Update 12/3/19: We just got 3 feet of snow in one week and I want to play! I've been browsing all the resort/hill websites today to contemplate the best getaway and I want to put this here as a PSA to everyone with 4th-graders this year (and a reminder to myself for when I have one!) : https://www.spiritmt.com/index.php?slug=fourth-graders-ski-free https://www.skiandboardmn.com/member-program-offerings-20192020-season The rest of the info below is a little dated and I don't feel like updating, but I still think a good place to start when ski dreaming... Anyone know what's up with WhiteCap these days? Are they open yet? At all? Do they have a Magic Carpet? I didn’t really get into skiing when I was a kid. I didn’t learn when I was little (like a lot of my friends did) and then was always just more comfortable reading a book, or playing cards in the chalet. But returning here, it’s become one of the things I look forward to most in the winter. The first winter I was home, Jen brought me a pair of used xc-ski boots and skiis, and there hasn’t been a winter since that I don’t enjoy getting out on the xc-ski trails. There are several options for xc-skiiing up here. Listed in order of my faves: Mt Valhalla Recreation Area has trails and parking lots on either side of County Road C, 8.5 miles north of Washburn. I really love the B-loops of both the Teuton and Valkyrie trails. Fun rolling hills, but nothing too hard or scary. The A-loops are great for learning on too. There is a parking fee (maybe $5) or you can get a season sticker at the Forest Service office or Leino’s Gas Station in Washburn for around $20. Mt Ashwabay has a great system of groomed trails for all abilities and hosts a fun women’s XC-ski group on Wednesday nights with free rentals. The Jerry Jolly Trail has one downhill that is scary, and grooming can be a little less consistent, but otherwise is a beautiful trail, especially along the creek. Dogs are welcome on the first stretch. And it’s fun to ski over to the Ashwabay chalet for a drink. I also really love when Jen and I stop and try a new trail when we're drivng home from visiting friends or family south of us or in the U.P. There are so many to check out! photo by Kaite, Wednesday sunset ride at Mt. Ashwabay Honestly, I've never gotten into downhill skiiing, but in recent years I've started snowboarding, and love it! Jen has started tele-skiing and together we have been taking advantage of the exchange program included with our Ashwabay Season passes, offering one free pass to each of the following ski areas.
***Please confirm hours by checking the website or calling! I wanted to collect this info, so I'd have a go to spot when deciding where to ride next, but I also know that with this type of business especially, hours can change!*** Big Powderhorn in Bessemer, MI OPEN 9am-4pm daily A great hill for beginners, with long gradual runs and little rollers. This is where it really clicked for me and I love to come back. Mt Zion in Ironwood, MI OPEN Tues/Wed/Thurs 2-6pm & Fri 2-9pm through Feb. 26 Friday 4-9pm; Sat 9am-4pm; Sun 12-4pm through end of season We went here in 2018 and it was super fun. Similar size as Ashwabay, but with tubing, a fast lift, and fun run at the top of the hill with lots of little tangents through the trees and homemade jumps. I highly recommend checking it out. Mont Du Lac just west of Superior, WI OPEN Tues-Thurs 4pm-8pm, Friday: 4pm-9pm Saturday: 10am-9pm, Sunday: 10am-6pm A similar feel to Ashwabay, but with less lake affect snow, more night skiiing, and more active bar scene. We went on a Thursday night for "Tunes and Turns" and had a great time despite the icey snow conditions. Mt Ripley in Hancock, MI OPEN Mon-Thurs 3-9pm. Friday 1-9pm Saturday 10am-8pm, Sunday 10am-5pm (shorter hours in March) Another smallish hill, with just three lifts, but it has a few really fun glade runs to cruise through and the main chair lift offers great views of the tricky college kids in the terrain park. The slopes face the west, so on the afternoon when we went it was sunny and the snow was kind of soft (but still fun). We've heard though the mornings after a sunny day can be pretty icy. Porcupine Mtns Ski Area in Ontonagon, MI OPEN Friday Saturday Sunday and Monday 9am-5pm for downhill A small hill with one three-person chair lift and a tow-rope across the top of the mountain, and yet a variety of fun runs, GREAT powder, and the BEST views of the lake. After a few runs we packed a little back-pack with our sandwiches and a couple beers and had a picnic lunch on the top of the mountain. Great for xc-skiiing too! Some year I want to go to the Porkies for a week or long weekend. You can rent the Lodge in the park which has modern facilities and sleeps up to twelve for $190/night (call (906) 885-5275 x 0 to reserve). There is a four-night minimum to book, and I could stay there the whole time and coordinate the trip. Others could come for 1-4 nights. Maybe each night we divide the $190 by however many people are there to determine how much everyone pays. Who's in? :) Also part of the Ashwabay Season Pass exchange program: Chester Bowl in Duluth, MN OPEN Mon/Thurs/Fri 4:30-8:30pm; Sat&Sun 11am-4:30pm and Marquette Mountain in Marquette, MI OPEN Mon/Tues 11am-5pm; Wed-Fri 11am-8:30pm; Saturday 10am-8:30pm; Sunday 10am-5pm March 20th thru April 12th – call ahead as times change due to conditions. We have yet to check these two out, mostly because we have enjoyed going to some of the bigger hills nearby that aren't part of the exchange program, but offer a local rate Sunday through Thursdays (which is when Jen and I have been more available to get away for a ski day). WhiteCap south of Saxon, WI OPEN 9am-4pm daily maybe call ahead to be sure (715) 561-2227 I couldn't find the local rate listed on the website, but it was half price when we went last year, so $22.50 for a full day adult lift ticket or $19 for a half day. This place is really... retro? But super fun, has a cute little ski-in wine hut, and we've been told is cool with people bringing in their own food and drinks too. Indianhead just east of Ironwood OPEN Daily 9am-4pm and Blackjack OPEN Saturday 9am-8pm, Sunday 9am-4pm Local Rate is $30/day, kids 9&under are FREE with an Adult lift ticket The closest big hill, but I'd rather not give them my money until they change their name/imagery Spirit Mountain in Duluth, MN OPEN Mon-Fri 10am-8pm; Sat 9am-8pm; Sun 9am-6pm They don't offer a local rate that I know of, but it seems if you buy ahead online, you can get a pretty good deal mid-week. I just looked it up for next Tuesday and was quoted $25 for an adult lift ticket. Giants Ridge almost to Ely, MN OPEN Mon-Thurs 9:30am-4:30pm, Fri-Sun 9am-8pm Didn't see a local deal. Only $18 from 4-8pm. Lutsen Mountains south of Grand Marais, MN OPEN Mon-Fri 9:30AM-4:00PM, Sat/Sun 9am-4pm From their website: "There are many nice ski hills in the Midwest, but only one true mountain resort. By any measure – vertical rise, variety of terrain, resort facility, value – there is no comparison." Of course this also means lift tickets are $82/day. Because of the distance to get there, and lack of a local discount, it seems the Getaway Package would be the best way to go-- two days skiing and two nights lodging for under $300 a couple. They also offer $39 lift tickets if their season extends past April 8. Mount Bohemia north of Houghton, MI OPEN Mon-Fri 10:30am-4:30pm, Sat&Sun 9:30am-5pm (some nights later) This place has a lot of hype and likely the best snow conditions. Lift tickets are $62 "any day, any age, any time" or you can buy a 10-year season pass for $599
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With a fat beet. Yikes. Over five months since our last blog post. It’s been on my mind to write. Little notes here and there. But only now creating the time, to sit at my laptop with my back to the woodstove, wet hair drying after another nice fall run and shower. Fall has been more relaxed than summer for sure, but still kind of busy-- farm wrap-up, vacationing, negotiating winter work, finalizing details to finally build our house, out and abouting with O.… Today I brought him to the farm to hang with my parents for the afternoon. My mom was in the kitchen in the midst of a batch of pickled beets. It’s a good beet year in the garden. She told me she had harvested two large bags already and encouraged me to go out and harvest more. I have a goal though to enjoy and use the garden, but not let it stress me out. I enjoyed planting a couple heads of garlic in one of our raised beds with Oscar this morning, but was ready to move on with my day. I did incorporate beets into our dinners this week, a sheet pan dinner, and this awesome crockpot borsht that uses beets, carrots, cabbage, and venison (subbed for the beef). I’m partly making a point to write this post now, so I can find the recipe link again under my soup tag. This blog, for me, is both a way to connect and share, and a place to record and file away recipes, memories, books/articles, places to visit, etc. Blog posts coming soon (maybe) on my recent recommended reading and U.P. vacation spots. (In six words: the latest Sherman Alexie and Marquette.) This time last year, Kaite and I were dreaming and writing this blog into existence. I don’t need it in the same way this year, but I’m glad it’s here, and I wanted to say hi. Need any beets?
Yesterday I intentionally skipped in the inauguration, as many other Americans did. I’m still in disbelief that the Obamas aren’t our first family and that Trump indeed won the election. Nobody’s jumped out from around a corner yelling, “You’ve been punked, HAHAHA!” like I’ve been hoping for over the past two and half months. But today I jumped out of bed--rushing down the stairs to clear our dining room table, spreading out the images I had collected from one of my favorite street artists, Shepard Fairey, shuffling laundry upstairs, and then texting friends to drop by for an impromptu sign making party before the Women’s March began a block down from my house. When I first heard mention of our local march I wondered what it’d be like? Five or so ladies standing around in the circle thrusting signs into the air until they got wet and cold and then I would invite them over for tea and cookies? With further thought, conversations, and a look at a nationwide map of the sister marches happening across our country in solidarity with the march on Washington my “why” rapidly shifted. Emily decided to skip her breastfeeding class in favor of marching with her growing babe as a more meaningful feminist move. We giggled and used school supplies as we thought of sassy slogans and discussed how cool it is going to be for her to be able to tell her daughter that she too was part of the biggest protest in U.S. history. My neighbor dropped by for pink construction paper and Oscar showed up in his bee costume with mamma Mag ready to attach a sign to his backpack carrier. Lizzy and Jesse walked up to the door just in time to join us on our way to the march. My mom had already arrived and was sending inquiring texts. Over 500 area residents showed up in a town of 487 people. More than once I heard myself saying out loud, “this is why I live here” and it must have passed through my thoughts a million more times. Everywhere I looked I saw my favorite people or someone that I wished I saw more of. Someone that I needed to hug. Solidarity. Community. Love. This was it. Full heart. Marching through town to our lake, traditional songs sung by tribal women on the ice as we hummed along to their Ojibwe eloquence, brunch, and giggles with my crew and suddenly I was tucked in back home watching movies the rest of the drizzly January day thinking about how proud I am of where I call home. How important and easy it is to be a participant in this community. The people here are hungry for collaboration and participation. I couldn’t feel a stronger sense of belonging. Thankful for my mamma showing me how to be a feminist, proud of my step dad for marching, and grateful to be linked in arms with my best friends beCAUSE. The future of this country and the world is surely unstable, but today, even just for a moment I couldn’t have felt more stable.
And that makes me think we, the people, will figure this all out together. So many beautiful familiar faces filling the main street of our small town. Walking down the middle of the road while the sidewalks are slick with ice. To the lake. Children playing and women’s voices singing Ojibwemowin on the ice. I'm glad I can linger. I stop by the farm. Lean against the woodstove and talk with my mom. Leave Oscar to nap with my dad. I don't mind the rain on the windshield as I cry to a Dear Sugar podcast while I drive to Washburn. Remember the rain in Cologne the morning the election results came in. Can't think of a better way to spend the afternoon than finishing a puzzle and eating soup with Theresa, accompanied by the chatter of Svea and one of her besties playing nearby. Leslie texts a picture of her Aunt marching in Paris and asks, "wanna be political with me?" Jen has a couple hours at home between dogsled trips and coming to meet us in town.
Living in an isolated area, and with work that changes with the seasons, I sometimes struggle to find friends whose schedule's mesh with mine. I’ve had varied success scheduling meet-ups via facebook, but I wonder if there is a way to advertise my availability in a more lasting and universally accessible way. Like here? My weekly schedule changes every season (sometimes every month), but January through March is pretty consistent, and more relaxed, since the farm is quiet. Mondays and Fridays, I’m usually in Washburn while Oscar is at daycare. Kid-less lunch date? Or playdate with kiddos after I pick him up at 3:30? Wednesdays, Oscar and I try to make it to storytime around 10am at the Bayfield Library, then head down to the Rec Center for Gym Kids at noon. He goes to the farm for nap and I can play for a bit at the hill before I start my bartending shift. Come be my lift buddy? Join the Women’s XC-ski group? Or just visit come visit me at the bar? Thursdays?? (It’s nice to have at least one of those days each week.)
Saturdays (and some Sundays) I’m at the hill noon to 4:30pm. Ski with me before or after my shift? Or let me make you a drink? Tuesdays and Sundays are Jen’s days off, so we might try to get you to come skiing with us. Or we might say we are going to go and then spend the day doing chores and vegging at home. :) I’ve learned no matter where I live or where my people live, we won’t always see each other. Even the city can feel lonely. We are separated not just by physical distance, but by the going-ons of our life. We find connection in moments that can be shared in varied time and place-- emails, a picture posted to Instagram, a recalled memory. And then sometimes there is a window of opportunity to be together again. I hate those people who post pictures of their trees with all the presents under them. I hate it when all kids at school can talk about is what they want for Christmas, what they are getting for Christmas, what they got. I’m thinking about that kid looking down and probably feeling bad and wonder if they’ll get anything? Will they at least, hopefully, feel loved or be warm? I’m thinking about the tragedy in Aleppo. I’m thinking about people that are sick or lonely or of the guy I saw a few weeks ago sleeping in a blue sleeping bag in a park in sub-zero temps. When I was little I loved the anticipation of Christmas--the decorating, the baking and preparing--but Christmas has alway felt kind of sad to me, even when I loved it. Mostly my dad wasn’t around, but one year we were all home, Mom, and Dad and I. I remember crying because I got so many presents and my mom didn’t get that many. I felt bad for her. She deserved presents. She was the best. Another year I was in a church Christmas program. (I went to church school for the cookies, how did I end up here?) I remember my mom being sick to her stomach because my aunt was battling breast cancer and all this “joy” didn’t make that much sense at that time to her. I didn’t quite get it, but my mom was hurting so I was hurting. I remember waiting, kind of always...for this to be fun, the actual Christmas part. There was this one really awful Christmas. My mom made us go to my grandparents even though I just wanted to stay home. We fought each other and the weather the whole drive down. Mom and I, my uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents, enjoyed dinner, and exchanged gifts. There were some drinks the adults had, and then all of a sudden a few people had had too much to drink. My uncle was crying, my mom was crying, and all of a sudden it seemed like everyone was crying and I’m not really sure why. My grandma and grandpa were mad because the kids had drank too much. She told everyone to leave and go to bed. The evening fractured and I woke up the next morning after our “merry” evening to hear my mom telling my Grandma we were leaving. Yessss, I thought! Let’s get out of this place, bad vibes. “No, you’re going to stay here and be miserable with all of us.” Then, there was the year I wanted to break up with my boyfriend, but my mom wouldn’t let me do it on Christmas. She was right, it wasn’t the time, it would have been horrible. Nevertheless, I had a god damn melt down in the middle of Trader Joe’s feeling sick about it all. People were staring, tears were streaming down my face, I was struggling to catch my breath, I was sobbing and was tasked with pulling it together by the time we got back to our shared apartment. I remember lying in bed next to him that night feeling stiff as a board and awful. There was the time my mom and I got the creepiest pedicure in a basement establishment. We were working the “treat-yo self” angle. We walked into this nondescript, despite the neon blinking nail sign, salon and accidentally woke up the Hmong guy who was peacefully sleeping to Bonanza blaring on a black and white television at the bottom of the stairs. Shit. Once we got down there and assessed the situation we were ready to bolt, but he was stirring and to leave would have be incredibly rude, especially in the holiday spirit despite our desperate urge. It was strange, the whole experience. Laughably, beyond uncomfortably strange, and definitely memorable. For a long time my mom and I have muscled our way through. Always relieved when the 26th rolled around, when we got to shake off the commitments and pretenses of Christmas and go hiking or sledding or ice skating with my cousins and aunt and uncle. That was the highlight and finally we were able to exhale. My aunt told my mom to create new traditions and memories so we wouldn’t hate it as much. Instead of decorating for Christmas my mom and I learned to decorate for and celebrate, winter--twinkle lights galore, and a touch here or there of holiday, pulling out my aunt's beautiful holiday quilts, not too much. We have some special family traditions that still mean a lot to me. I’ve never had a cut Christmas tree or artificial one. We’ve always had a potted norfolk pine in our living room that my mom leaves lights on year round, we just plug them in when tis the season. There’s the wooden heart ornaments my grandfather made for our tree since the delicate branches can’t handle heavy ones. And although we're not much for Christmas, we celebrate New Years with an epic family ski party brimming with ski wax talk, specialty beer, wine, cheese and crackers, saunas, salmon and an over stuffed kitchen of winter enthusiasts.
So this year, I’m not feeling so bad about things. My mom is remarried and John doesn’t push the Christmas thing on us. I don’t think it's really his thing either, thank god. They have bright, shiny giggly two year old grandaughters to make Christmas fun for them. They take a weekend earlier in the month and holiday it up in southern Wisconsin. I stay home because I hate that long drive and I’m just not Christmasy and it’s okay. But I am happy for them and my step-siblings that they have that time and fun celebrating. There’s a lot of icky going on in the world, but my students have been doing this service learning project in the community and I’m really proud of them and the differences they’ve been making and the things they’ve realized about themselves and helping others through the process. Josh and I are all settled in our cute little house with a just barely Christmas tree (potted of course) and we’ve got plans to join my mom and John for Christmas Eve dinner and then go snowboarding in the U.P. on Christmas. It’s sounding pretty bright to me and I’m already hoping the New China Restaurant will be open so we can pick up Chinese food and my favorite ever egg rolls on our way home. I’m trying not to get too optimistic, or specific about how it all plays out although it sounds like I haven’t done a very good job of that specific part really, hello egg rolls. Mostly I’m just hoping for a cheerful day. For me. For my loved ones. For my students. For as many people as possible. One of my goals this year has been to let go of things that I have been holding onto for a long time that are unhealthy. Overall I am not sure how well I did on this, but as far as how I am feeling about Christmas? I’m thinking I’m doing okay. There’s still a hovering sadness, but it’s whatever I want it to be and if I’m with people I love I’d call that a win. Even if we don’t end up snowboarding and just hang out at home that’d be okay too I think. Spring 2014: Making room for baby O. Water! June 2014 November 2014: Cement poured just as the first snow falls... ...means Mama gets a fire-ring and Oscar gets a sandbox by their birthdays This years project: a woodshed. Next year's project: Bedrooms?!
I listened to this past episode of This American Life yesterday while I pruned and then read an article by Nikole Hannah-Jones today.
I want to share it with some of my own comments, but I'm treading cautiously as it's such a sensitive topic and I'm not trying to inspire lots of hurt and angry comments. I thought her information and examples of how many schools really still are very segregated, and in turn very much limit opportunities for the students in these schools, was just such a clear example of how racism continues everywhere in this country. Yes, white dudes in cowboys boots driving trucks with confederate flags and trump bumper stickers are a caricature of racism (and are just straight up A-holes) but there are also lots of privileged educated people living in blue-states, talking politically-correct, that will always want their kids in what their idea of the "best" school is, regardless of what that leaves for the most disadvantaged, AND those type of people tend to have a lot more power and money to also make it so--to be in the room when the district lines are being drawn, to drive their kids to another school, or move if need be. We don't live in an urban area with poor black and latino families living in public-housing projects, just a few blocks away from million-dollar homes and the upper-class families that live in them. But we do live in a school district that includes very poor families, and very expensive homes, that includes an Ojibwe Indian reservation, farmland, an island, and a town with a lakeview and homes that more and more are owned by somewhat wealthy retirees and "summer people." A school district that has a population that is about 55% Native and 45% white, and a school student population that is 77% Native and has 60% of students taking free or reduced lunch. As I listened to this podcast, it did make me think of the “white flight” out of the Bayfield school when open enrollment became an option to families in our area about 15 years ago. It wasn't an immediate thing that students left the district, but over time many families have chosen to enroll (and drive) their kids fifteen miles away in the Washburn School which has a student and town population that is over 80% white, with 45% taking free or reduced lunch. We live in a small rural community, so I know several of those families personally. For many, I believe it was a tough decision. I was in high school at the time that open enrollment started, allowing families to enroll their children at any school they choose, although out-of-district students would need to provide their own transportation. My mom ran a daycare in our home and I remember many of the daycare parents asking my opinion on the Bayfield School. I have always advocated for Bayfield-- saying my school experience wasn't perfect, I had teachers I loved, and teachers I didn't, I was both challenged and bored, I was bullied and sometimes the bully--I think you will have that at any school. But I also made close friends that lived on the reservation, that lived on the island, that lived a life both similar and very different from my own. We played basketball. We rode the ferry for free. I had my ignorances called out and I learned. I wasn’t teased for my Pamida shoes or using the blue reduced-fee lunch ticket in the years my family’s farm had a poor berry crop. Ojibwe elders came into our classroom maybe once a month and we practiced Ojibwe words by playing animal bingo, ate popped wild rice, were told stories about Nanabozho, beaded keychains. My class went on a field trip to my farm and my dad talked about how bees make honey and he collects it. After college and time in the city, I moved back home and knew people in my community. I’m still learning I'm not trying to judge the families that send their kids to Washburn. Some try Bayfield for awhile and then switch. Every family needs to make the decision for themselves and only the people in that family know what they are dealing with when they make a decision. Unlike the schools Hannah-Jones writes about, the Bayfield School has some great teachers and enough resources to be an exceptional school even with families choosing to enroll their kids in a different district. But I feel very fortunate that I was able to attend what naturally kind of was a "desegregated" school and that I will be able to send my son on a bus to this same school. Jen Sauter-Sargent gave me a bunch of northern-grown celery (a rarity!) at the Applefest farmers' market on Friday and I enjoyed making and eating both these soups this weekend-- modified a bit by what I had on hand and to eliminate dishes: immersion blender and cook noodles in the soup! Celery Soup Pasta e fagioli Continuing the soup kick a couple weeks later, I stayed home with O and made blanket forts and this chicken wild rice soup (with a Washburn IGA rotisserie chicken carcass of course). I think almost every lazy, sort of grumpy, whatever day I've had this fall, soup has been the perfect remedy-- uses up the garden that can stress me out with it's abundance, warms, feeds, smells good.. Soup isn't hard to cook but to make it good, it takes a little bit of work here and there throughout the day or evening, and for me this is the time of year I have more time to be at home, but need to remember how to enjoy not being on the go go (I know not some people's problem) ;)
Jen crawled up in the loft to sleep at 9pm last night and Oscar was down shortly after. I climbed the ladder to the loft and tried to sleep as well, but it wasn’t happening. Instead I enjoyed a quiet hour to myself to read my book (Barkskins by Annie Proulx) and make a list of things to do before I leave on my trip to Europe next month. Renew contacts prescription. Slaughter pig. Buy new shoes? I slept hard from 10:30-5:30, but then was awake again… finally climbed down to visit the outhouse, and then read some more, and list some more. Dinner ideas this time. Ham and vegetable soup. Curry chicken. Nestled sausages. I check the time on my iPod and see I have a message from my German friend Steph. Two mornings ago I woke to a message from our Italian friend Annalisa, telling me that Steph had her baby, and all was well, a sweet picture attached. This one includes more pictures and a personal message. Only a couple of my close friends have had babies since Oscar was born. Because of the distance, I sometimes forget to include Steph and Annnalisa in my list of close friends, but they really are. Maybe the distance makes it easier to stay close in a way. We can fall out of touch, and then catch back up every few years when we can make it work to be in the same place again. Last summer they both made trips to the U.S. with their husbands. Steph and Martin in July and Annalisa and Mattia over Labor Day weekend. When I booked my ticket to Europe last month it seemed surreal that I would be able to see them again in just a year’s time, and even more surreal that I could plan to travel on my own. Ten days away from my kiddo. “I have black kitty, mama.” I hear a sleepy voice behind the curtain that separates the crib from the couch in our tiny house. “I awake!” The field outside our door is still warming to the new morning sun. I lift my not-so-baby into my arms. “Shh… It’s early. Do you want me to hold you for a bit?” Grab my book from the table and we nestle together onto the couch. A chapter or two later, a little hand is not so sleepy anymore, reaches up to pull my hair, grins behind his nook. I can read maybe one more interrupted chapter as he moves into play, pulling trucks and books from the shelf. “This one, mama.” He pushes his book over mine, and I give in. McElligot’s Pool and My First ABC. “I hungry, Mama." "What are you hungry for?" "Ummm... Candy?” “Well, Mom said she wanted to make pancakes this morning.” I say loudy. Jen groans and climbs down from the loft. Still messy haired and sleepy eyed she is boiling water for coffee, mixing pancake batter, starting on the pile of dishes in the sink. I pull a half packet of breakfast sausage from the fridge freezer. In my search I toss out smushed and icey hamburger buns. I hand an unmarked container to Jen for identification and she says irritably that it’s too early in the morning for her to judge. “Why?” asks our toddler in his most annoying tone and I watch Jen cringe. “Let’s go get the mail,” I suggest to him. Pull hoodies on and smush a hat on his head. Oscar and I build an epic train track while Jen continues on the dishes. The dishrack full, Jen drains the sink of dirty water and takes a break to eat pancakes with us. “Even though it's Sunday, I do have to feed the huskies today.” She says, Applefest as explanation. “I could go either way about the going in for the parade…” I say a little later and she agrees. “I’d paddle bark bay though,” Jen suggests. My godparents own an A-frame cabin on the thin strip of sandy land that separates the bark bay slough from the Lake. This summer I had the opportunity to ask if we might stay there sometime, and we managed a short stay in August. “Cabin?” O asks, remembering our visit in August, or two weekends ago when we took our canoe to the Chippewa Flowage where my parents rented a cabin, I’m not sure. “Yup. But first we need to feed the huskys. Wanna help?” Jen asks and then turns to me sulkily, “But first I need to finish the dishes.” Reluctantly, I offer to finish and Jen smiles for the first time all morning. The joke in our house is that nothing makes me happier than when she does the dishes, but now she tells me it goes both ways. It does feel good to finally have the house sort of in order. The temps dropped dramatically this week and I spent much of yesterday going through clothes that had piled up on chairs, the floor, the car— laundering the dirty, sifting out the too summery, small, or worn. Jen and O get back from the dogyard. We have just enough lunch meat and bread for sandwiches. We load the canoe on Jen’s jeep. The passenger-side door is falling off, so I climb over Jen’s seat to get in. It’s a short paddle to the cabin, but feels good to be on the reflecting water. When we came out in August it was just for a Friday evening through Monday, with a paddle-commute to work Sunday late morning, returning after bar-tending that night, paddling in under the full moon. Although short and interrupted, it was some of the most relaxing time during our busy season. Also the day trip out the week before to check it out and sweep. And this trip now to pick up the pak-and-play we left in case we made it back for another overnight, but now the temps have dropped and our schedule has filled. On our paddle back, we make plans to have a broomball party on the slough this winter. We grab a few groceries at Ehler’s on our way through Corny and then take winding out-of-the-way backroads home while O naps. Jen points out which roads we’ve dogsledded over, or where she wants to run the dogs next. When we stop to pee, me climbing out my window, Jen tells me of her plan to hook a team of huskys up to her jeep, as she bends down looking under the front bumper for a spot to hook up the line. There isn’t a better season for driving the forest roads. The leaves changing color all around. The logging clear cuts lending their own beauty too, opening up a new view for a limited time. Jen points out a spot where she’s taken slash for firewood. I tell her she would enjoy my book—so far about woodsmen and sailors. As we drive I am also grateful for our re-newing forests, to be able to live amid so many trees. At home Oscar plays outside, while Jen puts in another post for the woodshed she is building us, while I make soup. |
AuthorsMagdalen Dale and Kaite Sweval grew up a layer apart, overlapping and paralleling. Belonging to the shores of Lake Superior and yet not quite belonging. Laughing and dreaming on the bench outside the ferry booth as Mag passed the time and Kaite chose her time. Left to explore as soon as they could. And then as adults returned home, perhaps to their surprise. But glad to have each other... ‘cause we know there is strength in the differences between us and comfort where we overlap. Archives
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