Ice out !

March 29, 2016
Daytime high: 65 F.
Earliest ice out in 24 springs here

Perhaps a Paddle

Two days into Spring and the schedule is still off by about three weeks. Although the weather has cooled from the outrageous sixties of last week, the progressive regression of the lake ice continues. An inch of snow overnight is gone by the time I return form the daily grinder. We make 40 by two pm and barely freeze by daybreak. Yesterday there appeared chipmunks in various places around the woods. Poof! Sleepy from their winter's nap they are so very vulnerable now. But the dogs are equally rusty, so all the munks survive another day.

 

And the beavers are out at dusk under the full moon.
Onaabidin-Giizis
The snow crust moon
Not this year...........

 Birds of note, new arrivals:

Redtailed Hawk
Sharpshinned Hawk
Sandhill Crane
Robin
Red-winged Blackbird
Bufflehead
Hooded Merganzer
Mallards at the home place

Perhaps a shoreline paddle tomorrow...............

Then and now or The Woodchuck called it

When I was a kid
one of my more colorful uncles
had a folksy phrase or definition
ready for any event

His description of winter in northern Minnesota was,
"Nine months of ice and snow, and three months of poor sledding"
 Fifty years down the winding road, and there have been some changes

 like the lake ice pulling away from the shore

 

and rain before the equinox

the Ides of March

unprepared to measure the liquid state

and trumpeter swans everywhere.

therefore a new folksy phrase...........

"Nine months of non winter and three months of dubious sledding"

A sniff of simplicity

The bluegill comes up and out of the hole and into my hands
with a scent of uniquely lepomian slime
neither densely trout nor pungently pike
that lightly clings as a harbinger of springtime pursuits

On the edge of a faceburner

Three degrees to start the day
and six by the time I force myself to the task
the diurnal walk about
through three parcels
with three dogs and three thermal layers
and trusty ski poles to keep the presentation vertical 

Through the first five acres
the forest protects us from the wind
as we trudge into the blue path south and west
toward the property corner and an opening to the wind
my right cheek and nostril catching the first icy needles
as we break into the open
I have to turn away

Hard to port we go down the west wind
dogs all hot
on deer and rabbit turds
squirrels and voles
great horned casts
past the gully bottom
where a gut shot buck
lies deep under the stiffened drifted snow

By the time we reach the lake
the snow is coming sideways and hard
I have to turn the right side of my face
least it feels the burn too much

At the house there are pickled pike to pack
curing the week past in the dark confines of the basement fridge
Pike that slashed both spoon and plug
a late autumn frenzy that reduced two of their hoard to fillets
swimming now in vinegar, spices and cheap wine
in a recipe so antique
it calls for Silver Satin
Pre Napa Valley stuff

My face tingles still
in the jar's reflection
showing indeed
a ruddy burnt face

And Blondie fairly spins about the place, singing "Ding Dong the Justice is Dead".

Groundhogging

Midwinter grit
         or
I don't see no stinkin' shadow, OK? 

 

Odds

During a lifetime of breakfast and baking creativity
a succession of double yokers had never occurred
until today

Is there a question about a lottery ticket here?