A Raccoon On The Deck

For some unknown reason I am awake an hour early.  I decide to get up and start my day.  I brush my teeth and wander out to the kitchen. I turn on the deck light to see what is going on outside because I never know if I will have snow or rain or hail or some other kind of precipitation on my deck. First I see the deck is icy and then I see the raccoon.  The raccoon is curled up calmly munching on the suet. The raccoon has nibbled the edges of the suet very carefully so now it is a round hockey puck hunk of kidney fat. Before it can turn and look up at me I unlock the deck door and in my mean mom voice say, "Get out of here." The raccoon scrambles to it's feet and leaves right quick.  I pick up the suet, put it back in the green cage of the suet holder and put both items in my freezer. As I type this the light goes on again. I look out the window and see two raccoons.  One is under the deck and one is by the basswood tree.  Both of them amble off to the south with their high backs swaying side to side. I don't care how upset those woodpeckers get. I am not putting out suet for a long, long time. Oh, there comes the security light on again.  Dang, those raccoons do not like the security light shining on them.  Good thing! I don't mind them in the yard but I don't want them very close to the house or garage or chicken coop.  Anywhere else is fine.

A Dog In The Window

On this spring morning I drive down Highway 47 toward work in the morning.  Stopping for a red light at Pleasant Avenue I get a feeling someone is watching me.  I glance back over my left shoulder and there, in a second story window, is a dog watching me. The house is blue. The dog has big ears that flop down and a black and white face or a brown and white face or maybe even a red and white face.  All I can see is the dog's head, neck, and shoulders.  The dog is alert and looking down at the street to the north and to the south. Is the dog sitting on a couch or a chair?  How many times have I missed this dog looking at me? For some reason, noticing this dog that notices me gives me a feeling of comfort and security.  The light turns green.  I drive on.  The morning light is interesting as I cross the Rum river.  As I come to the top of the hill that arcs up over the railroad tracks, the morning sun is breaking over the horizon like a red rubber ball. Do I have problems?  Yes, we all have problems.  But today is a good day (so far).  And the next morning I see the dog in the window is there again.

Big Little Lies

I both liked and disliked this book as I read Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty.  Sometimes I thought it went over the top and then in the next paragraph I would amend my opinion and think the author was spot on. I did not like how the women and the men in the book were portrayed as being so snarky but the truth of it is, sometimes women are snarky.  Sometimes women are snarky for good reason.  When I think back to how I acted when I went to my children's school to pick them up or go to school conferences or to volunteer at the book sale, I suppose I came across as snarky too sometimes.  Being a parent is a stressful time in life   Some parents feel responsible for the actions of their offspring more than others.  Whether the school is in Minnesota or in Australia, the parental reactions remain the same.  This story is set is Australia and I hear it is also a television series. So if I come to a point in my life where I want to spend some hours focusing on other people's problems to take my mind off my own problems, I just might watch that television series.

Chainsaw Safety

One of the ways I dealt with my strong feelings about the black walnut tree was to take a class in chainsaw safety.  That class was held yesterday at a place in North Branch called the Womens Environmental Institute. The class went all day and included lunch which, by the way, was a delicious lunch.  We had two kinds of soup (potato leek and carrot lentil), bread, fruit, vegies, chips, hummus, coffee, tea, cookies and brownies.  Who could ask for a better lunch? I got the directions to the place on google maps but what really helped me get there was an email that told me to look for Amador Hill and the place would be on the right. Holy Hannah, that Amador Hill was a very noticeable glacial feature.  The driveway to the class was mud and as steep as the hills in Seattle or Duluth or San Francisco. The driveway was also very narrow with a tree canopy sheltering it from the sun.  I was glad the driveway was frozen mud instead of melted mud.  I put my foot on the gas and gunned it up suppressing most of my anxious giggles. At the top of the giant hill the trees were cleared and I saw an old house and a barn and a bunch of other buildings.  A man told me where to park and as I got out I was still giggling when another car pulled up. A very short woman about my age clambered out of her car with a big old chainsaw and she was giggling too.  I didn't bring a chainsaw and she and I hung out together and she let me use hers when it came time to take it apart and put it back together.  She had an electric Remington chainsaw. The other 25 women had all kinds of chain saws.  There was one Stihl chainsaw with a 12 inch bar that I thought was very cute until I realized you had to hold your wrists so close together that it wouldn't be comfortable. I held Poulan chainsaws and Husqvarna and Echo. There was gas models and electric and even rechargeable battery chainsaws. I enjoyed my day in North Branch. Whether I buy another chainsaw remains to be seen.  I met a large group of very interesting women.  Later this month they are going to have a class on tractor maintenance. I raised my hand and asked, "Do we get to drive the tractor?"  She said yes!  OMG, I would really love to drive a tractor but only on the top of the hill. No way would I ever drive a tractor up or down that steep driveway!

Black Walnut Passion

In the picture above is the tree that has brought out passionate feelings in me for the past quarter of a century.  It stands tall in the center of the photograph with arching branches and a thickening in the middle of the trunk where trimmed branches used to be.  Twenty five years ago it was much shorter. I used to stand on the snow and hang plastic eggs from the branches for spring time decorations. Twenty years ago it started producing fruit.  At first the black walnuts were interesting. Over time the walnuts became annoying. This last fall the walnuts became deadly.  As I stood at the rain barrel a breeze came up and 70 walnuts rained down on my and that is the moment I decided this tree was coming down. Now the black walnut tree is down.  I hired someone to take it down.  In the morning of the day it was scheduled to come down I looked up at the tree, shook my fist at it and said aloud, "You are going down!" Are my feelings less passionate now that the tree is down?  No.  I left specific instructions with the arborist.  Leave the trunk intact I said.  Cut the branches into fireplace lengths I said. Leave the brush and I will take care of it I said. He listened. He seemed to understand my wishes. When I came home that evening I saw the tree was down and the house was still standing.  The brush was there. The branches were cut into fireplace lengths IF YOUR FIREPLACE IS 8 FEET WIDE. The trunk was not intact.  The trunk had been sliced into various lengths varying between two feet and 7 feet as if someone was using a chainsaw for fun and at random. Was I livid?  Yes. I was boiling mad. The arborist was not in my yard at the time I got home but I could hear them working in the neighborhood.  As the sun was setting the arborist came for his money which I had ready in cash. He knocks on the door. I mention that the trunk was cut into pieces.  He says he was going to tell me about that. His employee did not listen to his instructions.  He cut the tree down himself and when he went to gather more business in the neighborhood his employee did not follow instructions.  He said the employee was probably going to get fired.  I said this employee is not going to get fired in my yard.  He said he understood.  Then I mentioned that my fireplace was not 8 feet wide. He apologized. He said he didn't notice.  He said they had to get going and could they come back on Saturday.  I am trying hard to be polite but some times it is hard to be polite.  He walked back to his truck where the other 3 fellows were waiting. I am standing on the sidewalk. All of a sudden two fellows burst out of the truck, start their chainsaws, and begin trimming the 8 foot lengths into smaller pieces.  Realizing I now had 4 agitated virile men on my property who were using chainsaws without eye protection, I decided to go into my house and lock the door. Ten seconds later there comes a knock on the door.  The arborist and the owner of the company are standing there. They apologize over and over and over.  After listening to apologies for 20 minutes while my roasted potatoes are burning in the oven, I tell them to STOP APOLOGIZING.  They want to know how to make it up to me. Why is it on me to figure this out?  I don't know how much that walnut lumber was going to be worth.  I give them their money and tell them I will get back to them on how they can make it up to me.  They want me to sign the work order.  The owner asks me the date today. I respond with, "IT'S VALENTINE'S DAY!"  They leave and I lock the door again.  I tell myself that if the  biggest problem in my life today is a tree, then life isn't so bad.  At 9:30 p.m. I text the owner and tell him I am a very unsatisfied customer.  He apologizes again.  The next day I text him and say he is going to come back and chip up that brush for me at no charge to me and he has to let me know when he is coming to do it so I can be there to supervise.  He agreed to that.  I wait until March 1st because I had not heard from him.  I text him again.  He says he can come at a certain day at 4:30.  I agree to this day and add that it needs to be done by 6 because I have to be somewhere. This was actually a lie.  I did not have to be anywhere.  I just didn't want to deal with him at sunset like I did last time.  On that day I get a series of texts from him and everyone of those text messages makes me more and more angry.  He wants to come at 7. He wants to come another day.  He wants me to call him. I call him and he says, "Just a minute," and proceeds to yell at his men while I wait there.  I hung up on him.  I ask a friend to come to my house at 4:30 for moral support and also to be a witness so I don't go too crazy on this arborist.  The arborist arrives at 4:30 and so does my friend.  By this time my anger is simmering but not boiling. The arborist asks if he can trim some of the branches in my driveway. I agree to that and I tell him besides chipping the branches he is now going to cut me 10 slices of a particular part of the trunk that are each 3 inches thick. I tell him he is going to have his finest arborist do the cutting.  He cuts the slices himself. I now. The wood is chipped.  My friend takes one of the slices to make a table top for herself. She helps me carry the other 9 pieces into my house to dry near the fireplace. Story to be continued.  Anyone interested is a black walnut slab table?

Pay It Forward

Have you ever watched those Disney classics where animals come in the house and do the cleaning?  Such things happened in both Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty and probably other ones too.  That was what I was picturing at 8:47 a.m. when I got the following series of texts from my neighbor: Your garage door is open. Is that what you want? I have to leave for work now. If you want the garage door shut I can shut it when I get home in a couple hours.  I text her back: Yes, please shut my garage door.  Then I wait and picture deer, chipmunks, woodpeckers, a possum and that stupid feral cat inside the house making mayhem. In my suddenly vivid imagination the animals were not cleaning.  They were jumping on the furniture, eating my food, and causing a ruckus. I pace and wring my hands until another text comes at 8:54 a.m. that says: Your garage door is shut.  I text her back: How can I ever repay you?  She texts me back: Pay it forward

Do You Talk To Your Pets?

I am sure I am not the only person who talks to their pets.  I do talk to the chickens but I also talk my 11  year old canary, Migwe.  I come home in the evening and ask how his day went. I give him a treat such as a piece of lime or a branch of parsley or a leaf or arugula. Sometimes I will play a youtube video of a Russian Canary.  I put the computer right at eye level so he can see who is calling to him. That perks him right up.  Other times I put on Russian forest sounds and he seems to like that too.  I make sure he has a good view of the window where the suet is hanging so he can watch woodpeckers come and go all day.  He sees a lot of woodpeckers.  My cost of suet this winter has averaged at 3 dollars a week. If I run out the little downy woodpeckers will perch right on the window sell and peck at the glass.  Yeah, old Migwe and I are pretty tight. This morning I gave him some fresh water and a spring of parsley and he bent forward and spread his wings in a thank you gesture. I told him he was welcome and to have a good day. I'll find out when I get home whether he did have a good ay or not.

Get Your Irish On!

Twenty years ago a friend of mine talked me into buying a pair of jeans that I didn't really want to buy.  The jeans have a white background with a shamrock pattern on them. I usually wear them once a year. I wore them today when I got up because today is March 17th.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do on this day off of work.  The weather was beautiful so I decided to go to the 52nd annual Saint Patrick Day parade in Saint Paul. I have heard about this parade since I was in high school. Some students would skip school to go to the parade. I never did. In college some kids would skip college to go to the parade. I never did. These people claimed to have a good time at the parade but it sounded a tad dangerous to me. Public intoxication is not always a pleasant experience to witness. I did enjoy myself at the parade today though.  I chose a sunny spot to stand where I could see well but as soon as the parade started my view was obstructed. I offered to take a picture for a group of four people standing next to me.  One woman in the group claimed to know me. She insisted. Turns out we did know each other from 5 years ago.  We were in the same book club. I couldn't see much of the parade from where I stood. I heard the Saint Paul Police Band go by and they were pretty good.  A couple groups of bag pipes went by and, well, they sounded like bag pipes. Eventually I moved off my high perch to get closer to the action. Amy Kloubachar walked by but all I could see were her signs. Some families walked by. The Finnegan family sand a nice song that involved spelling out there name. The  Taafe family walked by. The O'Connells walked by. The O'Neill's went by singing a chant, "Give me an O. Give me a N. Give me an E. Give me an I.  Give me a L. Give me another L. What does that spell?" When they yelled out what it spelled the entire family went down on one knee and I thought that was a comic touch so I clapped.  Some people threw candy.  I held up my hand hoping to catch some candy and the guy next to me put a tootsie roll in my hand. I thanked him. Every so often I would yell out, "Hey Timmy!" or "Hey there Shannon." The 20 year old woman next to me asked, "Do you know those people?" I told her no, I was just yelling out random names.  She said she liked me. I said I liked her too.  She asked me what was in my drink bottle. I showed her the tea bag string for the green tea.  She, obviously drinking something stronger than green tea, said that was a great trick and she was going to use it herself. I stayed about an hour when a tall man next to me almost knocked me over as he dove to the street to pick up a sour patch candy.  I walked back to my car in a good mood.  I was happy to finally witness a Saint Patrick's Day parade in the capital city of Saint Paul. Now I can put my shamrock pants away until March 17, 2019.

Happy March 17th!

Cow Tipping

On Thursday evening I impulsively went to a literary event at Concordia College in Saint Paul. Some people I know were going to be there.  I have driven past Concordia College before but never visited before. Much to my surprise I was able to get there, park, and find the right room in only 30 minutes from work which is less time than it takes me to get home! Inside the spacious room were college students, the people I know and the fellow from Cow Tipping Press.  Cow Tipping Press is a non-profit dedicated to nursing the creative writing of persons with disabilities. In the course of the evening four people I know read their writing aloud in front of college students, professors, family and friends.  The entire audience was asked to do some creative writing at their tables.  Sheets of paper and #2 yellow pencils were there on the table. So we did. And we all had a chance to read our work in front of everyone.  Many laughs were shared and the snacks were great too!  What any of this has to do with cow tipping is beyond me. What I did learn is that it doesn't matter if you have a disability or if you are a "neurotypical," we all have a story to tell.

1971

photo credit University of Minnesota student newspaper The  Daily.

Today I caught a minute of the news.  Normally I avoid watching television news unless it's BBC news.  At the gym I was stretching and on the news was film of high school students walking out of class today to protest the gun laws in our nation.  Suddenly my mind went back in time. All of a sudden I was a high school student sitting in one of the strangest high school libraries you have ever seen. The library was on multiple levels (maybe 5?) and large windows overlooking the athletic fields. The students had organized a walk out to protest the Vietnam War.  I stayed inside the school.  I never even considered walking out to join the protest. I went to high school to get an education and you can't get educated walking out in the athletic field against school rules. The school librarian had a gruff persona and she was making comments about the protesters. She praised the students who, like me, stayed in school. I wan't sure what to think. I never even made a decision whether to join the protest or not join the protest. I see now that not making that decision was deciding not to join the protest. Now that I am older I am less of a rule follower.I follow many rules. I follow traffic rules. I follow the rules that keep me out of prison. But if I could go back to that high school library now I would have walked out of there with those other students. I see now that there was education going on outside my high school that day.  I have no regrets.I have a new found appreciation of those brave students who walked out today.  Is brave another word for reckless? I have no idea.

Longshot

Suppose, just suppose, you are cleaning your house, decluttering spaces that haven't been decluttered in a very, very, very long time.  Suppose you are decluttering a built-in book case that has been seldom used.  And then suppose you come across a library book that has been there a long time.  How long has that book been on this shelf?  Suppose you look inside and see that it was due back at the library in (don't shame me) 1985. Now comes the time to make a decision what to do with this book.  Suppose you drive by your local library and deposit the book in the drive-by book drop and wonder to yourself what the local librarian will have to say about this!

Maddaddam

My neighbor and I exchange films to watch. We usually exchange foreign films but this time she gave me Blade Runner. Although I enjoy watching Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford, I couldn't watch the entire movie because it was making me so sad.  At the same time I read Margaret Atwood's book Maddaddam and didn't feel so sad. The stories are similar. One was a movie and one was a book but, well, I can't explain how I can tolerate one dystopian story over another.  I do know one thing. I admire Margaret Atwood and all of her writing. I read the first one of this trilogy.  Now all I have left is the second one called Year of the Flood.

Welcome Back From Nebraska!

Driving home from work today I had my eyes peeled on the sky for any sign of a snowy owl when what to my wondering eyes should appear but three skinny birds with long legs and a flirtatious flip to their wing beats!  Welcome back sand hill cranes.  My guess it was a married couple and their first year colt.  The weather may say winter but myself and mother nature are thinking spring.

A Rare Snow Day Off Work

Here I am questioning my decision to walk across all this ice. Way in the background is my car.

This is the bridge I have to cross to get to my car.  Why am I more frightened coming back than going over the first time? Probably because I didn't read the warning signs over Beaver Creek. No beavers were spotted but I did smell a skunk.

Trumpeter swans and geese at Whitewater River.

One Saturday morning the dreaded feeling of boredom appeared. I really do not like to be bored. A road trip was the solution. A twelve hour road trip consisting of 425 miles. One half hour of the road trip was spent parked at a Kwik Trip because I was talking on the phone to family members in Italy.  I went to three state parks which I have never visited before: Beaver Creek State Park, Whitewater State Park, and John Latsch State Park. I really shouldn't count John Latsch State Park though. I entered it on impulse and promptly got stuck in the melting snow 15 feet into the driveway. I got myself unstuck and backed my car out onto Highway 61 and that was a thrilling moment if there ever was one! I saw eagles both bald and golden.  I saw swans and geese and ducks and crows and horned larks. I saw redtailed hawks and I think I saw a broadwing hawk but I'm not 100% sure of that. I talked to a couple on their first motorcycle excursion at the rest stop in La Crescent and I saw a snowmobile go by in the ditch near La Crosse.  La Crazy! I really enjoyed spending the day driving around the driftless region - the only part of our state that wasn't smushed flat by the glaciers. I love the hills and the valleys.  All that snow melting so quickly made me a little nervous though because I never knew what was around the next corner of the road. Sometimes the road was dry and sunny; sometimes wet and icy, and a few times slushy with melting snow. This part of the state gets the most rain and I worry about flash floods. Saturday was warm and sunny though with temperatures starting out in the 30's, raising to 40's and popping into the 50's before going down again. I also went to the International Festival of Owls in Houston, Minnesota. That was a hoot. People of all ages flocked to the event to have their faces painted, to dissect owl pellets, to see owls, and to participate in a hooting contest.My day was a success.  I was not bored at all.

Saturday Drive

Frog Music

I read a book named Frog Music written by Emma Donoghue.  The story is set in San Franciso in 1876. In the summer of that year a small pox epidemic frightened all who dwelt there.  One character named Jenny made her living catching frogs and selling them to restaurants.  Prone to enjoy confrontation, Jenny gets in trouble all the time.  She gets arrested for wearing pants instead of skirts over and over and over again. She runs into a woman wearing skirts and a bustle with "her" bicycle. The two women, as different as night and day, become friends and then family because sometimes, when life gets difficult, friends do become family. A friend in need is a friend indeed. Sometimes you don't recognize a friend because they are so annoying. Read this book if you need an escape from your current problems.