It's Convenient

The North Shore's aromatic smell of spruce-fir-pine and water is particularly sweet this morning.  It's been raining for a couple of days now.  The small local streams are flowing.  Some of the larger rivers are near flood stage.  A root beer plume of sediment clouds Lake Superior.  The turbulent waters of the rain-engorged rivers hasten the transportation of denuded bedrock and soil to the basin below.

12 hours later...

I must admit that I have been fairly sloth this week.  At this point I'd rather lie around holding a snoozing baby in front of the wood stove while a strong coffee brews and the pages of John McPhee paddle on by than to get up and accomplish another check off the ol' list.  To my defense, once and a while I'll get up to go outside and split some fresh faces of birch for the fire.  The sad thing is that all the while I'm still sporting the same long underwear bottoms and slippers that went on at the wee hours of the morning.  It's got to be a sight to see: a skinny white boy in the middle of the woods swinging an eight pound maul doting a stocking hat, tee shirt, wool vest, long underwear pants and slippers.  But heck, that's why I live in the woods.  Nobody is there to see "the sight".  Besides, there's no shame in splitting wood in my underwear.  I'm not the first person to chop wood in my skimpies.  It's convenient. 

We just turned a major page in our story.  Now, if any, is the time to be sloth, rest, and do the bare minimum of routine chores in order to enjoy the finer points of life.

Return of the Bear

The sun is setting on another spring day along the North Shore.  A double rainbow arches the eastern sky at sunset.  In the past couple of weeks the weather has gone from bone-dry fire warning warmth to saturated, Pacific Northwest mist-filled dreariness.  Over 3 inches of rain fell today; challenging our culverts for the second time in as many years.  With a cold rain falling during the waning hours of the day we have spent plenty of time huddled around the wood stove.   The poplar cracking away, however, has not been as mesmerizing to watch as the little one in our arms (proof that new born babies are more fun to watch than a camp fire).  Whippoorwills cry at dusk and dawn.  Robins, finches and chickadees crowd our sunflower seed bird feeder in front of the window.

A few days ago an old nemesis of mine paid us a visit.  The sun had already set on this particular evening.  I was holding Penelope on the couch when Amy suddenly screamed.  Looking out into the recently-blurred darkness of the night a large figure stood in our window!  At first glance it looked like a human.  With a second look we realized that a young black bear was propped up against the window and going to town on the bird feeder.  I put Penelope down on the couch and ran to the window.  Slamming my hands I shouted at the bear who in turn tore the feeder down and strutted with ease a few feet away where he proceeded to snack on the measly seed morsels.  Livid at this visitor I followed him outside and screamed while hurling rocks like a two seam fastball at his skull.  Unfortunately my aim is not as sharp as it once was (I only landed one shot on the Bear's plump rump).  Eventually, however, my threats and minor violence convinced the bear that it wasn't worth a couple of cups of sunflower seed and he took off, crashing through the woods.  There he harassed the neighbor's dog and threatened the welfare of their garbage.  Eventually it took a shotgun blast over his head to get the point across that he was no longer welcome in the neighborhood.  With that our annual visit from this dumb young male black bear came to a close.

Beyond the bear there have been plenty of other happenings around the homestead.  Sarsaparilla has turned brown.  Aster have sprouted.  Columbine, Marsh Marigolds and Iris have begun to flower.  Monarch butterflies and scores of various moths fight the winds and colonize the side of the cabin below the porch light at night.  Our honeycrisp and sweet sixteen apple trees have flowered.  Most of the garden has been planted.  With the latest rain, however, we fear that many of the shallow small seeds may have been flooded out!

Like the Black Bear darting through the thick underbrush dodging my projectiles or the streams crashing down during a downpour; life on the homestead keeps moving along with the hastened pace of spring.

Garden planted and fenced

Peeling logs

Albeit hard work, peeling logs is gratifying work.  It's kind of like opening a present.  With each pull of the draw knife the scaly bark of the white spruce reveals another grain of wood.  The lines of grains oscillate into the fiber of each log.  Every log is as unique as the next; as unique as each rock lining the shore of Lake Superior.

For the past few days I've been peeling a log a day with the goal of peeling two dozen or so in order to first build a post and beam woodshed and then a sauna.  So while I'm busy zoning off - working my biceps with every pull and memorized by the unraveling grain - I'm really just thinking of how to best cut a tenon and mortise in each log and how they'll fit together.  I'm planning which one will be a post, top plate or rafter.  Thinking: "This funky grain won't cut this way so it can't go there," etc...

Peeling logs has been an unexpected joy to me.  It's one of those tasks that played out somewhere in the back of my mind during one of the countless walks out on the property; during one of those hours crashing through the balsam bush while daydreaming of the work ahead.  What I didn't foresee, however, was how intriguing of a way it is to pass time.  It's a time to forget about the crazy human world we live in and discover the wonders that each fibrous grain is willing to reveal: you just have to be willing to do a little work...

Unlikely Playmates

The first real warm humid southern low of the season has brought temperatures in the 70's, bugs in the air, thunderstorms at night, large leaf aster and marsh marigold sprouting during the day.  Our lettuce has sprouted in the garden.  Many of the onion and garlic have begun to breach the soil as well.

On a drive up the Gunflint Trail today I saw a moose, fox and even a snapping turtle ambling it's way across the road.  The moose looked a little ragged after the winter.  It didn't even look up as I slowly drove by the pond it was grazing.

At my destination I was startled by rustling in a nearby fir tree.  First I just thought that it was a squirrel scrambling away from me.  It persisted.  I soon saw the squirrel and then curiously a Blue Jay flew from limb to limb seemingly giving chase.  The squirrel would jump to another tree and the Blue Jay would playfully swoop down at it.  They were playing a game of chase!  The cunning squirrel would position itself at such a spot where the bird would have to land just before he was in reach.  He would take this fleeting moment to jump to the next limb or across the trail to another tree.  I've never seen anything like it before and couldn't resist watching their game unfold for a while before I realized that they were content doing this all day.  Here these two animals of very different species weren't fighting over pine cones; they were spending their day climbing and flying around the stand of balsam fir playing chase!

The warm night air is full of sound.  Crickets, frogs and saw whet owls fill the air with music as light clouds drift past the waxing moon: remnants of the first stormy cumulus clouds of the season...

Stepped on a Snake at Lost Lake

Today I stepped on a garter snake at Lost Lake.  The air was a chilly forty degrees so the cold blooded critter was barely coherently aware of the thunderous foot steps of a human descending upon it as I stepped on the tip of his tail.  He quickly curled back in pain and then retreated down the bank into the lake water.   

It reminded me of the time on the Gunflint Trail.  I learned the definition of the word "yelp" by the means of stepping on a wolf paw.  I was headed down the steep shoreline of Iron Lake.  Ambivalent to my surroundings I was running down the portage trail; jumping down each steep terrace to the next.  One moment I'm a child on a jungle gym and the next I'm stopped dead in my tracks leaning over a gray wolf!  I'm not ashamed to admit that is it wasn't the wolf with the loudest screeching yelp!  The wolf scattered off with it's tail between it's legs; leaving me hoarse and checking my pants!

It was also like the time near Duncan Lake on a spur trail along the Border Route when Amy was talking away when she walked into the butt of a young female moose.  We were in a swamp.  In an instant the routine hike went from a discussion where we were changing the world to complete silence.  Before I knew it we had walked backwards a hundred or so steps over cobble stream bottoms while the moose is still staring at us chomping it's cud alarmed but clearly not frightened .  Thankfully there was no calf between us.  That same moose walked through our camp that night.  Evidently our tent wasn't far enough off the trail.  This time it was the cow that was startled when it realized that humans were close by and jumped into the lake.

I guess it goes to show that any single one of  life's steps can throw a curve ball at you.  It's a good reason to  take every step deliberately and with reverence for the unknown that may come your way...

First Planting & Waiting

Soil temperatures are just shy of 50 degrees.  However, during most evenings we are having a light freeze along the North Shore as the first seasonal weather of the year has dominated the atmosphere.  The growing season has not quite begun.  Tomatoes and zucchini are slowly sprouting indoors.  Outside spring garlic, onion and lettuce are buried one inch and germinating with every degree increase.

 Preparing a bed for planting 

As we have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of "little sprout" our friend Hazel generously gave us a painting of the Spirit Tree to add some more color to our babies first glimpses of life.  

Thick green bands of northern lights drape across the clear spring sky; a nocturnal input of solar energy.  A positive sign for the adventure ahead...     

Stormy.  Springs rains have persisted for about a week.  Heavy rain, gusty winds, hail and even accumulating snow are all in the forecast.  I welcome the rain.  It's either rain or forest fires.  Despite the forecasted "s" word, soil temperatures in the garden are nearly 50 degrees.  We have all the seeds that we are going to sow this year and are planning on planting most varieties within a couple weeks.  Understanding the climate and not to get ahead of ourselves we will surely still keep the sensitive plants inside.   I have a deer fence project ahead of me too!  The signs of warmer weather are everywhere: sprouting wild strawberries & columbine to name a couple.  This weekend I cut through the "reserve" wood pile and have started to split and stack the wood for next winter.  

Demmlet's Abode

The east facing window draws in the morning sun.  Light green walls, wood floors and pine trim  accent the local art on the wall.  Inside the crib, dresser and changing table are quilts, hats, sweaters, blankets, booties and moccasins; all made by our loved ones and friends.  Their generosity still overwhelms me!  Even the mobile is hand made.  The cradle was built by Amy's father.  The flooring was installed and walls painted by Amy's moms.  My parents gave us the dresser.  The books, not to mention the lamp to read by during the long winter nights were thoughtfully given by countless friends and family.  

The baby's room is complete.  As with everything that goes with homesteading, it took a lot longer than expected.  That doesn't matter, our "nest" is ready for the little Demmlet's arrival.  It may be early, however, I am already convinced in the validity of the old saying "it takes a village".  Thank you!!!

Bogus Lake

Today marks the beginning of the paddling season!  

With gusty winds out of the west and temperatures in the mid forties all three of us explored Bogus Lake.  It's a small lake (only 17 acres), yet sports a decent population of Splake (hybrid of brook and lake trout).  A babbling, cedar and sugar maple-lined brook drops from the northwest shore and meets up with the Kadunce Creek.  A paddler along the southern shore of Bogus feels as if they're on the top of the world.  The shoreline itself is subtle but immediately drops into a black ash wetland.  Bogus Lake sits over 1,200 feet above Lake Superior and yet is barely five miles in distance giving it an odd alpine feel.  The big lake looms in the distance from it's southern shore.

True Northerner: 38 weeks and paddling  

Judging by the buckets hanging from trees along the sugar bush of Maple Hill sap is still flowing.  Wild blue flag iris have sprouted along the lakes and in our front garden.  A fox crossed the road during our drive down the hill.  Just shy of two tenths of an inch of rain fell yesterday evening. 

I recently built some pantry shelving.  I continue to sift through the poplar from the winter clearing for "keeper" firewood and figure that I have about one and a half cords stacked.  This prompted me into the beginning stages of planning a new wood shed.  Anyone wanna come help peel spruce logs?  

 

Clear, sunny skies.  Seasonal temperatures: highs in the mid to upper 40's and lows in the twenties.  A light frost at night.   Snowshoe hare are turning back to their warm season brown coat.  Saw a wolf on the road in the early afternoon.  Grouse continue to drum incessantly at night.  The local rivers are beginning to beckon anglers for Steelhead.  With water temperatures in the 41-42 degree range folks have lately been having decent luck.