THE WILLOW IN WINTER

THE WILLOW IN WINTER

Thursday, the day of New Year's Eve, 9:00 AM. 20 degrees F at the ferry dock, 18 on the back porch. Wind WSW, calm with medium gusts.  The sky is overcast and cloudy, the humidity 84%.  The barometer is at 30.16" and heading downward on a gentle glide.  

   Our friends Andy and Judy left yesterday, so it is back to normal for Joan, myself and Buddy (who tried to be a good host to their dog Nina but didn't do so well).  So it will be a quiet New Year's Eve for us.

   Willows can be a mess if uncared for, or quite decorative if properly pruned and kept up.  The black willow above was pruned (deadwood, crossed branches and suckers removed, balanced, and trunks emphasized for effect) in the spring of 2013.  It still looks nice, particularly when snow lays upon the major trunks and branches, and shouldn't have to be pruned again for several more years.

RELUCTANT TO FREEZE

NO ICE YET AT LITTE SAND BAY (Eagle Island in distance, center left)

RASPBERRY RIVER (from Hwy. K)

Wednesday,  8:30 AM.  26 degrees F at the ferry dock, 23 on the back porch.  Wind NW, calm with light gusts.  The sky is overcast, with dark snow clouds on the southern horizon. The humidity is 88% and the barometer 30.23" and falling.  Sunshine is still predicted for the weekend.

   Spending time yesterday with friend Andy, we rode around the countryside looking at the face of winter.  We drove out to the Apostle Islands' Little Sand Bay, and as we expected, found the lake still unfrozen, although we could see what looks like ice far out on the lake.

   The Raspberry River drains thousands of acres of forested upland before it descends into swampland and eventually empties into Lake Superior.  Its headlands are still running free as well.  

   The lake is too restless to freeze, and many of the streams have too much running water to freeze, so in spite of the low temperatures, much water remains unfrozen.

A BITTER GALE

A BITTER, GALE FORCE EAST WIND...

..."HEY, BOSS...I'M A SHORT-HAIRED DOG!"

Tuesday, 11:00 AM.  25 degrees F at the ferry dock, 23 on the back porch.  Wind N, calm with moderate gusts  The sky has a low overcast and the humidity is 83%.  The barometer is 30.13" and rising, predicting better weather for the coming weekend.

   Yesterday the east wind blew gale force, and when we stopped at the beach after shopping at the Washburn IGA neither I nor Buddy could stand it; it almost blew us away!

   On a brighter note, friends and summer campers Andy and Judy "blew in" yesterday evening for a few day's stay with us.  We'll have to play checkers or watch TV if this wind keeps blowing.

HEY BUDDY, THAT'S NOT A BIRD!

THE GATHERING STORM

BUDDY WATCHING KIDS TOBOGGANING ON WILSON AVE.

Monday, 9:00 AM.  24 degrees F at the ferry dock, 20 on the back porch.  Wind ESE, very gusty at times.  The sky is overcast, with gathering storm clouds.  The humidity is rising, now at 77%, and the barometer, now at 30.57", is falling like a stone, predicting snow tomorrow and Wednesday.

   I see the Almanac has  reached a milestone of sorts: over 200,000 page views since it first appeared in January of 2008.  I would be the first to admit that I still don't know why anyone reads it, but for better or worse, it satisfies my literary inclinations.

   Yesterday was a fine winter day, but a toboggan coasting down the hill on Wilson Ave. mystified Buddy, who saw it two blocks away and, true to his instincts, pointed it as it approached. 

   Hey Buddy, that's not a bird! 

LIFE IN THE "SNOW GLOBE"

WINTER BEAUTY

LIVING IN A "SNOW GLOBE" CAN GET TEDIOUS...

...BUT HAS ITS REWARDS

Sunday, 10:30 AM.  20 degrees F at the ferry dock, 23 on the back porch.  Wind SW, calm with light to moderate guts.  The sky is clear but for a few puffy white clouds.  The humidity is 75% and the barometer rising, now at 39.53".  It is a fantastic winter day.
   Lake effect snow has entered our lives with a vengeance.  Fog rising from the unfrozen water condenses and turns to snow, which drifts over the land and falls, pretty much continually.   After a while it seems like one is living in a snow globe, one of those little glass bulb enclosed landscapes in which the snow can be shaken up and drifts back down again on the miniature scene within.
   It can be beautiful inside the snow globe; but after awhile it becomes a bit tedious.  It does have its rewards, such as winter sports, and the beauty of the day after the storm.

A MYSTERY WHY FISHERMEN DO WHAT THEY DO

BIG CHANGES AT THE MOUTH OF THE SIOUX RIVER

STILL OUT THERE

Saturday,  10:00 AM.  30 degrees F at the ferry dock, 27 on the back porch.  Wind E, calm with light gusts.  The sky is overcast and it is snowing, with about 3" of wet new snow already fallen.  The humidity is 95% and the barometer is rising, currently at 30.5".  We should get a day or two of respite, then more snow the middle of next week.  Roads are slippery but the plows are now out.

   The roads still covered with ice, Buddy and I went to the beach again yesterday for our exercise.  For the first time since I got out of the hospital I walked on the frozen sand south from the Friendly Valley parking area to the mouth of the Sioux River.  It was barely recognizable, as storms and currents have washed tons and tons of sand out into the bay, and the waters one could almost jump across several months ago are now several hundred feet across and obviously quite deep.  Despite all of the hydraulics going on,  the subsidiary channel leading up to the Hwy. 13 bridge and the swamp remains walled up with sand, and the small boat ramp on Hwy. 13 still unusable.  If you don't like the river mouth, wait a while and it will change drastically.

   While surveying the mouth of the river and marveling at the change, I looked out on the water and saw the same fishermen as the day before, trolling along at what would be a good walk.  The only difference was they were heading north yesterday, and south the day before. Were they out there trolling the Bay for twenty-four hours and more?  Nah, nobody would be that persistent.  If a warden inspected their catch, would they be over their keeping limit?  Nah, I never saw a rod bend nor a net dipped.  Were they just out there killing time?  There's easier, and certainly warmer ways to do that than  ride around in a little boat out on the biggest, coldest lake on the planet on Christmas Day.  Maybe their fishing is an ingenious way to escape nagging wives and squalling kids.  But maybe they're bachelors. Maybe they don't have the right cable bundling to get college football.
   Maybe I've pursued the topic far enough; it is pretty much a mystery why fishermen do what they do.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

MERRY CHRISTMAS

BRUTAL OUT ON THE LAKE (Madeline Island in the distance)

Christmas morning, 10:00 AM.  21 degrees F at the ferry dock, 19 on the back porch.  Wind SW, calm with light gusts.  The sky is overcast, the humidity 85%.  The barometer is sky-high at 30.33," but snow is predicted for tomorrow.

   Joan and I are celebrating Christmas by ourselves this year.  The roads are bad and we decided not to drive anywhere this year, neither do we encourage family to risk winter travel on icy roads.  We will receive telephone calls aplenty from children and grandchildren as the day progresses.  It was a quiet Christmas Eve and it will be a quiet Christmas Day.
   I was pleasantly surprised to see a real snowman (not one of those inflated plastic things) this morning, evidence of the toddler that is the child of the Cost Guard couple that moved in next door a couple of months ago.  There aren't many children anymore in Bayfield, and there would probably be none if not for the young military couples.  What would Christmas be without children, anyway?

   Yesterday was another cold and slippery day, and to get some exercise Buddy and I again went for a walk/run at the beach.  The sand was frozen crusty enough to be a good walking surface and we both got enough exercise, the wind still being strong enough in the open stretches to take one's breath away.
   As we progressed along the shore, a small boat with two fishermen and all the trolling  bells and whistled motored by.  It must have been brutal in the wind and cold out on the water.  I assume they were trolling for trout and salmon. I watched them for a while until they disappeared from sight but never saw a rod bend or a fish netted.  They must have been awfully bored or hungry to be out there.
   In any case, have a Merry Christmas, and take time to ponder these ancient verities: that mankind is a failed species (just read the headlines), in need of the salvation offered through the gift of the Christ Child on that first Christmas, two-thousand and more years ago.