Blog Archives

An ice music morning

11/27/2014

I don't think I've ever heard the ice so boisterous as it was this morning. I stepped out on the dark deck about 4 o’clock to admire the stars as the icy music played non-stop. It was like the string section of an orchestra tuning up for a symphony at dawn.

Temperature was 25 below and the lake was pinging, zinging and singing a smashing good melody! It was an amazing performance.

This picture is the setting sun shining on the newly frozen lake in front of our house, 12 hours after this morning's serenade.

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Winter has arrived

11/13/2014

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Winter snuck in during the night. Here's what I saw as this morning dawned. I'm glad we were able to spend four days at camp this last weekend of the season. I had thought we might get in another weekend or two, but we still had significant ice to break through getting away from the dock this afternoon. So, it'll be boat out tomorrow, then four or five weeks before we can snowmobile out.
We had lots of birds and were especially happy to see Redpolls and Nuthatches, which are usually plentiful, but were entirely absent last winter.
We had also Blue Jays, Whiskeyjacks, Evening Grosbeaks, Pine Grosbeaks, Chickadees, and a Hairy Woodpecker.
And an otter playing around at the dock.

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Let's get yogurt

11/10/2014

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Saturday night my Facebook chat box popped open with a hello from Cousin Lee down in Michigan. What a thrill! We have been lifelong friends of the first order, tough MacKenzie boys whenever we got together.
We drifted apart and lost touch with each other about 10 years ago.
The last time I saw Lee was at his house in Michigan when I stopped in as I was on a road trip that passed close to him. “I have some Gold Tassel and some Canadian Club in the cupboard, and cold beer in the fridge. What can I get for you?” he asked right away.
It was a classic beginning to a good visit, reminding me of past visits at his home in the country. We could sit for hours on a fine fall afternoon out in the yard with a case of beer and a shotgun as we talked and laughed and got caught up on our lives since we were together last. Whoever opened a fresh beer got to fling the cap as far as he could throw it while the other tried to blast it out of the sky with the 12 gauge.
We’re tough hombres, so imagine my surprise as Lee and I chatted Saturday night and suddenly he messaged, “Sometime if you’re down this way, let’s get yogurt.”
I was shocked… SHOCKED! I can see my cousin converting to Jehovah’s Witness, even Baptist (highly unlikely, but… possible), but turning into a yogurt eater? I figure he’d be more likely to join the Democratic Party.
I sat stunned, wondering what to say. The last time down he took me to the Sportsmen’s Bar where we sat around in a roomful of antlers drinking tap beer, house whiskey, and eating pickled eggs from a great huge glass jar with a mouth so big you could stick your whole arm in and pluck out your own clucker from the brine. As the afternoon highlight, one of the locals pulled a chunk of homemade venison jerky from his shirt pocket, chawed off a big hunk using only his teeth and both hands, then passed the remainder around where all the guys took turns biting off their own hunks of jerky from the steadily diminishing stump of deer meat.
Now, he’s proposing to take me to a yogurt bar? I have no idea what that’ll be like. I picture a little sidewalk sign with fancy calligraphy in front of a small gingerbread house with doily curtains touting the daily special of pineapple yogurt and raspberry gelato
As I sat silent, wondering what to say, wondering if some sort of tragedy had closed in on Cousin Lee, he messaged again.
“Let’s get tougher.”
I wanted to jump on that, but had no idea what the hell he meant. When we were boys his father had an old car axle out in the yard, with wheel hubs still attached at each end. Lee and I would challenge each other to lift the whole works up over our heads. It was heavy. Real heavy. But, after extensive grunting, swearing, wobbling and staggering around the yard we could do it, just in time to yell, “Get out of the way” as we simultaneously let go and jumped clear while the hillbilly barbells crashed down, burying the hubs four inches deep into the hard packed earth. We were already tough
As I sat speechless, dazed, puzzled and sad, yet another message sprinted in. “Let’s get together.
“Damn spellcheck.
What kind of algorithm turns "together" into "yogurt?"

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To buy a mousetrap

11/9/2014

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When I went to the hardware store last week I had no intention of buying another barbeque. Honestly, I went there only to get a couple mouse traps. Unfortunately the store was out of mouse traps, but to get to the mousetrap aisle I had to pass the big, beautiful barbeque that I had swooned over last May.
I hate leaving empty handed and, before I could go out the door with nothing, a brilliant - BRILLIANT - idea filled my head.
Snow next week. This baby's been sitting here unsold all summer. I should check with the manager. Maybe, just maybe, it'll be going on sale soon.
Well, what a coincidence. She was going to put a sale sign on it that very morning.
Who hustled quicker is hard to say, but I had my truck backed up to the door seconds before two guys had the grill there and loaded up.
That very same day I got my new shiny transferred to the boat and out to camp where it's a great addition to the deck.
Here's my first project - a loaf of whole wheat bread baked in the barbeque.
It's good that Mary doesn't use Facebook so she doesn't know this story. (For some reason she thinks I already have too many barbeques.) As I was baking yesterday she commented, "Oh, I see you brought the barbeque from home," and I pretended my hearing aids were off so as not to engage in a lie.
Luckily, she loved the bread. Ate two slices... hot... with butter.
We are getting snow this weekend, so by the time we get home Tuesday, the other new barbeque on the home deck will be covered and by spring when it gloriously appears again she'll kinda forget. And, if she doesn't, I'll remind her how wonderful that first loaf of bread tasted, and turn my hearing aids off for a couple hours as I knead a fresh batch of dough.

Francantonio Bastone commented, I'm sure there is a story about how you got it from the boat to the camp deck. Doh. I mean Dough. Do tell.

Frank, thanks for asking. You are a discerning man and appreciate a thoughtful approach to a problem rather than the brute force route. The distance from boat to deck is about 30 yards, uphill, on a rough trail.
I started with a bottle of Cabernet as I thought it through.
During the next hour I put my shrewd plan into action, slowly and deliberately closing the gap.
Getting off the boat was pretty easy. I wheeled the barbeque to the edge of the boat platform, gently set one end down onto the dock - about a foot or so - then gently pivoted the boat end down to the dock, as well.
The little grill wheels aren't really made for rolling on rough ground so I grabbed half a sheet of plywood - four feet by four feet square - and made my way up to the cabin by bending down to grasp the legs, pulling the whole thing the four feet to "step" off the plywood. Then, I locked the little wheels, went to the back and carried the plywood to the front, and did it again.
Like a piece of fine machinery, I required oiling with a sip of wine every four feet, and a short respite as I assessed the progress and made sure I was still dragging it in the right direction.
Eventually, I was at the foot of the five steps leading up to the deck. It took two sips of wine to implement the next stage. I screwed the half sheet of plywood to the steps, then gently, but firmly, pushed the whole thing up the ramp and onto the deck.
After that, I fired 'er up and polished off the rest of my wine while the factory grease burned off the grates.
It was beautiful, and in the glow of the wine I imagined myself a bit like Jimmy McQuat, single handedly building the Castle on White Otter Lake.

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Bye, bye

11/9/2014

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Bye, bye, Petunia. Mighty glad we knew ya. Let's dance again next Junia...

This morning I washed my windows. Think I inhaled too many windex fumes... makes me write what I call my Edgar Allen Poetry (because it's scary). Sure can see the birds better, though.

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Look through my window

11/9/2014

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Ahhh, camp is so cozy on this snowy blowy November day. Boating out in the blizzard was a challenge. Heating up the cabin took a few logs, a couple hours, and some wine, but it's a slice of heaven now. I admire the chickadees working madly in the snow to scratch out some seeds. Here's the view out the window after I squeegeed the wind driven slop with the lid from a tupperware container. Some BB King in the background floating soft daydreams, dogs snoozing in front of the fire, arouse a beautiful calm on an early winter afternoon.

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Changing of the season

11/5/2014

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We're down to the last couple weeks of boating for this season. My Minnitaki Queen is now parked for the winter and I'll be pulling the Pelican Belle out of the lake after the 16th.
The next time I see this sign it'll be from the seat of a snowmobile.

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