chances

If something has a 10% chance of happening, you have to assume that's not zero. But if you're told it's 1%, well, you kind of assume your paths wont cross. Even though even 1% is not zero. And here's the thing: even 0 isn't really 0. You can always say -- well, it had a 0% chance of happening, but new data appeared and we've revised it so not it's way higher. 

I thought about this as I woke up in our huge soft bed in Mineral Point. The stone walls had kept the heat out -- we'd turned off the air conditioning -- but still, I was quick to read that we would be reaching some pretty toasty temperatures today in south central Wisconsin. But here's the surprise! All those predictions of storms and rain? Out the door! I read that for the better part of the day, the chance of rain has gone down to 1%.

That's great news for us! We'd already decided to return to the farmette today, but now we have a chance to return to Governor Dodge State Park again for another hike. No need to fret about rains and storms!

But first, we go down to the main street of Mineral Point and find a place for breakfast. Cafe 43. This one:

I knew they had tables outside and they offered all the good stuff I love for a breakfast away from home. Ed was feeling that it's maybe a tad early to be thinking about food, but no matter: we sit down, I eat.

He watches.

I have a different perspective on Mineral Point this morning: some of the shops are open, there is a little more commotion out there. As people come in and out of the cafe and as I watch a group of very senior women gossip over their cups of coffee, I think -- well now, this town has some lovely stuff going on here!

 

 

 

Ed and I dont take any of the architectural walks that one could do. He's anxious to get to the forests. I'm fine with that. But we do pop into a cheese maker -- Hook's. We have a Hook's 5 year cheddar every single Sunday before dinner, because the kids love it so very much (the adults too, but our tastes are broader than just that). Time to say hello.

They're not making cheeses today, but that's okay: Ed and I have visited plenty of cheese producers over the years in Wisconsin, and in France, and in Italy, and honestly, there's a lot of similarity in the process for all. Still, we chat a little about the cheddar and, too, about a Ewe's blue cheese that is exceptionally wonderful. (They get the sheep's milk from a woman who has 800 sheep up near Fond du Lac. That's a lot of sheep!) And of course, we buy a chunk of the Ewe's Blue. And dig in as we leave their place.

And then we drive out. Past Pendarvis -- the site of some of the first miners' cottages from the 1830s.

(I should note, too, that our Airbnb was in a house that was built in 1839: we slept in the old kitchen area of the rather stately home.)

And then we drive north and east, just a handful of miles, back to Governor Dodge Park. We are ambitious: Ed proposes the Meadow Valley Trail, which is rated "difficult" because of the amount of ups and downs and the distances involved. Perhaps we are excessively ambitious: we zap onto this the Bat Cave loop. Ed will not ever go inside a bat cave (humans can bring a viral load that can sicken bats), but we are happy to walk the area outside the caves during the season where it is considered safe to be there.

 

 

 

 (tall stuff)

 

 

(short stuff)

 

(from up high)

(then down below)

In all, we cover a lot of ground! Yes, it is a sweaty hike, but really not too bad! The woods give us a cool shade. Occasionally, a breeze comes out of the blue, refreshing us. Well, not out of the blue. The skies stay mostly gray and some of them do look like they might explode into something wet or maybe even stormy, but the 1% prediction holds: we get nothing threatening at all. And not even a drop of rain.

(favorite moment: sitting on a bench and looking out on this...)

(oh, the goldenrod!)

But despite the clouds, we are hot. As we come close to the lake, the temptation to jump right into the water is overwhelming! Oh, it's not the clearest water on the planet, but the Park ranger had told us that they check the water daily for noxious stuff and so far it's been okay. We take a chance, clothes and all!

As we walk back to the car, I throw out some comment about having escaped bad storms and bad outcomes all around. I think about our good fortune and how much I lean on this guy walking now next to me. 

Ed, if you die, can I still talk to you?

Sure, only not too much.

Hey, you can't set the rules on that!

No more than once a week, okay?

I'm not promising!

Back in the car, we munch on fruits I had packed for us from home, and Ed digs into a slice of leftover pizza. 

This sure feels like a vacation straight out of the 50s, he tells me with a smile. I'm not exactly sure which elements make it so, but he is right -- a throw back to another era when trips were local, foods were straight out of a paper bag, and the swim was a quick dunk in a lake you happened to drive by.

And then we return home, with only one stop: at our favorite chocolate shop! For a box, to share for the next 16 days. (There are 16 chocolates in it.) A fitting souvenir from our very mini and very wonderful vacation.

not too far

Have you ever heard of Mineral Point? For us Wisconsinites, this little town (population 2500) is just far enough from Madison to seem like a whole 'nother world, but close enough that you could really do a day trip to it. Maybe even a half day trip! I mean, from the farmette, it's 55 minutes by car. South and west.

Mineral Point is part of the Driftless region of Wisconsin. Untouched by glaciation. You'll see bluffs and river valleys and there will have been minerals close to the surface. Such as lead ore, attracting Cornish miners and settlers in the 19th century. Homes build then out of local stone look not unlike something you'd find in Cornwall.

Mineral Point has had its ups (from the point of view of the settlers at least -- it was where the first governor of the Wisconsin Territory, Henry Dodge, was inaugurated) and downs (the gold rush lead to a fast exodus and the town suffered a decline until the later decades of the 20th century). Recently, it's been rediscovered. There is an economic uptick as the native grasses have provided great pasture for cows. Cheeses from here are famous worldwide. Too, Mineral Point is now known as an artistic haven -- a place where you want to live if only to mix with other local artists. In 1971, Mineral Point was included on the National Registry of Historic Places -- the first such designation in our state. 

Ed and I had visited Mineral Point a few years back. In the winter. It was cold. We did very little except huddle inside our room at a bed and breakfast. We decided it would be a good place to revisit now, during the time where local is best and anything close by deserves a second look. It's our first travel adventure together in years!

And for how long? Well, when the weather appeared endlessly sunny and we had no bugs to torture us earlier this season, we thought a few days would be great. Mineral Point is pretty close to Governor Dodge State Park. We could hike by day and walk the short blocks of this little town by evening. Now that the storms and bugs have moved in with a vengeance, we may turn around and come back quickly. There are no flights to set boundaries on when we must go or when we must return. We are free birds!

But first, there is the morning farmette walk. We keep the cheepers locked up. If we decide to stay away, someone will have to keep an eye on the place (we have a reliable house watcher). But no one can be expected to chase chickens into their coop at night. So in they stay. I give them plenty of food and water, just in case.

One glance at the garden...

A nice breakfast on the porch...

And we are off!

*     *     *

Of all the days this week, today has the smallest probability of storms and so we start our adventure with a hike at Governor Dodge's. No, better yet: three hikes.

We are rewarded.

Of the three loops that we do, the first is quiet, rich with forest greens and dampened by a somber waterfall. Outside the forest there is a splendid field of goldenrod. Just beautiful!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second covers a diverse terrain, looping at the top of a bluff with towering pines (that we owe to the work of the glacier). This is one of the more spectacular hikes we've done in this park. Climbing up onto the bluff is well worth the effort.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(And down again!)

The third is tame, looping by the lake -- fitting for an end of day, gentle type of climb.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We wondered if we would get whipped silly by rains or worse, by pop up storms, but none of that happened. The bugs were tame, the shade was richly cool.

And toward evening, we drove on to Mineral Point, to our Airbnb in the historic district.

 

 

 

It's a nice enough place in an old fashioned sort of way. 

Ed points out that our home is more comfortable, but then, he is never a fan of staying anywhere other than in a tent or perhaps a ditch. Me, I appreciate the fact that it's not home. That we are not doing our regular chores. That I have no dishes to wash and he has no animals to feed when dusk falls. 

We stretch out a little and then I go over to pick up pizzas at Popolo's. 

(Driving down the main street)

 

 

And they're okay pizzas. We eat them outside, in the little garden.

 

Tomorrow we'll walk around town a little and if it doesn't rain, we'll return to the state park. From there, it's a short drive home.

Oh, it's good to be away for just a few seconds out of the year! I'm not reading the newspaper, I'm not pulling weeds, I'm just enjoying being elsewhere for the first time in a very long time.

sinking ship and Chinese food

You know the story of the Titanic, right? I'm going to suggest that most of us know only part of the story. An article in the paper about the ship's sinking caught Ed's eye a couple of days back and one thing led to another and suddenly we got a glimpse into the family life of someone who owns and runs a Chinese Restaurant in Janesville. In case you don't know this either, Janesville is a Wisconsin city some forty miles south of us.

Here's how it all comes together: it's another hot day in south central Wisconsin. We finally succumbed and had someone come out and spray some garlic stuff where mosquitoes reside, but of course, since we don't want to disturb the life of pollinators, the stuff we agree to is only mildly effective. You can now walk without slapping your arms and your forehead every few steps, but it's not as if all mosquitoes have disappeared. They're just regrouping and deciding where to go next. 

The morning walk was mildly pleasant. The cats got freaked out by the presence of a stranger with weird smells on the property. Some hid in the barn, others dived into the dense growth. The cheepers were locked up. Everyone was hiding. It was very quiet.

(See the puff ball? Did you know that you can cook it up and eat it? Unless it starts turning brown... then it's poison!)

(In my garden, the very last lilies are the Steeple Jackies. These!)

(The bees keep at it, all day long...)

And it was hot. A steamy breakfast on the porch.

And eventually Ed took off for Janesville. A couple of years ago he had eye surgery done at a clinic there and he was past due for a recheck. And this is how the Chinese restaurant came up. A documentary film came out this year about the lives of six Chinese passengers on the Titanic (called "The Six" -- read about it here). Apparently they survived, but were essentially ignored by the press, by everyone. Ignored or worse: some wrote disparaging stories about them. It was a tough time for a Chinese person here. In fact, once rescued, these Titanic survivors were not permitted entry into the US. But eventually, one of them -- a young Chinese sailor who was pulled out of the icy waters at the last minute -- made it to America. He settled in Janesville and yes, opened one of the first Chinese restaurants in the U.S. And then the son took over and continued preparing Chinese fare for Janesvillians. (Read his story here.)

We debated whether the story warrants Ed bringing back Chinese food from this place (the Cozy Inn) in Janesville for dinner tonight. In the end, the answer seemed obvious. We'll try some of their food. Who wouldn't want to support an eatery with such a story behind it!

But all this came later in the day. While Ed was in Janesville, I played with Snowdrop at the farmhouse. 

These are the last days of summer. Days when I start to feel pangs of sadness at having to say goodbye to this year's cherries, this year's blueberries, this year's peaches and very soon -- this year's corn. Perhaps this is what I do miss most as the summer rolls out its last warm days for us: the seasonal produce. Oh, we get good fruits and veggies year round, but it's not the same.

(Snowdrop notices the precipitous drop in peach quality as we go back to the fruits at the grocery store. Still, she gets it: medium good is significantly better than nothing.)

Just as I'm about to take Snowdrop home, Ed pulls into the driveway. Empty handed. Wouldn't you know it! The Cozy Inn is closed this week! Covid? Vacation? We don't know! That's okay. I drop off Snowdrop, come in to say hi to the boys...

... and I drive over to a Chinese eatery nearby where I pick up our favorite Chinese food in our own corner of Wisconsin (at Taigu).

 

And now it's evening. They say the storms will continue today, maybe tomorrow, surely the next day. This is slightly unfortunate as we had hiking plans for exactly those days. We will see how it all plays out. Summertime adventures with Ed are never boring.

things to avoid

There's so much we shouldn't be doing right now! This is where frustration mounts: just when the list of no-nos was receding (I got a hair cut! I shopped for wine in person!), things took an abrupt turn and now the list is getting awfully long again. No travel no indoors no this no that. And I agree with it. Protecting ourselves, our kids, our communities -- you need to sacrifice. 

On the other hand, one may well lose sight of the fact that the list of pleasurable things that we can do, easily, safely (especially if you are vaccinated), has grown exponentially since last year. I can hike on a trail with other people on it and not feel I have to step off to keep my distance when someone passes. (I'll flip up my mask instead, or, if it's a breezy day -- do nothing at all!) I can meet up with my daughter and her girl for a Saturday breakfast in a coffee shop. Outside, but still, it's wonderful! We poked our noses into a kid shop. I could go on.

And of course, it's not just the pandemic that stands in the way of some activities. Right now, we have a surge in the mosquito population. That means that our county park up the road is pretty much off limits for the rest of the summer season. Too, the lakes are polluted and smelly. You can't swim in them. You can't really enjoy a walk by them either. Yuk.

What's a person to do??

I thought about this today as we woke up to thunder and rain. Well, that's okay. Always good to have water in the garden. I went out to feed the animals when things settled down outside a little, but still, it was gray and wet.

And then it cleared! I need to get some movement back into my day, but what? One thing that I am now avoiding is any walk along a rural road. I am convinced that on these empty roads, people drive especially recklessly, with their eyes on their devices, not really paying attention to the occasional walker. Too, the sound of a passing car is disturbing. You can't really lose yourself in a meditative moment when someone speeds past you. So what's a person to do?

Well, have breakfast and reflect on how pretty the world is right now, despite everything.

Then plot a strategic walk where you can feel at peace with nature despite the impediments. And I did just that. Thanks to the new development, we have ample bike trails crisscrossing the prairies cultivated to the north of us. I went out and followed these empty paths, doing a full loop -- an hour's walk -- and seeing not a single vehicle or even passerby the entire route. Just fields of prairie, wetlands and eventually the occasional tree.

I tried hard to be more mindful of every growing thing around me. Appreciative of its effort. I took a pause to breathe alongside a grove of pines, hoping to convey gratitude. I looked at dancing dragonflies and swooping swallows. It was hot, but it was beautiful!

 

 

And now it's evening and I know what I still must avoid: popcorn. Want to share some Cheddar Cheese Smiles?

once in a blue moon

Did someone say "in a blue moon?" Hey, that could be a ride in my new-ish car (named by me "Blue Moon"). Or it could be a random rare event. Or it could be the full moon that lights the sky for the third time in a season of four full moons (unusual, as normally, each season has a total of only three).

Today, we have all three. 

It's a stunning day. Perfect, in fact.

But I do not linger on my morning walk.

I have errands to run. By car. To the bakery. For fresh loaves of dinner bread and while I'm at it -- let's throw in some breakfast croissants. 

 

 

 

And the radio happens to be on in the car, and the morning talk show on WPR happens to be about plants. Communicating their relationship to all growing things. Their care for us. Our abandonment of them. (Here is just one story featured this morning, in case you're interested -- and you should be.)

This topic has been flitting in and out of discussions Ed and I have about the natural world for a while now. The complexity of the ecosystem, communication between plants, trees, our inability (and unwillingness, with exceptional arrogance) to listen to what is truly taking place out there... Ed takes a predictable and some would say extreme position on these matters and I often accuse him of stubbornly closing the door to nuance. This happens at breakfast today.

But of course, it's not clear whether I am pushing back at the overly dramatic words of my stubborn dystopian,  or if perhaps I'm the one who is steadfastly refusing to admit that we all have collectively strayed from living in harmony with the natural world. I mean, how many of us spend any time thinking about how trees heal each other and, too, help us live a healthy life? Well, Snowdrop insists on regular visits with this tree:

But she is a child and we tend to dismiss kids' ideas as being fanciful, born of whimsy.

 *   *   *

So what random rare event can I claim for this day? Well, there was the breakfast that broke from my usual: not only did it have the bakery treats, but, too, we finally sliced up our "perfect peach." And it was indeed delicious and beautiful.

Then, too, there is the fallen tree just to the east of the barn: it's monstrously big and it split and crashed and now Ed is tasked with the job of taking it all down and heaving away the logs and branches. Though perhaps this isn't an unusual event: the farmette has many trees and some of them do split and fall. 

Here's a rather predictable event for you: a family dinner on the porch. Perfect weather, I tell you. Absolutely perfect.

I have been making this spin on a Greek shrimp salad, with couscous on the side for more than thirty years...

That's just a bit longer than the friendship between these two college buddies. (He's visiting this week and so he joins us for Sunday farmhouse dinner.)

("who, me? I'm not visiting! I'm a regular here!)

(golden watermelon bliss)

And the moon? It's full, it's beautiful, and it will be several years before we get another summer with four such masterpieces in one season. It shines brightly on us tonight, and I hope it does on you as well.