Lines and Baubles

Today we saw the first signs of open water from our house - at last! So before the ice disappears, here are a few gems.

Ice formations are so variable

Suspended baubles

Outlines

Winter Cushions

Yesterday's spring snow left us with soft, fluffy outdoor cushions that were prsitine, but too cold to sit on. Really and truly, Mother nature, this winter has gone on long enough. Reminding us that you can be a lion throughout March if you choose, is getting old.

Please stop trying to prove a point - we know we can't control you. We get it, now play nice!

Still no open water out there near us, though the ice is looking thinner

Borrowed Cat

 Aah, when a cat chooses you! Our time with PA has come to an end already, and oh how I miss her presence. I keep 'seeing' her or expecting her to be present and around me. How I miss those 4 kneading paws in the morning ...

 She was always there, in amongst everything, supervising and counting and judging.

She had to inspect everything, and try things out for size. Unfortunately none of our totes for packing passed muster, and we weren't able to stow her away for the voyage.

In the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the "Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything" is 42 - that's how many days to our departure.

Capricious, Fickle and Volatile

 A lot of our snow washed away during a recent heavy rain and windstorm (no power outages for us this time), so we're able to see earth and leaves in places again. Although, what will tomorrow bring?

The lake surface and light reflection changes by the hour it seems - so incredibly capricious! This changeable nature of water makes living on a lake a real pleasure for sure - something new to see every day. we're still awaiting open water and the arrival of waterfowl.

Contemplating Conservation

In helping conserve items from the dismantled train layout, I found myself consider conservation in general. By conserving it, we ultimately alter it, it does not remain static - this altered piece of the dramatic valley is to be used as a display in our new home.

 “We can’t conserve anything, and especially not social relations, without altering their nature, arresting some part of their interaction with time in an unnatural way.” 

- Sally Rooney 

Debbie Does Demo

I ventured downstairs to help the guys by retrieving foliage and vegetation from the train layout. I found myself doing divine work, that is, de-vining the layout by levering each individual grape plant out of the brown plaster-of-paris slopes.

Dale made each of these plants individually, by hand. It's been a huge investment of time and devotion, so they are really valuable. Removing them carefully will likely render them useful a second time around.

Now we're left with denuded slopes, ready to be eroded away, without vegetation to slow down rainfall!

Some slopes were retrieved intact

Basement Found

It's beginning to look very different in our basement these days as the train layout slowly gets dismantled

  

Walls are re-appearing, and access round the room is mostly unobstructed

      

Picture Perfect

 We were 'gifted' with yet another little snowfall - quite pretty in the morning light. It's a gorgeous color palette ... but it's mid-March. This snow fell just before the Ides of March, the turning point that Shakespeare referenced to to amplify 'betrayal, political danger and the fragility of power' (AI overview).

 Come on! We need some open water before we leave.

Food For Thought

Frederick Douglass was an astute educator - I love this quote of his, which obviously refers to human beings, not specifically males, when he refers to 'men'.

Image from Lines/Loopholes exhibit, by John P Gardiner.

FIFTY Days

We have 50 days left before we fly to the U.K. on a one-way ticket to live in our new home! Our flights are booked for May 4 

Oooh, mixed feelings, for sure: exciting and scary, happy and sad ...

50	40	30	20	10
49	39	29	19	9
48	38	28	18	8
47	37	27	17	7
46	36	26	16	6
45	35	25	15	5
44	34	24	14	4
43	33	23	13	3
42	32	22	12	2
41	31	21	11	1

    

A Retelling of a Mud Adventure

In May 2013, the dam wall on Lake Arrowhead needed extensive repairs, necessitating dropping the water-level down between 6 and 8 feet, and our attractive, lakefront property became a smelly silt-deposit-frontage. I wrote about it in my letter to family (my father was living with us at that time, but decided it wasn't worth sharing with HIS friends because it was just about mud!). I've reposted it here, despite it having occurred after mud season because, well, ... it's all about mud!

"Oh my body aches! And it’s not just that I’m getting old, it’s that I’m doing hard, manual labor that someone my age with bad knees shouldn’t be doing, but I do it anyway because it gives me such a thrill. It really matters to me. The drained-out “lake” leaves exposed layers of silt and mud, which have become a nursery for invasive milfoil, so I have been raking, scooping and digging as much of it out as I can and then transporting it up and away from the lake. The mud-ooze is so powerful and strong - it clings to the shovel, and can’t easily be flung off and away, requiring even more effort to move it out of the cove. It does have a nice voluptuous quality to it, though - it moves and jiggles like cellulite, and the wobble is quite pleasant to see when it’s not one’s own body! It’s jolly hard work, but for me, so satisfying. I remember how proud I always felt as a child when my Mom described me as a Tom-Boy, and I’m still one! And still proud of it!

The lake floor looks deceptively firm, like a thin bed of slick-topped soil, partially dried out, but I discovered very quickly that it wasn’t thin, nor firm. Before I knew how sucky-viscous it was, I'd sunk in above my knees, and the aqueous mud had rolled downward into my boots (looking like slow motion, but actually happening quickly), making it impossible to lift out as one - it was like being stuck in concrete. In attempting to continue moving forwards and get back onto firm ground, my foot slid right out of the boot. The pressure from the mud on all sides immediately forced my boot to collapse inward. I was forced to put my sock-exposed foot into the mud for balance, and then fumble around for the top of my boot top to free it with my mucky hands, which though gloved, also had to endure the insidious ooze of mud. Quite an exhausting mode of locomotion, when there is so much suction and pressure - one just HAS to give up the idea of not caring about getting too muddy!!!! Maybe I should take up bog snorkeling next? Did I mention that I was having fun?

 

With the lake level so low, we could walk all the way to the dam along the exposed shoreline, which I did a few days ago with a wheelbarrow to collect a large flat rock for my rock garden. The one I picked was spectacular - broad and flat on one side, but heavy and thick. I had to push the loaded wheelbarrow through soft muck at times and it kept sinking or tipping over, so I scrounged for discarded boards washed up at the edge of the woods to place under the wheel and supports for purchase, and support. I felt as if I was dealing with a challenge from the Amazing Race, or Survivor in the blazing sun, and despite toiling for about 30 minutes, I discarded my chosen rock after noting how little progress I was making (I’ve now put it on my “Wishlist” for Mother’s Day). Mud provides a perfect medium for tracing the delicate, zig-zag movements of crunchy leaves and acorns, as well as tracking the more indented prints of squirrels, foxes, deer and humans. I figured that one day, many years hence, scientists will be examining the mud-struggle pattern of my fossil trace in the rock strata, trying to determine what that human was aiming to do! The mud patterns make for quite an interesting “documentary” of my “progress,” or rather attempt, at claiming a prized, carefully selected treasure.

I’ve been having so much fun, despite the difficulties I experience during and after my time in the wobbly and fickle mud. At the end of the day, I soaked my hands and feet in water for hours to get rid of the dark stains that had insidiously trickled into every crack and line of my skin, and under my nails, giving them an overall unhealthy looking yellow tint. I don't mind the feel of the mud - it's actually beautifully smooth, sensual, and cool, and I honestly loved my mud adventure. Dealing with unseen fish hooks, branches, rocks, mussels, broken glass and leeches was a tad off-putting, as was the strain on my knees when I tried changing direction whilst impounded. But now at least I have the lingering sensation of luxuriantly silky mud on my skin, knowing that at the same time I'm fighting milfoil!

I’ve always felt close to nature, connected to it, so tackling this task satisfied my environmental-evangelist tendencies (I’m one of those people who imagines a physical blow to my own body when I contemplate habitat loss and environmental destruction). I tackled it with love and gusto, and the satisfaction and sense of fulfilment I derived from working in the fickle mud made every residual body ache and pain worthwhile."

Feather Light

 Look at how beautifully delicate this feather is on the snow

The close up pattern is amazing

Puddles and Patterns

Puddles can look really icky,

  

  and not worth investigating,   

 

but really when you look closely, 

there are  often intriguingpatterns to notice

Approved

Another positive step to check off our list - Dale's UK visa to live with me till 2028 has been approved. All our next planned steps are now possible ...

If he behaves well, I will allow it to be renewed!

This approval came through on the same day that my eldest brother had his British citizenship bestowed in Miami. Lots to celebrate tonight.

Luscious Mud

Mud season is here, and walking outside feels like an exertion, like walking on soft beach sand or through deep snow! Our untarred roads are glidey; car tires slide into the grooves of muddy channels, and there's no steering out of them, you just have to commit to the trajectory you find yourself on. It's a funny feeling not having total decision-making control.

Book Antiquaria

I found a home for some of our oldest books - Carlson Turner Antiquarian Books and Bookbindery. I really didn't want to see them go into a dumpster because they were dated. Our Transfer Station would likely throw them out, and the library book sales have some reservations about older books, for which they may not have a market. 

I wasn't looking for remuneration, just appreciation for old books that still have a life and value to them. We dropped them off in Portland and felt happy about doing so.

Our coffee table and field guide Africana books were claimed by a friend at the Lake Stewards of Maine this week, too. Things are moving ... sometimes slowly, but all in the right direction