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Blue blue sky with white white clouds and dark green trees
Sometimes I stress out trying to come up with an interesting blog relating to the time spent outdoors.
New resolution: no more stressing out. I don’t care if these posts get boring. Time to maybe just get more simple sometimes and share without trying to come up with an interesting story.
I don’t even have a single photo from today. These all presented themselves yesterday at Catherine’s house and near Deb’s raspberry patch up in Herman.
Ornamental globe thistle
Today’s time outdoors:
1) Talking to my friend Melinda out in California on the phone, lounging on the deck.
2) Picking lettuce in the garden.
3) Talking and laughing with Barry on the deck before dinner.
4) Eating dinner on the deck. (My, the deck was popular today!)
5) And who knows what else after this blog is written?
Downward view at the top of one of Catherine's flowers--unique, eh?
Let’s see: weather. Our temps have soared! We’ve approached the upper 70′s, nudging 80. It’ s SUMMER!! Hurray!! The berries are bursting forth everywhere; it’s a raspberry and thimbleberry heaven. THIS is what we’ve dreamed about. It’s here. Heaven. It doesn’t get any better than this.
Apples ripening
The open latch
Yesterday I pondered the question of whether “outside” or “inside” was preferable. Is it something wonderful, noble, and inspiring to open the door and walk outside? Why does this appeal to some of us? The actuality of spending time outdoors every day for a year strikes a chord of resonance with many of us. But why? And is it any better than closing the door and staying inside?
Last winter I felt a strong desire to more deeply explore nature, the outdoors. It felt like I had been too long indoors, too long cloistered in some internal world, and it was time to bond with rocks, sky, earth, flowers, snow and lake. (Well, mostly snow and ice for a long time…)
Opening the door felt almost like a symbol, like a metaphor. After many many years on a spiritual journey, it felt time to quit seeking internally and simply be still and let the Earth teach whatever it had to teach. My journey this year has been about looking and listening deeply to what the outdoors wants to say. What the part that is not-Kathy has to share. (And then Kathy babbles about that…)
Bowl, water, rock and cloud
I love the indoors. Always have. To travel deeply inward, as deeply inward as one possibly can go. To read, to think, to dream, to travel to the interior caverns of ourselves. The feeling of four walls have assisted so much in this inward journey. They have created a safe space to dream without distraction, to write, to learn, to expand.
And now, especially after this year, I can say with equal assurance: I love the outdoors. The wide open freedom of it. The mysteries everywhere we turn. The beauty! The differences, the patterns, the similarities. The close-up views and the endless expanses. I cannot say enough positive about the value of the outdoors.
Fence and red flowers (Bee Balm or Red Monarda)
As humans, we create boundaries. Fence and stones, latches and keys. We define spaces. We call this “out” and this “in”. We label one aspect better or worse. I think, at different times, for different people, we’re called “inside” to cloister and shut off and discover more about our internal world. For other people, at different times in our lives, we’re moved outside the boundary of our doors to explore the external world with its amazing gifts and mysteries and challenges and beauties. Some of us move effortlessly between outdoors and indoors, never feeling any separation.
Two different ways of seeing. Internal. External. Both valuable, both necessary.
My friend Catherine's barn...the window open...the bees fly in and out of their home
I like the way both worlds so often mingle in our lives. We perhaps bring our clothes outside to swing in the fresh air, the wind gently drying the sheets and pillowcases and jeans and towels.
Catherine's laundry drying outside (thanks for letting me take the pictures, Catherine!)
Sometimes we bring the outdoors inside. Perhaps a bouquet of fresh flowers. A handful of rocks, or a swirl of birchbark. Perhaps we fill a basket with cedar and lay it atop our stove.
Basket of cedar on Catherine's stove
Sure, we can stay cooped up inside too long and stagnate without ever using the walls to our adventage and exploration and creativity. And, yes, we can remain outside too long only looking at the surface of things, never seeing deeper, ignoring the inner worlds, slave to chores and necessities and thoughts and work.
Or we can somehow learn to be comfortable in both worlds. We can open the latches and turn the keys, walking inside and outside, outside and inside.
We can move in past the chain link fences which obscure our view and see the naked beauty of what is:
Outside in the garden or inside on the table...it's still beautiful
P.S. Catherine and I picked so many raspberries today you wouldn’t believe it! Cultivated wonderful huge berries thanks to our friend, Deb. Thanks, Deb!
Two trunked tree in the woods with our house in the distance
Let’s say one makes a decision to open the door and walk outside, spending time in the great outdoors for 365 days. Suppose 232 days have passed. Through cold and hot (well, very little hot), through snow and rain, through drought and deluge…one treks outside and begins to learn more about the earth. One learns to peer very closely at the marvels of nature, at the marvels of people spending time outdoors, at the wildlife which presents itself, at the flowers and trees and plants. One learns so much.
But here’s the question: Is “outside” really better than “inside”?
Red mushrooms growing beneath a log
What are the advantages to stepping outside? Many folks with life-threatening illnesses, confined to beds or wheelchairs, rarely have the opportunity to amble through the woods. Others spend entire lives within a house or monastery, perhaps meditating or praying day and night. Some people thrive indoors. Others thrive outdoors.
What is the gift of the outdoors?
How does it enrich us? Does it matter?
How is it better than spending our minutes inside the house? Or is it any better? Are they equal possibilities, both the same?
Day lily rests in bed of blooming oregano
I have some thoughts, but would love to hear from you first. So many of you readers are outdoor folks, but others spend more time indoors. What do you think? Would you like to spend every day for a year outdoors, or don’t you feel the need? Or, looking at it the other way, do you already spend time every day outdoors and never even think about it?
Denise and the dogs on our five to six mile hike yesterday
Yesterday it was a great time hiking with my friend Denise and her dogs along Bayshore Road outside of L’Anse. We walked and walked. However, we were so busy talking our five to six miles passed in a flash. It didn’t even feel like exercise, until our legs started feeling it.
Loons on the lake. If you squint, you'll probably see them.
Today Barry and I worked in the garden. We harvested all the peas, pulled up the pea plants and took down the pea fence. Seems like a huge space opened up in the garden, a space where the squash and cucumbers can now spread. The onions have mostly fallen over and need to be plucked, as well. We’ll keep them in the basement and eat them until Christmas.
Signing off now, really hoping some of you will share your thoughts about outdoors versus indoors.
Thank you and goodnight.
Meet a fellow from the 1830's. He materialized in the Baraga Park last night.
Last night a time warp occurred. One moment you thought it was 2009. The next moment, you knew it was 1830. Because a fellow wearing a long coat and pants and wig and hat stood in front of his tent talking to you. A woman stirred vegetables in a pan over an open fire over there, and further over there a voyager and his native wife lingered near an old-time canoe.
The man with the long coat and pants and buckled shoes shared how he sewed all the buttons on his coat himself. He utilized deer antlers and painstakingly threaded material over the antlers. He made all his clothes himself. A real man of the period, indeed. (Where was the wife? one should have inquired. But one didn’t want to ask such a personal question upon first acquaintance. Probably lots of men back then sewed their own clothes, out of necessity.)
Historically correct sewing kit. Scissors from China.
After the fellow and I parted ways, exchanging websites (oops! sorry! I think I just fast-forwarded into the twenty first century) I hurried over to the voyager and his wife. They had a contented-looking dog on a leash. I am not sure the leash was historically correct, but it was necessary when walking the dog in the park.
Voyager, wife, dog, and canoe
Which brings us to where 2009 and 1830 met for the weekend. It was at the Baraga State Park, an 1830′s Rendezvous Weekend featuring activities such as flint and steel fire building, lead ball making, long bow shooting, tomahawk, frying pan and hammer throwing contests (really? wow, wouldn’t that have been fun to see!) as well as woods walks and kids games. I believe the Upper Peninsula Muzzle Loaders Association sponsored the event.
You might be wondering how I found my way to that century for an outdoor adventure. Here’s what happened. Last night Barry and I went out to dinner at Carla’s and ate some really good fish. Then he headed for the Baraga County Fair. I opted to go to the Rendezvous and watch an owl presentation at the pavilion. Folks were coming to the park with rehabilitated owls and I really, really, thought that would be a neat program and topic for this blog.
So Barry dropped me off and waved goodbye. I sat down with lots of other people to watch the owl presentation, determined to bring you photos of live up-close owls. But guess what? The owl folks didn’t show. It was sad. The young girl who organized the program was disappointed, as she had put so much work into the publicity and planning. We all felt badly for her. (Later it turned out that the presenters are coming tonight with their big birds, but unfortunately I am not inclined to drive way back across the bay after already spending time in town today.)
I waited for my car and husband for quite awhile, but really enjoyed mingling with people at the rendezvous and in the park. So many nice folks! Someone suggested taking a hike behind the park, a three quarter mile trail. That was fun. Clintonias, or blue bead lilies, grew everywhere in this forest.
Clintonia, or blue bead lilies
Do not mistake these shining innocent-looking blue berries for blueberries. They are toxic! Nor are you suppose to pick them, as the Michigan Department of Natural Resources thinks they should be protected, because their continued existence is precarious, according to “Michigan Wildflowers” by Harry C. Lund. However, someone picked the berries, or they fell off the plants. Random berries lay sprinkled along the path. Kind of reminded me of Hansel and Gretl. Made me wonder if someone was lost, and spreading berries to find his or her way home to this century.
Trail of berries
It kind of makes you ponder how people in the 1830′s knew that the clintonia blue berry was poisonous. Did they have to sample these plants and get sick? Did the natives share their knowledge with them? I think we take so much of our information about the natural world for granted, perhaps.
(And, yes, eventually my husband did return to pick me up. But I was glad to have the opportunity to spend the evening at the Baraga State Park, owls or no owls.) Today’s outdoor adventure was a five to six mile hike with my friend Denise and her dogs. Photo of that tomorrow. In 2009.
Jan pets Sasha in the warm morning sun
There’s nothing better than sitting in the sun on a warm August morning, drinking coffee or tea with a dear friend. As far as outdoor experiences go, this is the best.
You sip and chat. You sip and laugh. You sometimes sip and cry, especially if you’re talking about a dear friend with cancer. You remember old times, sometimes. You talk about little everyday things, about children and dogs and skin cream. You squint into the sun. You talk about deep spiritual subjects, perhaps. You drink some more coffee or tea.
Guest dog
Jan has a guest dog visiting. (Along with accompanying adults.) I’m sorry. I forget the name of the dog, although I remember that it is a “she”. And she is so sweet and loving and playful! She is also dreadfully afraid of bats. They know this, because a bat or two recently also decided to visit. They have to put her under a blanket in the evening, with only her nose sticking out, just in case another bat comes to call.
Jan also told a story about this dog. There is a knot hanging from a rope on tree outside the house. The dog starts growling fiercely, jumps up and grabs the knot. Then it gets the rope swinging around and around and around, still growling, refusing to let go. It winds up the rope as tight as it can go and then lets go. Then the dog swirls around in circle after circle as it releases in the opposite direction, still hanging on to that knot and growling. Can you imagine? Wouldn’t that be a picture?
Old dugout fruit cellar
One of my favorite things about Jan’s house, beside her infectious laugh, hugs and friendship (and oh yes, the coffee or tea. And the warm morning sunlight) is her old fruit cellar. It looks so enchanting, dug out of a hill. Years ago, the house owners placed their parsnips and rutabagas and apples in sand, down in the depths of this cellar. They shoveled a walk through the long winter and opened the underground door to find prized vegetables and fruit to help sustain them through the cold and snow.
This reminds me of the Little House on the Prairie books, especially the one where Ma and Pa and Mary and Laura and Carrie lived on the Banks of Plum Creek in a dugout for a summer or winter back in the 1800′s. Did everyone read these books as children? I loved the series so much I read the entire bunch to our first-born when he was only four or five. And probably re-read them to Kiah when she reached that age, although that memory is hazy. Can you imagine what it would be like to live underground? How you must feel? It must feel cozy, but perhaps confining.
Bowl of stones
Jan is an avid stone collector. If you go with her to the beach, watch out. She’ll come home with dozens and dozens. She’ll make you stuff all available pockets with rocks. They’re everywhere in her gardens, near her porch, in this nook and that cranny.
Hollyhocks head skyward
Not only does she love rocks, she also loves plants and flowers. Bursts of pink and white and purple peek out from her gardens. The hollyhocks looked particularly lovely this morning, don’t you think?
As lovely as our visit. Do find a friend to visit outdoors one of these lovely summer mornings. You won’t regret it.
And the mystery photo from yesterday’s blog is…
And the mystery photo is…
Close your eyes if you don't want to see this dead snake.
I made the mistake yesterday of showing Barry this picture while he was eating lunch. Note: do not try that at home. Some people apparently do not want to view dead animals while chewing food.
Today was a garden day. Tomorrow will be a garden day. The next day will be a garden day. Because this is the time of year when the garden demands to be harvested…or else.
Or else the peas grow hard and gnarly. Or else the cilantro turns to seed. Or else the lettuce grows bitter and stringent. Or else the onions fall over and rot.
It’s tough work, gardening. But so worth it in the end when you sit down to a freshly tossed salad with some minced onions and herbs and mini cucumbers and tomatoes and carrots. (Not that we’ve seen any edible versions of these last three vegetables…yet.)
Jack (of Jack & the Beanstalk fame) could climb this pea plant up to the heavens.
So here’s the garden report. The peas are skyrocketing. They reached the clouds this week. Laden with bright flashy peas and white flowers. They dazzle; they zoom. They’re good eating. We have the edible pod variety, and the non-edible pod. Some of the pods were blanched and frozen today.
The lettuce: abundant. Too much to eat. Need to clean it in bags and give to friends. We’re thinking people at Barry’s work might especially enjoy. Onions: falling over and ready to harvest. They’re not too big, but our onions never would win county fair prizes. There’s enough to eat until Christmas.
Onion power!
Carrots…well I’m still working on thinning them adequately. First you do an initial thinning, to allow room for the orange roots to grow. Then you thin the thinnings to allow even more growth space. And finally, later this month, you pull one up and test to see if it’s adequately grown. Usually they’re small, but adequate. We don’t live in a field, you know. One makes do in the middle of the woods, especially when the biggest plant in our garden is a large spruce tree that thirstily drinks up the moisture needed to nurture the plants.
The round curve of our carrot crop
Now let’s discuss something really measly. Our zucchini. So far it isn’t spreading and flowering very well. (I think they’ve just announced it was the third coldest July on record. The warm weather plants have been whining and whimpering daily. They’re sun and heat deprived. And refusing to grow until they see some higher temps. There’s rumors that this might happen by the weekend. And frost is usually showing its white face by September. We may have to cover the garden plants this year, that’s for sure.)
Measly stunted zucchini, wouldn't you say?
Beans…iffy. They may make it or they won’t. They’re reached the top of the bean fence, but they look stringy and not very enchanting. Barry says they won’t make it. I say they will. I would show you a picture so you could better assess, but liked the angle of these leaves better.
Sweet bean leaves wrap around pole
And finally, the tomatoes. They are coming, oh so slowly. Round balls peek up from amidst the greenery. If they’re dreaming of red, they have many nights before ripening. We have many days before the knife slices a sweet round tomato, salt and pepper bless it, and the eager mouth finds it. Until then…still searching for that farmer’s market tomato. Maybe Saturday?
Some day. Some day.
Three guesses. What do you think this is?
Before we start talking about full moons and such, here’s the game of the day. What do you think that mysterious photo is? What could it be? Here is your only hint. It was discovered between the house and the mailbox. Please hazard a guess in the comment section. Tomorrow will reveal the answer.
So today is August’s full moon. And what a full moon it is! Not only is it a dazzling full orb in the sky, it’s also participating in a lunar eclipse tonight. According to the calendar, the auspicious event takes place at 8:39 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time. It is called a penumbral eclipse. Wikipedia defines it for us here. The moon is passing through the earth’s penumbral. The shadow of the earth has two distinctive parts (how many of you knew this?) Within the umbra, there is no direct solar radiation. However, as a result of the Sun’s large angular size, solar illumination is only partially blocked in the outer portion of the Earth’s shadow, which is given the name penumbra. There will be a quiz.
Deep in the raspberry/thimbleberry patch
Now that we have all the scientific discussion out of the way, let’s return to our full moon year-round theme of Ojibway names for the monthly moons. August is the Berry Moon. Go figure! We’ve been on the theme of berries all summer. June was Strawberry Moon, followed by July’s Raspberry Moon. I might suggest that August should be Blueberry Moon or Thimbleberry Moon, but perhaps the abundance of berries resulted in the generic name.
However, and this is where it gets confusing, the guy on the radio this morning called it the Sturgeon Moon. Which a cursory google search revealed is a name “some” Native Americans call this August moon. My search didn’t reveal what tribe, but explained that many sturgeon are caught in the Great Lakes this month. (Since we viewed the documentary all about the sturgeon at the Omni Theater in Duluth last month…I am inclined to believe that incredible ancient fish provided much sustenance to the tribes in earlier times before it nearly went extinct.) P.S. Even if you caught an elusive sturgeon these days, your instructions are to release. Or suffer the wrath of the Department of Natural Resources and conservationists everywhere. Let those sturgeon go.
I decided to pick berries this afternoon instead of go fishin’.
Ripe and ripening thimbleberries
And what a successful bowl of berries lies ready for tomorrow morning’s breakfast! Once again, berries will herald the day. The mingling flavors and textures of thimbleberries and raspberries make for a delightful treat. As everyone knows, wild berries are much smaller than the cultivated berries you buy at the store or farmers market. But wild berries taste jam-packed full of flavor. Big is not always better.
Back to the full moon. I hope you all glimpse it. Last night it was a glowing orange-red ball in the southeastern sky around 9 p.m., attempting to crest above the trees in our woods. Breathtaking beauty.
Bowl of berries (look at the size of the thimbleberry leaf--bigger than a hand)
Now for the quiz.
1. What is the first photo?
2. What is the penumbral? (ha ha, I had to go back and read again!)
3. Do you think it’s the Berry Moon or the Sturgeon Moon?
4. Will you remember to go outside tonight and admire the moon?
Wildflower heaven at the side of the road
For weeks now I’ve been in love with the sides of the road, driving into town. Truly, the wildflowers are breathless. They’re alive, stunning, amazing! The Gardens of Eden lie on the edges of the roads during the summer months. Don’t you think so?
Every day, driving into town, I oooohhhh and ahhhhh over this flower arrangement and that. It looks like families of Queen Anne’s Lace sprout villages everywhere. Thick villages of Lace. Later on down the road a bit, colonies of Birdsfoot Treefoil gleam in yellow splendor. Over there–Tansy towns! Over there–Black-Eyed Susans! Everywhere you look, another race and color and culture sprouts.
Today I decided to actually get out of the car and take photos.
Do not pass. Please.
Were we humans as tolerant of other races, colors and creeds as we are of wildflowers… I think the Universe needs us all. We’re all flowers of beauty sprouting on the roadsides of this planet.
No passing zone. Absolutely not.
I kept dashing out of the car and running up toward flowers and signs to capture their beauty. Of course, passerbys in zooming vehicles stared open-mouthed. They obviously couldn’t figure out why someone was taking a picture of a “Do Not Pass” sign. Obviously, they weren’t looking low enough at the ground. At the carpet of wildflowers surrounding the sign.
Getting up close to Black Eyed Susan. How do you do?
Let’s move up a few hours, until tonight’s dinner. This has nothing to do with wildflowers. More to do with my main outdoor stint: weeding and harvesting in the garden. The pea pods needed picking! The carrots needed weeding! The onions needed pulling!
And the reason the onions needed pulling were…you’ll never imagine this in 100 years…Blueberry Sauce for our lake trout. Yes, you read that correctly. We made Blueberry Sauce to slather atop our lake trout for dinner tonight. First you heat up a couple teaspoons of oil. Add to that a small minced onion (with some sea salt). After that sautes for two minutes, add a fresh jalapeno chili, seeded and minced. I substituted dried peppers from last year’s garden. Later add 1/4 vinegar, 2 T. sugar and 4 T. spicy mustard. Finally, 1 cup fresh blueberries. Simmer 10-15 minutes, then blend in food processor til smooth.
It’s…interesting. We will make it again. (I adjusted the recipe from 1 T. of sugar to 2 T. because the recipe tasted a bit too tart.) It does not taste too sweet. And it definitely creates an intriguing sauce for fish. Especially if you eat a LOT of fish and want to try different sauces. The recipe comes to you, modified, from Christina Pirello’s book Cooking the Whole Foods Way.
Fresh pea pods sauteed in dark sesame oil and blueberry sauce over lake trout
We ate on the deck. Which made it an outdoor adventure, even before we spooned the blueberry sauce on that fish!!
Leaves in luscious moss
Oh my, oh my. Sometimes I just sit down at this computer and think “There’s nothing to write about, absolutely nothing to say”. This is one of those nights. I feel like I’ve been babbling every single night for seven and a half months. What possibly could be left to say? What story left to tell?
So then my job is to ignore the voice who insists there’s nothing to say…and start typing. To see what comes out. To see what the encounter with the outdoors wants to share.
Really need to buy Harvey's book to positively identify this. Think it's knapweed
So I started walking up the road this afternoon, planning to visit a woods I named Marantha many years ago. I was going to share all about one of my favorite special places in the woods with you. How she was razed, logged, scarred and cut many years ago. How I agonized over her logging. But then suddenly…it sounded all too familiar. And finally it occurred that the blog about Marantha had already been written. Remember the photo of the porcupine’s rear end quivering in his winter quarters? Click here for a memory refresher.
So the story had already been told. But the story of this summer day, August 3rd, 2009 had not been told. And a new story is born every day. Every minute. If we but open our eyes to look.
Here is a summertime view of where the porcupine lives in winter.
The porcupine, of course, is nowhere to be seen. Off cavorting in trees or raising babies or sticking quills in intruders, perhaps. There were plenty of chipmunks dashing to and fro. And chickadees, woodpeckers and other assorted songbirds. Mosquitoes galore, although none biting viciously unless you sat lazily on a log in the sun for an extended amount of time, listening. Lots of flies. No wood ticks, though. They’ve mostly disappeared from the woodland scene in early August.
Red leaf green leaf
If you carry a jar or yogurt container, there are lots of raspberries in this woods. After the forest trees fell, raspberry bushes grew up in the openings. I picked at an easy pace, enjoying a juicy red berry in between collecting them for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. The temperature actually reached 75 degrees today, so it felt hot again.
Big hemlocks in Marantha (in a mostly unlogged area)
When you return home after walking an hour or two in a special woods, letting your feet determine where they want to go, wandering here and there, you will feel so energized and alive. As if the forest has taught you things in her silence. The forest tells stories, but not in words. She speaks in the language of moss, flowers, bark, mosquitoes, ferns and raspberries.
Tendrils of earth cling to the roots of an uprooted tree
OK, I’m warning you all. This blog may get a little mushy. And it’s not even our anniversary until next month.
This blog is for my husband Barry. Because he’s the best. Seriously. He has been one of the best supporters of this outdoor commitment. Many days he waxes enthusiastically about how wonderful this is. How it’s been one of the best years, ever. How we’ve done more things than usual, visited more places than usual, experienced more adventures. He loves to read these blogs. (I suspect that’s because he’s a writer and photographer himself.) He’s a newspaper editor who writes a column usually once a week. He says: “I can’t believe it. You have to write a column every night.”
See why I love the guy?
Therefore, tonight’s blog is devoted to show and tell about his big project. What is exciting him. But don’t worry, I went outside today. Mostly sat on the deck. But for at least an hour or two. So I think that counts. I also went outdoors to help him with his project. Which you will see in the following photograph.
Can you guess what lies hidden under this tarp?
A show of hands now, please. Anyone know what is hidden beneath the tarp, sticking half inside and half outside the garage?
Well, obviously some of you know.
It’s his pride, his beauty, his love (besides me, that is.) It’s his 24-foot 1976 hard top Sea Ray boat. He purchased it for a lark as a fixer-upper about a year ago. And he’s been fixing it up. It recently returned home from the fiberglass doctor up in Chassell. And he’ll soon be returning it for more work on the transom, as soon as the motor gets pulled.
And guess what happened today? With the boat backed in to the garage and tarped, he pulled the motor. It was a big day at the Drue household. You have never seen a happier man.
Would you like to see a picture of the engine?
The boat engine
There is a little strange story attached to this boat. As he was cleaning up the area behind the swim platform (after taking it off) a face revealed itself where the screws were attached. What do you think? Does it look like a ship’s captain peering out at us from the fiberglass?
Who can see the captain's face staring out from the back of the boat?
On that note, it’s time to sign off for the night. It’s been a full day. A lovely weekend. The temperature even reached 72 degrees tonight. The wind stopped blowing like crazy. Hope everyone has enjoyed their weekend!
