OCTOBER 21, 2024 – This morning in these parts, the sun peeked above the distant eastern shore of the lake at precisely 7:32. A good 20 minutes before, I’d slipped the kayak into the water and paddled quietly, effortlessly along our shoreline. I still felt like a free-floating spirit in a dream, gliding magically past …
IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN
OCTOBER 17, 2024 – “Garden of Eden” is how I think of the 20-acre (or so) tree garden within the larger woods of Björnholm along the northwest shore of Grindstone Lake in northwestern Wisconsin. Perhaps I get carried away by the peak foliage and gorgeous weather that has prevailed since I arrived here Tuesday afternoon. …
“DEAR DIARY: YIN AND YAN”
OCTOBER 15, 2024 – “Dear Diary, In many ways today brought a typical mixture of ebb and flow; tension and resolution; yin and yan. What was different about it all was my awareness, my perception of opposing forces coming together to provide a modicum of peace through balance. I started off in conflict—talking litigation strategy …
MY OWN LITTLE WORLD
OCTOBER 6, 2024 – Maybe it’s an “age thing” or perhaps its my surroundings or both; in any case, today I found myself in orbit around my own little world, as it were, and the view triggered myriad emotional and cognitive responses in a combination I had not experienced before. Physically speaking, I was well …
CONTROL STREAKS AND FREAKS
OCTOBER 5, 2024 – We awoke this morning to a wild and wooly day—in the wind department, anyway. The sun was emerging through light, unorganized cotton candy clouds, and the outdoor thermometer registered a balmy 56F, but the wind? It howled like an over-eager parent at a high school soccer match—not with mean-spirited shouting but …
NOTICING THINGS FOR THE FIRST TIME
SEPTEMBER 23, 2024 – This morning the air outside was as still as it was inside the Red Cabin. Overnight the temperature had dropped into the 40s, and in the hour after daybreak, the mercury hadn’t yet climbed above 48. I donned appropriate clothing and slipped out for a walk along the shoreline path to …
WATCHING FOR TORNADOS AND NOVEMBER 5
SEPTEMBER 19, 2024 – Today the early weather was splendiferous. I decided to get an early start for the Red Cabin and spend the day doing trail work in the “tree garden” before Beth joins me tomorrow to enjoy a stretch of fine days, so says the forecast. Just as I pressed the ignition button …
STARS, BUTTERFLIES, VERA LYNN AND ZIP ZAP CIRCUS, OR IN A WORD, “AMAZING”
SEPTEMBER 15, 2024 – Aging seems to increase my amazement. Late one evening recently we sat with friends out on the dock for conversation and a bit of star-gazing. The first quarter moon had already set, leaving the Milky Way and constellations in full command of the celestial stage. I’d brought out two sets of …
THE MAGIC BEHIND THE PICTURE
SEPTEMBER 13, 2024 – Now I get to write about “back to nature,” which, if you read yesterday’s post, had competed unsuccessfully with “politics.” Late yesterday evening while out on the Red Cabin porch, I put my book down and peered into the darkness outside. Except . . . through the darkness shone . . …
POLITICS VS. BACK TO NATURE
SEPTEMBER 13, 2024 – Hmmm. While contemplating today’s post I vacillated. Inspired by several natural phenomena I’ve encountered during my time in paradise up here at the Red Cabin, I wanted to highlight a few. On the other hand, gobsmacked by the latest news about Laura Loomer, who is charitably described as a “right-wing provocateur” …
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
SEPTEMBER 11, 2024 – Not that I’m superstitious or anything, but long ago I decided it was good luck if we saw at least one eagle during a stay at the Red Cabin on Grindstone Lake. The longer the stay, of course, the greater the odds of securing a measure of good luck. Early this …
SIGNAGE AS COLLABORATIVE ART AND ARCHITECTURE
SEPTEMBER 6, 2024 – Earlier this summer I constructed two wooden ramps to provide passage over two side-by-side fallen giants of the woods, each . . . two feet in diameter. The completed project looked simple enough, but in design and construction the operation required a fair among of engineering. As with most completed cabin …
THE HEDGE AS PRELUDE
AUGUST 31, 2024 – (Cont.) The main, 200-foot-long hedge runs from the corner of Cove Road and Oakland to the stone-and-mortar pillars at the entrance to the property. Having walked and driven numerous times along the neglected landscaping over the previous several days, I decided to follow Michelle Obama’s standing entreaty and “DO SOMETHING.” Much …
LANDSCAPING: THE GREAT ESCAPE (PART I)
AUGUST 26, 2024 – Ever since I was a kid I’ve been persnickety about yard and garden landscaping and maintenance. If you asked my wife about this self-assessment she’d say, “Huh?!” followed by “If what he said were true, our yard at home wouldn’t look so sinfully scraggly, and he’d get around to pruning [“that huge …
A WALK IN THE WOODS . . . AND SITTING UNDER THE STARS
JULY 26, 2024 – Late yesterday—or rather, very early today; the hour was closing in on 1:00 a.m.—I was about to retire when the sound of the breeze off the lake drew me outside. Usually the wind abates with the approach of dusk, but the broad stationary front over this region has brought a deliciously …
A VIEW ON AESTHETICS
JULY 15, 2024 – I’m certainly aware that aesthetics is an academic field unto itself; that for generations books, papers, lectures, debates, discussions have wrestled with the origins, nature and evolution of beauty—or more precisely, with our perception of it. Today I ambled along the lakeshore up and down the well-established trail. I’ve walked this …
THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES AND SEIZING THE BOOK
JUNE 30, 2024 – Old age. It’s on the table, and we need to talk about it. Efforts to convince Joe Biden that he should retire from the ticket remind me of a family’s decision to take the car keys away from “dad,” when he thinks he’s still perfectly fit to drive. “I might not …
NATURE’S SENSE OF HUMOR
JUNE 29, 2024 – This weekend my wife and I are preparing the Red Cabin and yard for a boatload of company next weekend. Our goal for the grounds is modest, however: when our guests pull up after their journey’s last leg—a long, winding, two-track dirt drive through a veritable jungle—we don’t want them to …
VINE LAND
JUNE 22, 2024 – Today I tangled with vines, both on the cove property and over in Byron and Mylène’s yard in Chester. I tugged and pulled, cut and clipped, and stumbled backwards each time one of three things happened: 1. The vine stem I was pulling on broke, 2. The whole vine came out …
THE MAGNOLIA TREE
JUNE 21, 2024 – Today was arbor day in my little world away from home. Our son and daughter-in-law’s yard was already home to many trees, but two months ago they decided that a magnolia would be an attractive addition. My wife and I happened to be visiting on that occasion and accompanied the expedition …
MORNING BIRDSONG AND A BABY’S SMILE
JUNE 14, 2024 – Aboard the train hurtling across the American countryside for two full days, I’d been drawn to immediate and fleeting surroundings as if they were a full life compressed into fast-motion review. The oft-repeating train whistle seemed to signal my interaction with others along the landscape of our integrated existence. I’ll never …
“NATURE” IN PERSPECTIVE
JUNE 9, 2024 – Back in the day up at the lake, when we went to the grocery store we’d grab the free “Buyer’s Guide” of real estate listings published by the Hayward Area Board of Realtors. We read the listings mostly for their entertainment value. In a vintage edition, for example, I found a …
“FOOD THROUGH STEALTH ATTACK”
JUNE 8, 2024 – Here I sit, halfway in the sun, halfway in the shade, watching the big parade of cumulus clouds drift slowly but purposefully overhead. Like a vast armada with sails hoisted to the heavens, their crews look down on us earthbound admirers and occasionally wave. You can tell the ships of the …
“Nothing New Under the Sun”
JUNE 4, 2024 – In search of a topic for today’s post, I first scanned the early morning news headlines, but all that came through was, “There is nothing new under the sun.” Then, while comfortably seated on our back porch, I happened to glance up from my cup of java just as a bird …
THE SHIP LOG
MAY 31, 2024 – What light was filtering through the thick overcast was now fading, and as I walked along the woodland path, I mistook the sound of rain—which I did not feel, being well-attired against mosquitoes—for wind until the shining leaves moved not in concert but individually, like a sea of uncoordinated bobble-heads plunked …