The Trail

It was just about a year ago that my cousin Charles, his partner Sean and their friend Chris started their hike on the Pacific Crest Trail.  They documented their adventure as best they could using a cell phone whenever they could find coverage.  I followed along with my own map of the trail.  When they were unable to find a signal to post their reports, I worried. But mostly, I wished I was there.

I am sixty-nine now but it isn't age that keeps me away from the trail, it is arthritis. It isn't bad and I still take long walks, but I know my knees wouldn't let me climb the mountain trails. All I could do was dream.

This week Sean posted this video record of the "class of 2012" on Facebook with the faces of those who managed to walk the entire 2,260 Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada.

http://vimeo.com/65233793

Besides the faces of the young and not so young people who embarked on this journey, there are the Trail Angels, the folks who live beside the trail who welcome the hikers into their homes and provide them with food and housing.  There is the "trail magic" of finding bottled water, sandwiches, chips or candy left beside the trail, so welcome to hikers who have been subsisting on freeze dried food or ramen noodles.

Above all there is the wonderful scenery the hikers photographed from the trail.

I welcome my readers to live the experience by watching the video.

When you see the bearded guy with the swollen ankle that's my cousin Charles.

 

Farmhouse and Camper

I posted my latest short story at Black Coffee Fiction http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com this afternoon. Actually, it was the conclusion to a two part story that began last week, called "The Farmhouse".

Back when I was in high school writing essays and stories, we were told to "write what you know".  So today I wrote about an escaped convict hiding out in a farmhouse.  What do I know about a convict?  Next to nothing except for seeing a few television programs.  I do know quite a bit about farmhouses.  

I grew up on a farm on French Road southwest of Seymour.  Our farmhouse was built by German ancestors and was much like the other farmhouses in the area.  There was wainscoting, big kitchens, old furniture.  They were built for big families with few clothes. There were only two closets in the whole house, but a huge pantry. 

This winter, Gary lived in a similar German built farmhouse in Illinois while he took care of the place after his aunt went into a nursing home. He was stuck there from November through mid-April. Usually, when he tried to take a sabbatical and come to Wisconsin something came up, either an emergency at the nursing home or a snowstorm. He was supposed to return home to stay and was all packed when his Aunt Shirley suddenly died.  I told him in the week before the funeral that the farmhouse wanted him to stay there. 

That was the basis for "The Farmhouse".  So many other things came in to the story:  Aunt Shirley was hoarding tuna cans; we found Gary's uncle's 1954 International truck at a business; there were box elder bugs everywhere; there were closets and armoires full of clothes; planting season had begun and that meant tractors working the fields.  

I had only to add a convict and I had a story that my writing buddy Wade says is "nice and weird".  Some of my friends tell me that I am warped when they read my stories.  How can I help it when I am given all the ingredients? 

*************

Today we took Gary's old camper to the RV place in Neenah to trade it in on an improved model.  I meant to take photos but we were dodging the rain as we rushed from camper to camper.  I will have to take photos another day. 

The new camper will be ready on May 13.  We hope to be off on our first camping trip on May 15 when most of the campgrounds will be open. (Some are still under snow.)  I will have my own room in the camper to use as an office.  I will be able to keep up this blog no matter where we are and post short stories as well. 

Instructions, Tomatoes, Sturgeon and a Camper.

This morning I read the instructions from the dentist and discovered that I had gotten them all wrong yesterday, probably because I was in a daze from the extraction. No problem, the bleeding is over, the pain is gone, but the next procedure, dental or medical, will be done with Gary's supervision.

When I looked in the living room, I found what Gary had been working on until 1:00 a.m., his new grill, quite an edifice with not only the barbecue grill but a gas stove. Gary, who used to work at Menards, is very good at putting things like that together, but I could see one little problem. When he woke up, I had to tell him that he would never get it out the door and onto the deck. It was far too big. He had to deconstruct one end of the grill to move it. Next time he constructs something, it will be with my supervision.  We are both 69 now and cannot be trusted with any kind of instructions.

Tonight is probably going to be the last cold night of the season.  Gary helped me move the tomato plants from the front porch back into the house along with the plants I bought yesterday.  Tomorrow we'll move them back.

I am still not able to do anything too strenuous so gardening is out at least until tomorrow. I had to be content with going to the hardware store to pick up onion sets. I hope to start the vegetable bed by the weekend.

This afternoon, I got two pieces of news:  the sturgeon run has been the fastest in state records, starting and stopping in only three days.  Gary and I will not get to be sturgeon guards on Sunday night after all.  This is such sad news, we love watching those big ladies.

The other news is that I missed a bit of excitement. One of the sturgeon became confused and swam up the Wolf River, made a bad turn onto the Shioc, then into Black Creek and wound up here in Seymour at the Lake Park where an alert citizen spotted her in the shallow water.  The police came, then called the Department of Natural Resources.  Two wardens came and with the help of the police netted her, loaded her in a tank on their truck, and delivered her to Bamboo Bend in Shiocton where she could join the rest of the spawning gang. I wish I could have been there for the excitement.

You can follow the whole story here.
 http://dnr.wi.gov/news/BreakingNews_Lookup.asp?id=2778

Gary has been in the Fox Cities all day, taking his van in for servicing, shopping and finally, checking out the camper he's been tracking for some days.  It was in Sturgeon Bay and now is sitting in Neenah.  He has put in an offer.  Tomorrow he is taking the old camper there and we'll possibly pick up the new one.  We figure on spending our summers in it.

I'll post photos tomorrow.

Extraction

A couple of weeks ago, I had my teeth cleaned at the dental clinic at Northeast Wisconsin Technical College  in Green Bay. For $30, I got the cleaning by a second year student, a checkup by a dentist, and X-rays. The whole report was sent to my dentist, Dr. Kraft.  I knew it showed decay under the cap on one of my molars.  A week later, Dr. Kraft's office called and set up an appointment. 

I had two options, have work done and get a new cap for $900 or have the tooth extracted for $150.  The molar was at the very back of my mouth and wouldn't be noticeable if it were removed.  I decided on the extraction. 

I don't usually take any painkillers when I go to the dentist. I'd rather have ten minutes of pain instead of hours of a numbed mouth.  But an extraction of a tooth sounded like it could be painful and take a long time and as it turned out I was right. It seems I have very solid bone in my jaw. (Gary says he always knew I had a hard head.) Getting those roots out took 45 minutes which gave me lots of time to go into the dream state I reserve for dental work.  I took my mind back through years of extractions.  

In my childhood, it was my father who removed teeth using the string tied to a doorknob with the other end tied to the tooth. Slam the door and the job was done.  

In 1969, I had my impacted upper wisdom teeth removed in Los Angeles, California.  I got a pain killer that put me in a state of euphoria so fine that I decided I could take the bus to go to work afterwards. The painkiller wore off and I was in agony. My then husband had to pick me up in downtown L.A. and take me home. We stopped at my doctor's office for something to knock me out until the next day. 

In 1971, I was in Vermillion, South Dakota.  The president of the South Dakota Dental Association was doing a root canal removal using an interesting technique involved a rubber insert to keep the area free of saliva so he wouldn't need an assistant.  It didn't work well at all. I kept gagging. I've never seen the insert used since. Since he was in there, I wondered about having my lower impacted wisdom teeth removed, using the insurance I had as a university student. That's when I found out the insurance would only cover if four wisdom teeth were removed, and I only had two to give. The insurance company would not budge so the teeth are still in my gums to this day. There is a chance one of them will move into the spot vacated by the removal of that molar.  I could wind up with a new tooth at my advanced age! 

As it turned out, an adjacent cap was cracked during the extraction.  Three weeks from now, Dr. Kraft will replace it at no cost to me.  Everything worked out in the end. 

Tonight, I wait until just before bed to take ibuprofen to once kill the pain.  Until then, I remain in a dream state, putting my mind somewhere else.  

I told Dr. Kraft having the extraction would give me a post for this blog.  And so it is.  

Today in Nature

A week ago, it seemed that spring would never come.  Cold winds and snow swept through April.  This week we seemed to have almost skipped over spring and landed smack dab in summer.

With temperatures in the mid-80s F. Gary and I set off to explore.

First we stopped at the Shiocton marsh on Van Patten Road.  We saw many of the same migratory birds we saw a few days ago:  grebes, mallards, scaup, mallards, northern shovelers, Canada geese, and an American wigeon.  But today, there was an addition that was so welcome.

This yellow headed blackbird pair were scrabbling around at the edge of one of the big ponds.

Everywhere were the coots which set Gary to one of his various hobbies:  punning.

"What do you get if you cross a coot with a wood duck?"

"OK.  What?"

"A coot of many colors," which is meaningless if you don't know what a wood duck looks like.

"What happens if you surprise a pair of coots having sex?"

"Cootus interruptus."

I told Gary he should consider writing a birder joke book. Birders will buy anything.

We went on to Bamboo Bend, the curve in the Wolf River to the west of Shiocton.  The banks were swarming with sturgeon fans because, yes, the run is on.  The big female sturgeon were crashing against the rocks to lay their eggs there while the smaller males were spreading their sperm in the water to fertilize them.
It is an orgy on a grand scale.

Later in the day we saw more crowds at New London's sturgeon park. Two days ago, nothing was going on along the banks but now the run is on.  On Sunday night, we will be doing our bit, doing a night guard somewhere along a dark bank.

At Fremont, we visited the Party Doll marina to talk to Rick the owner.  His family has run a house boat and pontoon boat rental business there for decades, but now he wants to sell it since his sons are not interested.  Gary's family used to rent space in the marina for their large house boat. It was a sad moment to see an old friend to say good-bye.

We traveled back roads looking for more spring.  At Hartman Creek State Park Gary got his annual state park sticker and we took time to look at the campgrounds. Already there are tent campers though there are still patches of snow here and there.

Finally, on our way home, we made one more drive down Van Patten Road and there was my favorite of the season:  the ruddy duck, his little tail straight in the air.  



And with that there was nothing else to discover.  Time to go home and work in my garden. 

Jake Dog Meets Mean Ol' Ms Baby Doll

When Jake Dog was still a small puppy, I brought him home with me so it was here at Mathom House that he met his first cat. He explored the downstairs, excitedly running this way and that. He loved the place. What wonderful smells there are in a messy house! He followed me all over, snuffling.

When I carried a basket of clean laundry upstairs, Jake scrambled on puppy legs up the narrow stairs to see what kind of wonders there were on the second floor. He sprang through the bedroom door just as Mean Old Ms. Baby Doll jumped off the bed, where she had been napping. Though the full grown cat was about the same weight as puppy Jake, she fluffed her nasty self up to a enormous white ball, hissed, and took a swipe at him. It was his first cat experience and it was a bad one. He lost it, making a watery poo on the carpet, a stain that took weeks to eradicate.

Later I found out that my mother was feeding Jake Dog from the table and that day she had spare ribs and sauerkraut. 

Even though he was soon ten times bigger, Jake Dog never got over his respect for Ms. Baby Doll or for any cat, for that matter. In time, he developed an unusual relationship with them. He was petrified when any strange felines approached him outside but Mathom House cats were part of his flock. He tried to get along with them.

Mean Old Ms. Baby Doll came to a grudging acceptance of Jake Dog. She found herself places to sleep and ignored him, but Jake was often nearby, especially when his humans were busy 

Their temperaments were poles apart. Cranky Ms. Baby Doll figured out that when I changed sheets in the spare room, it often meant we were going to have company, something she did not relish, so she growled and hissed as I worked, sometimes swiping at me and the sheets to express her immense displeasure. Jake agreed that vacuuming and sheet changing were sure signs of visitors, but he went into a state of anticipatory wiggles. He LOVED company! That is why I waited until the very last moment to clean Mathom House before visitors arrived. My dislike of housework had nothing to do with it. Really!

The Garden

The garden is taking shape.  I have close to 40 separate plots with paths winding around between them. So far seven have been cleared. I hope to be done with the rest by May 15, but it is difficult.  I have arthritic knees. I have a little bench Gary bought for me that I can easily move from place to place and lean over with hand spade and rake. I fill a wheelbarrow but I can't quite manage dumping it into Gary's trailer so he does that for me. When the trailer is filled we take it to the dump.

I began planting season with pansies, which are tough little blossoms that will keep right on blooming when temperatures drop below freezing.  They are always the first planting. I put them in pots in the path leading to the Moons. Tomorrow I'll plant sweet peas

Plants are on sale at ShopKo through Wednesday which works well because Wednesday is also Senior Citizen Day with a 15 percent discount plus I have a $5 coupon. That makes gardening affordable.

As I worked today, I looked around the flower beds and dreamed of what was to come. Shoots promised irises, peonies, daisies, daffodils, tulips, and so much more. Already blooming:  crocuses, puschkinia, pasque flower and dwarf irises.  Sadly, the snowdrops are fading.

At the height of the summer, the flowers will be three feet tall and more and that is hide and seek time.

I read in The Last Child in the Woods that children no longer have secret places, but here they do. The children next door begin to come around the fence as soon as the foliage is high enough, chasing down the paths, hiding in the gazebo, and having conversations that are amusing for someone on her knees weeding, unseen.

I don't have a perfect lawn and sometimes those flower beds get weedy, especially when I go off on a tour. Last year, the drought made the flowers scraggly.  But always there are the children running down the paths, just being kids, and that makes the hard work I am doing now worth it.