Off Our Arses, Into the Woods

So after declaring ourselves lazy bums on Tuesday, we knew we should probably shake off the winter blahs and actually head outside for some fresh air. We'd heard that a couple people had snowshoed on a nearby trail so we decided to head over to see if the path was firm enough to walk on with just boots. (While snowshoeing sounds awfully romantic, they're putzy and cumbersome - given my druthers, I always opt for just boots for winter walking.)

We've hiked this trail a few times before (here and here) and I spent a lot of time off the trail last summer in search of blueberries. The approximately 1 mile long trail leads to a 1600 + ft hill with a panoramic view of the surrounding woods. The trail has gotten a lot of use in the summer since it opened last spring, but it doesn't appear to get much winter traffic. That's too bad because when there's a packed trail, it's actually faster to hike in the winter because you don't have to pick your way over stray rocks and roots all the time. I think the view in the winter is just as nice as the summer view.

I hope you've had a chance to get out and enjoy some late winter sunshine. They say action is the antidote to despair, so if you're suffering from winter gloomies, your best bet just might be to get out in the winter world!  
 P.S. Need another excuse to get outside? The sun starts providing Vitamin D around March 15 at this latitude.

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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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Going North

"So goodbye for a while I'm off to explore 
Every boundary and every door 
Yeah I'm going north . . . 

Up where the hunted hide with ease 
Under the arms of eye-less trees 
Up where the answers fall like leaves 
Oh and your love is all I need 
Yeah I'm going north"
- Missy Higgins "Going North"

I just got back from a very misty walk out to the mailbox. The weather's taken a turn for the grey (I woke to hear raindrops pitter-pattering on the rooftop last night), but the temperatures are still unseasonably warm. Today the temp's hovering around 50 and with no passive solar coming through our south facing windows (which Andy cleaned yesterday --suddenly our outside view got a lot brighter!) the temperature inside the cabin is about 63. A little chilly for room temperature, yes, but I will not, I will not build a fire when it's 50 degrees outside.

Besides, if I built a fire, then I'd have to change out of my cozy cashmere sweater into a t-shirt and I've had just about enough of running around in t-shirts in March, thank you very much. March through May is supposed to be prime sweater wearing season in these parts, when I can wear my frillier, lighter sweaters without having to wear Smartwool long underwear underneath and a big fluffy vest on top. But sweater season has been foiled by the Arctic meltdown of 2012 and so I am keeping the house nice and cool today,  just so my sweaters won't miss me.

I don't mean to be the dull blogger who writes about nothing but the weather, but honestly, this weather is crazy.

It looks like we're on track to have the earliest ice out ever - the previous record was in 2010 when the ice went out on April 11. We may end the winter lake trout season (which concludes on March 31st) in boats! 


Yesterday, Andy and I looked at each other and finally said the question we've both been thinking: Is the world ending?  

(I mean, a world without sweater season? Is it really worth going on?!)

Luckily, Andy, being resourceful and all, has a solution to this discomfit that comes from early ice outs and unseasonable weather. It's a solution that will result in never-ending sweater season. We just have to move . . .
to Alaska.

Now, whenever Alaska is mentioned, whenever I see an Alaska license plate, I feel the need to sing out "North! To Alaska" ala Johnny Horton. And I'm just a little nervous that if we actually moved to Alaska, there would be a lot more Johnny Horton in my life and I'm just not ready for that.

Also, considering the hit my social life has taken just by settling in bumblef__k rural Minnesota, I really don't want the majority of social contact to be with grizzly bears. (And yes, I did see Grizzly Man .  . . no thank you.) While my bags are packed and ready for Canada, I'm not sure I'm up for the land of the midnight sun just yet.

But I think everyone has a direction they're drawn in. Some people long for the sands and heat of the south. Pioneers were encouraged to "go west!" And despite several attempts in my early 20s to convince myself that I was meant to head east, it's obvious that the direction that tugs at my heart strings is north.

How north is this heart of mine willing to go? Only time will tell. But probably not all the way "North! to Alaska." Although, how many months out of the year would I get to wear my sweaters up there  . . .? 

What direction does your heart move? Anyone other than me and Meri upset about missing out on spring apparel this year?

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News from the Infirmary

Source

The cabin has been one house of illness lately. A nasty cold has been spreading through the entire community like wildfire, so when Andy came home with the sniffles a week and a half ago, I knew it was only a matter of time before the cabin had taken on a decided "infirmary" feel. Sure enough, Andy's been out with a nasty, yucky sinus cold for going on 11 days now and I've been sniffling (and sneezing) my way through the past six days. It's a doozy, this cold, and we're hardly its only victims.

So there's no real news to report from this neck of the woods, no big outdoor adventures to relate from the last two batches of days off.

But here are some fun stats from the House of Illness!

Work days missed = 0
Boxes of Nyquil depleted = .5
Kleenex Boxes used  = 2 and counting 
Chicken soup consumed = 1 batch
Boxes of tea depleted = 2

In other news, winter's decided to go prove something and be all wintery again. Actually, we're meant to be getting the blizzards of all blizzards right now, but so far, not even a snowflake. Guess it all tracked south. Bummer . . . .  For the time being, I'll just enjoy the fresh 5" that came down on Sunday.

Honestly, it can be spring any day now. ANY DAY. *sigh*

In a moment of feverish inspiration (somewhat aided by a feeling of broke-ity, broke, broke-ness), I sent out a batch of queries on Saturday and within 48 hours I'd  been rewarded for my efforts by not one, but two paying gigs out of the deal. I know, right! I'm excited, but a little stressed out by it all. I'm hoping this cold lets up soon, because phone interviews + being all stuffed up = ridiculousness.

I think I'll spend the rest of my evening once I've finished this super interesting and informative post getting my mileage chart for 2011 all done. I've been putting off making the chart for a good two months now, but I think it would be spiffy to file my taxes in the near future so the chart must be done.

Anyone do anything exciting for Leap Year? I spent my extra day doing laundry, grocery shopping, and finally watching The Help (good, but the book is much better). So yeah, I spent my extra day exactly like any other day. Lame.

And that's the news from the infirmary. I hope everyone else is managing to keep the sniffles at bay!

 

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Snow and the Oscars

Snow and the Oscars will be forever linked in my mind.

In northern Minnesota, a massive dumping of snow over the final weekend of February seems as sure as the Academy Awards Ceremony. Yesterday was no exception to the rule. The entire day passed in that snowstorm half light which holds time in place until darkness falls.

It wasn't a huge dropping of snow - just 5 -8 inches of accumulation predicted. But with the way everyone in the Northland's talking, you'd think we were getting 2 feet of snow, and really, such amount isn't unheard of for the traditional end of February snowstorm. How excitable we are about any measly bit of snow demonstrates just what a wimpy winter it's been.

Oscar Night marks the one snowstorm a year I'll voluntarily venture out into. One year, as a friend and I drove to an Oscar gathering, the several inches of snow on top of her car all slide down onto the windshield as we headed down a hill. The windshield wipers, which had been valiantly working to keep up with the falling snow, were paralyzed under this sudden dumping of snow. We stopped the car, hopped out, and swept off the windshield while fresh snow gathered on our hats and shoulders. It's amazing what hale and hearty Minnesotan girls will do for a dose of glamor.


Another time, I fishtailed my way over to an Oscar party in my Toyota Corolla, then slipped and slid most of the way down an extremely steep hill on my way back home to my college apartment at the party's conclusion. Under normal circumstances, I would curse and berate myself for going out in such weather, but on Oscar night, I go with the flow . . .and the snow.   

Just last year, it took me two attempts to get my car up and over the curving steep hill in our road to get myself over to the neighbors'  where they were streaming Oscars coverage. The snowfall outside interrupted the satellite feed that night and we never did see any of the actual ceremony. Turns out the "Academy Awards Backstage Pass" really does just show you the backstage of the Kodak Theatre and we had to use some careful deductive work to figure out what award had just been presented and who had won.


Don't get me wrong; I don't care much about the Oscars. This year, like most years, I'd watched a total of none of the best picture nominees. But don't mistake not caring about the Oscars for not liking the Oscars. Because I love the frivolity of the whole thing:  pretty dresses, cheesy film montages, pomp and circumstance.

Between the Oscars and the upcoming high school boys hockey tournament, this is about the only two week period of the entire year when I wish we had a television. But last night, I missed the Oscars. Instead, I watched the snow slowly accumulate outside, while I dreamed of Hollywood, red carpets, and glamor.

At least I got half of the deal.

 

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The Wild Rice Venison Sausage Recipe

Happy Monday y'all! It's another sunny morning in the Northwoods and it looks like it's going to be a warm one. Andy mentioned last night that if this warm weather keeps up, we're going to have four cords of firewood left at the end of the winter. I'm not going to complain about that, but this unseasonable weather does make me think I should be starting seeds any day now. Unfortunately, my friends, that day is still a long ways off.  *sigh*

This morning, I had an email waiting for me, asking if I ever found a recipe for wild rice venison sausage. I sure did!
In fact, we're just finishing up a batch of Northwoods pasties, made with a pound of the wild rice sausage we made back in November. I'm not sure how my Cornish ancestors would feel about "Northwoods pasties" which are definitely a departure for the traditional Cornish pastie, but wild rice venison sausage wrapped in pastry with potatoes, onions, rutabaga, and carrots = yummy in my book.

So I figured, no better time than now to share the recipe. Hopefully by sharing it, we'll give Google an actual useful search result for "wild rice venison sausage recipe" and spare others the frustratioof just finding a lot of web results about serving wild rice with venison sausage. (In the end, not what I was looking for.)  

Wild Rice Venison Sausage
1 lb ground venison
1 lb ground pork
2 cups cooked, cooled wild rice 
3/4 cup chopped onions
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon coarse-ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 teaspoons poultry seasoning (I used McCormick's)
2 teaspoons dried chicken stock
Salt to taste

Place all ingredients in a large bowl and mix until well combined. (I always just dive in with my hands, but be warned, the raw onion may react with your skin. Don't worry, the tingling will go away after a couple minutes - the sense of having an allergic reaction is only temporary. ;P ) Run the mixture through your meat grinder to further combine ingredients, then cover bowl and place in fridge overnight. The next day, after testing for seasoning by frying up a small bit, divided in pound portions. Package in freezer bags, then wrap in freezer paper, label, and freeze. Alternatively, you can package this in casings. I have never done this; for me, it's easier to just freeze the sausage in bulk and I've always found more than enough use for the bulk sausage. 

Please note: I quadrupled this recipe, so all measurements are approximate. Best practice is to measure out the amount of the spices that seem right to you (i.e. you might want to cut down on the pepper, but increase the salt, depending on your taste). You can always adjust seasonings the next day after they've had a bit of time to "marry" in the fridge.

We use the sausage in egg bakes, pasties, or just fried up in little patties. Use it anyway you like and let me know if you make improvements to the recipe.

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A Truthful, Toothful, Tuesday Post

I'm going to take a cue from a friend who frequently adopts the list format for her blog posts to save time. When you make lists, you don't have to worry about completing your thoughts or making a point. And since I'm back at the cabin, at least for the time being and am woefully behind on all sorts of stuff, here's what's been going on lately . . . in list form.

1) You guys! Did you know that Thanksgiving is a mere 9 days away? What the what? How did this happen?! I'm going to have to bake pumpkin pies next week already.

2) It's Andy's birthday today!

To celebrate, I made him a bourbon molasses pecan pie from the latest Better Homes and Gardens. As soon as I took the pie out of the oven, I realized I'd forgotten the vanilla.

It's official: I can not make birthday treats without forgetting some crucial ingredient. However, I feel Andy's pecan pie will fair better without vanilla than Dad's pumpkin pie did without sugar. . . maybe. 

3) It's also deadline day. (Note the lack of exclamation points on that statement.)

The big article I was worrying about a couple weeks is due today, but I actually sent it a week ago: I just had to get a cd of accompanying photos for the article in the mail today. I feel pretty calm about the whole thing. 

However, today's also deadline day for the publication I write for monthly. I have more flexibility with this deadline and luckily all of those articles are under control. I still have about an article and a half to write before I call it a day though.  

4) Our internet is finally back!!

I'd love to tell you how helpful the internet provider was in the whole ordeal, but the truth is, after multiple calls to tech support and customer support, the person who actually fixed it doesn't even work for the company. It was a frustrating two weeks, to say the least, but like Ma Ingalls used to say: "All's well that ends well."

5) I have teeth again!

See:

Last Monday, the dentist reglued my veneer on. On Wednesday I decided to eat a frozen cookie. Needless to say, the reglued veneer did not stay cemented in place for very long. So it was back to the dentist's yesterday where they put a permanent coating on my tooth. Grand total of the tooth ordeal = $200.  However, they suckered me into scheduling a cleaning, so they haven't quite finished milking my bank accounts yet and Christmas is still a no-go around these parts since I'll be subsidizing the dental office employees' Christmas celebrations rather than my own this year. 

5) In answer to the deer questions from the last post, the deer is absolutely not hanging anywhere in the cabin. Did I say cabin? I didn't, didn't I. Shed. I meant shed. The deer's out in the shed. I will admit I forgot it was in there on Saturday when I head out to the shed to grab some gardening supplies and I was very startled to find that I wasn't alone out there!

6) So many chores to take care of before winter's here in earnest. Last bit of firewood to split and stack; a ton of venison to butcher, process, and freezer; the dock and boat still need to come out; and all on top of the normal money making business of every day.

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Toasted

We have a heat index warming today that the index may reach 110 today. That's less than great news for this gal who'd prefer to have summer highs between 65 and 70 degrees, especially since I'm already feeling a little toasted.

There's no reason to subject you to photos of my sunburn, but I can assure you that despite quite liberal sunscreen application on Wednesday, there are certain strips of skin -- my forearms and a patch above my back waistline -- that are lovely shades of painful fluorescent. Nothing I can do now but keep the aloe vera close at hand. The burns' sting seem to have diminished significantly overnight and I'm hoping that means I'll feel a little more with it today. It always amazes me just how much a day in the full sun can take out of you. Mix a full day of sun with a sense of being overwhelmed by laundry, articles, and various other obligations and Wednesday evening was one cranky, emotional mess.

Still, the pre-toasted part of the day was pretty darn nice. Andy and I headed down the lake for a day's paddle. I think the high temp was somewhere in the low 70s: no absurdly high heat indexes here! At least not yet . . .

We found our first loon chicks of the year, just as we were turning the corner into the Boundary Waters.

Twins!

Another feathered friend followed us for a while once we reached the far end of the lake and started heading up the river that connects the lake we live on to the next lake.

This little duck (she didn't even have full wings yet) stayed close by the entire time we were on the river, even when we made a lengthy stop halfway upstream to do some catch and release fishing. There were a ton of hungry bass hanging out in the river, just waiting to grab our night crawlers.

After the fish had several bites of yummy worm and we'd had a bite of lunch ourselves (not of yummy worm), we headed on to the next lake. Why both portaging when you can just press on upstream through the river?

The sunburn no doubt happened on our return trip to the cabin. Turns out SPF 45 just doesn't hold for six hours and several miles of paddling. As the French would say: "Eh bien." Something tells me that as the temperature soars these next few days, I'll soon be wishing I was back in the river, feeling the cool current tug and swirl around my ankles.

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Ode to Minnesota

Minnesota, Minnesota - We are south of Manitoba
We are east of North Dakota
We've got something really rare
It's fulfilling, entertaining
It's true culture you'll be gaining- Ann Reed

Oh Minnesota. Home of Post-It notes, Bob Dylan, Cheerios, 10,000+ lakes, the Boundary Waters, MPR, the Mississippi River, the Mall of America (wait a minute, how did that get in there?), and . . . me.

 Just look at all that green on that map. That's a lot of national and state forest. No wonder people come here on vacation.

Minnesota, you've given me so much. Even if I didn't develop sweat glands thanks to you and growing up on the frosty shores of Lake Superior, you have given me the ability to stand still in -0F weather with my mittens off. Kudos on the cool education options and for making the woods feel like second nature.

Although I sometimes often wonder if I should try some place new, perhaps some place where the amenities are a little more tightly spaced, or where winter driving is kept at a minimum and where planting things that take 90 days to mature isn't a "gamble", I never do. No matter how far I travel from Minnesota's landlocked lands, I always find some reminder of my Minnesota roots -- whether it's riding in a cab in Ireland with Bob Dylan playing softly in the background or running to fetch Post-Its from a London office storeroom -- that warms my heart, that makes me want to return.

During high school, my brother spent a week in Chiapas, Mexico. On the return trip, he described the surge of pride and joy everyone in his travel group felt when they touched down on the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport tarmac.  This is our home. Minnesota pride is run deep in our veins. I identify more strongly with being a Minnesotan than I do with being an American, although that's partly because with both my accent and the cabin's location, I feel just a couple steps shy of being a Canadian.

Oh Minnesota, even if you make it a habit of threatening to shut down the state government because the governor and legislature can't reach a budget agreement, I still love you.

And no, I'm not just saying this because I thought ahead and already got my fishing license.

Government, scmovernment, right? I'm all set to enjoy to the best of Minnesota this summer, regardless of what's going on in that far off city of St. Paul.

You never were great at offering convenience and easy living, anyway Minnesota. And this penchant for government shutdowns? It's just one more quirk we'll have to learn to love about you. Through it all, you'll always be . . . the best.

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Broadband, Where Art Thou?

After my friend Sarah came up for a visit last month, she told her coworkers about her trip "up North"  to a fairly well-known vacation destination in Minnesota.

"Ah man," said one coworker. "That's where I want to live."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

The coworker nodded vigorously.

"Well consider this," Sarah said. "If you lived up there you have to drive 50 miles to get gas and groceries. You have no cell service. You have to drive three hours to get a Target or movie theater. And your internet costs $90 a month and you can't even watch Youtube."

The truth is, the very things that make people revel in their vacations up here are the things that can make everyday life around these parts downright frustrating.

Yes, we play $90 a month for internet service and that's no packaged deal that included phone and cable service too. Nope, that's just for internet. It's the highest "quality" satellite internet package we can buy up here and that hardly means we always have internet.

With satellite internet you're presented with how many MBs you can upload and download at any given time.  Exceed that limit and the service provider will punish you like a bad child by either slowing down your internet to dial-up speed or just completely shut off the internet all together. The download and upload limits are on a rolling quota which Wild Blue keeps intentionally ambiguous. Frustrating!

To avoid going over the limits, we do very little Youtubing around here and Pandora and Grooveshark listening are kept to a minimum. If you post a vlog, chances are, I won’t watch it. Not because I don’t want to see it, but because the consequences of going over the limit just suck.

While I was off in Chicago, we managed to cross that invisible line with Wild Blue and until this Thursday we’ve been treated to snail-like internet. That’s 10+ days of barely there internet!

Weather also affects the internet. So while the internet’s supposedly back in full force, because today’s rainy, I’ve spent most of the day refreshing and refreshing and refreshing pages, trying to get them to load.

It kind of makes me feel like this:

I know lots of people are kind of down on President Obama for promising broadband to America's rural residents and then not instantly getting internet to everyone as soon as he took office. To this I say, when has any government ever done anything quick-like? Furthermore, isn't it usually the government's quick-like actions that often prove most regrettable?

In the past year, it’s become official: broadband’s on its way to this forgotten corner of northern Minnesota. But while it warms my heart when I spy the electric coop workers out laying fiber optic cable along the road, when we really needed broadband was yesterday.

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Guest Post: Lake Culture as an Art

Note from Ada: This week and next I'm asking some of my bloggy friends to help fill the Of Woods and Words soundwaves. Today fellow Minnesotan, Meri of Meri-Goes-Round, takes lakes and getaways . . . Minnesota style. Enjoy!

One of the things I love most about Ada’s blog is the snippets of Minnesota life that she brings to the blog world. Born and raised a Minnesotan myself, I have spent a good while in urban, suburban, and natural parts of the state.

It’s not uncommon to have a getaway to go to. New Yorkers have the Hamptons, others have country cottages... Minnesotans have “the lake.” This is a strange term because Minnesota is home to thousands and thousands of lakes (no, not a mere 10,000 like the nickname). While non-Minnesotans may have lake homes or cabins of their own, Minnesotans really take this culture to the next level.

So in the spirit of my “listmania” month over at my own blog, I have a list tailor-made for Of Woods and Words:

Ways Minnesotans have made “Lake Culture” an art form:

10. Cabins made of real logs, a la Laura Ingalls Wilder

9. Water so pure you can be in over your head and still see the bottom

8. Spending all day on a ramshackle boat with a fishing line draped over the side, chatting with a friend or family member and slowing it waaaay down

7. S’mores, sparklers, fireworks, beer. The Fourth of July couldn’t be spent anywhere else for me.

6. Card games, board games, and cribbage.

5. Waking up and drinking coffee while mom makes homemade banana cake or pancakes. My first and only crepes from scratch. Man-go-round’s birthday cake one year. Countless barbeques and pasta salads.

4. Learning how to waterski, wakeboard, or “switch” inner tubes with your best friends or sisters

3. Walking with your Dad collecting agates on the side of the dirt road, the smell of pine needles in the air and paint brush flowers near the marsh.

2. The quiet at night, punctuated by one or a chorus of our beloved Loons.

1. No TV, no internet, little cell phone service... but nights of conversation and laughter with the people I love most.

No one messes with my summers at the cabin. I’ve spent the occasional winter weekend “at the lake” ice skating or hibernating, and a Thanksgiving or two by the fire, but to me the cabin means summer. No matter if it’s Lake Superior or the very small lake our current cabin overlooks, this is one of the reasons I simply can’t make myself leave this lovely state!

What do you love about your own state? Do you have a getaway or place you go to relax with family or friends?

Thanks to Ada for letting me guest post! I am honored.

Meri

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Friendship TERMINATED!

Back in my college days, during my semester in Ireland,  because we weren't being academically challenged and had a ton of free time, we did things like hold Napoleon Dynamite theme dinners, award people with points for witty quips and whenever anything wasn't going well, yell at each other, "Friendship TERMINATED!" Of course it never was. In fact, I'm still in touch with several of those Ireland/college friends today. But I digress . . .

After Tuesday's post about good friends, I thought for the sake of balance, I might as well devote today's  post to fair weather friends. Yeah, you know the type.

Remember Al?

Who couldn't love a face like that?

Oh, Al, our friendly little pine marten friend who liked to show up at our bird feeders on a daily basis this winter to gorge himself on sunflower seeds. He had such a sweet little face. I was charmed by his preference for sunflower seeds over nommy, yummy red squirrel. Our very own vegetarian pine marten.What a pal. And he was CUTE!

As the winter progressed, I began to suspect that Al wasn't a true vegetarian. He was just lazy. Why bother chasing red squirrels when there were oodles of sunflower seeds to be had and a compost pail on the porch to root around in?

Don't worry. You're safe.

But about a month ago we ran out of sunflower seeds and I didn't bother to buy anymore. Spring was coming and the birds could find plenty to eat out in the world beyond our backyard. I was also sick of Al going through the compost pail, only to remember every single time after he'd scattered the contents across the porch that "Oh yeah, I don't like onion skins and lemon peels." The compost pail came back inside.

Al was not pleased. Not one little bit.

In protest, he marched out to the actual compost pile out back and hurled the top layer of compost all over the ground surrounding the pile. As I scooped all the compost back onto the pile, I had to admit, he'd made his point. But his childish behaviors only hardened my resolve. No more sunflower seeds for you, Mr. Lazy-Pants Pine Marten. 

When I went out back a couple days ago to dump out the latest compost pail and found yet another thin layer of compost hurled in a circle outside the bin, I was feeling a little less forgiving about Al's misbehaving. (I know it's you Al, I can see your tracks.) "Enough," I yelled at the skies, shaking my fist in frustration. Spending ten minutes a couple times a week playing with compost just isn't that much fun. 

Then the other day, I headed out to shed to grab some plastic containers to transplant some of my seedlings into. Since the shed wasn't completed last year, Al can, and is apt to, get through the gap between the walls and ceilings. He likes to lick out the recycling stored in there. As I reached in the recycling bin to pull out a yogurt container and I hit instead upon something soft, cold, and smooth. When I pulled my hand out for inspection, I was holding a handful of Al poop. Now I am not a mother and I have yet to be desensitized to the grossness that is poo. Yuck, yuck, yuck!

Don't you get it Al? My seasonal affections for the birds has now been transferred to my little seedlings. Eating my plants' compost is not a good way to endear yourself to me. And pooping in the recycling? Not cool, my friend. Not cool at all.

Friendship TERMINATED!

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You Flushed WHAT down the toilet?!

My brother and I were schooled at an early age not to flush random things down the toilet. Among those random things? Lego men, pennies, Kleenex . . . anything other than a moderate amount of toilet paper and your business was a strict no-no. 

 Photo Credit

A couple of months ago, I read a blog post where the author admitted she judged people when she discovered they used generic toilet paper. While I wholeheartedly agree that name brand T.P. is pretty cushy, in this neck of the woods, something like Charmin is an unheard of luxury.

Around here, you're going to have to deal with "cheap", thin toilet paper. For one thing, I'd hate to be using more trees than necessary just so the world can have quilted T.P. For another, the thicker the T.P. the more likely it is to clog up the all important septic system.

In northern Minnesota, it seems we talk about septic systems an awful lot. That's because septic systems are expensive and bothersome. And contrary to popular belief, the toilet isn't a magic vortex ready to wrestle whatever gets flushed down it. (Oh the horror this poor heart of mine experienced when I heard tell of people flushing paper towels down their toilet!) Treat your septic system with care and it will treat you well in return.

Please don't judge me by my toilet paper. Judge me by my wonderful working septic system.

My dear friend Sarah was up for a visit this past week. She lives in the big city now and sometimes I forget that she's a northern girl like me, albeit, from the western part of the state. She's well-versed in septic system etiquette and coming from a family whose cabin has a holding tank, she knows the more waste water you dump down the drains, the harder your septic tank works and the faster it fills up.

The whole time she was up, she kept asking questions like:  "Is it okay if I dump the dirty dish water down the drain?" or  "Is it okay if I flush the toilet?"

One morning I heard the water running in the bathroom. After a couple minutes the water shut off and Sarah came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head.

"Did you just take a shower?" I asked.

"Yeah, up at our cabin, we can only take 5 minute showers."

"You know, you can take a shower that's longer than that if you want," I said. "We have a full blown septic system."

"Nah, it's fine."

Good friends know you can't flush just anything down the toilet.

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