Life in the Cheese Drawer

i was camping at savanna portage state park and about an hour from duluth, so on my way home, i decided to just hop over that way before heading southwest.

i forgot how much in ENJOY the big lake. i drove north of duluth (which is always surprisingly more industrial than i think it should be) along the scenic route, stealing glimpses of the lake’s expanse as i drove farther and farther north.

i only went about 15 miles or so north of duluth and stopped at an historical marker (thanks norm wallace), which had a little path down to the lake.

the rocks were hot under the sun, but the lake was cool and clear, and it went on to the horizon. it doesn’t have the sound of the surf like an ocean, but it looks like the ocean. or maybe it just looks like the big lake.

i sat on the hot rocks in the sun with the lake before me for 10-15 minutes before i headed south again. i have to remember to go north to just look at the lake once in a while.

(one of my goals in the next few years is to go around the perimeter of lake superior, camping as i can along the way and stopping for some time in cour de’laine. maybe the other shores of the big lake will have the sound of the surf.)

mornings in the summer mean coffee on the patio.

the patio faces northwest, so the patio is in shade while i sit i my chair, either reading a book or scrolling on my phone. i hear birds, sometimes traffic from the freeway, and the rustle of leaves and other greenstuff. and it’s so pleasant to be able to sit out there, taking in all the warmth and green and loveliness that is spring, summer, and fall.

sophie likes to come hang out with me on the patio. she will flop over and enjoy the outdoors while mocking stan who is meowing from the door. (stan gets outside and tears off into the woods. no outside time for him.)

i have been slowly upping my patio game – in addition to a couple chairs and an end table. it started with solar lights hanging from the edge of the gutters. then i added a rug. the next year i added a better rug. this year i found a cushy ottoman and new pillows, as well as an offset umbrella for when it’s too bright on that side of the house. finally, a week ago, i got a fire table that my sisters bought me for my birthday.

patio mornings are when i can enjoy the stillness and possibilities of the day, opposite yet compatible (enhanced by coffee).

after a very wet spring, it’s been rainless for quite a while across minnesota. in april, my pond was overflowing, and now two months later, it’s halfway to empty. i let my lawn go for the month of may (no mow may) and mowed it on the 29th, and i haven’t touched it since, save a few spots where i needed to tame the thistle weeds. the parts of my lawn in full sun are very dry, brittle, and not green.

so when the forecast showed rain this weekend, i was happy yet hesitant, because i know how these normally go, especially with snow (9″! oh wait, 6″! oh wait, 3″? oh, well, you get .5″). then it rained thursday night, and friday it started to rain during the day, thundering and then starting a solid downpour.

i stood under my covered front entry and watched the rain run down my driveway and into the engineered watercourse that took it down to the pond. i watched the heavy rain overflow the gutters and start to spill over the edges. i listened to the rush of water from sky and hitting the ground. smiled as my plants got soaked with droplets.

it didn’t last very long, but it was something. and afterward, goldfinches swarmed the birdfeeder, which i’m still curious about.

after a humid break today (and a very sweaty run), there’s more rain to come tonight. i did yoga on the patio tonight, and i watched as a cloud meandered across the blue sky in the distance and listened to distant thunder, a harbinger of (good) things to come. i generally would like rain to show up during the week, or at least overnight, but at this point, i welcome rain at any time.

(good thing I didn’t name this daily delights.)

we have a woodchuck. the first time i saw her, i didn’t know what kind of rodent she was. sort of non-descript, really. no flashy tail, no special ears, nothing to differentiate her nose or feet. but bigger than a chipmunk, that was for sure!

then nate sent me a text with a pic: we have a woodchuck!!! (aka groundhog)

she has tunneled a home under the shed.

we’ve named her petunia.

some days when i come home, petunia is gallumping across the driveway to dive in her hidey hole, after having dug around in the flower bed.

and i’ve caught her chomping away at the leftovers in the compost pile (good for you, petunia).

so when i came home one day and saw my vegetable garden in disarray, i was dismayed. would this be the end of petunia? do i need to google how to get rid of woodchucks? install a fence only to have her tunnel under?

not only was the garden in disarray, but my baby honeycrisp tree had the leader broken off, hanging by a thread. that night i had a dream that it completely got bent over and i cried in my dream. i didn’t know i had such attachment to the tree.

but the next morning nate looked at the tree and said, there’s no way that was petunia. that was a deer.

stupid deers. continue to be a menace.

so i put some deer repellant (and other garden eaters will stay away) around the garden, and i still have to attend to the tree, but for now, petunia remains in her cozy tunnel under the shed and occasionally gallumps across the driveway when i come out the door or drive in.

after all, says nate, woodchucks were here first.

tonight i was taking a walk–during walks i always listen to podcasts instead of music–and on a fluke i played the most recent “this american life”, which i haven’t listened to in probably years.

one of the guests was ross gay, who compiled a small book of essay-ettes called “the book of delights.” example: carrying a tomato seedling through an airport. this book has been on my to-read list ever since john green recommended it in one of his videos, and now: 1) i definitely want to grab the book and 2) i’ve found some inspiration to do some sort of blogging.

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in the springtime, it’s always a surprise to be on a drive or a walk and see a sudden burst of tall color in the ditches where wild irises have sprouted up. sometimes they’re the traditional blue or purple, and other times they’re dark red or yellow. i’ve seen more wild irises this spring than i have in several years past.

tonight i almost missed them, off the side of the road as the cattails and other ditch detritus were already reaching to their full heights, as the sun was slanting slowly toward the horizon. i just happened to glance toward them and saw curves of purple from the corner of my eye – just some irises claiming a small spot in a ditch to push through to bloom.

irises always remind my of my uncle squire; he had a patch on the east side of his small house in austin, and for memorial day we’d cut some of the blooms on their sturdy stalks and take them to lay on the graves of people i’d never met but in stories and memories.

when it’s chilly out, a breeze on a run isn’t a good thing – march runs are killer because you go out and either out or back is going to be into a stiff, 15mph breeze in 45º weather. it’s not easy to run into because of the wind resistance, and it’s even worse when there’s still snow on the ground and it carries the cold with it.

but a breeze while it’s a little humid and above 75º is a godsend.

tonight i was out for a 6-mile run, and it wasn’t hot, but it was a little humid, and it was a longer run. i went out about 7:20 and over the next hour, the temp dropped a bit. i run down into avon, along the lake wobegon trail for a bit, then came back up through a residential area before turning onto the county road that winds for a mile before my circle drive.

the road curves to the north a bit after taking my turn onto it, and as i rounded the corner, i ran into a mild breeze that made the last mile of my run so much better.

you have to know that at this point in my runs, i am usually drenched with sweat. it’s saturating my hair, running down my chest and stomach, gathering at my waistband, flinging itself off my fingertips and elbows, glistening off my thighs, and i can feel it running down my calves sometimes. humidity doesn’t help, even when it’s in the 60s and low 70s.

so this constant, light breeze that i ran into was such a relief. it let some of the sweat evaporate, cooled off my face, my chest, my arms, and i could feel it chilling my sweat-soaked clothes and cooling off my skin underneath.

if there was any resistance, i made up for it with the energy i got from cooling off. i enjoyed it while it lasted in the evening light, up until i turned onto parkwood circle for the last quarter mile of my run. it was just what i needed.