Original anecdotes, commentary, rumination, and occasional pontification.
JANUARY 19, 2023 – In these parts, snow—manna to a skier—is still falling from heaven. My wife, who isn’t a skier, would say it’s falling from hell, a thermically and directionally paradoxical perspective. I recently gained a better understanding of her disdain after I backed my car into a snowbank up at the lake and …
JANUARY 14, 2023 – Memory: I’m fascinated by the details it holds amidst a vast ocean of time, images, encounters and impressions. Take for example, the exact words of Mr. Cavanaugh in social studies class my freshman year of high school: “If you analyze people, you lose them.” More details: He wore a tweed jacket …
JANUARY 7, 2023 – Followers of this blog know that in the course of my stem cell transplant procedure back in late August, Drs. Killjoy (both of them) told me, “No more downhill skiing for you. Cross-country, fine; downhill, no.” Their perfectly sound reasoning was that the multiple myeloma had turned my skeleton into “Swiss …
JANUARY 6, 2023 – (Cont.) Out of the wrecker cab dropped a driver from central casting—a burly, bearded fellow, wearing blue transition-glasses, a baseball cap, heavy-duty gloves and a green safety vest. His name was “Jim.” and he proved to be as much a witty conversationalist as he was an engineer on the fly. He’d …
JANUARY 5, 2023 – (Cont.) But we still had the stuck vehicles to worry about. John had plenty of devices and equipment for pulling his tractor out of the snow, but I couldn’t see how my car could be rescued much before spring. I was prepared to abandon it until then. In that case, however, …
JANUARY 4, 2023 – Mylène got her wish: being snowed in at the cabin as the world around us turned into a winter wonderland. While for several days we’d enjoyed the gorgeous winter scenery outside, and inside, played cards and Scrabble and kept the wood-burning stove loaded with oak, the window was closing on our …
JANUARY 2, 2023 – The pre-Christmas weather that besieged the country, smashed indiscriminately through our woods. From a comfortable distance we worried about power, plumbing and heating at the Red Cabin. Trees and wildlife, meanwhile, took a beating. The first visible casualties were four 30-year-old Norways that we’d planted on conservancy land near the entrance …
JANUARY 1, 2023 – Happy New Year cheers to all my readers! May 2023 bring you good health and lots of happiness. And may it bring a measure of peace and prosperity to the world. Yesterday, I celebrated the end of an eventful year by skiing for an hour on the American Birkebeiner Trail, the …
DECEMBER 31, 2022 – I arrived here at the Red Cabin yesterday after dark and found no internet service, since our rooftop satellite dish on which we’re dependent for connectivity, was buried under two feet of snow. I pictured myself like an early settler having to “rough it.” That is, still with mobile phone coverage, …
DECEMBER 17, 2022 – When heavy snow flocks the woods, beauty reigns. But nature doesn’t care that its mantle blocks our satellite dish and thus, internet connectivity, so we can’t check your temperature gauge remotely. Nor does nature care about unleashing 30 to 40 mph winds and blowing down ice- and snow-laden trees onto power …
DECEMBER 15, 2022 – This morning we looked out the window to see the landscape plastered with snow. Beautiful, I thought, because of its high moisture content; tough to shovel, however, and not optimal for skiing, but beggars can’t be choosers. We’re still in a drought. Before breakfast, I went out to shovel. “High moisture …
DECEMBER 11, 2022 – Currently, snow conditions aren’t optimal, but I’ve learned to adapt. I’ve found a loop of skiable snow in “Little Switzerland,” a 10-minute walk from our house. My course is only a little over a kilometer but has what every serious x-c skier needs: two straight-aways—one for “V-1” (poling with every other …
DECEMBER 1, 2022 – The days leading up to the transplant passed all too quickly. I was feeling great, but being very much a medical wimp, I dreaded the procedure that loomed ever closer and feared what could be an excruciatingly slow, protracted and unpleasant recovery process. Why couldn’t time stop where I was? More …
NOVEMBER 30, 2022 – (Cont.) Once we’d landed on the island, Dad and I started pulling gear out of the canoe. No map. We pulled more stuff out. Still no map. I don’t remember Dad swearing out loud over the missing map, but I was bracing myself for a “damn!”—the one expletive I’d heard him …
NOVEMBER 29, 2022 – (Cont.) Dad put extra peanut butter in our sandwiches, since our rained-out breakfast had left us hungry. I remember walking around, eating my sandwich and holding a cookie, as I admired the lofty Norway pines that encircled our landing spot. In the short time of our lunch break, however, a breeze …
NOVEMBER 28, 2022 – (Cont.) Twenty-five years later—in 1957—Dad returned to the Boundary Waters with Mother and two friends, Carl and Doris Sand. My younger sister, Jenny, went along for the ride. From the single photograph I remember of the expedition, Mother and Jenny, at least, wore a life jacket—the same one: Mother was six …
NOVEMBER 27, 2022 – (Cont.) Although “Big Water” Grindstone Lake warrants a “noticeable blue dot” on a modest map of the United States, its configuration (basically oval, but in detail it’s like a Pilgrim’s shoe in profile) is such that you can’t get lost on it—at least for long. If you find your way into …
NOVEMBER 26, 2022 – The last leg of your journey to the Red Cabin leads down Williams Road, a twisting, undulating passage through woods that crowd the edge of the pavement. The posted speed limit—40—is for your safety, especially in winter. Along this magical route, you pass a cabin or two tucked back in the …
NOVEMBER 22, 2022 – My wife doesn’t know how lucky she is not to be at the Red Cabin with me—livin’ the life of Riley five days in a row. After just three days I was well into an eremitic routine. More than a week and I’d be a classic example of what happens to …
NOVEMBER 21, 2022 – It’s been four days since I’ve seen another human being but not since I’ve interacted with many—by phone, text and email. In fact, I spent many hours today on the phone; mostly contentious, anxiety-ridden or otherwise demanding business calls. They were a reminder of how removed most of my life has …
NOVEMBER 20, 2022 – Last night I repeated a Red Cabin routine (when the weather’s clear): I went outside to check the stars. After stepping down from our side porch onto a fresh blanket of snow . . . I gasped. In eerie silence the silhouetted woods touched a celestial vault filled with stars of …
NOVEMBER 19, 2022 – Inside the Red Cabin (with white trim—candy cane colors!) and surrounded outside by fresh, powder snow and arctic temperatures, I feel a bit like Santa Claus; more so because all day I’ve been working on our granddaughter’s Christmas present: the most elaborate gnome home I’ve ever designed. Earth’s latest rotation, however, …
NOVEMBER 18, 2022 – Today I spent many hours in work-related phone conversations and complex email exchanges; headwork related to “life back in the Big Smoke.” For much of the day my back was to the windows, but occasionally, I stole a glance at the snow-covered wonderland outside the Red Cabin. Several times I flipped …
NOVEMBER 7, 2022 – This evening I ventured out to see the full moon emerge from its wanderings in the exotic East. Here at the Red Cabin, which faces the lake due south, deep woods obstruct the sky east and north. To catch the moonrise, I’d have to follow a woodland trail to a promontory …
NOVEMBER 6, 2022 – When the weather is mild, November is a splendid month in the Northwoods. Today the sun brightened the landscape and the wind—gusting past 20 mph—had free rein. Mindful that falling debris could have free rein, as well, I kept eyes and ears peeled for arboreal projectiles. I didn’t go quite as …