Tag Archive: photos


“Say hello to Bullwinkle”

Here’s a good argument for taking the path less traveled. We traveled it last Saturday, and it paid off big time.

In fact, the road we took home from a one-day excursion may actually get more traffic than the road we took earlier. But it was still the long way home, and I’m glad we followed a whim.

Here’s the story: On Saturday, we visited and toured an old copper mine. It was about 70 miles from home, to the north and west, close to Lake Superior. We left at mid-morning, when it was cloudy with rain threatening. As we neared the lake, the clouds were lowering, and light rain started to fall …

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But after the tour and then lunch at a cafe in Ontonagon, the clouds started breaking up, and the sun broke out. Before long, there was more blue sky than clouds …

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As I drove home, I got an idea: Why don’t we take the long way home? At a crossroads, I turned east instead of continuing south.

It was different scenery for everyone, including the driver. When M-28 reached U.S. 141, I turned south, towards Iron County and home. I started wondering about something: Would the moose be out?
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Ancient scrolls and angel wings

We had been talking about a trip to southern Wisconsin for some time. My wife had heard about the Angel Museum in Beloit a year or so ago, and we made tentative plans to visit the next time we were near Madison. But we didn’t get down there in ’09.

Over the winter, she learned about a Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit at the Milwaukee Public Museum, and she wanted to see it. But she thought it would be there during the summer. Suddenly, a month or so ago, she learned the exhibit would close in early June. We had to move up our travel plans.

We moved them up to a week ago. We left on Thursday and went by way of Iron Mountain so we could visit my mom. We were there for about an hour and a half.

Then, it was all driving until we reached Oshkosh, where we visited S and her girlfriend. We took them to the Golden Corral and treated them to dinner, buffet style. All of us ate well. In between, S told me about the situation with her husband over the last months and years–they are separated now. I’m not going to go into it, but she told me things I wasn’t aware of before (but had suspected).

She and the GF are now living in the top floor of the house and paying half the household expenses–otherwise, she said, he would not be able to afford to keep it (he lost his job). I hope to visit them from time to time, but the next trip won’t be until June, after the spring sports seasons end. I got a picture of them outside the restaurant, which I gave the Photoshop Elements treatment …

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After about two hours, we were back on the road, heading south to Milwaukee’s northwest side. Along the way, we passed a windfarm near Fond du Lac. Try to count all the turbines. It was late in the day, with daylight fading, but you can see many of them turning in the wind …

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We found a motel for the night, and Friday morning we headed off to downtown Milwaukee and the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit at the museum. Since I used to live in Milwaukee, I was somewhat familiar with how to get from here to there. But that was many years ago, so I planned ahead. I printed out Google Maps that showed which exit to take, which street to turn on and where to park. I was all ready. I put the maps in a safe place on my desk in the computer room at home.
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Squares and colors

The itch to visit a quilt show was scratched once again over the weekend, as my wife and I traveled to Iron Mountain (a mere 50 miles away) to see a small quilt show at the new community college there.

Of course, I took my camera along to document the occasion. Some of you, I’m sure, have never seen a small quilt show held at a new community college. So I took it upon myself, etc.

Here’s a literal overview of the event. It was taken from the railing looking over the stairway that connects both floors …

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Later, I’ll show you some quilts I liked. First, though, some of my anarchic reactions to what I saw.

What struck me most of all is how similar many of the quilts looked. For instance, look over those along the top railing on the other side. Not much variety. I took along my camera to get shots of entries I like (it helps pass the time), but there was so few quilts that anything but ordinary that I didn’t take many shots.

And I couldn’t help wondering: Do most quilters only aspire to make the same-old same-old? Sure, there were variations–colors, patterns, the stitching–but it comes down to the same quilt blocks being sewn together. Squares, squares and more squares. And so many of the quilts were done in earth tones–browns, tans, oranges. Some had so little contrast between the dark and light area that it was hard to make out the pattern.

What’s wrong with color? What’s wrong with bright, cheery, vivid, happy colors? That’s what I was wondering.

I also wondered: Do the dark, subdued shades these quilters chose for their creations mirror their personalities? And is that why I don’t see that many bright, cheery, vivid, happy people at quilt shows?

For myself, I like colors–the brighter and more vivid, the better. So yes, I have a distinct preference in this matter.

But there were some quilts that I liked, and here are some of them. This one is certainly colorful enough …

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And so is this one …

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If I want to get away from the land of squares, I could just ride away with this one …

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Here’s some fine stitching …

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A Northwoods scene captured on a pillow …

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And a genuine sewing cat depicted on a quilt …

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Of course, a sewing cat is something I get to see fairly often …

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One more thing to tell you about the trip. After the quilts and lunch, we went to the nursing home to visit my mom. But she wasn’t in her room. After a brief search, we found her–in a large activity room with about a dozen other residents. They were watching a movie. The movie was … “Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel.”

Should report them to the state for elder abuse?

Save the babies!

We had to take some proactive steps tonight to protect something near and dear to us.

Our lilacs.

Our lilacs are not particularly impressive, and the bush isn’t big. But they’re ours, and they really are getting bigger. Recently, with our very early spring, they budded out, and the buds are opening. Little baby lilac flowers …

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Meanwhile, our weather has been going back and forth. On Monday, it was nearly 70F (21C) as I drove to lunch. Today, it only got to the mid 40s (7C). And the weather forecast gave us fair warning: hard freeze tonight, with lows in the low 20s (-5C).

Normally, a hard freeze on April 21 isn’t a big deal up here. But this hasn’t been a normal spring by any means. Not only the warm temperatures but the near total absence of any rain.

By the way, take another look at the baby lilacs. See that blue thing in the background? That’s our snow shovel. It’s late in the season, but not that late. Last year, we got hit with 8 inches of snow (20 cm) at about this time.

No snow this time, but the skies were clear this evening, the air were dry, and temperatures started dropping after sundown. So we took precautions. My wife and I wrestled with a big blue tarp and spread it out over the baby lilacs, getting it in position with some clothespins. Once it was over, this is what the lilac bush looked like …

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My wife is also planning to plant some delicacies this spring that we both enjoy: rhubarb and asparagus. Both are perennials, so they should be able to stand up to late spring snows and frosts.

Whether they can stand up to hungry bunny rabbits and white-tailed deer, however, may be a different story.

Big news and colorful trees

I’ve got some updates and pretty pictures to share with you.

First, though, there’s something more important to share. Big news. For a while I was leery about writing anything about it, for fear of jinxing everything or gumming it up in some dreadful way. But now it seemingly has built up too much momentum to be stopped.

Here it is: My mom’s house is being sold. Exclamation mark. This week. Double exclamation mark. Really. Triple exclamation mark.

The house has sat empty for the last four years, since my mom had her first bad fall and wound up in the nursing home. My wife and I went through all the contents during the summer of 2007 (after it became clear she wouldn’t be returning), going through everything, throwing some stuff out and keeping others.

If you aren’t aware, I am her only descendant–my brother died over 20 years ago, and he had no children. That means there was nobody else to do the tough work of managing my mom’s affairs and going through the household items (aside from my wife, who worked as hard as I did). It was all on our shoulders.

First, we hoped her neighbor’s son would be able take the house. He had served in Iraq, and his mother had called me, asking what plans we had for the house and to keep them in mind. We definitely did that. We would have given him a very good price, too. But he got injured in Iraq (his back, I think), and couldn’t take the house. Back to square one.

Early this spring, we finally went to a local real estate agency and got them involved. We had a few bites and a few showings during the summer, but nothing very serious and no serious offers. As time went on, I got pretty discouraged. We lowered the price (and it was pretty low in the first place), but nothing happened. A few people were interested, but no real offers were made.

Then, late in September, the agent said a couple had visited the house and was interested. A day or two later, we got an offer. We made a counteroffer. They made a counteroffer. We thought about it for a long time and decided to say yes.

It’s a lot less than we had hoped to get, but with the housing market the way it is and with how much the house is costing me (property taxes, insurance, heating oil, power, maintenance, anxiety), I finally said yes. Their offer sheet said they were planning to close the sale on Nov. 12.

Halfway expecting the process would break down somewhere, we started preparing for the transfer. That involved getting the last big items we wanted from that house to ours. But things changed about a week ago, when we learned that the buyers now wanted to close the deal on Oct. 16. Four weeks earlier than originally stated and just nine days later.

Now, it’s just three days.

I already had an appointment on Thursday morning to ride with my mom to a doctor’s appointment, and my wife found two guys who would go to my mom’s house that day to pick up the heavy furniture. I met them at about noon. Rather, I met him at about noon–just one guy made the trip, not two. So I was the other moving man, helping him load the items into the pickup truck and trailer.

He drove everything back home by himself (eventually finding a second man to help him unload), so now we have another sewing machine table, more bedroom furniture, kitchen chairs and a nice rocking recliner in the living room, among other things. I stayed behind, because my day was hardly over.

The doctor’s appointment was the first task, and that took quite a while. After we sent the furniture on its way, my to-do list included: dropping off a key so the buyers could get inside the garage; closing out my mom’s safe deposit box (where I found some title documents I had been looking for); meeting with the real estate agent; returning to the nursing home to meet with the caregivers about my mom’s care; and getting a copy of my dad’s death certificate, which, I was told, is absolutely necessary to closing the sale.

In short, it was a day of jumping through hoops–very busy, stressful at times, but in the end I think I got everything done that I wanted to. (I had made a list that I consulted from time to time.)

We had a potential problem about my mom signing off on the deal, since our title says she has a life estate. Since she broke the elbow of her writing hand in her most recent fall, she can’t write at all. But the real estate agent (after consulting the title company) said we can work around that. There will be a space for her to sign (with an “X”) on the deed, with witnesses and a notary public confirming that she made the X and thereby agrees to giving up the life estate (which preserves her right to live in the house–fat chance that can ever happen now).

The required inspections have now been completed, and all the lights are green. I have my dad’s death certificate. Fewer and fewer things can go wrong now.

The situation with my mom is sad, and she is not doing that well. But at least she understands what is happening and was happy to hear of the impending sale.

So that has been filling my life with anxiety and worry … which is now less than three days away from ending. This morning, I called Wisconsin Electric about switching the electric service to the buyers. I told the fuel oil company the same. At 11 a.m. Friday, the final papers will be signed, and the house will officially belong to someone else.

I still have some final expenses. Several connected to the sale process. Property taxes for 10 1/2 months of 2009. The real estate agent’s cut. And income taxes on the sale price–it’s regarded as taxable income. Even with the sale price, I’m still in the 15% bracket.

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Not much else to report. The news about the house outweighs everything else, anyway.

But I did manage to get some fall photos in recent weeks. Here are a few examples …
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Here is a frosty morning. The temperature was about 25, but the sun was melting the frost except in the shadow of my car and a nearby garage. Interesting effect …
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I drove north to Baraga last Friday night for a football game, and the leaves seemed to be at maximum brilliance–except that the sun was behind the clouds for most of the trip north. I only got to see the leaves in full color from a distance. Thank goodness for 24x lenses …

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I made a mental note to make the same trip over the weekend. Saturday was mostly cloudy. The clouds moved out early Sunday afternoon, and my wife and I made the trip. But … the peak color was now obviously past, even though it was just two days after my last trip. The brilliant color had dimmed and darkened.

It was a nice drive on a sunny day, anyway.

My wife and I marked a quiet 38th anniversary last Friday.

It was quiet because the previous three days were spent running around central Wisconsin on a mini-vacation trip. We came home a bit tired out and spent out. So for the big night, she made chicken parmigiana for supper, and then we went to the local theater (the only movie house in the entire county) to see “Up,” which just arrived in town. (According to the posters, “Public Enemies” will be getting here soon. Before the DVD comes out!)

We planned this vacation so she could go to some places she was interested in. With the help of her AAA book and some diligent web-surfing, she picked some pretty good ones off the beaten track.

Our first one was a stone arch bridge in Merrill, Wis., which carries traffic through the downtown area …
Stone arch bridge

We saw a park nearby and walked down a path to another, even older bridge. This one had a sign from the construction company, dated 1909. It was much narrower–one lane wide …
1909 bridge

The next stop was Wausau. Our main stop there was the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum. My wife was mainly interested in a sculpture garden on the grounds, and we walked around there. They had an exhibit with metal sculptures by artist Wendy Ross …
Sphere sculptire

Spring sculpture

We also walked down by a small garden, where the bees were busily at work …
Bee in flowers

From there, we walked around to the main (temporary) entrance of the museum and went inside. They had two temporary exhibitions. One was photos of jungle life, taken by a National Geographic photographer. The other was called “American Ruins,” about places like ghost towns and crumbled, overgrown mansions from long ago. All the photos were taken in black-and-white, using infrared film, so the leaves, grasses and other foliage comes out white, not dark as you would expect. Interesting effects. We studied the photos for quite a while.

None of the photos on their website show the white leaves that well, but they give you an idea of what the exhibitions were like. No photos were permitted inside. The LYW Museum is best known for its “Birds in Art” permanent display, but we had to bookmark it for a future visit. We had one more place to visit this day.

This last stop for Tuesday was way out in the country, about 70 miles away on country roads. Called Jurustic Park, it is composed mainly of fanciful sculptures of animals and other creatures made from scrap metal.

But we had spent so much time at the museum that we arrived about 15 minutes after it had closed for the day. All we could do is take a few photos of the main entrance …
Jurastic entry

… and a telephoto shot of a “hobbit house” inside …
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… before leaving. You can look over some of their other creations on their website–they really are fun to look at.

From there, we drove south to Marshfield and then east to Stevens Point, where we spent the night. Wednesday, we drove back west. This time our destination was the Rudolph Grotto, a Catholic shrine, gardens and “wonder cave.”

This place was started during the 1920s by Father Philip Wagner, who became very ill while studying for the priesthood in Europe. According to the brochure from grotto, Wagner went to Lourdes in France, to the Grotto of Our Lady, in 1912. He prayed and prayed and promised that if his health was restored, he would build a shrine in Mary’s honor. He got better and started planning.

Wagner became the priest in Rudolph in 1917, a new church was built, and he started envisioning flower beds and tree arrangements for his grotto. He used rocks from the surrounding area to build shrines. “Stones and large rocks were piled because he knew nothing of construction or masonry. In order to create the beautiful structures we see here today, Father Wagner began using concrete and the trial-and-error method of construction.”

Father Wagner lived at the church and worked on the grotto until his death in 1969. Another man worked with him on the grotto until he died in 1991. They kept making more and more shrines in the park–the last one was completed in 1983.

It is intensely Catholic, of course. There was a series of stations of the Seven Sorrows of Mary, including this one …
Sorrow display

They also had statues for all 14 Stations of the Cross, plus many other shrines, plaques and statuary. Even a little wooden chapel …
Grotto chapel

And then there was the Wonder Cave. We couldn’t miss that. “A 1/5th mile catacomb-like passageway through the grotto depicting 26 shrines of the life and teaching of Jesus.”

It sure was narrow, and you had to duck your head pretty often. Even my wife, who rarely needs to duck her head for any reason …
Duck your head

It’s very dark inside, of course, and the shrines are illuminated with colored lights. Quite difficult for a camera without a tripod or a flash, but at least this scene came out well …
Wonder cave display

Outside we walked around the grounds a little longer when suddenly we encountered an untamed Wisconsin wildlife creature …
Wild chipmunk

And we also stopped at a museum about the history of the shrine, the parish and Rudolph, Wis. And among everything else, we came across this heartbreaking relic …
Oh, Rudolph!

One more stop before leaving the Stevens Point area: The Herrschner’s catalog outlet store. How many of you have seen the Herrschner’s catalog of craft items? This is where they come from. Here is the door to the store …
Herrschner's outlet

… and here is a wall of yarn of all colors of the rainbow …
Wall of yarn

They also had a large variety of fabrics. I was impressed, but my wife said she has seen larger varieties at the Hobby Lobby stores, which was on our schedule for Thursday. She was especially disappointed by the relative lack of needlework items and the large quantity of “close-out” items for sale–she thought there would be a lot more to look at.

From there, we got on the highway and drove to Oshkosh, where we met up with S and her husband. It happened to be his birthday, and our original plan was to see “Public Enemies,” which they hadn’t seen yet (even though some scenes were shot in Oshkosh and they took me to see the preparations over a year ago). But S doesn’t like violent movies, so she wasn’t going to go. They also had their 5-year-old grandson with them, whom they were babysitting. Hmmm.

We finally decided: We would go to a movie that everyone could enjoy. We opted for the new “Ice Age” movie, and everyone went and had a good time. From there, we had supper at the Golden Corral buffet, and then we went to our motel, to relax in the swimming pool and (especially) the hot tub.

That wasn’t the end of our day. They invited us to join them at a neighborhood bar near their home, for a birthday toast. Neither of us visits bars very often, but we went this time, spent another hour with them and had a good time. The highlight was when Johnny Depp (from “Public Enemies”) came on the David Letterman show, and life at the bar ground to a dead stop. The younger women were swooning!

That capped a very busy Wednesday. Thursday was supposed to be a lot easier: Just visit a few stores my wife wanted to visit (Hobby Lobby, Fashion Bug) and then start driving home. By about 11 a.m., the shopping was done, and we pointed the car north. In Appleton, the last big city on our way, we stopped at a sub place for lunch. As we walked to the store, I reached for my cell phone out of habit, to see if there were any messages. It wasn’t there.

I checked my pockets, to see if I had stuck it in there. Then I went back to the car and checked the area around the front seat. Then the trunk, where I had changed a shirt earlier and may have absent-mindedly put it down.

It wasn’t here. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere.

My wife said, “Maybe we should go back and look.” “Back there” meant Oshkosh, about 30 miles south, where we had started the day. We had only made a few stops, and I knew I had it while waiting at Hobby Lobby. We zipped back south. Once we got there, we stopped at each place. Nobody had seen anything. I left addresses and phone numbers, just in case.

We still hadn’t had lunch–it was 1:30 by now–so we went to a Subway, and my wife got something. I was just too upset at myself to eat anything. I had a sip or two of her soda, and that was all. Nothing to do but drive back north, phoneless, my mind racing, imagining the cost and hassle of getting a new phone set up.

Three hours later, we were home. My wife checked the answer machine. Sure enough, a woman had called, saying she had found my phone in a parking lot. The next message was from S. The woman had contacted her, too, and they had gone down to pick it up.

They aren’t going to mail it to me: We had earlier made plans to meet again this weekend at that clothing-optional “beach,” where they like to camp in summer–I haven’t been there yet this year, and that was on my to-do list. A mailed phone wouldn’t arrive until late this week, so I told them to just keep it until I get down there.

A hectic end to a busy trip. On Monday, the first official high school football practices were held. Summer is nearly over.

Into the wayback machine

We’ve got just one month to go in a summer that never really got going. We didn’t know that back in early June when my wife and son and I took a one-day trip to Rhinelander to have a little fun.

That was before the short trip to Canada and before the Fourth of July trip. On this one, the featured stop (aside from exercising our shopping muscles) was a visit to a city-operated historic museum named Pioneer Park.

It’s not pretentious at all, but there was a lot to see and study. It’s a quick jump into the time machine and back a few generations. Back when trains carried goods and supplies and raw materials all over. When lumberjacks chopped down trees with pure muscle power. When children went to schools that had all the grades in the same room.

An old train and a semaphore marked the outside of the depot and the Rhinelander Railroad Museum …
Train depot exterior

Nearby, a crossing sign showed the little reflectors that were used on signs in the days before reflectorized paint was invented. I turned on the flash to get the reflections …
Reflectorized RR sign

Then inside the depot, to the ticket counter, which stood View full article »

1,076 miles later …

That distance (1,732 kilometers for those of you who are into metrics) is how far I drove during my extended Fourth of July weekend trip. If you plot it out on a map, my course looks sort of like a backwards “7,” as I drove mostly west to Minneapolis-St. Paul, then southeast to the neopagan gathering … and then retraced my tire tracks a couple days later. My wife and I left home on Wednesday around noon and got back home the following Monday at about mid-afternoon.

I did this so I could have my first visit with B, my friend from Alaska. We met at the MSP Airport on Thursday just after noon and parted on Sunday, late in the afternoon. That gave us most of four days and three nights together. Without getting into a lot of words, we both had a great time, and the days passed very quickly. Way too quickly. We had packed a lot of activities into those four days, so we were very busy, and we both slept well each night–even I, who often wake up in the middle of the night and can’t settle down again.

Thanks to our cell phones and texting, we kept in touch with each other as we neared our rendezvous (the baggage pickup area at the MSP airport). I had parked at the nearby Mall of America and took the light rail train to the terminal. She texted me when her plane landed. By the time she phoned me a little later after exiting the plane, she had already spotted me. It was a 10-second phone call. Happy hugs and kisses ensued.

We rode back to the mall, where we did some shopping, got lunch (Arby’s), then hit the road for the three-hour drive to our motel. Supper was at Pizza Hut. The next morning, we finished the drive to the gathering, passing through some very scenic, hilly country that thrilled her, including a brief drive up narrow roads to a top-of-the-mountain park. Lovely place, but we didn’t stay there long; we had places to go.

We got to the gathering site, where she started meeting some of my friends. All went very well there–she said she had a great time at the events we went to, meeting many new friends along the way. She had never been to an event like that, and it was exotic, to put it mildly.

We missed many of the events–B wanted to see sarong-tying workshop, and I wanted the drumming and dancing circle; we arrived a day late for that. But we made it to a discussion of the group, a potluck dinner and a “henna play party,” with people decorating each other with henna. B really wanted to see that, and she did. We took part–I drew a little butterfly on her …

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And she drew a moon with some stars on me …

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They only exist in these photos now; the henna has already faded away completely.

A symposium was held in the evening, and I hoped for a starry night, because you can really see the stars and Milky Way from this hilltop location–no light pollution at all. But it was mostly cloudy. We went back to my tent and slept well. I just brought one sleeping bag for the two of us. When it got cool overnight, we put the thermal blanket under us on the air mattress and the sleeping bag over us. Problem solved.

The next day, we stumbled through a “mirror dance,” then enjoyed the sensual pleasures of taste at a “naked lunch,” where a poem of that name was read. “Clothing is definitely optional,” said the program, and so it was. One important rule: When someone feeds you something by hand, you have to happily moan with pleasure. Strawberries (a few with chocolate on top), grapes, melon, date bars. Mmmmmmmmmmm!!!

After that, we took part in a very serious discussion of polyamory that went two hours and could have gone for two more. The people there are very committed to the lifestyle they lead and their lovers–all of them. After it ended, B and I went back to our campsite, took down the tent and moved things back to the car. We stayed long enough to take part in the main ritual was that evening, and we left right after that, with more hugs for the people there.

We drove back north, and she was delighted to come upon a big fireworks show in one of the towns.  B has lived in Alaska for years, and they don’t have fireworks that far north on the Fourth of July. Just after the start of summer, the sun is up 22 hours a day, and the sky never gets dark. They have fireworks for New Year’s, but people have to bundle up for subzero weather to see it.

We got to our motel at 11:30 p.m. and were pleased to find the hot tub and whirlpool still open. We relaxed and let the rushing warm water sooth away our tense muscles from the drive before going to bed. During our final morning, as we were getting ready, I remembered that we still had to do a tick check on each other. Lucky that I remembered–I spotted one on B’s tummy. We had to get out her tweezers to carefully pull the little bugger out. She said I was tick-free.

She had gifts, both for me and my wife. She gave her a book on Alaskan wildflowers, a cutting board and an ulu (an all-purpose cutting knife with a rocking handle, like those used by the Inuit). She gave me a black Alaska T-shirt with a multi-colored moose on it.

I only took a few pictures, and there was just one of the two of us together. We stopped at a gas station near the motel on that final morning and saw a big orange moose on the motel grounds nearby. A woman saw me taking a picture of B and took a picture of the two of us together …

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Then, back in the car. A few hours later we were back at the Mall of America. A visit to Taco Bell, an ice cream at Dairy Queen, and then back into the light rail train, heading back to the airport. She got her boarding pass. The security checkpoint lines nearby were very long–but one of the officers told us to walk down to the other end of the terminal, where the lines were a lot shorter. Indeed they were–B just had one person in front of her. Within minutes she was through, and we waved good-bye for the final time.

The next morning, I got an e-mail from her, saying she was back in Alaska, safe and sound, ready to go to bed and dream of ticks.

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Now … I bet you’re wondering what my wife was doing while I was gone.

She was having a great time with her sisters. All three of them live in the same area, and I drove her to one of their homes that first day (leaving for the Twin Cities by myself the next morning). On her first solo day, she and the sister drove up to Duluth, took in two Imax movies, visited a big flower display at a local park and ate dinner at a revolving restaurant, 18 stories above the ground. That’s pretty big for Duluth. When they told me about it, I was impressed.

On day two, she stayed in town with the family, they had a big cookout and went to the circus that night, seeing fireworks afterward. On day three, she and the sister went down to Eau Claire to visit some parks, a mini-zoo, visit some nephews and have a nice supper. I guess they had a good time–they got home an hour after I got back from the Twin Cities. We stayed there that night and left for home the next morning.

While she and I were separated, we kept in touch the best we could–but she doesn’t have her own cell phone (not interested), and I didn’t have the sister’s cell number, so I kept calling her house. They weren’t home that much, but I did talk to her a few times from the road (or the tent or restaurant or motel).

It all worked out, and I’m very happy with how everything went. B and I knew we didn’t have a lot of time, and many things we had talked about doing fell by the wayside. Even so, we did a lot, we had very busy days, and I don’t think we could have packed much more into our time together. She loved the gathering and wants to go back next year.

Meanwhile, my wife said she really enjoyed having a long holiday weekend with her sisters, so this whole story could very well be repeated next summer. Why not? It sounds like it worked for everybody.

****

B and I talked for the first time since the trip (besides e-mails) on Saturday night. It went well, and my wife was part of it too–I put my cell phone on speaker. Since we said good-bye two weeks earlier, both of us have been trying to catch up on our sleep–she, especially, was fatigued when the visit was over. She also had to deal with a few health problems (nothing major), exacerbated by an unusual Alaskan heat wave that sent temperatures shooting up into the 80s and low 90s, along with wildfires and smoke.

All that is past now. We had hoped to meet again in August, but those plans didn’t work out. So our next time will be … whenever. When the time is right. As it was two weeks ago.

Trains, bugs and 320 steps to the top

Christmas in June

On our recent trip to Canada (the Canada part of the story is still to come), I got to fulfill a pledge I had made a long time ago, on some dead or dying blog or another: I saw Christmas in June.

It’s about a five-hour drive from our home to Sault Ste. Marie and the International Bridge. We went via Marquette, and less than an hour past the Upper Peninsula’s largest city (population almost 20,000) we entered Christmas. How could you miss it? …

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There are various places around the country that try to capitalize on holiday-inspired names. Christmas. Santa Claus. St. Nicholas. North Pole. They do so with varying amounts of success, especially in this more cynical era. But it’s tourism, you know, and souvenir shops. A few dollars change hands. There are certain places where it’s Christmas 365 days a year, and this is one of them.

We first came upon a motel that didn’t look very busy, regardless of what the sign in front says. Note the bow on the gift-shaped sign …

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The unmown lawn and the gravel in the driveway both indicated that it’s been pretty quiet at the Christmas Motel for a while.

A little later, we came upon the Christmas Mall. Alas, it also looked like it has seen better days. For example, how did Mrs. Claus lose her head? …

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And as you see on the right, you can get your eggnog or whatever you fancy in Christmas.

I felt sorry for Mrs. Claus, so I took a picture from the other direction, where you can see a faint smile. Note that the Christmas Mall, which has a fudge shop, an ice cream shop, a liquor store and a gift shop, also houses the post office. When you get mail postmarked Christmas, Mich., this is where it comes from …

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Despite the state of her sign, they still have a street names for Mrs. Claus. And they have a Santa Lane. And a St. Nicholas Avenue. And the main drag through town is Christmas Avenue.

Then we hit paydirt: Santa’s Workshop. It says so right there. In case you have any doubts whether this is a viable place, just look at the left of this photo. That ought to erase all doubts …

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Of course, right outside is a huge Santa, standing right next to the North Pole. I mean, how could it not be the North Pole? It says so right on it.

The business of Christmas may be Christmas, but they have other businesses, too.  On the way out of town, we came upon the place where Santa gets his sled tuned up …

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When Santa has visitors in town–maybe some elves brought in for short-term seasonal work–they probably stay here …

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Soon we were out of town and on our way to the Soo. About three hours later, we were on the International Bridge. The two flags mark the international border …

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and the end of this part of the story …

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