Rummage

Today was the Seymour citywide rummage sale, with 75 sales on the map, and probably double that with people who decided to have sales on the spur of the moment.  

I set off early this morning to see what I could find.  Gary asked me to get a cup holder.  We accumulate more and more coffee and tea cups and instead of donating some of them to Goodwill, his solution is to get more places to hang them.  

I walked mile after mile, stopping at sale after sale, but I couldn't find anything worth buying.  This spring, I bought the jeans I needed at the Black Creek sales and some shirts at thrift shops.  There is only so much room in my closet and dresser, so I don't need extras.  The house is full of everything anyone could want.  

My only purchase for the entire day was a glass of lemonade by a child vendor for 25 cents. 

In the afternoon, I met Nikki, who was attending a workshop at the Muehl Public Library.  We had nachos at Kary's Mexican restaurant, then I took her around town to rummage.  I think by that time I had been at over thirty sales, so I knew where to steer her.  Her interest is in vintage kitchen gear so we went to Susan McMaster's sale.  Her Jim was a pack rat like Gary and there were plenty of antiques and collectibles around.  

Nikki zeroed in immediately on a Juice-a-matic, a metal juicer that must date back to the 1950's.  

At another sale, she found an old apron, but that was about it.  We came home to look at my gardens.  When she admired a banner I had hanging, I told her we had to go to the hardware store downtown where banners were a quarter each.  

She got four banners, but I will have to go back and get some more for her.  

And that was that.  No cup holder for Gary, nothing for me but a lot of exercise.     

Don't Panic

Yesterday, I was packed up and raring to get back to Seymour. I could spend Friday digging out plants which I could then sell at the citywide rummage sale.

At 11:30 I was on the road. At noon, I had passed Laona, Wabeno ands Townsend and came to the Shell station where I got gas and treated myself to a big ice cream cone. Then I drove through Carter and Lakewood until I came to the Lakewood Ranger station where I pulled in to pick up some camping information and find out why Morgan Lake was still closed when we checked on it on Wednesday.

The power steering on my car stopped as soon as I made the turn into the parking lot. The engine light indicated the engine was running hot. This was not good. I lifted the engine lid to let it cool and found that a belt was broken. Again, not good.

I went into talk to the rangers who were concerned. They suggested that I go either to the Lakewood auto repair or on to the village of Mountain. They first started giving me instruction to the closest one, in Lakewood, but it was out in the country with lots of winding roads and turns on to other roads. I had no power steering. Not good, I said.

Wilson's in Mountain was right off the highway, a straight run. We called and they said bring the car in. I explained that I would be starting but stopping whenever the engine got hot. Good idea, the mechanic said.

I set off, thinking about my experiences with engine overheating on my trip out west last summer. Once again, I reflected that the good thing about getting into lots of trouble is that I know I can get out of the trouble eventually. In other words, as Douglas Adams wrote in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, “Don't Panic”, about the best travel advice I've ever found. I would be fine, plus I would get a blog out of it.

I left the ranger station and headed south on Highway 32. Luckily, this stretch is almost all down hill, so I coasted along until the engine was too hot again and pulled into the Riverview town hall, built after a devastating tornado wiped out the old one. No one was around. I spent the fifteen minutes cooling off period to call neighbor Elaine and son Chris to let them know I wouldn't be home to take care of the cat and they agreed to step in and help. I called Gary who said he would pick me up and take me back to Laura Lake for the night, almost a hundred miles round trip.

Then I sat and read a book for a while.

It was only five more minutes to Wilson's auto repair shop. They immediately looked at the problem. If they could do a bypass on the air conditioning unit it would be a cheap fix, but not many auto parts stores had the right belt for the right car. If they couldn't find the belt, it would cost around a thousand dollars. If they could it would be $250. They made the call and huzzah! Napa had the part.


It took Gary another hour to make it to Wilson's.  I used that time to finish my latest short story for Black Coffee Fiction.  http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com I finished just before he drove up.  

So the bad news is that I will not be selling plants at the citywide rummage sale but that seemed a lot of work anyhow. The good news is that I got to spend another lovely night at Laura Lake, listening to the loons, watching the hummingbirds and grosbeaks, and just relaxing.

This afternoon, I retrieved my car. Eventually, I'll pay off the credit card bill. All's well.

More Exploration

Yesterday our mini-corps of expedition left Iron River, Michigan on Ponozzo Road into the Ottawa National Forest. It was a bumpy and dusty gravel road with lumber trucks tearing around bends full speed, spewing dust on Gary's van which he had washed a mere thirty minutes before.

We persisted for twenty five miles until we reached the destination Gary had in mind, Perch Lake. He thought we'd find a good campground there, but instead we found most of the sites filled with pick up trucks and campers. It turned out Perch Lake is known not for perch but for walleyes. We didn't like any of the sites anyhow. They didn't have the shade we liked and the other half of the lake was full of cottages. There was no cell phone coverage and that meant no wi-fi. Worse, motorized boats were allowed. We love the quiet of non-motorized lakes like the one we're at now. We crossed Perch Lake off our list.

Instead of back tracking, we decided to keep going north and soon spotted another lake. We took a look and found Lake Sainte Kathryn. Here were beautiful sites, quiet, and cell phone coverage. (Gary wants that more than I do, though I admit it comes in handy.) We particularly liked site 22 which has a little staircase leading to a place to moor the canoe and even go swimming.

Then there was the Deer Marsh Hiking Trail nearby. I always look for places to tramp.

We continued on through Sidnow, a town that grew up around a Civilian Conservation Camp in the 1930s. Little stone columns show up all over the place, a sure sign that the CCC worked there. During World War II, the Sidnow CCC camp was closed and re-opened as a prisoner of war camp for Germans. Some of them never went back to Germany, but started families near Sidnow.

Down Highway 28 we went, heading east. For miles, the road was adjacent to the train tracks which were filled with abandoned railroad cars. We circled down south and wound up back in Iron River. WE went over to the Lake Ottawa Campground in the Ottawa National Forest to see if we could find the campground host, our friend Anita Joy. She wasn't there, but her camper was, surrounded by the usual plants and lawn furniture.

We were leaving when we caught sight of Marty Smith's truck. Marty came up from lower Michigan with his brother Dick for this first day of the camping season in the UP. We often camp in a spot adjacent to Marty and Linda Smith. We caught up on gossip, finding out that Anita is not in good shape, walking with a walker. This may well be her last year at Camp Ottawa.

And that ended our day.

Tomorrow: Don't Panic!!!!

Exploring

One of the first things we do when we start the camping season is go out on a journey of exploration to check out campgrounds.  We have our favorites but we try to add at least one new place a year.  

We started at Morgan Lake, one of my favorites because it is so isolated.  It is here I like to do solo camps, taking my tent and minimal equipment.  However, after a long drive in, we found out Morgan Lake was still closed, and we were not sure if it was to open this season.  We'll check that out when we stop at one of the ranger stations.  Across the lake is the only structure, a retreat house for priests. I also think about winning the lottery and offering the Catholic Church enough money to pay off all their abuse lawsuits and we would live there. But there probably would never be a lottery big enough.

We crossed many creeks along the way, this one Popple Creek.  Beside some, pickup trucks were parked because trout season has begun.  Not here though.

We went to the Lost Lake cabins, which have been renovated by the National Forest Service as a jobs initiative.  Originally, they were built by the Civilian Conservation Corps to give jobs to young men.  This past year, they served the same purpose.  Unfortunately, along the way, they got new caretakers.  We'll miss our old friends Mary and Marty.  Mary would swap me storytelling performances for our use of the showers.  Now it would require more paperwork than I care to do.  

As for the campground, Lost Lake's level is steadily going down.  Gary took a photo to send to his friend Brad who asked about the lake level at Laura Lake.  Gary told him the lake was level as far as he could tell and that he took a level (tool) out when he went on the canoe but the level sank. Never ask Gary a question, you don't get a level answer.  

We did take time to do a little birding and saw our old friend, the black-backed woodpecker.  It's the only place we see these rare birds.

And of course, there are trilliums up here, trillions and trillions of trilliums. 

Now we're in Iron River, soon to go to the Pamida closing (it's going to be a ShopKo) to look for bargains, to St. Vinnie's to see what they have on sale, to Schuette's re-sale to look for candles, and to Lake Ottawa to see our old friend Anita Joy.  Then it's on to more lakes, more campgrounds. 

Hiking around the Lakes

With sun in the sky, and happiness in my soul, I headed down the trail toward the bog lake. In the week since I was last here, the trees have greened. The maples, which were in bloom then, now are fully leafed.

I soon scared a pair of Canada geese and their two goslings away from the shore line. I was sorry to do that. Certainly more than two goslings had been hatched this spring. The others were either snatched by the eagles or drowned by the loons, who sometimes grab little geese or ducks from underneath, pull them under until they drown. Me scaring the geese away from the safety of the shoreline is not what I intended.

There was a brisk wind blowing across the lake. There would be no canoeing as white caps lapped at the shore. The strong breeze kept any mosquitoes or ticks at bay. I was sorry I had sprayed repellent on myself.

An eagle was flying overheard at the bog lake, looking for fish. The kingfisher was after the same thing.

The pitcher plants are up, but will they survive tonight's frost? Time will tell.

I photographed another flower I couldn't identify, but Gary the botanist said it was bog rosemary.

As I turned to go home, I heard the ovenbirds calling, “Teacher, teacher,teacher!” They sounded like those annoying know it all students who raise their hands to answer every question. But I knew what they wanted. I began to stir up last year's leaves beside the path, scraping into the soil underneath. Sure enough, when I looked back, I saw the birds looking in the duff for bugs. Gary says that the increase of earthworms in the northern woods will remove the duff and take away the ovenbirds' major source of food.

A mourning cloak was flitting through the third loop of the campground. We've been seeing monarchs and swallowtails, too.

When I got back to our campsite, Gary was puttering around as usual. He had been on another dumpster run where he found a broken Cavela's recliner (once known as a zero gravity chair). He repaired it with a screw and was relaxing it in.

Gary is always up to something. When he noticed that the rose-breasted grosbeaks didn't like feeding on the seed he had laid on the ground, possibly not wanting to fight the chipmunks for their share, he built them a hanging table feeder. He had me bring more feed for them.

He also had me bring the hummingbird feeders, but forgot he didn't have any nectar. A hummingbird zoomed by checking out our progress. We'll stop and get some tomorrow as we explore some of our other favorite campgrounds.

And the chipmunks continue to beg for peanuts.

Later, Gary and I walked over to Gordon Lake to take a look at the osprey nest, which has been there for several years. The osprey simply add to it each season. The female took off and circled when she saw us but decided we were no threat and returned to her nest.

Tonight, cold, cold, cold. We'll sleep in long underwear.     

Paradise Regained

After a rushed morning, I am back at Laura Lake, ready for a nap, but it's too late in the afternoon or too early in the evening, so I will just hold out until bedtime.

First thing this morning, I had to do three loads of laundry I had neglected to do while I was working in the gardens. There was a certain amount of cleaning, too, plus placating an anxious cat who was against my leaving. Rascal hates it when his people abandon him.

I mowed part of the lawn, but the rest will have to wait until Gary comes back and we can move the stacks of weed and yard waste that I've piled up until we can load it on his trailer.

Then I was off but not for the campground. I first had a storytelling performance at Birch Hill Nursing Home in Shawano. I go there two or three times a year. It was the usual type of performance, with a couple of stories and a few songs that the residents can sing with me. They must enjoy them because they keep asking me back.

Back on the road for only half an hour, I noticed that there was steam rolling out of the right side of the engine. I stopped in Mountain and took a look. It was not the old radiator problem that plagued me when I was out west. This time, it seems to be tied to the fan of the heating and cooling system. There was a burning smell. I found I could drive as long as I didn't turn the fan on. It was a warm day, but I used nature's cooling system by opening all the windows on the car. I made it here fine but will have the engine looked at when I go back home on Thursday.

Gary has been feeding the chipmunks with peanut butter, bird seed, and peanuts left from our Christmas stash. I brought peanuts in the shell. We now have a chipmunk herd scurrying around begging. I thought one cat was a nag, now four or five insistent chippies are at my side whenever I move out of the camper. One of them has a burrow right next to the site. If we move at all, he alerts his compatriots.

The rose breasted grosbeaks are complaining because Gary moved the feeder a bit.  They will be even more upset when we put up the hummingbird feeder tomorrow and the air becomes heavy with hummer traffic.

Gary is brown from his days in his canoe. All the time I was in Seymour, he sent e-mails describing the sunny days.

Now I am here and it has just begun to sprinkle. Figures.

Maybe I will take that nap anyhow.

Surprises

After three years of summer travel and illness, I finally have time to work on some serious weeding.   finished clearing the second gravel path today and found a few surprises.

I planted this area in 2006, according to my records, trying to establish ground cover between some rocks and boulders my neighbors the Moons gave me.  Some of the rocks were flat, so the gravel path ended in a stone path in front of a comfrey path.  I had forgotten that and it wasn't until I cleared the excess comfrey that I found the path.

In the middle of some wild phlox, I found something I had totally forgotten I had, painted ferns.  They are bedraggled, but I've opened up the area to give them a chance.

These coral bells were so covered with lamium, they had lost their red pigmentation.  They should recover in time to flower in June.  

Finally, for some reason I had planted low lying sweet woodruff way in the back of the rock garden, against a wooden fence.  They were hid by peonies, wild phlox, and ferns.  I thought I would have to dig them up, but no, they were starting to sneak under the peonies and spread to the edge of the path.  

I may still transplant some of the woodruff and move it to the terrace strip.  

Tomorrow, I go camping.  When I get back, I start working my way through a real jungle, a brick path that goes behind the gazebo.