Pictures from an average weekend...

We didn't make it to the Brantwood midsummer festival, mainly because we got hit with both the snowplow bill from the town ($150--I need a snow blower) and the renewal fee for the truck tags ($106, about $50 more than I've ever paid for license plates).  That left us with too little extra cash to go playing, so we hung around the house and worked instead.  Not much happens of any interest here on weekends, but here are some pictures in case anyone wonders how we kill time.

First, a couple that show that having made it through Mud season, we are now soundly planted in Bug season here.  My leg, after an afternoon riding around on the mower, and a couple of Bella:

The welts on her chest are from stable flies (and maybe deer flies.  My fly identification skills need updating), the same ones that ate my legs; the white spots are a reaction to various insect bites.  Makes her look like she has some Appaloosa in her, but they fade once Bug season is over.  The horses are now wearing fly masks, and will be getting fly blankets after the first of the month.  That will make them both happier campers.  The sheep don't seem to suffer as much, thank God--I'd hate to try to wrestle them into fly sheets and masks!!

Here is how I spent my weekend--cleaning out the ditch in front of the house:

Here's the other side of the driveway, which won't get cleaned out anytime this year!

These are the essential tools for ditch-clearing, with special emphasis on remaining well-hydrated:

And here is what the well-dressed ditch-clearing Cheesehead is wearing this year.  The yellow plastic tag hanging on the silly purple hat is a bug repellent.

Meanwhile, The Mom spends her afternoon going through buckets full of assorted hardware, organizing and categorizing.  The sort of task she loves and I detest.  Works out well for us.  Note that she is maintaining hydration too...

The remaining pictures are of the current flora and fauna:

The newest robin's nest, thankfully not in the garage.

The clematis growing outside the back door, which photographs blue but looks more black in real life.

The strawberry plants that I bought for Mom for her birthday last year, which we didn't think had made it through the winter.  Looks like we'll be planting them after all.

And finally, the brown blobs in the following pic are actually a pair of sandhill cranes and their baby, living in the field at the corner near us.  Not a good picture--I shot it one-handed from the driver's seat of the truck-- but for some reason I felt I had to pass it on.  Humor me...

Midsommar

Midsummer celebration, Årsnäs, Sweden

 

Yesterday was our summer solstice, celebrated as Midsommar in Sweden.  Here's what Wikipedia has to say about the celebration:

In modern Sweden, Midsummer's Eve and Midsummer's Day (Midsommarafton and Midsommardagen) were formerly celebrated on 23 June and 24 June, but since 1953 the celebration has been moved to the Friday and Saturday between 19 June and 26 June. It is one of the most important holidays of the year in Sweden, and probably the most uniquely Swedish in the way it is celebrated. The main celebrations take place on the Friday, and the traditional events include raising and dancing around a huge maypole. Before the maypole is raised, greens and flowers are collected and used to cover the entire pole.
Raising and dancing around a maypole (majstång or midsommarstång) is an activity that attracts families and many others. People dancing around the pole listen to traditional music and some even wear traditional folk costumes. In addition, many wear crowns made of wild springs and wildflowers on their heads. The year's first potatoes, Soused herring, Chives, Sour Cream, Beer, Snaps and the first strawberries of the season are on the menu. Drinking songs (Snapsvisor) are also important at this feast, and many drink heavily. When Sweden got its National day (6 June), discussions were held about making Midsummer the Swedish national day because of the strong civil celebration on this day.
Because Midsummer was thought to be one of the times of the year when magic was strongest, it was considered a good night to perform rituals to look into the future. Traditionally, young people pick bouquets of seven or nine different flowers and put them under their pillow in the hope of dreaming about their future spouse. In the past it was believed that herbs picked at Midsummer were highly potent, and water from springs could bring good health. Greenery placed over houses and barns were supposed to bring good fortune and health to people and livestock; this old tradition of decorating with greens continues, even though most don't take it seriously.

As for us, we had a long-distance toast with Aunt Nancy and cousins Jean and Pam.  Mom and I had Absolut vodka and Diet Cranberry Sierra Mist, they were drinking Bailey's Irish cream, I believe. Nancy sounded like she might have exceeded her teeny glassful... No one had any schnapps to drink, and no one sang, at least not while we were on the phone, but we celebrated the evening nonetheless.  There is a Midsommar festival happening on this weekend over in Brantwood, not far from here.  Maybe we'll be able to make it.  If not, we'll put it on the schedule for next year.

I just finished reading a book called "Astrid and Veronika," by a Swedish writer named Linda Olsson.  It's a wonderful story about the friendship that develops between two women of differing age and experience, set in  the Swedish countryside and spanning a year's time.  I highly recommend it.  There are several traditional celebrations mentioned in the book, Midsommar being one, and I found another that seems to be perfect for Northern Wisconsin, too--Valborgsmass Eve (with two dots over the "a").  It's a celebration of the end of the long winter, held on April 30 each year and marked with bonfires and fireworks.  I believe we need to start a new tradition here, of marking Valborgsmass Eve with friends and family.  There are an amazing number of people in the area who are Swedish in heritage, including both of our neighbors, who were jealous when they found out I was going to Sweden last spring.  I'm sure they'd join in, and invite you all to come and light up the sky with us and chase away the dark and cold.  There won't be any fire hazard--in late April there's still plenty of snow up here...

Al finally finishes a meal

 Here's what the snakes were after in our garage--there was a robin's nest in the rafters, in spite of all the noise and confusion of opening and closing the door, starting up the riding mower, etc.  There were only two babies (maybe because of the snakes), but both made it to fledgling status, even with the installation guy working on the new garage door and opener directly beneath their nest.  This little guy hasn't yet made it out the window (we've been leaving it open so mama could come and go with beakfulls of worms), but it's only a matter of time before he figures it out and we get full use of the building again.

Today we were supposed to go to the Midwest Renewable Energy Fair in Custer, WI (about 2 hours from here) to meet an author Mom and I both like.  But neither of us felt too well this morning, and Janette wasn't feeling too perky either so we all decided to stay home and see if we felt better tomorrow, the last day of the fair.

After a very quiet morning, we felt up to working outside a bit in between rain showers.  I went out to the barn and worked some more on my temporary stalls, made out of a half-dozen used round pen panels I bought last year and a few tube gates I picked up this year.  I finished one stall and have the second ready except for its gate, so now I can FINALLY separate everyone while they eat.  Poor Al eats slower than anyone else and was always being robbed of the end of his meal.  But today he finally got the chance to eat in peace, in what will be Bella's stall (it's the biggest of the bunch).  He seemed to be happy with the arrangement. 

Mom finished trimming out the one raised bed we managed to get together this spring.  The two of us take longer to get things done, but we get there eventually.  We will only grow tomatoes and a couple of peppers this year, but that will be enough to keep up with for the time being.  Here is a picture of the finished product.  I'm not a pepper fan, so I forget which types of plants Mom bought, but the tomatoes are a combination of Early Girl, Early Cascade and Romas, with one plant each of grape and cherry tomatoes for my salads.  I've been eating a lot of those, since I'm trying to lose enough weight to be able to ride Bella without feeling guilty.  I wouldn't want my fat ass on my back if I were a horse!

Below is a picture of Mom's Turtle Garden, which sits between the house and the ramp to the deck.  At one end is a tub of Black Dragon and Rainbow Mix coleus plants, at the other the lilies of the valley that actually survived the trip from North Carolina.  These lilies were transplanted from a bed my grandmother originally planted in IL to Mom's place in Viroqua, then moved to NC and finally back up here.  Some of the most well-traveled plants I've ever met!  The variegated ground cover that's already creeping back into the right upper corner will have to be beaten back or it will overtake anything else in the bed.  I don't know what its actual name is, but I've heard it called "bishop's weed,"  "snow on the mountain top" and, our family favorite, "Grandma-from-Iowa ground cover."   Whatever it is, it's one of my favorites but Mom hates it.  It can be a tad invasive...

Oops

Wait.  Amy tells me that Mom is actually 78, not 77.  That can't be true--that would make me 58, not 57!!  No!!  No!!!  Aaaaaaaaaa!!!!

We spend a Tuesday afternoon in a bar...

Here's a shot of the back yard thermometer I took at 6:30 Sunday morning. The angle is a little off, but it did actually read 32 degrees! I wasn't expecting that in the middle of June, but there you have it. Apparently, the flora around here is used to this kind of thing; no damage was done that I could see. Sure was a hard way to wake up, though. And the barn people didn't even bother getting to their many feet when I showed up with breakfast. I don't know Al Capony's history, but our Bella is definitely a southern belle and probably would have a strongly worded protest for me, if she were able to talk about this whole moving-to-Wisconsin thing.

Monday would have been Norma's 83rd birthday, if our math is right. It's hard to believe she's been gone now for 14 years--I could have sworn it's only been a couple. Something definitely happens to your concept of the passage of time as you age. I read an explanation somewhere that goes something like this: when you are 4 years old, a year is one fourth of your entire experienced life. When you're 40, a year only counts as one fortieth of time as you've experienced it so, relatively speaking, that year seems to be a much smaller chunk of time. Or something. An interesting thing to think about while shoveling horse poop...

Then on Tuesday Mom turned 77.  I can't believe how well she's doing this year!  A couple of years ago she asked me to take her "home" to WI so she could die where she had been happiest, but today that event seems to be a long time coming.  Whatever grumbling I may do about the weather and bugs up here, I'm glad I did this if only to give her a couple more comfortable years.

Janette came over around lunchtime and we set out to celebrate.  First,we headed over to downtown Ogema and the Extra Innings, her favorite local tavern, for a decent hamburger and a cold beer.  Only for her, though--I was driving and Janette doesn't drink.  We ate and drank, and Mom got a WI fishing license so now she can take her little red wagon down the road to the Little Mondeaux creek and do some fishing.

We also met the bartender, Sandy, who had already heard of us from Dick and Pat Kilty, our neighbors. 

It made me a bit nervous to think that our reputation had preceded us, but Sandy assured us that the Kiltys had nothing bad to say about us.  And after all, it was Dick who recommended the tavern to us as a good place to get a burger, so we can assume he's a regular and would mention the fact that he had wonderful new neighbors, no?

After that we braved the construction zone in downtown Medford to pick up prescriptions and do a little odds-and-ends kind of grocery shopping.  By the time we'd finished that, we were all pooped and the celebration was pretty much over.  None of us does all-nighters anymore...

We get a visitor, too!!

Whoa--I went out to the garage to find something or other, and this was working its way into the few bales of hay I've got temporarily stacked there. I had it confused with a copper head, but a search through the WI Dept of Natural Resources says it's actually a fox snake. These poor guys are often mistaken for copper heads and killed, especially since one of their defense mechanisms is to vibrate the tale against something like dry grass to imitate a rattle. Works pretty well on a vinyl-covered dog bed, too--scared the bejesus out of me!

Fortunately, I naturally hesitate to kill anything, even things that seem to pose a threat, so instead of reaching for the hoe, I ran for the PC and looked it up. According to the DNR, there are no copper heads in WI (a fact that Mom vigorously disputes) and fox snakes are good mousers, so it will be allowed to stay. Along with its younger brother, which I saw the next day in the barn. The one in the garage was 5-6 feet long, the one in the barn 4 feet.

Hopefully the mice and rats will get the hint.

Janette has a surprise visitor, Mom gets a new house.

 A couple of days ago, Janette called and said she could hear some kind of animal scrabbling around her duct work and was hoping it was a mouse that would find its way back out.  The night before last, she called again to say that whatever it was had made it up the basement stairs, scratched on the door like a cat who wants out, and then bumbled back down the stairs.  Since she's scared of the basement in general and the really creepy stairwell in particular, she called on Big Sister to come and brave the Scary Basement to see what was there.  When I went down, I heard something banging around the far end (of course) of the basement and I followed the sound through the cobwebs and scary dark places to the crappy old shower in the farthest corner.  Reeeaally hoping it wasn't a skunk, I closed in on it, and found it to be a very frightened wood duck.  How the poor thing got into her basement is still a mystery (we are all leaning toward the old, unused chimney as the culprit and I'll look the next time I'm forced to go down there to see if there's a cleanout door that's open) but it definitely wanted out.  I was able to get it out, after some Three Stooges-type bumbling, and brought it up and out to the back yard, where it got a running start and launched off into the woods.

Later, I spent a sweaty couple of hours assembling and raising the purple martin house I got Mom for Christmas I-don't-know-how-many years ago.  It's now waiting beside the garage for its first occupants.  June seems late to be putting up bird houses, but up here the established martin colonies have only been here for a couple of weeks and it's time for the juveniles, the ones who actually colonize new houses, to arrive.  So it's off to the Purple Martin Watch web site to see where they're at.  Hopefully we'll get a taker and not fill the thing with starlings or wrens.  We'd settle for barn swallows, who would do just a good a job at catching mosquitoes, I guess.

Memorial Day 2111

    Memorial Day weekend has come and gone.  The lilacs at the end of the drive are in full bloom; the flowers have already faded on the apple and crab apple trees.  We spent the weekend working in the yard in between rain showers and Janette came over Monday for a cookout.  She brought her famous potato salad and a tomato/cuke salad, I grilled up some sirloin tip steaks Mom had bought and some corn on the cob.  We all overate and watched "Tangled," my new favorite movie.

While it rained, I rested up and watched old WWII movies on TV.  I love WWII history.  It was the last time things were really black and white for us Americans.  There were villains and good guys.  There was clearly a "right thing to do," thanks to Adolph Hitler and Pearl Harbor, and a whole generation--the one Bill Curtis called "The Greatest Generation"--did it without second thought.  Since then other generations of young kids have done their tours of duty, but the ground has been muddied since WWII.   The unholy mess of Korea, the horror of Vietnam, and now the Oil Wars.  These days the villains are mostly manufactured by unseen men in finely furnished conference rooms.  The good guys still do "the right thing" as it is presented to them, but within the ranks thinking men suffer and ask difficult questions. 

I read somewhere that "wars are declared by old men, but fought by young men."  To that truth I add that no matter which army "wins" in war, innocent civilians--mainly women and children--on both sides always lose.  What a sad waste.

Still, I salute the young American hero, who puts his life on the line in answer to a perceived threat to the country and people he loves, and I am profoundly grateful that hero still exists.  I just wish the old men could, for once, find a better way.