Delusions of Spring in TBay

Today, it snowed a little in the morning--just topping up the couple of inches we got yesterday and last night. Now the sun is out and we're heading toward a high above freezing. It's Delusions of Spring Day in Thunder Bay.

Today is the day I wash all the now-baggy-elbowed heavy sweaters I've been wearing as "top layers" for (too many to think about) MONTHS. Because when the days are sunny and the temperature is above freezing, it is obvious that I will NEVER need to wear these heavy sweaters EVER AGAIN. (Or at least until November.)

I do wash these throughout winter, of course, but when water is always the issue it is in the country, I let them get good and baggy in the elbows first. Plus, today I'm washing them all at once, trusting that I won't need one this afternoon.

When I was growing up in Oklahoma, a crocus or two usually popped up to bloom in late February. Certainly gardens had brave daffodils by mid-March. A late-season freak snowstorm might give you a couple of good "daffodils in the snow" shots in early April, but basically, you could see some signs of spring in the flora any time after Valentine's Day.

In contrast, we have new snow. It's shiny and pretty. But snow.

Body clocks, however, are hard to reset. Thus Delusions of Spring Day.

Because, I know, I WILL have to wear these sweaters again. Except maybe for the 100% wool Eddie Bauer sweater, which I wear on days that require serious artillery. A very serious day requires both the wool sweater and flannel-lined jeans. So possibly not that one. But the others, yes. And I'll be doing this same "wash all the sweaters" thing in May or June.

And in between, we have April (the brownest month) and the "something shiny" season, when I tend to buy electronics because I am tired of everything being brown and dirty with crusty old ice and snow everywhere.

But that's still in the future.

Today, just give me my delusions, okay?

A Matter of Degree

A degree, or two, or four, changes this

to this

and vice versa, I suppose.

Technically, of course, it doesn't change bushes to a road. Just the snow to rain and ice.

First Snow

The first snow of the season came this weekend. We got just a little out here. Folks in town had more.

So you have to wonder: will it stay or melt before we get more?

Because there will be more. Meanwhile, we're sorta like this rock--
half and half, and half and half.
Brown/black, wet/dry.
Half hoping, half dreading. Half excited, half resigned.

And, like the rock, we're not getting up to go elsewhere.
Yet we reserve the right to the mixed feelings.

How Much?

Here's what it looks like around here today.

This is just one tree, too.

There will be firewood! And yes, it also looks like this sometimes, or it did a few weeks ago.

Living here is definitely worth the work.

A Clampett Moment (30+ Hours Without Power)

I hail from Oklahoma. Got my higher education in Arkansas. Clampett country, all of it, though I have to say that my own family isn't particularly Clampett-esque. Love the Clampetts. Nothing wrong with 'em. It's just that normally, I ain't one.

However, sometimes having the Clampett cultural reference to draw upon helps explain things. Such as the tires as landscaping aids (which did not in fact get to the dump, er, landfill this summer, darn it all). Even though these things aren't even in the U. S. of A. Even though they're in Canada.

Here's the deal. We have had 30+ power-free hours around here since Tuesday. I don't respond well to the lack of control. Also, with the wind and rain came leakage around the windows. That's water dripping in around the HOUSE windows. Water to the extent that we have to rig up plastic tubs under those beautiful bay windows I love the rest of the time.

Also, when we lose power, we lose the ability to flush toilets and take showers. I can do that when I camp. I can also live by candlelight and huddle near the wood stove. But living in a house should not be camping. Also, the control.

Here's what the wind has been up to. And this is later, when it was calm enough to go outside, y'all.



Here are the other results of those gale-force winds that caused our power outage. They are generally not as bad as they first appear. (This post is labeled "today" even though these are more properly "yesterday.")



This tree is barely kissing the front of the larger camp. No windows were damaged in the uprooting of this tree. No roof damage occurred. Whew.

Speaking of uprooting, let's take a virtual tour of the smaller camp, shall we?

Uh-huh. These would be the roots, as in, "what was left." Here's what happened.



Yikes! I get the willies looking at it and I know how safe this was. Here's the damage:



Yup. That's it. That's all. Just a bit of roof on the corner of the eave. It's not even leaking (from THAT spot, anyway) into the camp structure proper.

We have been watching this tree since May. I would swear I had taken a picture of the base, but perhaps I just shuddered and walked past instead. Anyway, the trunk was pretty well eaten away by bugs and birds.

We (both of us) had wondered how we (Roy) would fell this thing without first fretting us (me) to death. We could not figure out a direction to take it down that wouldn't endanger the camp, other trees, and/or the worker(s).

And now it's done been done fer us.

Whew and double whew.

In the ultimate Clampett moment, Roy said, "At least there's been enough water leaking in to flush the toilets with."

That's my Finn-Swede Clampett husband, folks. Just looking on the bright side.

Brown, with Gold and Ruddy Accents

April is definitely the brownest month around here, but late October isn't far behind.

I haven't been around the house much--running hither and thither in town--so haven't been taking many pictures. Anyway, here are a couple.

Here's the light.

Here's the tree.


So yeah, I've been in town. But also, it's just harder to get excited about taking pictures when you're documenting the decline of verdancy.

I realize the same process documents the ascendance of winter. Ya-hoo.

No matter way I try to reframe it, taking pictures at this time of year--after the leaves fall but before any snow does--just doesn't enthrall me as much.

And as we know, November will be gray. Or grey. Depending.

Everywhere except the top of my head, that is. Which, like October, will be ...
(see title of post).

Seriously?

It's October. It's almost not even early October anymore.
So seriously: this is still in the front garden?

I swear, this place is so beautiful it makes me cry.
See this picture? It's all blurry because I was crying when I took it.

Not really. But you probably knew that.
I'm serious about the beautiful and crying, though.

Why, Again?

Here's what it looks like around here. Not today, exactly, but recently.

And yet, I'm vacating for a bit. Why is that, again?

Oh, yeah. People I love live elsewhere, too. Why, again?
Oh yeah. So I can visit them.
And then come home.

Red means "Stop"

Around here, sometimes red means "pretty."

But.

Sometimes it means "stop." As in, "Here's the edge of your property."

Metaphorically, in my life these days there's too much of the second kind of red: as in "No."
Or at least the wrong kind of "Yes."
But perhaps that's just my perspective at this moment.
Perhaps it will change.


At least I still get to live here. Well, not here exactly, but darn close.
Yesss!!!

There and Back Again

Seasons on the calendar are closer than they appear.

The sun slants differently.

The water level in the lake is dropping again.
It's less cause for concern than in May--the renters are leaving soon,
and in any case, Roy's fix kept it fixed.

This pretty much says it all.

And so, we walk home again.

The Hour without Power

We've had one this morning. I was in mid-post, too.

But fortunately, we've had only the one.
(So far, I add, trying to walk the line between guarded optimism and "sucker!!".)

There's a leak into my office--not a bad one, and it's stopped.
(For now, I add, ditto with the guarded optimism.)

Anyway, it's like this here today.

Oh, and the kids go (back) to school today.
Wonder how many believe the sky is crying just for them.

It's Raining!

Hooray. And whew, because of the dry-ish* well.

* Technically, it wasn't completely dry. But each "ask" from the pump produced only a couple of cups of water. Until suddenly we got a few vertical inches, as measured on the side of the cistern. Then several more hours of teaspoons, cups, teaspoons. Then another glut. Each glut still smaller than the normal amount the well produces in response to an "ask," but more than the accumulated total from the beads of nervous sweat we were producing.

In any case, the cistern filled last night. And this morning, rain!

So, now what?

When the cistern is full, we can no longer see how the well is doing.
(The down side of a full well.)

We have decreed:
Back to "normal."
Tentative normal, that is.
No more rainwater flushes.
No more coldwater washes.

Yet.
I don't "normally" cross fingers and toes,
send up a faint breath
of gratitude and (yes) an "ask" of my own
before starting a load of laundry.

But perhaps I should.

Nice Day

I've been under the weather, but I'm recuperating now.

I will be enjoying a lot of visitors during August. So of course I'm hoping that the weather shows off for the visitors.

Which, I suppose, means I'm still under the weather--

under its power, so to speak.

However, a day that looks like this seems auspicious.

Until it turns into this.

Though if you're a duck, I suppose it is still a nice day.

And of course, the day finishes much as it started--sun peering from behind the hazy veil.

The fawns are eating a late salad outside my office window (having been chased from the the flowers), the merganser family has taken over the yellow swim platform in the bay.

That kind of thing.

What I Mean to Say Is

I know I've written about the Governor-General and the Queen before last Saturday.

What I don't seem to be able to "get over, already!" relates more to what I was talking about last Saturday.

People in Canada walk around internally okay with someone they didn't elect (or at least have the opportunity to vote against) representing them internationally as their head of state. They're OKAY WITH IT. It's status quo. Normal. NORMAL.

Not that they generally think about that kind of thing. Americans don't, either. But if you scratch the surface of your average American, she or he would say, quickly, that we-all want our official representatives to be elected. (Insert offhand reference to W's first term here.) It's the default assumption: we may not vote, we may not believe that our vote matters, but hey, we believe in the concept of voting. (Also Botox and gun ownership.) (Not me, so much, about either of those.)

Anyway. That's what I mean when I say that the default settings in each country are different, and the default settings of Americans are more familiar to me than those of Canadians.

All of which are the kinds of ideas and questions one ponders at times like these:

and these:

Ahhhhh.

The Lake Giveth...

Stuff like this, which showed up last Sunday morning.
It's still there, in case its rightful owners come by.

Of course, the downside is that the lake also taketh away.
We haven't lost anything recently, except for about six inches of the lake herself.

Except that also the well is now apparently dry. Bone dry.

So dry that there's not even a trickle for the cistern.

It's awfully early in the season for that.

But if I weren't worried about water, I wouldn't feel right,

so perhaps that's a gift of a different kind.

Plus we do get mornings like this.

Not a bad gift.

The lake giveth far more than we can ever give back, I think.

Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!

The Queen is here. (Americans: This is the Queen of England. She is Head of State for Canada. That means she... well, except she... or maybe... oh, look it up.)

This afternoon, she got to ride on a big ship past a whole lineup of other ships from several different countries. Sailors stood on the decks, holding their headgear, and gave three cheers as she passed by. She lifted her gloved hand in gracious acknowledgment.

Some days I feel as lucky as a queen, when I see the things I see. But most of the time I'm pretty sure I'm not queen. Which is OK. I don't mind being part of the adoring crowd.

All together, now: hip hip...

huzzah!
(I call this the "neutrino" plant.
You can't see the plant but you can see its shadow.)
Hip hip...

huzzah!
(I love how the water
makes this rock look so different!)
Hip hip...

huzzahhhhhhhhhh!!

Treasures

The deer found the tiger lilies,

which is actually kind of nice, since it means the deer are around.
We saw the fawn this morning.

And other treasures remain, if you know where to look.

But not this. (No, it's not mine.)
I'm going to pretend it was lost overboard, not left behind.

That makes it a castaway, not a castoff.
(Private property. As Piglet said, Trespassers William.
And all that. Grrr.)

Sometimes, when the evening light is a little wonky, the treasures are patterns.

And sometimes the treasures are pure gold.

Okay, a little bronze. But still.

Into Each Life...

Some trees must fall.

(Two, actually, although you can only see one.)

Fortunately, some lilies are also blooming--and more will, too.

Unless the deer get them. Although the deer seem to be scarce this year--we've seen one fawn, one time. Then again, today I learned there's a yearling bear in the area. Which may be why.

Trees, fawns, bears, flowers: Going to my happy place now.

Ahhh.

Hopes for the Summer

This summer is different than previous years in lots of ways. For one thing, in the cosmic sense every year is different (to me) because I'm different. For another, every year is different because the lake is different. Also the trees, some large number of which reach the end of their lifespan and fall down, usually in an inconvenient spot. And this year, we have unrelated people living next door.

It's also a different year because our projects are different. Except for the trees, which never seem to get tired of falling down.

Anyway. See this picture? Speaking of trees and some falling down.



See the green thing on the tree? That's a piece of tape. That indicates a trail. A nascent one. Call it a trail-to-be. For skiing. For walking on. For admiring views.

In previous years, the projects here have been focused on the camp, and seriously structural to boot: shore up the foundation. Put on a new roof. Re-roof the bathroom. This year, knock on wood, we don't have those--just painting, but I suspect that will be like the trees, never what you might call "finished."




But in the distance (like the corner of the "it may be a shack but it's our shack," above), I can see a time when NOT ALL the projects fall into the "because the place will fall apart if we don't" category. We'll be doing things like cutting the deadwood (and junk brush) out of those trails.


When we're not sitting on the beach, of course. (The spots in front of Caribou are kayakers. This is also one of those photos of a loon.)

It will be interesting, come September, to take stock and then to make our new resolutions for the fall. Resolutions being, like trees, never quite finished.

Holiday State of Mind

When you live at your former vacation destination,

you can start to see things differently.

And not in a good way.

For example, you might look at this picture and say,

"Hmm, time to get out the mower and take care of that grass."

Well, YOU might not get that way. But others might.

So, although today is not a holiday in this country,

and school is not out for another month,

and the calendar summer doesn't start for another three weeks,

the holiday season has started.

Time to get it going in my mind.

Time to slow down. To re-frame. To notice different things.

Like the roadmap in the rock.

Raindrop footprints in the sand.

Balsam fingers.

Two inviting chairs on a late-May morning.

Ahhhh.