THAT FEELING IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH

 You know the feeling.  The one in the pit of your stomach when you see something you don't want to see or encounter something that you don't feel capable of tackling at the moment.

The last time was many years ago as I was cruising back from Marshfield at 5500 feet altitude, enjoying a scenery full of beautiful cumulus clouds and blue sky when I realized all of the many holes through which I could see the ground  had been replaced with a solid layer of clouds, totally eliminating my view of mother earth.  Weather advisories confirmed a scattered 2500 foot ceiling all the way home, but the escalator was missing.

The feeling in the pit was eliminated when I judiciously made a 180 degree turn and headed back to where the breaks in the clouds made it possible to see hallowed ground again.  A normal descent brought me down to a 2500 foot ceiling and a comfortable trip back home.  What originally was thought to be a challenge was parried with a proper reaction, which resulted in a safe and satisfactory conclusion to the trip.

A similar feeling in the stomach showed up when I originally viewed the mess that a recent catastrophic storm levied on Waushara County and specifically on our Wilson Lake retreat.  But, with the help of many friends and relatives, it appears that a judicious 180 degree turn will restore the break in the clouds and help make an eventual and satisfactory end to this voyage possible also.  We sustained some property loss, though not near as much as others in the area, and we loss some dear old 150 year old Oaks which have provided shade and comfort for ages.  But new generations will replace them, and the view from the deck will be as captivating as ever.  May we all continue to enjoy it in years to come.

WINTER INVASION

This was a recent facebook entry I made.  Someone suggested I enter it into my www.cabin-muse.blogspot.com blog, so here it is.  I'll simply entitle it "Winter Invasion".

The first thing on my mind is thanking everyone for the many birthday wishes received.  I will endeavor to thank each of you individually and hope too many months will not pass before I have the chance to do so.

The next thing on my mind occurred during a recent visit up to the log cabin.  Since we don't have time to run up too often in the extremes of winter, we shoot up occasionally to check on things.  On a recent checkup, my faithful warden and overseer, Dolores, happened to check the old wood burner and reported something unusual was occupying the firebox.  Upon examination I discovered two gray squirrels cozily wrapped around one another in a deep slumber, prompted by the relatively warm cabin air.  When I attempted to evict the trespassers, I can only descrbe their response as "an explosion" as they rocketed up the chimney and out into the brisk winter air.  I closed the draft and within a few minutes the crafty devils had re-entered the chimney and were now reclining atop the draft, having refused to give up the handy heat source.  I will check later to monitor their abode.

GOOD SHAPE, BUT SLIGHTLY USED

One recent evening I sat in the family room and watched the faithful fireplace devour a substantial amount of firewood. As I studied the magical flames, as they curled around the logs, I contemplated on the time and effort it took to convert an oak or ash tree into a cord or two of nicely split firewood. It would depend, I concluded, upon when the project had been undertaken.

Not too long ago, I would look forward to, and even relish the chance to load a chainsaw and other necessary tools onto the old ATV and blast off into the forest to search out a good candidate for the wood pile. I could spend the better part of the day converting a volunteer dead tree into a substantial stack of firewood. And even feel quite chipper when the job was done.

Now, it seems to be more like work than fun. Not really "bad" work, but work non the less. I don't think it's because I'm older, I would prefer to characterize that as "good shape, but slightly used".

The walk out to the deer stand seems a little longer now. Even a stroll through the woods can seem longer, that is if it lasts too long. But, please don't get the idea that I'm complaining. I know how to handle the problem, if it should ever become a problem. Should the "good shape but slighty used" factor present itself, I'll simply take my foot off the gas and slow down. Come to think of it, I have probably been applying that rule for some time now, but the old ATV keeps moving along, though not quite as sprightly.

I noticed, however, that the fireplace and the old wood stove in the cabin consume wood at the same old rate, so I guess I had better get going at replenishing the woodpile, even though at a "slightly used" pace.

DEAR MOM AND THE BALANCE OF POWER

Dear Mom and the Balance of Power

A message for Andrea, Stephanie, Danielle, Aurora and any other young people who may be agonizing over the recent show.

In February of this year, I penned a blog spoofing a letter to Mom, and complaining about the ridiculous "password" procedures with which we are presently challenged.  Although it was intended as pure spoof, except-of course-for the existing "password" debacle, I found that my "letter to Mom" did alight upon the hearts of a few as much more serious than this old guy intended.  I was, in fact, reminded and advised that minds decades-or even generations younger than mine-can and will process the message in codes other than which intended.  To elucidate, you may want to refer to the offending blog penned February, 2016.

Now, for the current subject.  Results of the 2016 Presidential campaign and election.  It is obvious that multitudes are unhappy and disgruntled to say the least with the results of the campaign.  I would like to chip in with some generations old experience and remind everyone that :

        1. All that glitters is not gold

                   and

        2. No matter how great the storm, the world will not come to an end

We all should have faith in our form of government.  The Republic, and its balance of power, will prevail and we all will survive.  The people have spoken, even though through the questionable "electoral college" process, and the people will prevail.

Each one of us, from the youngest to the oldest, is and will be responsible for his own future.  Neither the government, nor any elected individual, will be responsible for our individual future success.

Let us not "agonize" over results of one electoral process.  It is one drop in an ocean of future that each one of us has.  Concentrate on our individual efforts and I believe that the "balance of power" will take care of the rest.

PROMISES, PROMISES AND GLOBAL WARMING

PROMISES, PROMISES and GLOBAL WARMING

My good friend and, incidentally, my long time dentist, Dr. Jim Fritsche, always advised me that he wanted to keep my teeth for as long as I lasted.  He never told me I would still be raking leaves this long.  This year has been a bumper crop as far as leaves go.  And, I think, as far as most things thriving on water and sunshine go.  I did think of having a yard sale on leaves, but someone, smarter than I, suggested the market would be flooded and prices suppressed so I abandoned that idea.

How many leaves are there on a Schwedler or Silver Maple, or perhaps on a Green Ash or Sweetgum?  Perhaps a Million, or even a Billion, or could it be a Trillion?  Oh, well, regardless, could it be possible that all those leaves, performing the miracle of "PHOTOSYNTHESIS" could have produced enough oxygen to partially offset the balance of offensive gases in the atmosphere and curtail the threat of "GLOBAL WARMING"?  If, so, perhaps all the blowing and raking and stuffing could have been worthwhile.

Thanks, Doc, for helping to keep my teeth this long, but you never did warn me about the leaves.  But perhaps the global warming thing will make up for it.  And, of course, this is not to be considered editorializing on Presidential positions.

THE KEYS

We all have heard of the KEYS OF THE KINGDOM movie, the FLORIDA KEYS, or Hemingway’s KEY LARGO and KEY WEST adventures. Well, I have an old story, albeit with a new slant. This one is entitled “THE CAR KEYS”.

Last Saturday was what I describe as a “normal” hectic day.  The day we pull the boat from the big lake and put it away for the season.  It means readying the trailer and trailing down to the the Lake Michigan ramps, retrieving the boat from its slip, loading it and bringing it back for winter storage.  It takes a bit of doing and requires some formidable help.  This time, in the company of son, Kevin, brot in law, Ray, and dependable buddy, Stan.

In the process, I encountered the usual glitches, which required several scamps to the basement, workbench, garage and toolbox.  After an hour or so of preparation, we were ready to depart on our mission.  But, lo and behold, my “CAR KEYS” were nowhere to be found.  The ring not only held the car key, but also various other keys of substantial importance (at least to me, if not the rest of the world).  I did have the keys when I hooked up the trailer, so they had to be somewhere near.

An intense search commenced by all present.  Many items were found in the car, like loose change, candy wrappers, assorted used napkins, pine needles (white, red and scotch), eleven maps (mostly outdated), but no keys.  A search of the house and yard yielded nothing, so we used a spare car key and went on our primary mission.  The boat was retrieved, brought home for a power bath and taken to its spot of seasonal repose.

Then the search for the vanishing keys commenced.  One has no idea how many places keys could hide, until one starts a search.  But all to no avail.

I was about to call “missing persons” or place an “amber alert”, when the door opened and in popped my sweet Granddaughter, Erika.  After vocalizing my dilemma, she “casually” asked “DID YOU CHECK THE GARBAGE BASKET UNDER THE SINK?” She, just as casually, reach into the can and, “VOILA”, pulled out the KEYS.

Now, an entire entourage searched every nook and cranny, and Erika pulls keys from the garbage bag.  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought they were in her sweater pocket.  Nah, she wouldn’t do that to me.  She’s just psychic.  Psychic or not, thank you Honey.

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO SUMMER?

September 9, 2016

Not so much the weather.  Who can complain?  But, someone mentioned Labor Day.  I thought that came in September.  I was then reminded that "it was September"....Better get out and replenish the wood pile.  Between Graduations, Birthdays, Weddings, Visits and Arrivals (Welcome Mason), time slots were crowded.  All for good, except Summer was pretty much used up.  But Fall has always been the favorite, so we had better plan accordingly.

Got the Curragh races in at Irish Fest again, got in a few rounds of golf and spent some time at the cabin and in the trees, so how much more does one need?

Well, better get back to the program.  I forgot the "to do" list is still tacked to the wall, although I noticed a couple of guys named Craig and Kevin did inflict damage to said list recently.  It's a good thing there are still some young kids around like those guys.  Lately, It seems that things are getting lower when I bend to pick them up or higher when I reach to get them.  Reminds me of a blog I penned several years ago.  Time marches on.  Well, better dig out the chain saws and the clearing saw. I hear the buckthorn calling from the Forest.