The World's Best

Nike - the first and always the best.

Stopping by the Woods...

STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING
by Robert Frost (1923)


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Today-Tomorrow

TODAY my friend and "neighbor through the field", Peggy, came by with a quart canning jar full of homemade turkey/wild rice soup and a little bag of her whole wheat rolls - she said it's to speed my recovery from this modern day influenza infestation I've been spending so much time with. It's my first food of the day so I thought to have it in the sun-soaked living room by the fire and Christmas tree. Yes, I said sun-soaked - that is indeed the state of my living room right now. I haven't seen the sun in days - I think it's been six - and what a pleasure it is. Everything seems to wake up - including the snow - it's almost welcoming. I think tomorrow I'll take it up on its welcoming gesture and spend some time with it. I'll put everything warm on, snow shoes on my feet and a dog at my side(most probably Cooper) and walk through the field and down the trail we call Nike's - it connects Marci's Meadow to the Garden Field. I'll walk through small saplings, past mature hardwoods, a respectable white pine and along the lower marsh. It'll be very quiet and I'll look for Mountain Ash berries and cedar boughs for my flower boxes on the porch. I think that will be a perfect thing to do TOMORROW.

...and then the snow came..

It started snowing five days ago, and it has stopped only intermittently. From the forecast it will continue to snow through the next millennium. I've been home for four of those five days with what I've been told is the H1N1 flu virus. It's one of those virus's that doesn't mess around - it's stubborn and rife in its symptoms. I've had time to mostly sleep, drink those clear liquids, and yesterday I tried watching the Food Channel - it didn't work out so well. Being home and rather immobilized allows for the quadrupeds in my life to get some extra shut-eye with me; they're quite pleased that I've stopped moving around and have been settled.
Michaela is moving to Mount Pleasant today, Abigail is creating an accommodation for an O.T. case study and Caleb is in Providence rigorously gathering all he needs for his next show in Seattle in January. Marci is in Mexico - it's warm, sunny and calm down there. I can visual the white sand beaches and feel the soft ocean breeze.
Here, it continues to snow, and in actual fact, it's been really nice to watch winter take hold this year - as it does every year - but this year I've been able to stop and pay attention to it , even if it's been a forced halt and 'come to attention' to this detail and interesting phenomenon of the season.
I wish you a wonderful day.

The 1431st

On Tuesday, November 24th, soldiers from 3rd Platoon, 1431st Engineer Company (Sapper) Michigan Army National Guard, arrived home following a mission in Afganistan.

For 10-months, the 120 engineers from the 1431st performed more than 200 missions in Khost and Paktika provinces. Their primary mission was traveling some of the most dangerous roads in Afghanistan searching for IEDs; the number one threat to Coalition and Afghan forces. Up to their last mission on their last day together they successfully located and destroyed live IEDs.
According to U.S.Army 1st Sgt. Robert Jeannote, the 1st Sgt. for the 1431st Engineers and a native of Hubbell, MI, the unit would be awarded more than 40 purple hearts for acts of courage during this mission.

There was elated excitement as we gathered in the school's courtyard. I lined up with classes of Calumet school children - many waving flags or balloons, holding "Welcome Home" banners and giving cheers of thanks and for many shouts of thanksgiving, as the men - many of whom are Copper Country natives - arrived to participate in the discharge ceremony in the Calumet gymnasium. As I looked at the faces of those young men I saw a story behind each one - a story to be told of experiences and people, and of days that would add a new layer to who they are today and will be tomorrow.
I was so proud to be an American that day.

Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving Day. I really love the tradition of this holiday and I especially love all the flavors of the traditional meal. I spent the day making pies to take to a gathering of friends in the evening. Rather than a simply succulent roasted turkey with all of the trimmings - including stuffing, which is my all time favorite part of the meal, we noshed on prime rib, mashed potatoes, vegetable casseroles and chocolate cheese cake. I felt the customary apple and pumpkin pies must be had as well, they were part of my contribution to the meal. Later in the evening the musicians in the group played mandolins and guitars for a hearty hour or two. It was a wonderful evening.
Blessings to you all.

One Great Run

Today was one of those days when everything worked the way you always hope it will. This was one cold, rain-soaked, snow-pelleted, wind-blown day and it was great. Katabatic and Memphis led with Red and Smokey making the corrections and keeping (Memphis) doing the right thing (she's always ready to go and always ready to try to turn the team around to take them home).Without Nike's confidence and enthusiasm beside her, Kat did her best - I was so proud of her again. Taku-Chinook, Zephyr-Matanuska were perfect! Whoo-hoo!

Halloween

Tonight we had Halloween!
In the past 31 years we've had 3 Trick-or-Treaters knocking on our door. But tonight (!) thanks to the recruitment efforts of "my neighbor through the back field, Peggy" we had 13!! Here are four of them...very cute!

Nothing Gold Can Stay

by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold,
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Trail 17

The Hancock/Calumet trail travels through the heart of the Copper Country range. More than three-quarters of the nation's copper came from this region of the Keweenaw Peninsula from 1843 to the 1920's. It was the only place on earth where pure copper was found so free of impurities that it could be formed into pots and pans without refining or processing.
The Mineral Range Railroad cars hauled hard-rock copper along this route throughout those years. Today this section of the rolling corridor is home to 13.4 miles of trail that also goes by the names "Jack Stevens Calumet-Hancock Rail Trail" and "Snowmobile Trail #17. It alternates between crushed stone and dirt, and as I travel on it I sail past stands of northern hardwoods, numerous ponds, wetlands, fishing spots, mine tailing piles (piles of rock brought to the surface during mining), and other relics of the copper mining era. I've spent countless hours and traveled countless miles on Trail 17 during the past 26 years. The old rails and ties were pulled up and hauled away years ago - and tonight as I ran with Cooper, I stopped to listened to the quiet, to breath in the pervasive spicy smell of the autumn forest, to study the stands of trees - most of which have given up their leaves now, and to think about the history laid down by this strand of trail.

Blind Hog Cider Press

"There are times when even a blind hog finds an acorn."
...it seemed to be a long-shot - the success of a cider press designed and built in David's shop by himself and his friend, George. Apples are bumper cropping this year apple on trees that were purposefully planted and those planted by herds of cows over the years. This was our first taste of the Blind Hog Cider Press product with the promise of more to come.

The Very Day I Wait For

AUTUMN

by Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.

Today is the tenth day of October, we've shared it with the first snow of the season. The wind started stiffly blowing early in the morning, followed by the snow which came in an assortment of forms and volume. Large, quarter-sized flakes, hard balls of corn-snow, at times horizontal blankets, tiny, floating crystalline-like bits that clung to the branches of the trees and grasses in the fields and glistened when the sun shone through the low-hung gray clouds (enlarge the pictures of the birches and you'll see what I mean) - all served to accumulate and leave a clean white ground covering that Robert Frost would have been more than pleased with.

It is this very day I wait for all year - this remarkable change in season day - from here on there'll be no question: we're on the cusp of winter. With that in mind David and I loaded a few dogs into the car - our destination wasn't mapped out - we let the roads take us where they would. We ended up at a bridge - we'd been there once before. Following the Sturgeon River Road we came to "THE BRIDGE" - it seems to lead only to a red farm house as it spans the Sturgeon River. We didn't cross it but someday I will and investigate the possibilty that the road just might reduce to a wee-small two track beyond the red farm house - and follow along the river bank.

Load 'Em Up!

There's only one thing better than a freshly painted dog truck...a freshly painted dog truck loaded with a team of ready-to-run Alaskans! :)

Just Keep Walking

Lately my sister's been teaching me a little something about how to just keep walking...

A few weeks back she sent me a book to read. I saved it for the first warm, green-grassed, sun's-ablazin' Saturday in September, took myself to my favorite chair in the field below the raspberry patch and promised not to leave that chair until I closed that book for having read it all. (I savor those time when I can wrap myself in a tiny cocoon of perfect pleasure and remain for as long as I like - and this was one of those times!)
I stayed in that chair and read until I came to the last chapter. I really didn't want the story to end and decided to save the last bit for the following morning and the big, leather chair in our living room. It was a quick read that's for certain, but the process of reflection has taken weeks...

Two Old Women is an Athabaskan folktale of two old women, Star and Chickadee bird, who must stand up and walk forward or die in cold desertion under the bow of a cedar tree. It's a story steeped in the themes of steely self determination and intense internal strength. It's a story of courage; of walking forward into the amazing potenial and gifts that lie hidden within each one of us. The sweet glaze of the story is that of ultimate forgiveness - that's the 'life' of it all; that's what makes it work.

Walking forward is a choice we make - it's a simple thing - like opening a door and saying yes to going through it. Most of the time we don't give it a lot of thought - we don't have to - it's easy. But then there's that ONE day when it all changes and it's not ordinary anymore; it isn't easy and every breath is effortful. But the choice is to 'sit under the bow of the cedar tree' and to never move again, or to get up and start walking into a place you've never been before. If we decide to stand and take steps forward, it will be to THAT place where a strength, a level of courage and giftedness we never knew existed is found.

For the past five months my sister's been walking into a place she never dreamed she'd go. It's been hard - a kind of hard I've never known.
But I do know this about my sister- no matter how deep the water, no matter how dark the place or how unsure her very next step may feel, she'll lock arms with the strength and courage she has within her and she'll keeping opening each door, walking through it and taking the next step...she'll just keep walking!

She's my sister and I love her.

Compressed Cotton Candy

It was dinner out last night - out in our back field kneeling around our field stone enclosed campfire with our two wiener dogs -Sam Houston and KirbyMagnolia - running circles in the field and through the buckwheat patch, a bag of local Vollworth's hot dogs, a bag of buns, a bag of eager-to-be-eaten ( I know things about marshmallows) marshmallows and a full, U.P. moon on the rise. I'd been waiting for this night all summer long. It was perfect - just like those marshmallows I'd carefully, quietly and with steady perseverance and diligence, roasted to gooey perfection! I ate five of those gooey blocks of what David calls compressed cotton candy.
I've had many - maybe hundreds - of roasted marshmallows in my lifetime -they're one of my favorite things - and their taste last night brought back a package of memories from the summer of 1990, when Caleb, Abby, Michaela and I gathered around the Johnston family campfire on the shores of Lake Chandos, Ontario, roasted hot dogs and buns on a stick, along with those ubiquitous blocks of compressed cotton candy by the full light of an Ontario moon on the rise.

Lake Superior

I raced home after school today to fetch David, two dogs, a camera and my boots and off we went to Lake Superior. The sun was warm and the breeze gentle. We walked down the smooth-stoned shoreline lined with cedar and aspen trees on the upland side to find only a handful of agate hunters on the water's edge.
Lake Superior is unlike any other place on earth-when I spend time with it I'm assured of that. Its cold, gray expanse lays out for what seems to be an endless, seamless stretch. This evening the waves were barely distinguishable, all water craft absent, but out in the distance we spied a set of snorkelers - a floating bobber marking their spot and every now and again their heads bobbing to the surface. They had the whole place to themselves. If you look REALLY closely you can see them in this picture!














This 65-degree autumn day was one of those warm, slightly cool around the edges kind of early fall days - the kind whose memory lingers deep into winter.
I took three stones - I threw one back into the water, put one carefully on the shore and the third I tucked into my pocket. I thought of Nike.

Who Could Ask for Anything More?

2 best buds + 2 Cuban cigars + 2 Bloody Marys + a serene September-eve = Who Could Ask for Anything More?

Muyil On a Summer's Day

There isn't A LOT going on in Muyil on any given summer's day. On our Tuesday visit we found the main street quietly laying in wait for any kind of two- or four-legged pedistrian. or perhaps a small white car. The corner school was busily receiving last minute, end-of-the-summer repairs as its doors would soon be opening for the business of uniformed students. And Michelada's was bustling with activity as captiviated soccer spectators hooped and hollared with each play made by Team Mexico viewed on the 19"-screen TV in the 90+ degree heat. I'm pretty sure we were never noticed as we loitered for but a few mintues looking to see if there might be a morsal for lunch. Three vehicles stopped on this hot summer day (did I mention is was hot?)to lend a hand to a family van (each seat filled) which had found itself inoperable. The boys gathered around, talked and looked and talked and looked for quite some time and I'll never know what came of it. Maybe this was rush hour Quitana Roo-style. The quiet life of the Mexicans in this part of the country is as slow and deliberate as it can be and truly, it seems there's not A LOT to be rushed about...a road to walk, a roof to patch, a game to watch, a car to fix. The simplicity of this life is a settling thing to me.

I bought a dress

Coba is the place to go if you're in the market for a hand-sewn Mayan dress. I went there and this woman sold me a dress. I labored over my decision - I so wanted the one with the salmon and pinkish-orange flowers. Try as I might to make it fit - she was sure it would never and had me enter her home to try it on to prove it to me. She knew her sizes all right and in the end sold a dress with multicolored flowers that I like very much - but haven't developed the love affair I had quickly formed with the one that had the salmon/pinkish-orange flowers.I would have to say that her mother was a very happy lady who spent countless hours on her machine. She laughed out loud at the antics of her grandchildren as they gathered around my camera. There is such beauty in simplicity.This little tart was the feisty sister - she giggled and grabbed and held on tight to me in an effort to have another picture taken - especially one of her doing something silly - like putting a piece of candy in her mouth and having it caught on camera. She was very pleased with herself and may have a future in pictures - but most probably will sit at the same sewing machine as her mother and grandmother to sew beautiful dresses, blouses and bags for her Mayan sisters and customers.

dama de lavandería

Chanchen, Mexico

Sometimes I think about what I may have done had I lived anywhere but here and ended up being anyone other than who I am. I rather doubt this Mayan woman ever shared that thought.

The day was Tuesday, David, Marci and I had traveled south down highway 307 to the Mayan town and ruin of Muyil. At the ruin we inspected the ancient work of proud men, met a collection of disinterested dogs, walked on a well constructed board walk through the jungle, climbed a rather precarious, termite nibbled lookout tower five stories high giving us a panoramic view of the jungle and lagoon around us, found ourselves at the lagoon and chatting with a group of optimistic Mayans hoping to take us on a boat trip across that lagoon - which didn't work outso well for them - and eating a curious piece of fruit that had fallen from a fruit tree. Having satisfied ourselves with that adventure we took up our next - which was to drive down an unknown road (without a map to guide us) to an obscure little town known as Chanchen.
While we had been entertaining ourselves with our eco-friendly tour of the jungle and countryside, the lovely woman in this picture busied herself with her day's work. Being the laundramat, as it were, in the town of Chanchen, she had her work piled high around her - along with her (from what I could count) were 10 family members, assorted dogs and numerous chickens.
The children in the yard couldn't have been more pleased as I asked to take pictures - they giggled and danced about, opening the gate for me and running to get their baby brother for his photo-op.
The house, surrounded by a stone wall, was made of sticks with a tin roof, the floor dirt, the door and windows wide open. A TV was keeping the attention of numerous adults inside as the dama de lavanderia concentrated on making the whites white and the colored tee-shirts as brilliant as possible. She was shy, but tried to smile as she showed me how she performed her skill in the shade of the tree.
She may have never pondered her fate - let alone question it - but I know she knows what tomorrow will bring for her. Her future is secure in this small town of adobe houses, small shops filled with the essentials of water, pop and chips, her Mayan Church in the center of 'town', and the most occasional tourist asking to take a photo of what she does best.