12 posts tagged “minnesota”

on the morning we left the lake for this year, i got up to watch the sunrise and to walk my dad's trail in the woods across the road.  here's what i saw.

in the sporadic 'two by two' theme - two dogs.

no trip to the northwoods is complete without a pilgrimage to lake itasca, the headwaters of the mississippi river.  no  matter how many times i've been there before, i still love to wade across the ankle-deep stream within its first few recognizable meters, and wade downstream until it's nearly hip-deep.  it's humbling to contemplate where the low, quiet water flowing through the woods will eventually wind up.  the river actually flows north for its first few dozen miles and is a beautiful, several-day canoe trip (as illustrated in this beautiful children's book).  i paddled it with a friend in 2003 and seldom have i spent a more peaceful four days, or seen fewer people - we stayed in several campsites that were river-access only and no one else was anywhere nearby.  we did see snapping turtles, eagles, herons, and wild otters.

even in itasca state park, which on any beautiful summer day will be crawling with tourists from near and far, there are good flora and fauna to be seen if you take the time.

over the weekend that followed our first week at the cabin, we traveled down to the twin cities to host 'we do - part 2,' the north american component of our wedding.  the celebratory activities included a hair-raising, stress-relieving, rootin'-tootin' good visit to valleyfair; a ceremini complete with cutting of the wedding cheese; a dinner cruise on the st croix river; a picnic brunch at como park; and a tour of the historic james j. hill mansion in st paul.

of course, out of all those activities, the most interesting wildlife and photo ops were at como park. 

(reconstructed in the pale, watery, wintry auckland sun - i can see my breath)

while spam was visiting, we made the necessary pilgrimage to the marktplatz, where we'd met 14 years earlier.  in addition to startling some old friends, dodging hurled bakers' pans and hearing dubious tales of rabid local canines, we took a sunset walk around buck lake.  i know i've nattered on about buck lake before, so i'll just post the pictures and let them speak for themselves.

(continuing to reconstruct the june-july trip to north america)

after the california weekend, i headed to the lake, while the pebbles went to vancouver for a week.  the northwoods were as beautiful and peaceful as always, in their verdant summer foliage; the lake was like glass in the morning, and gave birth to millions of mayflies at dusk; the phoebes called their names all day long and darted around to feed their ravenous broods.  the water was clearer than i'd ever seen it and the stones at the bottom could be seen even at night.  my old friend spam stopped in for a few days and we swam, stargazed and scrabbled, and visited good people up at clv. 

oh, the shame.  episode 26, the half-yearly anniversary of the weekly spider feature, is a week late.  all i can say is, i'm on vacation, but as you will see, i haven't actually been neglecting the eight-leggers.  only the celebritizing them online.  so here are a selection of the fearsome beasts i've encountered in northern minnesota in the last two weeks.  a little light on the info this week, too, i'm afraid, but a picture is worth... you know.

on the concordia language villages’ main site, about an hour north of the cabin, is a small lake called buck lake.  it’s an odd shape, but just right for hiking around in about 45 minutes.  

when i first started going to skogfjorden, 19 years ago, we would have vespers at the fire circle there on sunday nights.  later in my clv career, the knights-in-training of the märchenwald program would go on a morning’s ‘journey’ to and around buck lake as part of their ordeal.  during the year that i lived at clv i also went for frequent walks there, and i have seen mist rising from its flat surface by the first light of morning, and the black silhouettes of trees lit only from the snowshine on the ground.  if you have been around this site for a while, you may even have heard loons crying there yourself.  it is a magical spot.

the pebbles and i went for a sunset walk around buck lake one evening before attending the märchenwald play.  the light was golden, the lake was calm and a crescent moon rose while we walked.  the woods were nearly silent, and the only other animal we encountered was one of the large beavers who live in the lake, whom we startled from a distance of about 20 feet.  he rocketed into the lake and propelled himself out of our sight using his massive tail.  then it was just us and a few sleepy songbirds.

and now we get to the lake.  the lovely, lovely lake.  

in the 1950s, my great uncle and aunt built a cabin on the shores of lake kabekona.  from them it passed into my grandfather’s hands, and from him to my mom and aunt.  it has become a cherished haven for all of us, and it is one of the few places that truly feels like home to me.  while we were growing up and moving around, we always went to the cabin in summer, sometimes for weekends and sometimes for months at a time.  although my great uncle died before i was born, i can dimly remember my great aunt, and the presence of her brother, my grandfather, is also unmistakeable along the woodsy paths, in the heavy aluminum rowboat, and in the jumbles of accumulated basement detritus.

there is no feeling like sitting in the treehouse, reclining in a favorite chair, with a gentle breeze riffling through.  outside the waves lap softly on the shore, the pines sigh and the nuthatches honk quietly.  squirrels scold intermittently, and toward evening, the loons begin calling.  it is pure serene bliss.

of course, in thunderstorm season, if you are adventuresome enough to be in the treehouse in a really good storm, you get a very different experience.  the barrage of large hailstones on the tin roof is literally deafening and you cannot be heard above it, no matter how loudly you shout.  but most of the time, the tranquillity of the treehouse is unmatched, and rarely have i napped more restfully than in the dilapidated papasan chair in the lakeward corner.

the lake itself is allegedly the second-clearest and the third-deepest in minnesota.  it freezes stoutly over in winter and remains bone-achingly cold well into the summer, but it had warmed by the time i arrived.  or rather, the top six inches had, making ‘swimming’ more of an exercise in concentrated floating.  most of us love to swim, including the dogs, and the weather was obligingly warm.  an unprecedented blueberry crop allowed us to plunder the woods in short, single-minded bursts, retrieving enough berries for a pie, then jump in the lake to wash off the sweat, bug spray and accumulated film of swatted, smeared mosquitoes.  it was heaven.