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Intermediate Lake, Bellaire, MI
Good evening, everyone. I come to you now from my childhood bedroom in Yale, Michigan, after a delightful dinner of Salmon Alfredo prepared by my mom, who is a great cook.
What a day it has been! (What a two days, what a three days…) After the Gaylord Library posting yesterday I drove over to the cottage in Bellaire on Intermediate Lake. My folks bought this cottage about 1970 or ’71 and we spent many summer weeks sunning on blankets, paddle-boarding on the lake, jumping off the raft into the water, riding the boat up to the sandbar, canoeing on the Jordan River, playing croquet in the backyard. Oh so many memories. I could write an entire blog about the fun we enjoyed at the cottage. A few years ago my parents decided to sell and thankfully my brother bought it! Now the cottage is a frequent stop for those of us traveling down from the Upper Peninsula.
One of hundreds of fish flies on screen
Since it is the first week of June, the fish flies abounded. They were everywhere. On the window screens, in the lake, on the sidewalk. After an outdoor stroll by the lake in the evening-time, a dozen fish flies decided to accompany my jacket into the cottage. (At home in the Upper Peninsula, even though we’re only a half mile from the Huron Bay, we rarely get very many fish flies.)
Small-mouth bass Dad caught back in the '70's
Perhaps the fish in the above photo liked to eat fish flies. My dad caught him back in the days when fishermen (and women) caught stringers filled with good-eating fish. At least that’s what my mom just said. This fish weighed seven pounds one ounce. If my dad had entered the Michigan Outdoors contest that year it would have taken first prize. Too bad he didn’t! (Maybe this is one of those “fish stories”…)
A view of the cute little cottage
After a great night’s sleep in my childhood cottage bed, it was time to drive to downtown Bellaire and meet Gerry!! Gerry, as some of you readers might know, is a regular blogger and reader of this blog. She writes the Torch Lake Views, and Torch Lake Township isn’t too far from Bellaire. So she agreed to drive from her place to a cafe in Bellaire where we could eat breakfast, drink great coffee and talk about blogging adventures.
She showed up with Miss Sadie and the Cowboy, her two dogs, and the biggest smile in the universe. I liked her immediately! She is a great story-teller, entertaining with fascinating adventures. She also knows a LOT about WordPress. She shared all sorts of hints and information about how to stream-line this blogging process.
Here’s a picture of us in front of the coffee shop. She asked the nice woman who sold us our coffee and breakfast if she could photograph us.
Gerry and Kathy at the Moka shop in Bellaire
Then it was on to West Branch to meet my dear childhood friend Pattijo for lunch. We met at Applebees and talked and talked for at least another hour and a half. What a delight it was to meet with her! She actually traveled one and a half hours, just so we could spend some time together. Even though we don’t see each other more often than once a year, we always start right in on the conversation where we left off the previous year…
Pattijo and Kathy in West Branch
What a delightful day! Meeting up with two amazing friends in one day…
And now comes four days in Yale, spending time with Mom and Dad, brothers, sister-in-laws and nieces and nephews. It’s good to be here. Can’t wait to have some outdoor adventures downstate.
P.S. Today’s outdoor time: walking with my mom through the old neighborhood after this blog was written. A cool evening, but a fun time to be sharing with my mother.
Time for a Road Trip! Goodbye, Barry. Hello, Road!
Yes, yes, it’s a little soon to be taking another trip. The adventure visiting my daughter in New York City just happened.
However, our sweet young niece has just graduated from high school and there’s a big graduation party next Sunday down in the Thumb of Michigan, and I wouldn’t miss this for the world!
(Barry can’t get away from work for a week right now…)
So I’m coming to you LIVE from the Gaylord Public Library on Computer Station F. What an interesting twenty four hours it has been! First, the family is ribbing me mercilessly because it is taking three days to travel 550 miles downstate. I argued that it will only be 48 hours. They disagreed, announcing that it will be Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. They insist that’s three days.
We shan’t quibble with them, as I LOVE road trips. I meandered through Marquette yesterday, enjoying an outdoor adventure with umbrella in the rain. Book stores, coffee shops, restaurants, walks…yes, it was fun. Later in the evening I decided to drive further east and checked into a motel in Munising. As the skies darkened, the rain poured and the cold 40 degree temperatures blew windy off the bay, I realized more time was needed outdoors to satisfy the outdoor commitment.
It was challenging. The rain poured sideways and trickled beneath the umbrella. My fingers froze gripping the umbrella handle and cell phone. It was too cold to take photos. The tennis shoes quickly became soggy. I tried to relax into the experience and almost succeeded. Almost. It was one of the more challenging outdoor adventures thus far.
This morning still dawned cold, but clear. I walked about three quarters of a mile to a lovely little restaurant and enjoyed scrambled eggs , toast and coffee before driving very slowly down toward Gaylord, stopping often. Everywhere people complained about the weather. About the cold. The cloudy skies. They lamented that summer had not yet arrived. The waitress this morning even suggested sun lamps to help our spirits. It made me happy to be heading downstate to the Thumb of Michigan, where temperatures generally are ten degrees warmer than the Upper Peninsula.
It’s been 328 miles thus far. Gas is $2.94 a gallon. Gerry, from Torch Lake Views, who comments regularly on this blog, and I are meeting probably tomorrow morning for breakfast or tonight for dinner in Bellaire. (Bellaire is the town near my brother’s cottage. That’s where tonight’s layover will be. Will try to take some photos there, as it was one of my favorite growing-up places. Years ago I took driver’s training in this little town…)
I suppose computer time is almost up. Oh this has been a lovely stop. On to Bellaire! Will update you with more photos and stories tomorrow night from my parent’s home in Yale. Until then!
Backing up the empty Studebaker to the splitter
Because we spend so much time outdoors splitting, hauling and stacking wood these days, it’s only fair to share the process. Just in case anyone is dreaming of burning firewood. Let me explain what’s involved.
First, you have to either A) cut down the trees yourself, which has been our modus operandi for a few decades. This is very hard work. Dangerous. Challenging. Especially in mid-winter with knee-deep (or deeper!) snow. Barry and his friend Tom mostly completed this phase of the project for many long years. Or B) you put a log-truck load of wood. Which is what we did this year, for the first time.
The wood pile is delivered in your driveway, or somewhere handy for the wood splitter. Then you buy a heavy-duty wood splitter, if you don’t have one. We did that this spring. Barry found a great deal for minimal cash, and then utilized his skills to get in working in tip-top shape.
Next, you find two willing people ready to concentrate very intently on hoisting the logs onto the splitter, operating the lever and loading the split logs in the truck. You must focus and not dream away about random subjects. If you do, you might split a finger or injure your partner. Better to focus on the task at hand.
Me operating the lever while Barry delivers the wood to splitter and truck
(The red woolen jacket was a mistake. The temperature lingered in the 40′s and I couldn’t decide what to wear. Within five minutes of this photo, I abandoned post, ran inside, and donned a hooded sweatshirt. Much better choice.)
This is how the log looks as the wedge splits it
Once you’ve determined your proper wood-splitting apparel, adjusted for appropriate temperature, you continue splitting. Your partner takes the split logs and tosses them carefully into the 1949 Studebaker truck, determined not to scratch the paint job. That in itself is quite a task. At least two or three logs have proven delinquent and glanced off the fender or paint thus far. But one tries.
Full Studebaker of split logs
When the truck is full, one turns off the splitter, making sure not to forget the gas. It is not wise to forget this step, as the gas then leaks onto the splitter and…well, that’s simply not good. Unplug the battery. Then drive the truck around to the back of the house and back it up to the wood pile.
Oh look, we still have five full rows to fill.
Now comes the work of unloading and stacking. The lever operator must now do some physical labor. The truck loader has already worked up quite a sweat. You heft the heavy pieces of wood from the truck and pile them–just so–making sure your rows are balanced and will not topple.
There is a science to every step along the way, but I think we’ve covered the basics. Except for the parts previously covered in earlier blogs in which you then take the split logs off the wood pile and stack in basement wood room. Followed by starting fires, stoking fires, tending fires, emptying the wood stove, cleaning the chimney, chopping kindling…all of which brings you around to starting the year-long venture all over again!
The worst part is…it’s June 8th and we’re still starting fires in the woodstove each morning.
Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? P.S. Christopher, when ARE you coming home? We have a fun job waiting for you. 
Strawberry blossom says it all
The Anishnabe (Ojibway) call this June moon “The Strawberry Moon”. Barry and I debated that today. Either (a) this month’s name came from Ojibway living a LOT further south or (b) they meant Strawberry Blossom Moon.
Our white strawberry blossoms smile up in full bloom. We won’t be munching juicy ripe delectable strawberries until the July moon is thinking about its encore performance. Doesn’t a quart of fresh organic sweet berries sound fantastic? Maybe the Anishnabe were dreaming of strawberries and attempted to speed up time with this month’s name.
Flower sale at the Huron Bay Tavern
You might call this month “Planting Flower Month”. Every year, about the first weekend in June, folks from downstate travel to the Huron Bay Tavern near Skanee (also fondly known as Billy da Finn’s, although I don’t know why) and sell baskets of flowers, tomatoes, and assorted other vegetables. We always drive over there and find at least $20 worth of flowers and plants to plant. (This is after we’ve found lots of other local vegetables which we’ve been curing in the sun and taking inside at night for a couple weeks now.)
Here’s the rule. If you plant your tomatoes and peppers and beans and zucchini before June 10th: watch out. Frost might just attack those tender plants. Barry’s birthday was yesterday and he thinks the date of planting these warmer-weather vegetables and flowers is June 6th.
So guess what we’ve been doing today? Planting!
Planting the tomatos. They are a little yellow, but we're hoping they make it.
Last night we received a little rain shower. Not a lot, but enough to wet the ground and water the plants. The dandelion puffballs looked a tad soaked in the morning, almost like they had a little shampoo.
Soggy dandelion puffball
The forest around our house looks leafy and green. Spiffed up in its summer clothes.
Green, green...everywhere you look
So we enjoyed a lovely birthday party this evening. (Barry’s band played a gig last night so the official celebration was postponed until today.) Dinner menu: tamale pie and green tossed salad. Very delicious. Barry didn’t want a cake, but kindly picked some lupines for our table. He opened cards and packages and I…oops!…forgot to sing him Happy Birthday. Hmmm, will do that the minute he walks in the door! Promise!
Birthday lupines in a vase
P.S. OH MY GOODNESS! If the quality of these photos is acceptable, I am in seventh heaven tonight. Gerry of Torch Lake Views suggested compressing these photos on WordPress to save space. She said it would also make posts load faster. You can’t IMAGINE how fast these photos loaded. Two seconds! I am so very thrilled by this new possibility. Thanks, Gerry.
Jilly the Cow
Since today’s outdoor time involved stacking firewood (who’s surprised?) I am going to share about last night’s adventure.
We traveled north to Houghton/Hancock and ran our usual errands before driving to the backwoods beyond Atlantic Mine to visit an old friend and his family. Except for a brief “hello” at the Aura Jamboree last summer, I hadn’t seen David since the early 1990′s when he worked with my husband. Now he’s aiming toward a doctorate at Michigan Technological University and has a wife, three daughters and a beautiful cedar-shake country house. He also serves a great Greek Pizza!
But first things first. If you live in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, it’s probably a good bet that you’ve seen Jilly the Cow. She parks herself at county fairs, carnivals and parking lots to advertise Jilbert’s Dairy, a milk company in Marquette. Since most locales probably do not boast a giant trailered cow, I thought she might interest some of the blog readers. Do other communities trailer around huge plastic animals?
Coast Guard boat docked in Houghton
As we drove through Houghton, we noticed a rather large Coast Guard vessel along the Portage Canal. Ever in search for photos, I implored Barry to pull over and explore. We shot about seven pictures, none of which appeared entirely satisfying. The boat contained at least a half dozen buoys which will be placed out in Lake Superior. The craft, the Hollyhock, hails from Port Huron, Michigan. I wanted to strike a conversation with the crew, as my hometown lies in that vicinity (and I get to visit there next week!) However, the opportune moment for chatting did not present itself and we drove toward our family dinner date in Atlantic Mine.
Old wooden carved fellow
After following directions to turn left, turn right, don’t go straight…we thankfully discovered this small piece of the Upper Peninsula never before seen by our eyes. We enjoyed talking with David’s wife, Tracy, and their three girls who ranged from eighth grade to four years old. After dinner we wandered around outside, following a trail behind their house into the woods and swamplands. We heard tales of a recent visiting black bear.
Now which one took that perfect shot?
Barry played basketball with two of the girls after dinner and had a great time. David covered the tender plants in the garden, a necessity at this time of year, due to the cold temperatures at night. You never know if it will freeze. The thermometer always seems to be hovering somewhere near 32 degrees and we must constantly debate: cover or not cover?
David covering the garden plants
I loved the look of this old garage or shed. It looks so rustic and appealing as it ages…
Old garage or shed
For the final photo, I keep debating: gleaming-eyed chickens in the rafters of the barn or a pile of bikes? It’s simply too challenging to decide, so you shall have both, even though it’s far too many photos to fit in one blog. (Do you know they start charging you at WordPress if you surpass an allotted limit of space? I’m afraid, due to the high number of photos, I’m going to have to upgrade by the end of the year. Heck, maybe by September! But who cares? This is so much fun, probably I should be paying!)
This family loves to bike!
And finally…don’t these chickens look like their dancing on the rafters? How funny!
Chickens strutting their stuff
Dying leaf in dried-up algae pond
I feel like I’m on a small emotional roller-coaster the last couple of days. One minute happy and joyful and buzzing…the next minute kind of sad and cranky. The above leaf picture described my mood as of Friday afternoon. (By the time this is published later tonight after a dinner with friends maybe everything will be fine again.)
Two nights ago I felt a little overwhelmed about our rather large wood pile that needs to be split, hauled and stacked. But last night I tried to “play” with the work and turn it around into a fun chore. It actually worked.
The bugs are out and crazed and sucking blood and biting. Nothing unusual for June around here. You put a log in the splitter, swat at a mosquito, take the log off, scratch your bite. Oh well. We all expect this at this time of year.
Mosquito eating lunch
It’s been a cold spring. Our garden vegetables are very very slowly poking their heads above the soil and leafing out. Peas, lettuce, spinach, onions, kale, collards, beets, green onions and carrots sit in the garden wishing for rain. They have to settle for cold sprinkles from our hose. They’re not happy about it, but have no choice if they wish to drink some water.
One to two inch pea plants emerging in garden
Do you ever wonder if Nature herself gets moody? I think she perhaps she does. That’s when the hurricanes and tornados roar through and whip us around and mess things up. When the Earth gets fussy, perhaps It quakes. Swallows entire towns as it shakes and shifts. One minute Nature is hot and then she’s cold. She weeps buckets of tears on us sometimes, and then coldly withholds her rain making the poor pea plants suffer. Sometimes she freezes us with ice-cold snow and bakes the tropics. What an emotional lady, do you think?
Then again, Nature is probably neutral and we’re the ones telling stories about her motives. She’s just shaking herself, blowing up the winds, shifting toward and away from the sun.
Maybe the “truth” lies half-way between both stories. Maybe she’s more than scientific, but less than our fanciful tales. Maybe she does feel emotions, or responds to the emotions and thoughts on this planet. Who knows?
Maybe this goose family has a clue…
Canadian Goose Family
P.S. writing this blog always makes me happy, strangely enough. Maybe Nature is happy about it, as well.
Shimmering underwater rocks
This morning I thought about the upcoming six month anniversary of this outdoor commitment and blog. What an incredible six months it has been! (Well, it’s Day 166 as of today…June 21st, Solstice, shall be the six month anniversary.) It’s been one of the best years of my life.
I am so very grateful to the blog readers and commenters who have encouraged and cheered and helped me stick with it.
White pine cone
Years ago a native American friend shared this teaching: when it’s your birthday or lucky day for you, share with others. Be grateful for their presence in your life. Instead of expecting presents, give to others.
I started thinking about this today. I am feeling so grateful about this year, this blog, the great outdoors…it’s time to share some of the love and good feelings with others.
Our friend, Amy, flandrumhill, will be having a photographic scavenger hunt sometime around the Solstice later this month. We are all anticipating that event! Before the scavenger hunt begins, on the June 21st, I would like to draw a name out of a hat (or somehow let nature decide…haven’t figured out how…) and send a free nature book to a reader of this blog.
Lily pads and flowers on pond
Here are the rules. Comment on this blog, a paragraph or two, sharing what you like about the outdoors. Your best nature experience of your life. Or this month. Or last year. Or a litle paragraph about what you saw outside today. Whatever. Share what inspires you or turns you on about opening the door, walking outside.
Magic lily pad on another pond
On the Solstice, June 21st, I will put the names of all commenters to this blog in a pot. Then Nature will decide which lucky winner will receive the contest award.
The winner can choose one of the following prizes:
Superior: Journeys on an Inland Seaby Gary McGuffin (looks like a book about our great Lake Superior)
The Ultimate Guide to Digital Nature Photographyby the Mountain Trail Photo Team (for anyone interested in nature photography)
Deep Water Passageby Ann Linnea (I’ve read this one! A great spiritual story about kayaking around Lake Superior.)
Hands-on Nature: Information and Activities for Exploring the Environment with Children by Jennepher Lingelbach (nature activities for children)
Pink blossoms! The end of the blossoms coming soon...
** If the winner prefers a different nature book (for under $20) perhaps we can negotiate…
Thank you, all of you, for your readership, comments and support. It means more than you can imagine. Thank you also to Emma who helped inspire this idea.
1951 Studebaker car in woods
We all see the world differently. It’s a fact. If you invite twenty people into a room and ask them to describe it, every story will be unique.
If you take twenty folks into the forest with cameras and ask them to take pictures, the variety will be astounding. Someone will focus on tree bark. Another might catch a hungry mosquito in the act of sucking blood. Another snaps only wildflowers. Another notices the sheen on the new spring leaves and captures their beauty. Someone might photograph the people photographing nature! The possibilities are endless.
Close up leaf near forest floor
Some people like to concentrate their seeing close up. Others like the wide expanses, the distances, the far-away vistas. At different times, we ourselves vary our attention. One day we prefer the tiny up-close world. The next day all we want to do is stare across the water to the distant shore. Sometimes this all shifts within the course of a single hour. Or minute.
Leaf-world in the sky
We look up; we look down. Perhaps sometimes we can remember to stretch our seeing. As we notice the ways in which we’re accustomed to viewing the world, perhaps we might look in new ways. If we’re always looking eye-level, let’s get on our hands and knees and see the world from the ground. If we’re always looking at similar objects, find five new and interesting different things to examine.
On the ground to capture this photo. Yep, still picking off wood ticks...
Not only do we see the world differently, we tell ourselves different stories about what we’ve seen. Try to find two people who see the same things in life and tell themselves an identical story! It even becomes more challenging when the viewers/interpreters come from different cultures. No wonder we often have trouble getting along in this world. Everyone sees the world differently; everyone interprets that seeing into a different story.
- What do you see? A face in a tree? Rotting circles? Woodpecker holes?
I have trouble noticing some things. Like haircuts. Clothes. Cars people drive. My friend said today, “I could paint my house purple and you wouldn’t notice it! But the things you notice, I never even see.” (Well, I’m pretty sure I would notice her purple house. Not 100% sure, but pretty sure…)
Our attention is limited; we can’t perceive everything that exists. You see things in different ways than I could ever imagine. One of the special gifts we bring the world is our particular unique way of seeing. And then how we share our sight with others.
Thank goodness for all of us. How much we have to teach each other about our individual ways of seeing the world! I am so grateful today for different eyes, different ways of seeing, the different gifts of all of us.
Dinner
Some people might view that lake trout as beautiful. Others might be disgusted. Some might notice the dirty old cookie sheet (used solely for grilling). Another might wonder where the picture was taken. Someone might ponder about hardwood floors. Another imagines the waves on Lake Superior. Another wonders who caught the fish. (Barry did, today.) Anyone wonder if it was a fat or lean lake trout, or how deep it was caught? Or how it smells in the kitchen? Anyone wonder what day we’re eating it for dinner? Tomorrow night!
Baby robins almost grown up
The animal world can sure be loud.
First, I have a terrible story to tell. I think it turned out OK, but initially it looked…challenging. It started yesterday afternoon. It involved robins. Sigh. All of my trials and tribulations this spring involve robins…
I saw the baby robins near the garage with their beaks in the air, awaiting worms from mama and papa. Oh, didn’t they look cute? Wouldn’t it be an adorable prize-winning photograph? (Or at least something somewhat interesting to blog readers?) I moved close with camera lens zoomed in.
Suddenly the nearest half-upright robin baby from the above photo, taken a couple days before, shot straight up in the air, scared to death as the camera approached him. Then he flew! Across the grass, toward the safety of the woods, away from the crazy human, he flew low but sure, his wings flapping.
My heart stopped in fear. About the time the mama and papa began screaming and dive-bombing me. It was awful. Horrible. I almost cried, seriously, thinking I might have prematurely caused the robin to leave the nest. That the robin might die because of my camera greed.
The parents were angry, and rightly so. Dive-bombing continued for the next five minutes as I ducked and cowered and got out of there as quickly as possible. Apologies didn’t seem to help. Their clamor was shrill and piercing. Alas.
However, early this morning Barry announced that all the other baby robins were gone. Flown away. Left the nest. Suddenly I didn’t feel so guilty. Maybe it was TIME. They were ready to fly, and I just provided a slight…impetus. Whew. Guilt slightly abated…
Three sheep
Today I visited a farm. To visit the animals. Specifically, the sheep, the horses/mules and the chickens and bees. My friends Barbara and Evan live up in Herman. I haven’t visited their farm in over a year, so it was nice to tour their barns and fields. Very interesting and instructive. It proved a fun morning.
First, came the ram. All the close-up photos of this curvy-horned fellow turned out fuzzy. Sorry. He scared me. Barbara warned me to stay away, as he’s protective of those female sheep. We eyed each other. I finally took a good photo as he meandered away with his flock.
See that reddish ram heading away down a forest road?
The sheep baaaahhed and baaahhed quite unabashedly. There are at least a couple dozen of them. Barbara reported the lambing season progressed well this year, and they didn’t lose a single lamb. They have named all of them. She kept a steady litany going, sharing all their names. It amazed me that they could tell this black sheep from that black sheep, or this red one from that red one. I suppose when you’ve helped birth many of them into the world, it’s easy to identify their characteristics.
I'm sorry. I really don't know if this is a horse or a mule.
Then there were the chickens clucking and calling and carrying on. They were free-range beauties, pecking everywhere in the dirt, wandering into the woods.
Chickens clucking
Barbara gestured over toward the woods, at bee hives far beyond the sheep. Could we get a photo? She said there were a couple hives near the garden. We opened the fence and wandered in. Bees rested on the thousand dandelions leading up to the hives, buzzing in yellow splendor. We tried not to step on any.
Organic honey for sale this summer!
Their dogs did not bark. Except perhaps when I pulled in the driveway. We finished our barnyard tour with tea and Babycakes muffins from Marquette. It was great to visit their farm again. Hope you all enjoyed it, as well!
Let’s travel along Memory Lane for this outdoor blog. Back to the turn of the century, around 1999 and 2000. The years we Upper Peninsula residents learned about the Forest Tent Caterpillar. Many of us don’t want to look backward to be reminded of these creatures, but let’s reminisce briefly for those who have never weathered such an invasion.
What triggered this memory was this eastern tent caterpillar nest near the Bishop Baraga Shrine last Friday:
Eastern tent caterpillar nest
Almost rather pretty shimmering in the sunshine, right? These are the more common variety of tentworm caterpillars. They’re fond of wild cherries, or ornamental trees such as crab-apple, apple, plum, peach and cherry. We co-exist rather happily with these caterpillars. Hardly even know they’re around…
However, back in 1999, rumors whispered from the south. The forest tent caterpillars were marching north from Wisconsin. Entire swaths of trees were denuded of leaves as the caterpillars moved toward Lake Superior. A driver along an interstate might suddenly notice bare tree limbs, completely devoid of greenery, with dozens or hundreds of acres of trees suddenly decimated by the army of multi-legged leaf-munchers.
We didn’t think too much about it until the army arrived here. Until our tree leaves were consumed. Until we were desperately thinking of creative ways to save some of our trees, especially prized oaks. First we boiled up gallons of the hottest cayenne pepper-laced water. That didn’t even burn their feet. We finally settled upon a necklace of aluminium foil drenched with cooking oil near the tree base.
The hungry fellows like wild cherry trees like their cousins, but they especially enjoy supping on poplars and oaks. Apparently their invasions occur in cycles of ten to twenty years.
They settled thick upon the land for two years. There were coccoons in the eaves, the awnings, the trees, the bricks, the blocks, the windows, the doors. Everywhere the forest tent caterpillars could imagine. We have a–shall we say, fond?–or at least, amusing?– memory of our son’s graduation party in 2000. We set up folding tables on the side lawn, beneath the oak. Can you perhaps imagine the scene as hundreds of tentworms dropped out of the tree onto the tables, perhaps frightening away guests? My mother-in-law just mentioned that she kept herself busy inside of the house, hoping perhaps to avoid the industrious caterpillars.
Another memory: in their march through L’Anse, they were so thick they covered the gas pumps at a local station. Can you imagine the thrill of pumping gas through that quagmire?
Nine years later remnants of the nests remain. I did an extensive search to photograph one of the beautiful carcasses for you. At least two presented themselves. For your viewing pleasure:
Exhibit A. Old forest tent caterpillar cocoon
One of my most miserable outdoor memories occurred in the midst of this invasion. It was spring. I wandered into the woods, about a half mile up the road from our house. Probably thinking of morels or spring wildflowers or the challenges of the day, I didn’t notice until too late.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, I was surrounded by strands of webs. Hundreds, thousands! Everywhere one turned, the sticky webs covered glasses, hair, eyes, clothes. You couldn’t breathe without ingesting them. It felt like a thousand almost-invisible ropes were surrounding you, tying you up, immobilizing you. I tried to run but became more deeply entangled in webs. Couldn’t even see because my glasses were covered by the threads. The vague memory of the horror movie “The Birds” surfaced and I felt like screaming. Honestly, it was not pleasant. I didn’t return to the woods for at least a month after that adventure…
Here is another specimen left over from those days:
Exhibit B. So glad I didn't wash that shed window for ten years!
We’re truly hoping they don’t return to the Upper Peninsula for a long, long time. Once every lifetime is probably enough…
P.S. Besides photographing old caterpillar nests today, I drank jasmine tea outside in the cold 45 degree wind talking with my mother-in-law on the phone. How’s that for an outdoor adventure? It counts, doesn’t it?
