This past week has been cool and rainy. It started out just plain cold. But that didn't stop us from enjoying a sunny afternoon. The knitting was good.



So was the fishing



Nature's bounty (and Jim's fishing skills) kept us in trout all week



The garden was also kind to us



Then the rain started. So Keiko and I went camping! This was our second camping trip together and I'm beginning to think I should call our trips the mis-adventures of Linda and Keiko.

We went to the shore of Lake Superior to camp at the Split Rock State Park. Our site was a backpack in site and the park ranger gave us the wrong site and marked yet another site on the map. A little extra schlepping of our gear and we finally settled in our home for the night. Our camp was just in from the point in the center of the frame. Beautiful and on a secluded bay.



So we set up camp and hiked



to some falls for lunch



We had Sonoma and Stacy with us. Sonoma likes to stay close to Keiko.



All went well until supper time. Distant rumbles started Stacy pacing. She's a Norwegian elkhound and doesn't like storms. So we headed for camp and put Stacy in the tent where Keiko gave her some doggie valium. We joined her a bit later as the rain started. The lightening and thunder and rain came for three hours. Stacy shook uncontrollably until the valium kicked in. The lovely dinner of Thai peanut sauce over noodles with spinach leaves went uncooked while we ate peanuts, craisins and a Cliff bar. Tent leakages were minor and the garbage bags helped keep the little moisture off our sleeping bags.

Some time I'll have to share our first misadventure where we wandered about in a magical swamp for a day. . . . . but now I have to go quilt. I visited Janet Steadman's website and I'm inspired to finish my current quilt so I can get on with starting another.

It was such a beautiful night so Jim and I walked the one third mile to the gate where our driveway starts. The driveway winds down a steep hill and through a smallish cedar swamp. We don’t see any of the resident rabbits, but most don’t come out until after dark. And the hawks have gone for the day, too. The frogs oblige us with their throaty songs and they continue uninterrupted as we walk along. The trees to make our cabin came from that swamp and I try to imagine what it was like in 1934. Water that drains through the swamp is interrupted by our driveway and trickles down the ditch. The original owners kept butter cold by storing it in a box somewhere there, in cold water. Parts of the swamp feel ancient. When the spring and summer rains have made everything lush, a walk through the mossy cedar trees is like a walk through some spirited place. If the cedars could talk they would surely pass on wisdom essential to understanding our reason for being.

MOOSE! We had a MOOSE walk up our driveway. Sorry, no visuals. The tracks weren't there yesterday but were for sure there this afternoon. Jim thinks they are suspect and may be a large deer. Tracker Linda says no way, MOOSE, especially in light of the evidence of last night. During my just-before-bedtime-final-trip-to-the-outhouse, I heard some very very strange noises. I thought it was Jim in the cabin trying to freak me out with his pringle's can moose call. When I got back to the cabin Jim was in bed, playing dumb. I wasn't going to give him any satisfaction so I didn't say anything, waiting for him to ask me if I'd heard anything strange (and moose calls are very strange). Anyway, he didn't say a thing. He said today he wasn't playing in the pringles. I've played the sound in my head quite a few times and now I'm convinced it was a moose.

The tics are out. Yuck! They are my least favorite creatures up here except for fat bodied spiders. Jim picked three off his legs after a walk in the woods about sunset. Picking ticks just before bedtime makes getting to sleep tricky.

Now that we are about settled in at the cabin, it is time to think about quilting again. I want to quilt the last project I pieced and while I'm doing that, develop some ideas inspired by something in the woods that I can use as design exercises and put on some pillow covers. A couple of quick and dirty projects before I work on the next in the realities series. I need to dye fabric though, and it is still a bit cool at night as temperatures are still dipping too low to properly cure the fabrics and dyes. Anyway, I have a dye running issue I need to figure out before I dye any more fabric. The pipe that broke sprayed water all over that last quilt and the blues ran. I don't know if it was not set or if there was excess dye in the blue that didn't get washed out.

So, it is time to head for the woods and lake and get inspired. Gotta go!

Jim is forever interacting with critters. This time it was the local great blue heron. Up north at the cabin, these birds are very spooky and merely rounding a point at the lake will spook a heron sitting 200 yards away. So with amazement, we watched a great blue heron looking into a neighbor's window. At first we thought it was agitated by its own reflection. Then, neighbors Nina and Steve came out with some choice morsels of shrimp and fed Mr. Heron.



A few days later, Mr. Heron is staring in OUR window. AHA! We have shrimp. So Jim sits outside and tosses out a few. Then he gets a better idea. And he holds out the shrimp.



I was not witness to the final act in this story. Mr. Heron returns yet again a few days later. This time, Jim had $15 per pound shrimp intended for our dinner table. So he takes a single shrimp and cuts it into pieces and holds it out. The heron misses, grabs his thumb, can't tell the difference, won't let go and begins to shake his head, violently. Jim says they are very strong and have lots of little serrations on their bills. . . .. . . . .

This reminds me of another story. A few years ago we were sailing out of Key West. We had anchored, the sun had set and I had gone to bed. Jim stayed up to fish. Before long, the reel was whining as a fish pulled out line. Before long, all I heard was Jim yelling for help. Groggy, I ran up to the deck to find Jim with his thumb inside the mouth of this fish. After landing the fish, he was taking the hook out when the fish lurched forward to clamp onto his thumb. From the urgency in Jim's voice, I concluded the fish had a vise clamp for jaws. No amount of tugging could loosen the fish and free Jim's thumb. We finally found a pliers and managed to pry open its mouth. Jim's thumb was sore for days. He searched the fish books but never found out what kind of fish he'd caught.

And this reminds me of yet another story, about a parrot. . . . .


I was browsing my electronic photos the other day and found this photo of mashed potatoes served by Jim's mom last fall. The original happy meal.



I guess I must be getting lonesome for home because this photo of the grandbabies also caught my attention.



Time is passing quickly and we will return to Iowa and family soon.