Dirty hands, clean heart

So, I finally found the replacement adapter for the sauna stove pipe. It took just a few mnutes to connect the new piece to the old pipe. I lit a small fire to check for leaks and found none.
Any project with stove pipe is dirty work. The rust and soot get on everything. As I was washing up I remembered that I'd not seen an ad for Lava soap in a long time. I guess people dont get their hands dirty like they used to.
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Watching the steam rise from the water

The temperature is 38. I'm sure that we would have had a frost last night if it wasn't for the relatvely warm lake nearby. Our wood stove, made from an an old barrel, heats the room quickly. The sun will be up over the trees soon, bringing even more warmth. Nevertheless, we're at the end of summer and that means we're getting chilly.
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Justifying another barrel of scraps

The last couple of times we had sauna, we noticed that we could see the fire through holes in the stove pipe. The metal had rusted away and fell apart to the touch.
I went to a half dozen stores looking for the right replacement sections and couldn't find the one that I needed.
Fortunmately, in the corner of the boathouse there is an old barrel filled with odd pieces of stovepipe I picked some of the oddest and was able to get a working configuration. We'll give a try this evening.
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Red leaves and blue berries

Even as we take the turn into September, this year's bountiful crop of berries just won't quit. In a quick few minutes, we picked a quart, enough for breakfast, lunch, and snacks. The neighbors report more than 40 quarts for the season, not a record, but a mighty haul all the same.
The wind is strong from the northwest and the angle of the sun has dropped behind the trees in the afternoon. The sunlight is still warm, but the air and light and colors tell us that we're late in the season. It's been a good one, one of the best.
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Deer flies pose nuisance to berry- and mushroom pickers

The Helsingin Sanomat - International Edition reports what New England berry-pickers have also discovered: deer flies are tenacious little critters that bite hard and can make you take the Lord's name in vain.

Nearing the end of the blueberry season

If we were to get only the blueberries that I picked this morning (a pint in a half hour), in most years, we'd have called it a good crop. As it is, we're nearing the end of a bountiful season. Today, we're picking single blueberries, not the clusters that look like bunches of grapes. Sometimes, you can't even see the berries at first. You have to let your eyes relax, as though you're looking at a Where's Waldo? scene. Then, they appear, sweet and dark and fresh.
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A quiet day amid the thunder

The thunderstorms went to the north and south of us with only brief bursts of rain. It was just enough to keep us indoors, talking, reading newspapers.
Lily spent a couple of nights with us. On Thursday, we saw a fun show, High School Musical, at the Mount Wachusett theater. Yesterday, we brought carrots to the neighbors' pony and goats, swam with and without Marley, and dined on sweet corn and pie. We brought Lily to Northampton this morning, where we met her mom for breakfast.
There's a lot of bouhaha about this weekend's sales tax holiday. We came home, feeling a bit unpatriotic, having bought just a small can of paint and a couple of odds and ends. It's good to be in a place in our lives where we don't need much more stuff. If anything, we need less. I think that the government should give us a tax refund for the stuff we get rid of.
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Huck's hat

I'd left my baseball cap in the boat house and wanted to wear a hat when I went out to do a bit of fishing. So, I grabbed one of Huck's old white caps.
Sandra saw the hat first as I came around the corner of the camp. At the same time, I saw my reflection in one of the windows. Both of us jumped a bit, startled. We hadn't seen the hat in motion for a long time.
I wore the hat until it was time to come in. (It was a fine afternoon of fishing that was unencumbered by actually catching any fish.) I'm not much of a hat guy and have only worn one since I had a bit of melanoma removed a couple of years ago. I put Huck's hat back where it belongs.

The rains that used to be

We have a loft over the porch. It's just large enough for a mattress and you can only sit up in the middle. We sleep there now and it's where I slept when I was a kid. Back then, the roof was thinner - shingles atop tar paper and boards. The sound of rain on the roof was as soothing a sound as you can find. Even the hard rain of a thunderstorm, slowed by the leaves and evergreen needles above, was muted and humble. It was great for sleeping, be it late at night or on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
When Huck retired, he redid the interior ceiling, putting up a layer of foam insulation between the rafters and covering it with particle board. The idea was to make it a year-round place. It is much warmer, but also quiet in a way that it never was. We still sleep great at the camp and we aren't about to remove insulation to reclaim a bit of nostalgia. We'll be comfy, even if I'm off listening someplace else in time.

Smoke to the winds and gone

Usually in early August, a big high pressure system settles over us, giving us warm, humid air - the dog days of summer. During those times, smoke from the sauna stove will float straight up and not dissipate until it's gone beyond the tops of the trees. Occasionally, there'll be a light southerly breeze to push the smoke out toward the lake where it settles like a fog.
Not this year. Instead, a large, cold, upper-level low has parked itself over the Northeast, spinning a series of cold fronts at us. Many days, we get strong northwest winds, churning up whitecaps on the blue-gray water. This past weekend, the sauna smoke was stretched out flat like a streamer on a car's antenna.
And then, a couple of days later, the wind backed around to the east-northeast, a cool, raw fetch from the Maritimes. We needed a fire in the stove in the camp. That smoke tumbled down the hill and was gone before it reached the bottom of the steps.
The smoke is visible only as the fires are getting started. The wood doesn't burn completely and a lot of particulate matter heads out the stack. We run the sauna full-tilt, so, within minutes, the fire is very hot and the exhaust becomes clear. Even in the camp's stove, where we're apt to light just a small smudge in the morning, the fire is soon hot enough to clean itself.

Another walk in the woods

The Elliott Laurel reservation (http://www.thetrustees.org/pages/302_elliott_laurel.cfm) is about a half mile south of the public beach on Route 101. It's described as having been pasture land, but only in New England would such a hilly outcropping be described as pasture. The trail through what is now forest is well-marked and, for the most part, easy hiking. If you're an old dog, you might find yourself panting on part of the hill. A second wind, however, will find you. The path requires watching, so you may find that you miss what's around you as you watch what's underfoot. Then again, by looking closely at the ground, you can spot the bright orange salamanders scurrying along the rocks.
We walked to and from the reservation, stopping to visit with the neighbors. All told, we were gone for a couple of hours, a fine walk on a summer's morning, and earning ourselves lunch at Johnson Farm (http://www.northquabbinwoods.org/entries/35) and a visit to Red Apple Farm (http://www.redapplefarm.com).
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New air

The storms pretty much missed us last night, but we got a change of air all the same. It's almost a September breeze coming from the northwest across the lake. We started a little fire in the stove, even though we couldn't bring ourselves to close the windows.
We finished the last of Tuesday's blueberries and, so, it's time to pick some more. The sun is bright and warm where the berries grow.
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Hakkarainen - 3, chain saw - 2

It's axiomatic that an amateur is going to get the chain saw wedged in a tree. It's only a question of when. It took me about an hour. I was cutting down a small birch that was holding up another birch that I'd cut earlier. With Sandra's help, a pinch bar, and a healthy measure of what my father called oatmeal power, we had the saw freed in about 15 minutes. I did have to separate the bar and chain from the saw.
And so, for the second time today, I dissembled the basic parts of the saw and put it back together with no parts left over (Earlier, the chain had slipped off and I had to put it back on, getting it backwards only once.) We have a few more chores, but that was enough excitment for one day.
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Weeds, begone

The engineering company that has been given the task of treating the lake for weeds arrived mid-day. Two guys were in a swamp boat driven by a huge fan on the back, allowing it to go into the shallow parts of the lake without getting tangled in the weeds. The boat was the loudest thing I can recall hearing on the lake, with the possible exception of a sea plane that landed here maybe 50 years ago.
The guys dumped their chemicals in the coves, including ours, and then churned the waters a bit before moving on. I don't think that they were here for much more than an hour.
I have some pictures that I'll post when I get back to civlization.
There are some restrictions on what we can do in or with the water for the next few days. (See our web site: http://www.queenlake.org for details for this week.)
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Attack of the blueberries

The blueberry bushes near the boat house are drooping because of the weight of the berries. Not only did we pick a couple quarts this morning, but we left plenty of purple and green ones for the days to come. This is the best crop that we can remember.
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The blueberries are in

My grandmother taught me the first rule of successful blueberry picking: don't eat the first blueberry. If you do, you're done for the day. Our crop along the shore by the boat house and along the causeway looks to be one of the better crops in quite a while. We're picking just enough for our breakfast cereal. There are plenty of green berries, extending the harvest for a couple of weeks, at least.
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Nothing fills the cove like the sound of a child's laughter

Tess spent the night with us. We swam, canoed, and, of course, laughed.
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Gone fishing

Sometimes, fishing is best when it's uninterrupted by fish. We have a strong northwest wind today, bringing in fresh, dry air. Sitting on the dock and casting into the wind, well, who knows where the line will go. The rain last night and today's wind have knocked lots of goodies into the water, so the fish aren't interested in my lures. That's fine. I don't need fish to have a good time.
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A traveler from the world of work: Travelers in the world of whatever

A traveler from the world of work: Travelers in the world of whatever

No fish were harmed in the writing of this item.

After an hour of clearing away leaves and brush, it was time for a bit of fishing. My first time this season. I received some new lures for Father's Day, gadgets that, according to the packaging, are irresistable to fish. Well, I guess the fish have to be in the neighborhood before they can find that resistance is futile.

Marley was a big help, keening each time I reeled in the lure. I had this image of a dog with fish hooks in his tongue. But, all was and is OK.

We still don't have a good solution for the digital TV switchover. I tried a new indoor antenna. The only improvement is that I could get one UHF/DTV station - channel 27, the Spanish-language station from Worcester.

Next step is to get on a ladder to fix the UHF lead that comes down from the antenna in the oak tree out front. Will someone dial 9 1 and wait for a yell?
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Mountain laurel in bloom

What is so rare is a day in June?

A day of sunshine, light and warm breezes, the occasional cackle from our friend, the kingfisher - this is why we come to Queen Lake. Even as we missed the shore trees that the beavers have harvested for their lodge over in the corner of the cove, we can appreciate the new views of the lake.

There's a lot of pollen on the surface of the quiet water, almost a leopard-skin of shadows on the sand below. Our sympathies to those who suffer from allergies.

Mike stopped by on his way home from a job in New Hampshire. He took us out for a ride around the lake, inspecting, among other things, the camp that's for sale just outside of the cove. (It's very rare to see For Sale signs on the lake.) We felt blessed to be out on the lake on such a fine, fine day.
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Picking up after the beavers

With the warm weather, it's time to jump in the water and find out what's happened over the winter. The pollen is thick on top of the water, but, under the surface, the water's clear. We found a couple of small logs that the beavers had cut down, but hadn't been able to drag to their lodge on the neighbor's shore.

We're still a few weeks away from being able to start serious work in the water. The lines that hold our dock steady have broken, the result of the churning of the ice. I have a couple of ideas on how to fix this. One of the challenges, however, is that the kivvers who live under the dock are fairly aggressive and will nip at me while I'm working under there. We'll reach an accommodation before long.

In all, we fared well through the winter with just the typical number of branches down. We have several trees that should come down at some point, but none poses an imminent danger to any of the buildings. Although the beavers like birch trees, these trees are too big, too old, and too far from the water for the beavers to be interested.

Huck's kids - 2, Huck's window lever gadget thing - 1

So the mechanism that opens and closes the loft window kept on coming undone, such that we either had to close the window from the outside or take off the screen and pull the window shut. With a bit of good fortune, we were able to tighten up the guide that kept the lever in place. We had no parts left over.
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Slowly, as a matter of principle

You can't hurry a sauna. Well, of course, you can, but it isn't a very good sauna. Sitting quietly, feeling the warmth penetrate that which aches, that which is tired, and then blasting it all with a couple of shots of steam, that's how it's done. The cold water of the spring is much more shocking than the same temperature in the fall. In the fall, we've grown used to the increasing chill. In the spring, we're starting all over again.

While we sat on the deck and cooled off, we were gratified to see a couple of bats swoop low over the water. We'd heard so much of the troubles that the bats have been having in the past year. These little brown birds are our friends, particularly on a still night when the black flies and mosquitoes are flexing their muscles.

The camp is full of details that can be considered as best practices, but can also be lived as a ritual, a way of living as well as a way of doing. Turning on the water, raking the yard, setting up the chairs so that we're ready for company - all have a touch of solemnity.

Each spring when I turn the water on, I'm bemused and befuddled by Huck's cleverness. Every nut and bolt has at least one washer. Every joint that connects water pipes has Teflon tape. He was, as we all know, not a man whom you could hurry. These extra touches of the washers and tapes were external representation of an inward pace that was all his own.

But, it isn't all seriousness. Since we cleared away some trees during the past few years, we're getting a lot more sunlight in and around the camp. We notice it in ourselves and we notice it in others. This morning, the sun was strong. Marley'd found himself a warm place to rest and was wagging his tail so eagerly that he dug a small hole in the dirt. Such are the pleasures that come to an old dog.

The critters of spring

We turned on the water at the camp this past weekend, confident that we'll have no more freezing temperatures close to the lake. (The temperature might try to dip below freezing, but the lake is nearing 50° now.)

From our neighbor, we learned that a cow moose and a calf had been walking through the woods, to go along with the young male sighted last week. Osprey, heron, and eagles have checked out our waters. On Sunday morning, Sandra and I toured the lake by canoe and were followed by our friend, the kingfisher. We haven't seen any turtles yet. Some years, the turtles will lay their eggs on the small, sandy point near our boathouse. The water this year is too high, I suspect. Our neighbor reported that, in years past, turtles would come up from the big swamp, cross Barre Road, and lay their eggs in the bark mulch near his house.

But, the big news remains the beavers. They've built quite a hut in the corner of the cove, taking some pretty good-sized trees from various places around the lake. We may look into hiring a trapper. In years past, however, we haven't been completely successful. We only catch the dumb ones.

Moose gotta swim, squirrels gotta fly.

Folks across the lake recently sent us a note, reporting that they'd seen a moose swimming in the lake and exiting onto our shore. The moose was a young male, about two years old.

'Tis spring, for sure

There are still a half dozen clumps of snow along the road, but the road itself is clear and dry. We saw more beaver cuttings, this time some blueberry stalks along the shore by the sauna. They've worked hard this year.

The water is high, although not unreasonably so for this time of the year. We're getting to the point where we could use a bit of rain. Nothing much in the forecast until next weekend.

So, it's a quiet time as people start to open up their camps. There was one fishing boat on the far side of the lake and two kayakers gliding through the cove. No leaf-blowers. No chain saws. Just birds and peepers. A little bit of sound carries a long way when there are no leaves on the trees or bushes. We appreciated the quiet all the more.

Blueberry buds ready for spring

As best as we could tell from the cove, the ice is out of the lake. They're tough to see, the buds on the blueberry bushes, because of the noseeums that come up like a thick fog in the sunshine.

















There are patches of snow and ice,

















but the sunshine is strong.

Churches vandalized in Gardner and Phillipston

http://www2.whdh.com/wap/newsarticle.html?aid=BO75886
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We heard that it was spring

We're two weeks into meteorological spring and a week from astronomical spring. On the back roads through Hubbardston, Templeton, and Phillipston, the sap buckets are out, collecting their sweet treat that flows as the temperature gets above freezing. The lake and surrounding woods, though, are still locked hard in snow and ice. In some places, the snow is knee-deep. You can still hear the booming of the ice.



















There are signs of life, with tracks from rabbits and wild turkey on the road, and some small, unidentifiable footprints leading to the bit of open water near the causeway. In various places, we can see where the beavers have been munching, but we've still not found out where they've taken their cuttings.



















Oh, by the way, when the guy says, "This may get a bit tricky, but don't worry," what is the probability that he'll get the car stuck in the snow and ice?

Yep, the answer is 1.

It took about 45 seconds to get stuck and 45 minutes of shoveling to free the car. The humility that comes from overconfidence gone wrong will, we hope, last a lot longer.

Digital TV and the oak tree

Next year at this time, analog-only television sets will no longer be able to receive over-the-air signals as the country switches to all=digital broadcasts.

This article raises an interesting problem for us at the camp. Our TV antenna, thanks to Huck's ingenuity and agility, is nestled high in the branches of an oak tree. You would know that the antenna is there unless you first notice the wire going up the side of the tree; even then, you can barely see it. We'll find out in the spring of 2009, when the leaves return, whether we'll be able to pick up the digital signal through the foliage. Whether we get a new TV or just add the converter to our existing, ancient set, the digital signal is on or off, not snowy like a weakened analog signal.

A step forward, eh?