Snow and moose--they go together!

It's beginning to look a lot like Winter around here! Today it has been snowing off and on (mostly on) ever since early this morning. I love it when it keeps on snowing and the radar doesn't even show that it is supposed to be. And the forecast looks fabulous: snow is mentioned every day for the next week. Greg is out plowing as I write. Earlier today, he thought that we had gotten three inches, and it keeps on coming down. We couldn't be happier.

The moose love it when it snows, too, as the county plow comes up the trail to clear it, and to put down the sand and salt mixture on the road. This brings the moose out of the woods like nothing else. Anyone who drives the trail regularly knows the key spots to be on the lookout, and it is generally wherever there are curves. Thursday evening, Robert, Paul and I were driving home from a trip to Duluth. It was about seven o'clock when we left Grand Marais. In the hour or so that it took to drive to Gunflint Lake, we encountered 17 moose. Most were in the stretch between Lullaby Creek and Swamper Lake. Whew! Fortunately, Robert had installed our new snow tires the day before. We knew that we were in the Moose Zone, so we took it slowly and kept our eyes sharp for those tell-tale glowing points that meant that we had caught the reflection of our lights in the moose eyes. It was wonderfully entertaining---Robert commented on how he really liked to see their skinny legs in contrast to their broad bodies. And we remarked at how well-trained they all were, to immediately leave the road as we were approaching. This seems to get passed on to the next generation as each year passes. Of course, there are always a few exceptions--those that don't get out of the way in time, or when the road is slippery. This doesn't happen too often, and I find that if I drive slowly and carefully, I usually make it just fine. Oh, and my good snow tires help, too.

The lake is still open, and it hasn't been as frosty lately. The waves seem to move more slowly as they come in to shore. It is probably my imagination, but the water seems to get thicker as the temperature declines. It is an interesting process to watch, just as it is to see it all break up in the spring. As soon as the ice is in, I will post it here on the blog.

I haven't been skiing again, but it is looking better all the time for getting out there next week. I heard that the first six miles of the Banadad are in good shape, and that the summer home road in the Bearskin/Golden Eagle area is great. With this new snow, more of the trails will be in shape for testing out. It is still a bit early to bring out the Piston Bully groomer, but that may change soon if the weather predictions hold up this week.

In the meantime, we are busy with the last of the winterizing and with holiday preparations. Battening down the hatches of the crawl spaces is an important job to remember. Over Thanksgiving, this didn't happen at White Pine cabin, and we had our first frozen pipes of the season. It took a few hours of extra heat, and then some soldering repairs, but Greg and Robert were able to get it all fixed and running. Snow is very useful when it comes to insulation for the crawl spaces under cabins. We will now be able to bank the foundations with this fresh snow, and that helps to keep the warmth in and the cold winds out. The more snow we get over the winter, the better we can bank cabins.

Addie and I have been busy making our Christmas cards. We should be able to send them out early this week, so keep an eye on your mailbox. She has also started making cookies, much to the delight of her brothers. This time of year seems to come around so fast, but then it is also over in the blink of an eye--just three weeks and we will be getting ready to sing Auld Lang Syne. Amazing!

Early skiing

I just came in from feeding the donkeys, Moses and Jethro. What a change out there in comparison to when I wrote a few months back about them being in donkey camp at the top of our powerline. Then the weather was hot, dry and sunny till eight or so in the evening. Now we have snow on the ground, it is 12 degrees, and it soon will be dark out. We think that the donkeys actually prefer this time of year, as it means that there are no flies or mosquitoes bothering them. There's a lot to be said for that.

The other thing that came true is that I pulled out my skis yesterday, and ventured up to the Lonely Lake trail for a look around. It has been more than twenty years, I think, since I was able to ski in November. That is mainly due to time, but also some years to lack of snow. Just as I remembered and expected, the trail was wet under the snow, but I still was able to ski for a good mile or so. It was great to be back out there! Several tracks pointed the way for me, but not the kind layed out by the ski groomer. Deer, fox, people, wolves and birds had gone down the trail before me. Occasionally, I would encounter a puddle, where the ground and the water were still so warm that the snow hadn't even covered things up. In other spots, my ski would plant down into slush, and the bottom would get coated. For anyone that skis, they know all about these slushy patches that instantly stop your skis on the next glide. I scraped the icy mass off my ski bottom and continued on. My "ski legs" started to come back, meaning I was able to make it down the hills and still do the snowplow. The whole time, and again today, snowflakes were falling lazily from the sky. I would love a huge snowfall right about now, but even those individual flakes start to add up. So keep it coming!

At the bottom of the powerline hill, I saw a pattern in the snow from a grouse. Sometimes they flutter one wing and turn in a circular motion while they do so. I can't say why, this is all I know. But as I looked at it, I decided that it is the partridge's version of a snow angel. Keep an eye out there in the woods--you may spot one someday, too.

Pulling out the Mukluks

Belated Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! It was a wonderful weekend here, filled with good times, good friends, and of course, good food. We have about five inches of snow on the ground, so it looks like the start of winter. Addie was so excited on a recent day when she pulled out her mukluks. She's been waiting for the snow for several weeks now. The lake is still open, but it is cooling off. Our mornings are often filled with the grey steam off the water, and this in turn freezes on the trees, twigs and exposed blades of grasses down by the shore. It turns the shoreline into a mass of ice crystals, and it looks like a fairyland of sorts.

Our snow came in two recent snowfalls, and it does look like it is here to stay. Of course, about the time I say that, we get a freak warm-up and melts it away. Keeping my fingers crossed that this does not happen! I spoke with some folks who went out skiing all three days that they were here. They did the Lonely Lake trail, Big Pine, some of the Banadad trail, and even the South Rim! I asked about the rocks that might still be exposed, and they assured me that yes, indeed, there were still rocks out there waiting to dig into ski bottoms. We decided that those gouges and scars add to the memories of our early winter ski adventures. And that is also why we generally reserve an older pair of skis to be our rock skis! I may try to pull my pair out one day this week and see for myself how the ski season is shaping up.

We fired up the sauna last night, and took our first sauna of the winter season. Three members of our party were brave enough to make a mad dash into the lake. Because the shoreline has some ice on it from the waves splashing up and freezing, I guess that it was more of a fast meander than a dash. I was the self-appointed safety officer, and I held the flashlight so that they could make their way to shin-deep water. Then all three of them layed down in the icy water to cool off. Yipes! A moment passed and they made it back up to land without any mishaps, all the while talking about how wonderful it was to do that. I still can't. It is so much easier for me to just walk back up and take a cool shower. I think it is because I think about it too much!

The days are noticeably shorter as we approach the winter solstice. The sun is going down around 4:15 each night. On the days that it is cloudy, it feels dark even sooner. On Friday last, we pulled out the beeswax pots and the wick so that we could continue our tradition of candle-dipping. Several people joined us in the lodge kitchen to make candles to use during these short days. We've been doing this for about twelve years or so, and it is a pleasant way to start the holiday season. The candles that the kids made in the early years still hang on our kitchen light fixture. These are the ones that were a bit misshapen or a little too fragile to use. I like to see them hanging there, to remind me of those days so long ago. Now it is Addie who most often joins me to fashion some big beautiful tapers to use at the table. We don't always use up all of the candles during the year, but we still make more. It is actually quite relaxing to stand and dip the wick for several times, watching the candle build in size.

With snow on the ground, I feel certain that the bears have gone in to hibernation. I pulled out the bird feeder and filled it. Once again the chickadees and nuthatches are busy flying in and out to scoop up the sunflower seeds. We mostly see rose-breasted nuthatches, but occasionally, a white-breasted one will swoop in. I've seen many bluejays and grey jays in recent days as well. There is still an eagle flying about, as we saw him making several passes in front of the lodge yesterday. I'd imagine that when the lake freezes over, he will certainly head out, if not sooner.

A Pretty Good Day

For this post, I turn the pen over to Greg.

When I heard the loons, I knew it was going to be a good day. November tenth. Loons during deer season. I wasn't in my stand yet, though I was pretty certain that Paul was in his, as he had left five minutes before me. (Robert got a buck on opening morning, so he must figure that he can sleep in.) But I was working my way through the woods as quietly as possible, and I heard loons. Two of them.

Once seated, a pileated woodpecker flew just overhead and landed in a nearby birch. And laughed and laughed. At me? I'm not even sure he knew I was sharing the woods with him, but these clowns are good company. As long as you're in the mood for the company of a raucous clown. The clown left and it was quiet for a while.

The loons called a few more times before a flock of black-capped chickadees flitted in and I was where they wanted to be. So they flitted about me and my stand. One landed on my leg and another on my right shoulder. Whenever he turned, his tail would brush my ear. I felt honored that they should consider me their tree stump. And then they, too, were gone.

A shot rang out from right about where Paul should be. I waited and listened for any successive shots, but none came. One shot--meat, two shots--maybe meat, three shots--probably no meat. Of course, sometimes that one shot is a clean miss and there is no chance for a second one. But then, Paul has never used more than one shot to bring down a deer. These thoughts were passing through my head as I took a long, scenic, roundabout route to his stand. In part because it was such a beautiful morning, but also in hopes that he would have the thing dressed out by the time I got there. I found Paul standing at the edge of the treeline with a big grin on his face. "I need your tag, " he said.

"Did you gut him out?", I asked.

"No."

I pulled out my k nife, thinking, "I'm sure I've shown him this before." And also thinking, " Maybe I'm being taken." But then, it wasn't even 8:30 in the morning and already it had been a pretty good day.