Wisconsin visit

As I mentioned earlier, it was a dark and stormy night when I arrived in Wisconsin.

By staying in Fond du Lac, I chose to stay in a place I never have before. My mom told me at the last minute it was possible I could have stayed at my grandma's house if we scared up some furniture, but I told her I'd already said my goodbyes anyway. I didn't even visit Plymouth, come to think of it. I had no wish to drive by.

I chose Fond du Lac partly because I got the best deal on a hotel room, and partly because my dad is there now. My mom had been concerned I wouldn't have the time to see her, being so far away from Waldo, but when I called about that, she was busy herself. I would have liked to see her more.

After my frenetic but satisfying New York visit, I was glad to take it easy. My dad called me early, and I told him I would be sleeping a little longer. Then he called again to say he was on his way over on his tricycle. (Pretty nifty, his tricycle.) He wasn't sure I'd be able to find my way to him (he was right) due to street closures due to the flooding. I was just about ready when he arrived. I took him to lunch at Faro's Family Restaurant, located right next to the hotel, and whose parking lot I'd used the night before and hoped wouldn't get me towed, because, you know, the flood had caused my hotel to be completely full, and semi-trucks were taking up parking spaces that I might have used, so I used the parking lot next door. Did you notice that, I ran on my sentence and used 'you know' funny how that happens while I'm talking about Wisconsin. I learned that there.

Then we went driving around a bit, and I asked Dad if there was anything he'd like to do that he couldn't usually do without a car. He wanted to shop at Piggly Wiggly, too far for him to get to normally. I wish I'd taken some photos of the worldly goods damaged beyond repair that had been pulled out of basements and put out on the curb. Already on that second day of the flooding the local paper announced the city would be doing bulk item garbage pick-up. That is something about Wisconsin...the people meet such exceptional needs in a methodical, practical way. Also something about Wisconsin, the people will take all they can get from it. We saw kitchen sinks, bicycles, and many non-flood-damaged items as well as melting cardboard boxes full of lost basement treasures.

We got to see the flooded football field:

I found out later that my sister-in-law Cathy and my nephews also got to see it, that in fact they were in Fond du Lac when the flash flood began. They didn't have any troubles themselves, but they were delayed for hours due to other stalled cars. My nephew Jake got a dramatic video of the water rushing around the cars. I have to pester him to get that on youtube with all the others.

Unlike my many other visits, when my visits with my Dad were relegated to a short afternoon, or in one case, a very short visit before I rushed off to catch my plane earlier than expected, I got to see my Dad almost every day. His creativity has taken a kooky crafty turn, as seen in this tape-covered paper mache hat and this braided-plastic-bag footstool.

More Dad and flood photos here.

Dad told me a neighbor girl was playing with her friends, and asked him, "Are you the mad-man?" My dad said he looked at her, and just gave an expressive non-threatening shrug that he demonstrated for me. It seemed a good answer. We talked about that a little. I think it concerned him that he would be the strange scary mad-man of the neighborhood. I suggested he could say something like, "I suppose so, but I'm not dangerous," and we strategized ways he could let the little kids know that while yes, he is strange, he's nobody to be afraid of.

And that's the truth. He is what you could call the mad man. It's pretty amazing he's survived schizophrenia as long as he has. He's still working on finding ways to live with that in the world. He asked me if I was able to relate to him better than my other family there. I promptly said yes. Even when he was deeply into bible-thumping Christianity, we could still talk in a way I can't really with the rest of my family.

I found out on this visit that my brother listens to right-wing pundits and voted for the frat boy residing in the White House. His in-laws are conservative, and now so is he a bit. I think I convinced him to listen again to Obama, and set aside the biased views he's been fed while he does. Cathy said she would. I couldn't get through by phone, but I decided to take a drive out to their place on the second day, and we had a pleasant evening, albeit smoky. We sat at my grandpa's picnic table, which happened to be downwind of the barbecuing pork roast my brother was cooking for the grad party the next day. I especially enjoyed talking to Jake. Cathy told me later they left us alone on purpose so we could get to know each other better. I do hope the boys will visit me soon. Both artists, Jake and Abe are considering coming to the west coast for college. For now, they're staying close to home for their first year.

On Father's Day, the graduation party. I got myself a little lost trying to find it at the Sheboygan Marsh. This is the first time google maps failed me. You see, it sent me to the edge of the actual marsh, to a dead-end gravel road, nowhere near the other side with the Lodge and the campground. (If I hadn't been in such a hurry I could have looked closer before I set out and seen that on the map.) I found myself back on the road to my brother's house, but of course no one was there. Back in Glenbeulah, at the Citgo station where I got gift cards for the boys, I discovered I was very close, I just had to follow county road P.

So I got there, I finally saw my mom, we visited. I took photos. The boys played croquet, just as they did at Zac's graduation party.



The twins have worked at the Marsh Lodge for years...since before high school I think...mowing the campground, taking care of garbage, etc. The owners lent them the space for free. At Zac's party, Cathy put together a photo display. At this one, not only photos but a wrestling-mat display of all Jake's and Abe's letters and medals. The E is for Elkhart Lake, of Road America fame. Well, maybe fame. I'd be surprised if I have racing fans reading my blog. Abe had a special medal for 100 ?wins ?events but Jake just missed out because he only had 99. Abe, my brother tells me, has the perfectly-formed body for the exceptional runner.



The rest of the photos are here.

I didn't really have plans for after the party, and since none developed, I called my dad and asked if he'd like to go to dinner. I took him to Schreiner's Restaurant. He got liver and onions, which I remembered him getting years before when he took me to the Big Boy restaurant in Sheboygan...now long gone.

Finally, the next morning I visited my mom and her husband before I drove to catch my plane. At least they are voting for Barack Obama. I think the boys might be too. Mom and I went to lunch, and we stopped at a store to try to find a dress she could wear to a wedding.

Their neighbors had this cool bowling ball bug sculpture:

Lunar Eclipse

I was walking home from the bus stop when I saw the sliver of a moon, and I thought, what? I thought there was a full moon tonight? oooohh, it must be a lunar eclipse. I spent some time just watching it. Steve was about to leave, but he turned around to spend a few minutes watching the moon with me. (See the flickr set for the photo times.)



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Daily Feel Good Photo

I've had limited access to the web here in Wisconsin. I found a free wireless connection but I don't know where it's coming from. Steve says I should be careful. Someone might hack my computer. I've also gone to the library, which is excruciatingly slow, but most people around here have dialup, so it's probably fast to them. And I've gone to McDonald's. I thought they had free wifi, but you pay for it here, 3 bucks for 2 hours. I slowly enjoyed an egg nog milkshake.

I've had good reason to keep checking my email, one of our core members of Portland BPF was busy planning this.

Besides a daily phone call from the best guy ever, I needed a little dose of sanity while in the frigid Midwest. I just realized my favorite thing to visit has been The Daily Coyote. This bit of wildness, just a bit tamed, soothes my heart.

This is just of a sample of the many amazing photos of Charlie by Shreve Stockton in Wyoming.

Winter Colors

May all beings be happy. May all beings be at peace.

Neahkanie and Nehalem Bay

I really quite enjoyed our vacation along the coast last month, but something I missed was the leisure time to walk on the beach. By some dumb stroke of luck somebody cancelled and I won the drawing for two nights at the library cottage. During the three days/two nights there, I got the chance to walk on the beach four times. I've been fortunate to visit here about once a year since Steve and I started going.


There's always something different about the beach. This time there was a giant tangle of seaweed. These things are about 30 feet long.

Somebody left an art installation on the beach:

I like to visit these rocks during low tide. Once upon a time there were at least three, and this the tallest was 4 to 5 feet above the sand, the size of an easy chair. I'm not sure if people truck in sand to replace sand lost to the ocean, or if the ocean shifts sand back to the shore. During high water, the rocks would be submerged. I wonder if I will find them at all on my next visit.

I also enjoy observing the gulls as they drink the fresh water from the creeks emptying into the ocean.

I was particularly drawn to the rocks. Perhaps I developed an affinity after the Shasta Caverns. I was climbing about on the rocks on the north end of Neahkanie beach when the low water tide turned around to seek high water. Whoops, almost got wet.

The sunsets were glorious.

Steve had the neat idea to take photos of details of the cottage that he likes to remember.

I decided to steal his idea and take a few more of my own.

On Thursday, our full day there, we visited the Cart'm recycling center

and the Nehalem Bay State Park, Steve's good idea.


We saw a total of eight deer.

For the slideshow of all the photos, go here. There are many more favorite things, and more visions from the beach and state park. Turn the titles on if you want to see more explanation, off if you just want to see the many photos.

Coast Vacation 5: Shasta Caverns

Since we couldn't go to Crater Lake due to snow, we decided to give the Shasta Caverns a try. Whenever we stopped somewhere, whether a tourist spot, restaurant, or hotel, Steve would peruse the sightseeing brochures. I usually would forget about those. That's how we found out about the Caverns. Funny thing then, looking at the website and in the brochure, I couldn't find out how many steps were involved. Could we handle that many steps? I called to find out. Funny thing now, I can't remember how many steps there were exactly. 460 some odd steps. I said to Steve I didn't think we were up for it. I can walk here there and everywhere, but going up that many stairs? Both of us have been living with fall allergies, and my asthma would easily be triggered. He disagreed. He thought we could do it. We decided if we made it there in time for the noon tour, we would go for it. That meant getting checked out, finding breakfast, and driving for about a half hour by noon.

We got there just in time. I figured, if anything the little boat trip across the lake would be nice, and I was supposing there could be a way to turn back if needed. After the boat, there was a winding bus trip up the mountain. The view up there:



We learned a few things on the way. That marina off to the right is the second largest on the lake. The I-5 bridge that crossed over the lake is 300 feet tall, but most of that is underwater. It was built on top of the bridge already there before the lake was created.

Julie, our tour guide through the caverns, informed us there were two rules. Do not touch the rock, and no food or drink allowed, except water. The rock is living rock, formed by water and minerals passing over it. If we touched it, the oil from our hands would create a seal and the rock would die in that spot.

She told us all about the different formations, many more than the familiar stalactites and stalagmites. There is peanut brittle, a rock formation found on a cave floor that looks like its namesake. It is formed when water sticks around a while, so rock forms on the surface, kind of like ice. When the water recedes, the rock settles and breaks. There are soda straws, hollow and the width of a drop of water, hanging from the ceiling. There are helictites, which go every which way. When stalactites fill in next to each other they become draperies. Draperies become flowstone. The caverns website has more description in a handout for teachers here.

These draperies sparkled.

As it turned out we didn't do too badly. There were a few other people for whom the many stairs were at least as difficult as for me. The first big flight was 50 steps, and the longest 80 steps. After the 50 we were given the option of taking the shortcut back down and waiting for the group. No one took it, not even the lady with a cane who had braces of some type, or perhaps even prosthetic feet. We all wanted to see all the caves. It helped that I used my inhaler as a precaution.

The original explorers did touch the rock. It was tradition back then. They used carbon from their lamps and left their initials with their fingers.

That's Nobember 11, 1878.

I was very happy we did it, nonetheless, I saw this with relief and a feeling of accomplishment.

Lake Shasta was particularly low. The tour company had created a road that led at least a quarter mile into the lake bed from the original shoreline. They took us down to the boat in a shuttle.

After the caverns it was time to go home. We were ready, even if it meant an 8 hour drive.

Along the way I would snap pictures from the car. At first Steve thought that was pointless, that I couldn't get any good photos from a moving vehicle. I told him sometimes I was surprised. Sometimes it allowed me to see something my eyes didn't catch. Ah, the advantages of the digital age. If you snap enough times, something works out just right. There were a couple things I saw but did not capture that I especially liked. A couple of cow sculptures, made from scrap metal, and a dragon, also from metal, perhaps at the other end of the same ranch. Steve saw the dragon and pointed for me. At the time I was listening to Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke and marveling at the sexy voice, wondering who that was who could jump from southern to western to english to scottish accents in a breath. While the metal dragon in the book was bad and the silver dragon good, I feel sure that this metal dragon is good. More on that later. Oh wait, here are the cows. And that gave me the clue on finding the dragon. Here it is.

One thing I noticed about snapping pictures, the mountains seem to stand still while the foreground constantly changes.

If you have doubts about the walking of mountains it means you do not yet know the walking of your own self. It is not that your self does not walk, but that you do not yet know, have not made clear its walking. And those who would know their own walking must also know the walking of the blue mountains. ~Dogen, Mountains and Rivers Sutra

See the full slideshow here.

Coast Vacation 3: Trees of Mystery

Steve saw the redwoods years ago with his first wife. They went camping. He knew that our first stop should be the National Park Service in Crescent City. This was Wednesday, October 3rd, and on that Friday we planned to drive to Crater Lake. The forest ranger told us the Crater Lake rim drive was closed due to snow. Uh-oh. Steve knew of a trail through a grove of trees that led to a river. The park ranger told us how to get to Stout Grove. This was an amazing first view of the redwoods for me.



When I began seeing trees growing on trees, it finally sunk in that I was seeing trees unlike any I'd seen before.



See the Stout Grove slideshow here.

Some years back we spent a weekend on the Washington coast, and went to the Hoh Rain Forest. I learned then (that carefree weekend before 9/11/01) that those old growth trees have a life and afterlife of thousands of years. After they fall, baby trees and other plants grow on the tree's carcass. The roots grow down around the trunk and reach into the ground. The mother tree eventually decomposes completely, and often there will be a line of full-grown trees along the line of her trunk, a cozy hollow tree-root cave under each of their trunks.

We saw something similar with the redwoods; many plants and baby trees grew on or alongside the fallen trunks. I noticed though that there were no root caves. Instead, smaller trees grew right next to living trees, on living trees, alongside dead trunks. I wondered about their roots, how deep they went. Later on during our trip, I learned that redwoods indeed have a short tap root. They reach for the sun, so a tree could grow from a burl straight out from another tree's trunk, and then curve upward to reach toward the sunlight. The tree growing on tree seemed to have no roots at all.

From the Stout Grove we drove to Trees of Mystery.
The candelabra tree is an amazing example of baby trees growing on another living tree. We saw other examples like this, but none with the audio tours at Trees of Mystery that sounded like old elementary school teaching films.

The light in the forest was too dim for my photo of the Cathedral Tree. That was a popular spot for people to get married, the Brotherhood Tree had some little wooden mementos as well.



Considering we so often saw baby trees growing next to old trees, I don't think the Cathedral Tree is all that mysterious. At some point there was an old tree with baby trees growing around it. Eventually the old tree died and decayed, and the rim of small trees was left. Or so it seems to me, I could be wrong.

Here's the smaller baby cathedral:




You can see the full slideshow here. Included is a gallery of Bunyan legend carvings, and if we pushed the button on the sound boxes, we heard the tales of Paul Bunyan and his logging adventures.

The one I remembered from my childhood grade school reading was not mentioned. One time Paul Bunyan had a real hankering for some flapjacks, but how could they fry them? Somehow he had a giant frying pan. All the little people strapped slabs of lard under their feet, and they skated around the fry pan so Paul Bunyan could have his flapjacks.


Steve wanted some of Sourdough Sam's soup.


They had a great map at Trees of Mystery. Steve was disturbed, and so was I, that this original piece of art wasn't more protected. The owners don't seem to know what they have.

Slideshow of the map here. Steve took most of the map photos. A detail below:

Dreaming of You

You are comfortable here with the fire crackling and your chores done. He is seated in front of the fire relaxing, perhaps he has some port or some whiskey or some apple wine. Somebody knocks on the door. You are startled and are startled anew at the fire. It sparkles and snaps with anticipation. They came! You look at him, would he please get the door?

You are not decent, you are only wearing your underclothes. He is also, but a man in his long underwear can acceptably answer the door. You remove yourself to the back room behind the great stone fireplace. You worry that he'd rather not answer the door and you'd like to have him be most comfortable. Is it the case that all men are most relaxed at home, alone (you don't count, you are a part of him), partly undressed? You worry that the peaceful spell has been broken, and you can't give that back to him.

But they are here! They didn't know if they would make it or not, the trip was long and the children young. The children glow as if they'd just stepped out another door and not traveled for hours. You happily greet them and their parents. The man sports a mustache, still brown. She barely registers, gathering the children, hands on shoulder, presenting them. You and the three children meet eyes, feeling that bond of friendship that almost excludes their mom and dad. You wonder if your old friends know this and if it would bother them. You are unconcerned, you and the children know of the magic you can create together.

You look out the window and see tufts of foam roll in from the ocean, blown up like froth from a lager. At least you think it is that at first, but the puffy drifts gather volume and you realize it has always been snow. You have not heeded the silent outdoors, and the dim grey sky has obscured the falling flakes. You make plans with the children to explore the snow while the other three adults catch up on the city's news. You know he will give them food and drink and he will be gracious and hide his discomfort.

On awakening you ponder the open floor plan around the fireplace, and you fancy the notion that this came from the past. Or could this dream be a story asking to be written? The feeling of contentment mixed with the edge of danger from the elements lingers in your body. You can feel her (you) asking to be remembered, don't forget, invite her into being. These two, did they build this house? Have they reached out to you from the timeless fire and stones to give you a glimpse of their love? You get a glimpse of the core separateness preferred by the man, and the inherent togetherness felt by the woman.

Faery Garden

I first realized that this garden would be different when the bamboo poles showed up with moss-covered sticks poking out of the hollow tops. That's odd, I thought. I suppose the idea is that the moss will flourish on the sticks. That will look neat. I usually walk past this garden on my way to catch the bus.

Then the bones sticking up out of pipes submerged in the dirt made their appearance. Hmmm. As a vegetarian I can't help but think of the animal these came from. But they work. They looked like little mushroom houses.



I started imagining little beings congregating and flitting from house to house. More details were revealed on subsequent walks. A human-sized bench. A pink jar. A pottery piece looking like a cross between a beehive and a kiva oven, with a tea candle inside. A fairy palace?



A fairy-sized road, but a path only just big enough for a human to take a few steps through the garden. A platform that looks like a miniature swimming hole raft. Skulls, reminding me of the cattle skulls in New Mexico, only smaller. I once painted a watercolor of skulls in my cousin Jo's Jemez yard. She liked it so much I gave it to her. I wonder whatever happened to it. (Jo died a few years ago, and I'm no longer in touch with her daughter or significant other.) There are so many interesting little details.



One day when I wasn't rushing to catch the bus for work I stopped to talk to the creator D and his housemate C, and asked if I could take photos. I told D I thought of it as The Fairy Garden. He said, "That's exactly right!" He told me he got the idea for the beehive sculpture from a medieval monastery on an island in Ireland. Like this maybe? He found mosses and ferns in the forests. One he brought back from his home state. One day he was on the road to Canby, looking for ferns off the road, he found a dying ground for deer, possibly the depository for car crash victims. Carcasses in various states of decay offered up his skulls. And I wonder what else?

His sweet dog Lou got in the picture:

I saw the two housemates another day, and they greeted me warmly. The garden artist was working on creating some tables from old growth logs. I didn't think to ask how he got them. Cormac McCarthy's The Road was perched on the fairy raft. He'd just bought it, hadn't started reading it. I told him I'd just looked up fairy in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, and I learned that faery is the land of the fairies. (It turns out the old version that is online says faery is interchangeable with fairy. The current book version defines it this way.)

A few days later, in the rain:

The land of faery,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue.

W.B. Yeats: The Land of Heart's Desire (1894)