A bit of Robert Frost

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep"......I love that line of poetry. It's true, too, in that our woods have been dark since I last wrote, but now they are moving back in to the sunshine. The rays are beaming in to the kitchen windows much earlier, and I can feel the warmth in it. With the equinox just two weeks away, we really are coming in to the light.

The month of February will be mostly remembered as cold cold cold. We didn't get much fresh snow in that time, but fortunately didn't lose any either. All winter long, we were able to maintain about a foot or so in the woods, and the ski trail base has been between four and eight inches. The big snowstorm that was predicted for the very end of February unkindly skipped us, dropping only about an inch of new snow. What a disappointment to watch the weather reports and the radar, to see the snow going all over the place, except here. I really was losing faith in the forecasting process. At one point, our forecast said that there was a blinding blizzard happening in Grand Marais at that moment. Greg called the law enforcement center to verify conditions, only to be told that while it was cloudy, nothing else was happening. What has been happening to this winter?

When the big storm for last weekend was predicted, I said that I wasn't counting on it until I was actually counting the inches. My skepticism seemed justified when Thursday rolled around, and nothing happened. It was time for our Winter Tracks Festival on the Gunflint Trail, so we just kept going about our business to get ready for it. In our case, we were setting up a wall tent by the bread oven, so that we could prepare and bake pizzas on Friday afternoon. Greg even put a little woodstove in it, and that afternoon, we enjoyed the company of some friends while having some homebrew in the tent. It was very warm and cozy, even with a strong east wind blowing outside.

When we woke up on Friday, it was looking better. We had a couple of new inches, and that lifted all of our spirits. During the pizza party, big fluffy flakes kept falling, and they would land on the fresh-out-of-the-oven pizzas. No matter--those slices tasted every bit as good in winter as they do in the summer at our weekly pizza bakes. By the time we were finished, several inches had come down, and I was beginning to count. It snowed on into the evening, and then settled down. The sun came out on Saturday and our snow total was around ten inches. It was hard to get a decent spot to measure, thanks to the wind. Our estimate is close.

So now it is very much a winter wonderland outside, and we even added about three inches yesterday. The skiing is fabulous, and the snowshoeing is good, too. People probably can no longer drive on the lake, with all that new snow, but the fishermen are still able to be out there on their snowmobiles. The last report we had on the ice was about three feet thick. Not bad, considering that the lake didn't even freeze until Christmas night. Winter will be with us for a while yet, and that is fine by me.

The miles to go before I sleep has to do with a mishap I had over the weekend. The Winter Tracks Festival had a schedule loaded with many varied activities. On Saturday night, we all went to the dinner and dance at the Gunflint Lodge Conference Center. The music was lively and fun, so we got into the spirit of it all, and had a great time dancing. I learned, however, that I truly am middle-aged when I took one jump too many. I landed on my feet, but managed to rupture my achilles tendon in my left foot. Since then, I have been mostly house-bound, with a big old black plastic cast on my foot. Tomorrow, Greg is taking me to Duluth to have the tendon re-attached. I think that I have lived a charmed life up to this point, as I've only gone to the hospital to have my babies. So I consider myself to be pretty lucky. I probably won't give up dancing, but I will try not to be so wild and crazy about it!

Donkeys in the Cold

The temperature is finally hovering around zero, the wind has calmed, and the stars are out in full force. It's a beautiful night on Gunflint Lake. I just walked up the hill from stoking the sauna, and the Seven Sisters, Pleides, were looking down at me. The Milky Way is streaking the sky from the northwest to the southeast, and my favorite, the Big Dipper, is hanging just north of where we put the dock in the lake in the summertime. The Big Dipper is my favorite, because it shines right outside my bedroom window each night, and I like to check in with it before I hit the hay. Whenever I travel, I can look at the Dipper and know that it is in the same position out in front of the lodge, no matter where I am.

We've been caught in the throes of the big chill the last week. In addition to low temperatures, the wind has been blowing daily. Sometimes it is blowing so hard across the lake that it obscures our view of Canada, filling the air with snow. The leftover artwork of this action has made some attractive drifts and lines on the lake, and our big drift behind the beach is growing. Sunday morning we saw the lowest temperature so far this winter, when the thermometer read minus 33. Fortunately, the cabins have been staying toasty warm, the lodge feels cozy, and the pipes have been holding their own against this snap (knock on wood!).

The donkeys, on the other hand, have been only tolerating, not enjoying, the conditions. They will come out to eat each morning and evening, but the rest of the day, it is all they can do to stick their furry noses out the door of the barn. Jethro has plenty of heft and fur to keep him comfortable, and once it started to warm up some, he would make his way to the sunniest spot in the pasture, to soak up the sunbeams. Moses is still on the lean side, and when we were down in the twenties and thirties below, Greg decided to help him out a bit by putting an old sleeping bag over his back. He wears it like a noble war horse, even though it is more ratty-looking than regal. But it has made a big difference for the frosty shivering burro. Greg took it off recently when it started to get warmer (at least in the donkey realm), and Moses got along just fine without it. Maybe he's really just bored with all of this fussing and bother, and we are interpreting it as appreciation. At any rate, I do wonder at times if they find this weather preferable to the heat of the summer, and all the flies that come with it.

For someone who needs a winter project, when the weather has made outside work next to impossible, what is the next best thing? A home improvement project, of course! So it is that we find ourselves amidst the joy and challenge of a remodel happening right here, once again in the lodge building. We decided that it was time to sort out all the years' of accumulation of stuff upstairs, in our living quarters. Greg and I moved in to the lodge with Robert, about nineteen years ago. Since then, we added two kids and lots of stuff. It probably is true that people should move every ten years or so, because that keeps the saved possessions to a minimum. We didn't do that, so now we are busy sifting, sorting, pitching and throwing, and when we can, we are recycling, too. For example, I have a large white plastic bag full of stuffed animals that will go to our resale shop at the local recycle center, and several boxes of books that will be dropped off at the library, for the used book sale in August. Clothes no longer in service will also go to the recycle center. It is good to have a place like this to pass on these useful items. By the same token, the resale shop is also a great place for us to do our shopping for newer things. Greg has found several excellent bargains there for his wardrobe. But back to the remodel. The original plan was to re-do the bathroom. Naturally this has turned into a sequential vortex that included removing the old carpeting in the bedrooms (orange shag, anyone?), deciding to move a wall, adding a new wall or two, and down the road, painting of the recently exposed ceiling and beams. I was warned about this effect a few years ago....What seems to be a simple, straightforward plan will morph into a whole new realm of ideas, and take on a life of its own.......So I remind myself amid the chaos that the outcome will be wonderful.

For me, the perfect winter project when the days are cold is something knitted. I get to see progress at regular intervals, I don't need to make a mess before it gets better (except in the case of a big old tangle in the ball of yarn), and I can pick nice bright colors to work with, which often helps in this season. But at the risk of turning this into a knitting blog, rather than nature notes, I'll stop there!

Winter Cold

It is a bright, clear day here on Gunflint Lake. The morning temperature was about 15 below zero, and the sun is shining. I'd been hearing reports from people out and about that we were going to get down to thirty below here....but so far that hasn't happened. That's okay if it does, this is northern Minnesota. What's winter without some good cold snaps like this?!

We've been getting some snowfalls to freshen the woods and trails, an inch here and another inch there. Folks have been out skiing on the trails, and the reports are good. We hope to get out there ourselves next week, after Greg's new boots arrive. It has been many years since we all went skiing, mainly because the kids outgrew their equipment so quickly, we coudn't keep up. 'Most everyone's feet have finally stopped growing, so we can invest in footwear and skis that will hang around for a while.

The wolf activity on our end of the lake has not been in abundance like we saw last year. Short of the one wolf we saw right after New Year's, we've mainly just been seeing tracks. Our window is open a crack every night, but we have yet to hear them howl. Maybe we are just sleeping too soundly. Earlier in the month, our friends Malcolm and Cindy had an exciting wolf encounter, and Cindy was kind enough to write it up for me to post here in the blog:

Friday, January 5, 2007

About 10:30 p.m. Malcolm and I took a walk to stretch our legs before retiring for the night. Two nights after the full moon, it gave a fairly strong light through the cloud cover, allowing us to see without flashlights. We rounded the bend in the little road at Diamond Willow and made our way up the small hill, through the dappled shadows, to the lodge.

Malcolm caught the flash of a shadowy something crossing the road, just before the ski trail. The form looked smaller than a deer, larger than a fox, and faster than either of those two. Must be ..... a wolf! Slowly, quietly we crept up to the place where Malcolm thought he saw it dart into the brush beside the ski trail. We peered into the darkness and heard it rustling around as it moved further away from us. It had stopped and waited for someone or something else - probably not us.

We stood in the road, awestruck that we had been so close to a wolf. I looked back down the road toward Diamond Willow, noticing how vivid the shadows appeared on such a cloudy night. Then I saw the second wolf emerge from the woods on the lake side of the road, dart through the open space, and disappear into the safety of the woods on the upper side of the road. It’s shadow was so pronounced that I could see the shagginess of its coat and the bushiness of its tail.

Two wolves roaming the night, possibly sent out by their pack to hunt. For a brief instant we had stood between them, momentarily embedded in the pack.

Thank you, Cindy, for sending that to us---what an awesome moment in the woods!

Later today, we are going to the Johnson Heritage Post Art Gallery in Grand Marais, to host a Celebration of Life for Peggy Heston. Greg's grandma, Peggy, passed away on Saturday, January 20, at the North Shore Care Center, where she had been living for the last year and a half. While at the Care Center, she often sat in her chair next to the aviary, watching the colorful birds who lived there, too. She would greet the folks who passed through the room, and if you happened to stop in at lunch time, she would offer to share her meal with you, still the gracious hostess that she had been all of her life. Fortunately, we all had some very special moments with her in her last couple of days here on earth, and we will treasure those memories, as we will the memory of her birthday party in December. I am planning to write up some stories about Peggy and post them on our website, on the Planet Heson's page, in the near future. When it is ready, I will post a note here on the blog. In the meantime, if you have a special memory or story of Peg, we would love to hear it. You can send it to us at info@hestons.com. Peggy was 94 when she died, and we feel blessed to have had her with us for such a long time.

The Gifts of The Season

As I look outside, just after Christmas, I realize what a huge gift it is to have even a small amount of snow. Most of the state survived the brown Christmas (although some were grumpy, I've been told), while we are blessed with just enough to make it white outside my window. Six to seven inches of snow looks and feels like a lot when there is none everywhere else. Some folks have taken the skis out, and have gone on the Lonely Lake trail, or some of the other trails. While it isn't the best skiing, it is still skiing---it is being out there on those two boards, sliding and moving along. That is good.

Sledding, too, has been possible. Our hill doesn't require much snow, as it is nicely clear of rocks and roots. Addie actually started the sledding season a couple of weeks ago, pulling out her favorite Torpedo, and carving a run down the hill. More folks have been sledding since then, and now it is nicely packed, and lots of fun.

Saturday night, we went to Okontoe and had a sleigh ride, another gift of the season of winter. Just enough snow for the Belgian horses and sleigh, just enough cold weather to keep that snow from melting and crusting up, and more than enough stars for us to enjoy in the sky while we glided along. Songs and carols filled the night as our able drivers steered the horses along the lantern-lit trail. Afterwards, it was time for the wonderful hot chocolate that only the Patten family can make that good, served inside their warm, cozy log cabin. Rosy cheeks, steaming cocoa, and lots of laughs and chatter filled the room.

On Christmas Eve morning, a Sunday this year, Greg, Paul, Addie and I were driving in to church. Four miles from home, two deer ran across the trail in front of us. This is a very common sight now, as the deer seem to have spread out their territory. But another animal sighting just a bit further along was a new one for me. Two otters were beginning to make their way across the road, until we came along and interrupted them. The first one continued on its way, leaping and hopping, as they do, then wiggled its way up the hill on the other side. The second one was scared back a bit, and stayed put. I like to think that the two caught up to each other a few minutes after we passed. The only water in the area was from the two swamps on either side of the road. Loon Lake was the nearest "big water", so I surmised that the pair was on a holiday sojourn to visit someone.

Early on Christmas morning, Greg went out the back door to retrieve something from his truck. He was greeted by our neighborhood fox, who had come by for his own gift. We had left out some food destined for the compost pile, and the fox wasn't content to wait for it to get there. Instead, he was helping himself to it, right from the stainless steel bowl. This fox is quite tame, and he must have thought that we had put out a dish full of food just for him. Greg said that he looked like he was trying to take the whole bowl away with him to stash somewhere. Not wanting to lose our bowl, Greg brought it inside to loosen up the remaining frozen food to toss back out to the fox. Mr. (or Mrs.?) Fox patiently waited until he tossed the chunk out the door, happily scooped it up in its mouth and headed off into the woods.

Finally, a long awaited moment arrived-----the lake froze Christmas night, and we think that it may stay frozen this time. A few days ago, it was ice-covered in the morning, with what seemed to be a fragile and tentative covering. It held until the next morning, when the wind came up and tore it to pieces, opening up a large lead on the Canadian side, and clearing all of the ice at the west end of the lake. The temperatures were climbing and the wind was blowing, so no ice was forming. That night, though, the thermometer started to head in the right direction, the wind calmed, and the lake started to make those wonderful ice-making noises---groans, squeaks, and grunts. In the morning, we could see that the open water was again covered, and we are hopeful that it will stay that way, and make more ice. Greg ventured down near shore, and he thought that it looked to be about two inches. We'll listen for more sounds tonight, and if it continues to talk to us, it may mean that we could try some ice skating after more cold days and nights. We are always very cautious, however, when it comes to being out on the ice. We wait and wait and wait until we are satisfied that the ice is thick enough and safe enough.

The best gift this season? Celebrating Grandma Peggy's 94th birthday, a few days before Christmas. Grandma has been living in the Care Center in Grand Marais, for a little over a year now. It is a wonderful place to live, with many caring staff members, ongoing activities, and plenty of action. During the day, Grandma's favorite spot to be is in the main room, sitting in an easy chair next to the aviary. As she has all her life wherever she lived, Grandma enjoys watching the birds, and saying hello to all of the folks who pass by. We are all blessed to have Peggy.

We would like to wish everyone a very Happy New Year. May this new year bring good health and hope to all. Thank you for all that you do for us and for being a part of our lives.