Still, Still, Still

Oh, I have a blog? After a good solid month+ of blogging, I kind of dropped the ball this past week. Whoops.

I hate to use the same ol' tired excuse over and over again, but things have been busy around here. Like mindblowing-ly busy. I've been working steadily away at freelance projects, trying to stay on top of things with the 9-5 ish  job, and sorting out the holiday season. Throw in the fact that we're still a one-car household (which is making some holiday travel plans tres complicated) and I'm feeling a bit like not enough butter across too much toast.

Andy mentioned this past week that we run to town the most during the months of November and December. (I'd argue that we also do a fair amount of running around in late April and early May.) These are the times when I'm not working full time and the roads are often in decent conditions. Depending on the season, we spend these trips gathering supplies for venison processing or gardening, spending time with family and friends, appointments that have been pushed off during the summer (oh hey there dentist) and doing extensive work on projects that are left simmering over the summer season. Summers are historically hectic in a rather predictable way. Come the shoulder seasons and all bets are off for what any given week (or day) will contain.

It's funny that just when a sense of stillness is descending on the woods, we're really ramping things up. Over the last week, the lake froze over. With steady snowfall at the moment, we won't be ice skating this winter - the snow reacts with the ice and puts a quick end to any "smooth as glass" ice conditions.  

I don't know that I'm doing a very good job of preparing my heart for Advent this year. I've been spending the days since Thanksgiving caught up in the minituia of my weekly to-do lists and the details of travel plans. This week I need to step back and look at the big picture.

Over the last week, most of the snow we received over Thanksgiving melted away in a warm snap. This morning, the snow falls quietly and steadily outside my window, obscuring the far shore with a veil of white. I've been busy sorting out little details that have been niggling at the back of my mind over the last month of so.My TracFone is reactivated, my bus ticket to this coming weekend's festivities booked, the majority of holiday presents bought.

In less than a week I will be spending time with friends I hardly ever see, my brother will be home for a long weekend, I get to enjoy another Broadway show with a very close friend, and many friends and family members are helping these holiday reunions happen. As always, blessings are many when you stop to count them.

It seems oh so appropriate that "Still, Still, Still" is the holiday song that keeps running through my mind this season:  

Still, still, still,
One can hear the falling snow.
For all is hushed,
The world is sleeping,
Holy Star its vigil keeping.
Still, still, still,
One can hear the falling snow.

It's difficult for all of us to find stillness during the holiday season, but if we are to survive the holidays with any shred of good humor left on New Year's Day, then we must learn to take a moment each day to create a stillness in our hearts. I hope the start of the holiday season has been treating you well and that you're all finding moments to catch your breath!

 

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And then it was gone

Our ice went out on Saturday night.

When I woke up yesterday and peered out the window, I found open water as far as I could see down the lake.

I've never been around for ice out before and I'm not sure what I was expecting. The tinkling of magic bells? A chorus of fairies heralding in the spring? The ice didn't even makes its usual groans and cracks this year as it went. Instead, it just disappeared.

Honestly, I kind of miss the ice. I may not love winter as a whole, but ice and I are good friends. (Well, maybe let's exclude black ice . . . .) Since this winter was without writing dates with the neighbor, I didn't make regular treks down the lake this winter and I feel like I took this year's ice for granted and let it go under-appreciated. Our rapid thaw this month meant the ice basically dissolved in front of our eyes and we never reached the point where the snow on top of the ice melted down to a crust as hard and sturdy as a sidewalk. No long rambles down the lake this March on top of "sugar cookie" ice like I'd hoped.

Still, between skating on the lake in December, a hike down the lake where we discovered recent wolf tracks, and a couple ice fishing excursions, it was a lovely ice season while it lasted:

December 2011

January 2012

February 2012

March 18, 2012

March 25, 2012

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Sowing and Socks (But not sewing socks)

I fell asleep last night to the pitter-pat of rainfall on the roof. While I'm no fan of sleeping through thunderstorms, I think the sound of a gentle rain is one of the loveliest sounds there is, a sweet, happy tinkling herald of spring and regrowth.

I always welcome a good rainy day, but we're especially grateful for rainfall this spring. After a low snow year, we need plenty of moisture to help the woods green up and to keep the forest fire danger down.

After last night's rainfall, the ice in the bay looks like it's seriously thinking about shipping out for the season. The ice is already out on some of the larger lakes up here, making it the earliest ice out up here ever. We're beating the prior earliest ice out dates by nearly three weeks. Yowzers!

The rain inspired more action outside today. I found a trio of sprouts out and about the yard this afternoon:

From left to right: lettuce sprouting in the cold frame, the first rhubarb nubs poking up (please let these be productive this year; otherwise I will have to barter homemade jam for rhubarb - I can't go two springs without it!), and garlic shoots. Last year, none of these guys were poking up until the end of April.

While Mother Nature is getting way ahead of herself this year, I'm planning to stay right on schedule with my seed starting schedule. I figure if I start things way ahead of time just because right now it feels like the end of May, we'll probably end up with a series of killing frosts when it actually is the end of May. (Hey, I never said I was an optimist.)

I'm not getting any more adventurous with this warm weather than starting a pot of lettuce in the cold frame because, frankly, I'm not terribly attached to the lettuce. Sure, it would be swell to have a fresh lettuce salad in the middle of April, but I'm not going to be too heartbroken if my little lettuce sprouts succumb to some unforeseen disaster in the next few weeks. Since spinach likes cool weather so well, I may start some spinach too because, well, same thing, I don't care too much if it flops. 

For things I don't have such a laissez-faire attitude towards - i.e. my tomatoes, peppers, basil, etc -- I'll be keeping them inside until late April at the earliest. Better safe than sorry.

Last night the UPS man delivered the pack of seeding starting mix and the last seeds I needed for this season, so tomorrow I'll be clearing off the kitchen table, turning on weekend NPR, and getting the first set of seeds planted. I'm planning to stagger my planting a bit more this year so I don't have nine kohlrabi that all want to be eaten at the same time this summer.

Here's what's getting sown tomorrow:

• Tomatoes (Early Girl, Brandywine, and Yellow Pear Cherry) 
• Jalapenos 
• Bell peppers 
• Herbs (Parsley, Sweet Basil, Thai Basil)
• Broccoli (first planting of three) 
• Cabbage (first planting of three) 
• Kohlrabi (first planting of three) 

I should start some flowers tomorrow too, but I honestly haven't put much thought into those.  All of our prime growing real estate (that is to say: sunny spots) in the backyard are devoted to veggies, so our flower beds tend to be rather sad and scraggly. In a twist of ultimate irony, I spent my pre-gardening days longing for a flower garden, but now devote most of my energy to vegetables while Andy, who initially wanted to grow vegetables, tends to the flowers. I will for sure start some nicotiana tomorrow because it smells so very lovely on summer evenings. As for the other flowers I'll start, who knows, eh.

Other weekend plans include finishing up this little sock's mate:

If you're looking closely, yes the top ribbing is a different color. I used little bits of leftover yarn for the ribbing to make this a true stash busting project. This is my first toe-up sock and I have to say, it was a revelation; no blasted kitchener stitch! That said, although I like the appearance of the toe much better than I do on my leg-down socks, I don't particularly like appearance of the heel when handled with increases instead of decreases. However, the fact that I have more control over how much yarn I use is great for when I have limited amounts of yarn at my disposal because I can stop knitting at any point on leg. That means things like this can't happen: 

Remember those frilly anklets I started back in January? Where I ran out of yarn halfway through the second sock? The yarn I need to finish up that forgotten little sock went on sale this week (you didn't think I'd pay full price for it, did you?) and with any luck, the yarn will arrive tomorrow.  Maybe this weekend will end with two new pairs of woolen socks. . . .

And to those of you (ahem, Mollie) who kindly suggested I just finish up the sock with orange yarn, I'm sorry to say that I am a wimpy, unadventurous knitter who ordered more matching turquoise yarn to finish the anklet. I am boring.

Have you started seeds for the season? What are your weekend plans?

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The Winter That Wasn't: Part II

So back in January, I penned a post entitled "The Winter That Wasn't." The basic gist of the post was: "Okay winter. Shit, or get off the pot." (Of course, I was far more elegant at the time.)

Well, apparently winter listened, because at some moment last week (I think it was Monday), winter decided to get off the pot. And winter didn't dilly-dally. It didn't waste time singing "Happy Birthday" to itself while it washed its hands. Nope, winter 2011-2012 took a drop of Purell and hightailed it on out of here.

I mean pussywillows on March 18th? Come on!

I wanted to love it. (After all, the moral of the story in "The Winter That Wasn't - Part I" was oh, I wish it were spring already.) But honestly? I find this absurd weather kind of creepy. It's not that we're having an early spring. It's like we've bypassed spring all together and are in the midst of summer. And I'm a girl who likes her seasons to come in the proper order, please and thank you!

I know the whole country has been experiencing some crazy high temperatures this spring. But for most of the winter, up here in northern Minnesota we've been able to hold onto some semblance of winter. That all changed last week when we started having consistent highs in the 60s. On Saturday, the temps climbed to 70s. The forecast doesn't hold any promise of it cooling off for quite some time. Already, the ice in the bay is looking downright rotten.

As a compare and contrast, here's what the bay looked like on April 11th, last year.

It's not unusual for the ice-out date for this lake to be in early - mid May. This year, it looks like ice out could come in March or early April which would be a new record. 

I want to soak up the sunshine and be enamored with this unseasonable weather. But instead I see extremely low water levels. Unless we have a veritable monsoon this spring, we are going to be in for some extreme fire danger this spring and summer.

I ran walked over to work yesterday afternoon to pick up some books and found that part of the lake's bay near the museum had disappeared. It's not a great example, but the first picture shows how the bay appeared yesterday and second shows what the bay normally looks like in May. Ugh. Low lake levels are so ugly!

I worry that this early spring will have totally ruined this year's maple syrup production. I worry about how the wildlife and flora will respond to this odd weather. I worry . . . .

I feel like the opposite of the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Rather than running around murmuring "I'm late, I'm late," I'm surveying the world around me and murmuring "Too early, too early."

Of course, I won't be terribly sad if this early spring means an extended growing season. The cold frame looked so sad and lonely in this warm weather that I just had to plant something in it. (Apparently I couldn't content myself with re-potting houseplants. I am happy this warm weather gave me an opportunity to repot a very root-bound rosemary plant out on the deck.) I sprinkled some "spring mix" lettuce seeds in a pot, watered it and put it in the cold frame. I won't be terribly upset if it suddenly grows cold again and the lettuce doesn't sprout. In fact, it may be a bit of a trick just for me to remember to water it. After all, it's not even spring yet.

Has it been unusually warm where you are? What's your favorite thing to do in the spring?

 

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Ice Fishing: It begins

Ice fishing season is in full swing in the Northwoods. It's been lake trout season since December 31st on lakes completely inside the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness and this past Saturday, the winter lake trout season started for all Minnesota trout lakes. Our lake was transformed into a veritable ice fishing village (above) this past weekend. Then Monday came and *poof* everyone disappeared.

This past week, before we could just head out the door and down the lake to fish, we set off down the road a piece and hiked about a mile into a BWCAW lake for the first ice fishing trip of the year.

Despite the fact that it was just above 0 (Yes, Fahrenheit), we set out in high spirits.Cold temperatures usually means sunshine and by the middle of January, you take sunshine over just about anything.

Headed up the Topper Portage, auger in hand

I'm not really sure why people ice fish. You know, when you boil it down it's basically: drill a hole in the ice, wiggle a string around in the water through the ice, get cold, go home.

But I suspect views like this have something to do with this chilly sport's appeal.

Beautiful South Lake with the Rose Lake Cliffs in the background

We didn't catch a single fish, nor even get a single nibble. Then again, we didn't stay out that long - only a couple hours because my hands got cold, probably because one of my chopper liners (aka, wool mittens which go inside large leather mittens, now in northern Minnesota as "choppers" for those who don't know Minnesotan) has a massive hole in it that need to get repaired before my next subzero excursion. On the portage out, we passed a guy who'd camped out on the lake the night before. In his sled, he had two large trout. "I'm not done with you yet, South Lake," Andy vowed.

To be continued . . . 

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Skating Through Life

Remember how I went on and on about how unusual it is to get good skating conditions around here? Disregard.

The center of the lake had been steadily freezing over last week and when Andy and I set out across the moon-soaked nightscape on Friday evening to investigate the ice's progress, we found a good 4 inches of ice out there. The MN DNR says 4" is safe for people and that's good enough for me! While I may skate on 1.5 inches in the bay, when ice is the only thing between me and a 70 ft drop to the bottom of the lake, I like to play by the rules. 

Christmas may come once a year, but skating conditions like this come about once a decade. This weekend's skating totally rivals skating on the Grand Marais harbor when I was six.

There's something wrong with Andy's skates

When we were out on the very clear ice, I said to Andy, "Wouldn't be crazy if we saw a fish?" So far I've found two. On a Saturday, I screeched to a halt when I spied a crappy lying on its side under the ice. Yes, a crappie. Then yesterday, I found this cisco. Andy acts like you see fish all the time like this, but I don't think so.

Truly, it was a weekend full of things to marvel at. One of those times, when you take a minute to pause and think, wow, this is pretty darn incredible, how lucky am I?

What did you get up to this weekend?

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Ice, ice baby

There are some days that you wait for all year long. Days you wait all year for even though sometimes those days never come.

This time of year, when temperatures are really cooling down and we're settling into the winter months, we hold our breath, wondering if this will be the year we'll be able to skate on the frozen lake.

Ice is finicky stuff. While it's guaranteed that at some point soon the lake will completely freeze over, transforming our backyard into a highway for snowmobilers, skiers, and ice fisherman, how that ice - which in some spots will be two-three feet thick by the end of winter -- will form is determined by the weather.

Just because there's ice doesn't mean there's skating. If it snows while the ice is forming, the snow pushes the ice down, allowing lake water to come up over the ice and creating slush which freezes into bumpy, yucky, un-skateable stuff. If the wind blows while the ice is forming, it can push the ice up on itself and create ridges. Again, not great for skating. When it comes right down with it, smooth, skatable ice is a pretty rare occasion.

But we haven't gotten any snow since Saturday's six inches and as the temperatures drop lower and lower with little to no wind, things are looking pretty promising for skating this year. In fact, last night Andy and I ventured out on the bay. There's still open water outside of the bay and there was just about an inch and a half near the shore: enough to support us as long as we didn't stand too close together. (Ideally you want at least three inches of ice before going out on it. . . Do as I say, not as I do ;)

I stayed very close to shore when I was skating: only going out so far that I would only fall up to my waist if I were to go through. If the snow stays at bay, we could be skating on the entire lake by the end of the weekend. How cool would it be to skating on the same territory we were boating on just a couple months ago?

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Wordless Wednesday: Late Winter Scenes

Tinkling snow banks melting in the sun. Forgotten fishing holes. Snow drifts like overbaked sugar cookies. Welcome to late winter at Of Woods and Words!

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Across the Ice, Over the River and Through the Woods . . .

You know what's really weird when you think about it? Ice.

For oh, about  seven months of the year, the bay outside the cabin looks like this.

For the other 5 months it looks more like this:

In a neighboring bay, ice turns the lake into a veritable highway.

Of course ice makes a rather capricious roadway. Ice is in its very nature is treacherous. When too much snow builds up on the ice, lake water leaks over the top of the ice to mix with the snow and creating slushy conditions that are anything but fun to traverse. Wind can cover up paths across the lake's flat frozen terrain in a matter of minutes.

We've been getting a lot more sunshine and warmer temps lately and that means the lake ice is starting its slow spring melt. As the layers of ice and snow melt down, past treks across the ice are re-revealed since compacted tracks from snowmobiles, snowshoes, and boots take longer to melt.

It can be kind of disconcerting to walk across melting ice. As I write this I can hear the ice groaning and cracking outside as it adjusts to warmer "spring-ier" temperatures. But our  recent  warm "spring" weather was followed by subzero temperatures in the last couple days which refroze the ice into a concrete like substance. Yesterday Andy and I set out down the new (and short-lived) ice "sidewalk" to see where the wind might blow us.

After all that ice talk, it was lovely to find some running water by the "Ripple", where the lake feeds into a river.

On the way home, we scrambled down a cliff,

cut through a swamp

(which wasn't quite as stable as the lake ice),

found cliff side icicles,

even spied some evergreen polypody poking up through the snow.

It was beautiful springtime hike, all brought to you compliments of the wonderful, mysterious substance known as ice!


Where's your favorite place to wander in the springtime?

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