I love White Pines.
Ten years ago I planted a six inch White Pine twig in the side yard. It was quickly overwhelmed by weeds and other faster growing shrubs. Every year I surveyed the runt and half-heartedly snatched handfuls of weeds around the base and threw them to the wind.
Tonight, New Year's Eve 2016, I glanced out through a softly falling twilight snow at my little neglected tree. It has survived, and grown - grown three feet toward the sky, and is looking strong and pretty. Not yet majestic, but reaching...
Some people and relationships in my life are long-ago planted White Pines that started with great promise and joy, but became overwhelmed.
My resolution for the coming year is to clear the weeds and debris and try to nurture a growing process. It's hard, and I don't know how to do it, but a mature White Pine tree is a beacon of wonder...
2016... Happy New Year, and wondrous good wishes, my friends.

"So, not enough ice to get to camp. How will you spend the afternoon?" someone asked.
"Well..."

I drilled a few holes this morning to check ice thickness. The best I could find was five inches out in front of my house. The thickness was pretty uniform from shore out to about 200 yards.
This area had almost no snow on top of the ice and no current under, so it's easy to believe that's about as good as it gets here on Pelican right now.
The good news... I got to try out my brand new, battery operated ice auger (ION brand - unless you look at it upside down, when it becomes NOI). It was like slicing buttah with a hot knife.

We walked into camp this morning. Rosie, Boomer and I tried a different route than we have tromped before. It was a good walk, following tracks of early snowmobile daredevils across a couple frozen bays and through the woods.
After 20 minutes or so we branched off on our own for the last half hour of walking through virgin snow, not quite knee - deep.
A quarter mile from camp I stopped to brush snow off a log and sit for a rest (the dogs were panting pretty hard, you know).
As we lounged I became aware of gentle, soft cooing -purr sounds. There on the tree branches overhead, five feet away, were half a dozen chickadees, schmoozing like long lost friends.
My heart fluttered like a boy in love as I returned their greetings from my perch in the snow on that log.
Those little birds followed us the rest of the way to camp, flying from tree to tree as we ground dwellers slogged through the forest.
The first thing I did on arrival was shovel a couple small places on the deck to pile out some seeds for our chickadees, who dove in as if feasting on a Christmas dinner.
Only then did I come inside, pour a glass of wine, and climb into my bird watching chair to admire the view and the lively birds.
Before long the wine in my glass froze, and my sweat soaked inside clothes chilled, so we are now hitting the trail back to where I parked my truck.
Here's the view we enjoyed from my bird watching chair.
Note the one chickadee that seems to be wearing a tiara. The little crown is actually the outstretched wing of a second bird landing behind the one already standing among the sunflower seeds.

This evening's sunset promised to be laced with interesting cloud patterns. Although it didn't turn out to be any kind of spectacular, I set up and spent a pleasant half hour on the deck, taking dozens of pictures.
Here is one of the original shots, along with two attempts to crop it. Off and on over the past couple hours I have tried to figure out if one of these is any better than the other two. Seems that I'm too fickle, choosing one, then a different one, and again the third option.
I'd love to hear some opinions and thoughts. Hopefully you can help me learn a thing or two. What do you think?
Thanks.

Merry Christmas, My Friends.
From my kitchen door I can watch the Christmas Eve full moon rising. It's beautiful on this early winter evening.
The first snowmobile tracks appeared on the frozen lake this afternoon. Mine will join them - but probably not until at least next week. We have some good, cold overnight temperatures forecast for the next few nights so we're hoping to be able to get to camp by New Year's weekend.
I am listening for the VROOM VROOM sound of my riding barbeque to arrive in the driveway.
Peace and Love to you all!

We lit Ma's ice candle at twilight (about 4 p.m.) yesterday. This morning I went to the cemetery about 10 o'clock to pick it up. Her flame was still blazing bright.
Ma's candle is now on our deck, overlooking one of this world's sweetest views. I think my mother would be tickled if you share her flame, dream a dream, and reminisce with a memory dear to you.
Sincere wishes, to you, for a special Christmas.
You can share the flame at my webcam, day and night, here: www.dickshideaway.com
Merry Christmas, Friends!

Here's what the lake looks like this morning just before sunrise. The area that looked to be still open a couple hours ago is frozen now.

Weatherwise, this is a December to remember. Often, by now, the lake has been frozen for a month. This year is a record setter in the freezing department, as open water here on Pelican Lake has never been recorded this late in the season.
The freeze-up is coming, though. Earlier today we saw extensive patches of ice forming, but interrupted by strong winds.
My lazy Friday afternoon lounge on the deck at home has been challenged by the wine freezing in my glass. Bossa Nova background Christmas music, and spectacular smell of chili and ribs sizzling in the barbeque beside me are wonderful delights, but me and my Cabernet have to slip inside every hour or so to warm up.
I'm pining to be at camp, in the palace with a blaze flaring in the firepit table and my chickadees flying a chaotic melody among the sunflower seeds.
But, it'll come. Winter is long.
Meantime, I'm thrilled to be a part of this December 18th.

Every night for the past week I have gotten up and stepped out into the darkness on the deck to listen for silence. Every night my hope for ice on the lake is shattered by the sound of water washing onto the shore.
Here are two pictures taken this evening, a few minutes apart, just before night arrived. The temperature was already below freezing. No wind was evident. Overnight low temperature is forecast to be -6C (21F).
I wonder what I'll hear when I step out at 3 a.m.
I wonder what I'll see at 7 o'clock tomorrow morning.