog chew on anything except a designated, identifiable toy. Lesson two: don’t trust your dog. Lesson three: it’s always your fault.
Buddy is literally in the dog house, after being a very bad dog yesterday morning. After we came in from our walk he was playing loudly, barking and charging around, tossing his toys, which we allow because it causes no harm and is rather endearing. But, unsupervised, he chewed up a new cover I had just purchased for the grill, and demolished a pair of old binoculars that he took down from a shelf. I think he swallowed one of the lenses, as it is nowhere to be found.
This all started several days ago when Joan let him play with and chew on an old slipper of hers. She denies any responsibility of course, saying that I am the dog person, he is my dog, and I should have confiscated it. So I have learned three lessons from this little episode, which I pass on particularly to my male counterparts.
Lesson one: don’t let your dog chew on anything except a designated, identifiable toy. Lesson two: don’t trust your dog. Lesson three: it’s always your fault.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
A GOVERNMENT DOUBLE FEATURE
Wednesday, 9:00 AM. 18 degrees F, wind SW, strong enough to move the branches of the white pine trees. The humidity is up at 88% and the barometer is trending down at 30.03 in. It is overcast and quiet, and it looks and feels like snow. It was a dark, dark early morning and it is not getting much brighter.
So we averted the fiscal cliff only to face the deficit precipice in a couple of months. Looks like we are watching a modern version of The Perils of Pauline. And the Keystone Cops. A government double feature. I feel like I am eleven years old again on a Saturday afternoon at the Grace Theater, and all the kids are running up and down the isles and having popcorn fights.
A bright spot: we grilled a rib eye steak on New Years Day from the quarter of beef we purchased, and it was tender and delicious, with a bone for Buddy that he chewed on and played with for hours. Also, Andy and Judy will be with us for a few days, a welcome diversion that will get 2013 off to a good start.
So we averted the fiscal cliff only to face the deficit precipice in a couple of months. Looks like we are watching a modern version of The Perils of Pauline. And the Keystone Cops. A government double feature. I feel like I am eleven years old again on a Saturday afternoon at the Grace Theater, and all the kids are running up and down the isles and having popcorn fights.
A bright spot: we grilled a rib eye steak on New Years Day from the quarter of beef we purchased, and it was tender and delicious, with a bone for Buddy that he chewed on and played with for hours. Also, Andy and Judy will be with us for a few days, a welcome diversion that will get 2013 off to a good start.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
ONLY POLITICS
Monday, 9:00 AM. 14 degrees F, wind from the north at high elevation, calm at ground level. Humidity is 73%, the barometer stands at 30.14 In. there was hardly a dawn at all, massive black clouds on the southeast and southern horizons rendering the morning almost as black, but it has brightened up considerably, although there is still a dichotomy between mostly clear blue skies to the north and black to the south. The city streets are snow packed and icy, and I carried my sharp, metal pointed cane to negotiate the worst spots. I kind of like carrying a cane in the winter, it is good for a lot of things, and it feels good to have it in my hand.
Yesterday they were setting up for the ice races on the bay in Ashland, just off Maslewski Park. Stock car races on ice, they provide some winter diversion. We will have to watch them sometime. Folks watch from their cars in the park, or drive out onto the ice.
Yesterday I overheard a conversation at the gas station that went something like this: “Of course we should increase the taxes on the rich. Sock it to ‘em. They have way more than they deserve!” “You really think so?” “Damn right! They have increased their wealth 240% since Reagan was president.”
I kept out of the conversation, but couldn’t help but think, here we are right back where we were as a society sixty years ago, enamored with socialism and filled with envy and resentment. And the little guy who was so abundantly filled with obvious hatred for anyone who had more than himself makes his living by doing odd jobs for the folks in the big houses on the lake. And charges plenty. And I suspect gets food stamps and every other welfare opportunity available. And pays no taxes at all.
We are in a deep hole, led there by self serving, power hungry politicians, and it will take us a decade, maybe a generation, to climb back out.
And as for the “fiscal cliff” nonsense, there is no leadership, no common sense, no respect, and no patriotism; only politics.
Yesterday they were setting up for the ice races on the bay in Ashland, just off Maslewski Park. Stock car races on ice, they provide some winter diversion. We will have to watch them sometime. Folks watch from their cars in the park, or drive out onto the ice.
Yesterday I overheard a conversation at the gas station that went something like this: “Of course we should increase the taxes on the rich. Sock it to ‘em. They have way more than they deserve!” “You really think so?” “Damn right! They have increased their wealth 240% since Reagan was president.”
I kept out of the conversation, but couldn’t help but think, here we are right back where we were as a society sixty years ago, enamored with socialism and filled with envy and resentment. And the little guy who was so abundantly filled with obvious hatred for anyone who had more than himself makes his living by doing odd jobs for the folks in the big houses on the lake. And charges plenty. And I suspect gets food stamps and every other welfare opportunity available. And pays no taxes at all.
We are in a deep hole, led there by self serving, power hungry politicians, and it will take us a decade, maybe a generation, to climb back out.
And as for the “fiscal cliff” nonsense, there is no leadership, no common sense, no respect, and no patriotism; only politics.
SURVIVAL ON A THREE-LEGGED MORNING
Tuesday, New Year’s morning. 9:00 AM. 04 degrees F, wind W, calm to very light. Humidity 85%, barometer 30.25. It is an honest morning, with a nip in the air and a squeak to the snow when walking. It was a three-legged morning for Buddy; run, pick up a foot to warm it and run on three, and so on. At dawn, roiling clouds of steam and fog rose from the waters between Bayfield and Madeline Island, at last in their turmoil vaulting and wisping away into the air like gray and silver ghosts. It was like a scene out of a creation story.
Fiscal cliff? What fiscal cliff? The nonsense continues. We went to bed last night fearing for the fate of the country. We awoke today with similar feelings but, it is a new day and a New Year, and hope, as they say, springs eternal.
I am also encouraged by the knowledge that the country has survived worse and afterward thrived; I just finished reading Abigail and John, by Edith B. Gelles, the story of John Adams, the second president, and his wife as told through their correspondence. It is a story not only of a personal relationship between a man and wife, but of their relationship with their country throughout its revolution and early years. She was as much a patriot as he, and in many ways as influential. The internal political battles and the scurrilous attacks of faction on faction and politician upon politician nearly tore the new nation asunder. It was an ugly time, even uglier than the present. But we survived.
Fiscal cliff? What fiscal cliff? The nonsense continues. We went to bed last night fearing for the fate of the country. We awoke today with similar feelings but, it is a new day and a New Year, and hope, as they say, springs eternal.
I am also encouraged by the knowledge that the country has survived worse and afterward thrived; I just finished reading Abigail and John, by Edith B. Gelles, the story of John Adams, the second president, and his wife as told through their correspondence. It is a story not only of a personal relationship between a man and wife, but of their relationship with their country throughout its revolution and early years. She was as much a patriot as he, and in many ways as influential. The internal political battles and the scurrilous attacks of faction on faction and politician upon politician nearly tore the new nation asunder. It was an ugly time, even uglier than the present. But we survived.
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