Summer Favorites

June has always been one of my favorite months here on Gunflint Lake. Currently, May is working its way up in popularity as well. The beautiful sunsets are one reason why. Because the days are longer, the sun goes down around nine or so in the evening. All that daylight is a big bonus. But then to have the beauty to end it all is just the icing on the cake, as they say.

I love the return of all the warm sunshine and temperatures, and the promise that the summer ahead brings. The days are extra busy, but it seems there is usually time for a quiet moment on the porch in mid-afternoon. The birds are busy singing while I sit there, and often the hummingbirds will come by. I am hearing the return of old favorites, and occasionally seeing them, too. A black and white warbler was busy in the birch tree at the corner of the lodge yesterday. The leaves are still pretty small, so I had excellent viewing of this particular bird. I also like it when a bird has a straight-forward name such as this one. Sure makes it easier to remember!

The lake has remained calm for today, and that always seems to be an invitation to go out in a canoe. I have yet to do it, but as mentioned above, the promise of summer should allow me that sometime soon. How about you? What do you look forward to this summer?

Homecoming 2010

As a homeschool, we didn't attempt some of the usual school traditions, like prom and other dances. But in a way, we do celebrate Homecoming, even if it is at the wrong time of the year. I just returned from picking up Paul and Addie at college. Now who wouldn't want to arrive to a scene that looks like this?---What a lovely sight on Gunflint Lake to greet us this morning. I suspect that I missed a perfect-weather weekend here on the Trail. But if this is an indication of what is ahead, I am grateful to be back home. Paul and Addie feel the same. Addie said that it was hard to fall asleep last night, because she was so excited for morning to come---just like Christmas!

Miss a day, miss a lot...twice that for me. In my absence, the black flies returned. They are a necessary component in the blueberry plant's lifecycle, in that they pollinate the berry bushes in early summer. I'm hoping all the rain we received last week will nourish those little flowers so that we will later on have an excellent crop. We have just a few bags of berries left in the freezer, so it's nearly time to replenish the supply. Summer brewing plans include a batch of raspberry mead, so the rain should help those bushes as well. I noticed my tulip plant has bloomed, too, while I was gone. Its cheery red is a welcome spot in my otherwise-still-green flower patch. Now who would plant only one tulip bulb?! Evidently me, though I don't remember when. Or maybe I can blame it on a squirrel for digging it up somewhere else, and replanting it here. If that is the case, I wonder whose bulb it was?

The rain probably brought the lake level up a bit, but not enough yet to be real noticeable. As this photo indicates, our dock is ridiculously high out of the water. This is due in part to it not being pushed in all of the way yet. We are transitioning from a long wooden ramp to a roll-in one, another step in making the work easier. Soon the newer extension will be here and ready to go, so then we can position the dock further out in the water.

My flickers are calling right now, as I sit and write this on the porch. I should go and spy on them, in case there might be new little ones around. There just might have been another change that happened while I was gone.

Random Sunday Photos

Getting a little braver.

The patience of a fisherman.

Posing for the camera.

Our New Neighbors are Noisy!

A family of flickers has set up housekeeping in a very dead poplar tree not far from the lodge. It is a marked tree, in that Greg has been saying for years that it needs to come down before it falls down. After observing the happy nature of these flickers, I told him not yet.

I watched these birds the other day for about twenty minutes. The nesting hole is about twenty feet up the trunk, so it wasn't easy getting photos. I persevered, and my trusty little point-and-shoot came through, so that at least I could see outlines of the birds. Finally, I gave up on the camera, and took time to just observe. There were four birds, and none seemed small, so I guess this is an extended family. Three would fly off routinely, while a fourth would stay behind and occasionally poke its beak out of the hole.

The calls were constant and loud, so I could keep track of how far away they had traveled. Soon enough, they would fly back, and one or two would quickly sneak into the hole. Another would perch at the hole, and bob back and forth, in and out, while the one inside would mimic the routine. It really had me wondering what the dance was all about, something I'll probably never know.

A couple days later, while standing in the lodge, I heard the loud and familiar thunk of a bird hitting the window. I went outside to investigate, and was sad to see that it was one of the flickers. It was lying belly down on the grass, with its eyes shut. I picked it up to see if anything could be done, and noticed that it was still alive.

I brought it to the porch and held it for awhile, thinking that at least the warmth from my hand might be of some assistance. Since it was chilly outside, I soon decided to bring it into the lodge, and put it in the classic box. I didn't go so far as to line the box with newspaper, and put water in it...the realism of adulthood told me not to have the optimism that I might have were I still a child. I put the box near the woodstove, and sat down with my knitting.
Soon enough, I could hear scratchings in the box, so I took it outside. I was hoping that the little one had recuperated enough to go and join its mates in the tree. The calling of the others was still constant, and I hoped that it might jar recognition in the fallen one. But it was not to be. I watched as it took its final breath and was gone.
I've noticed that the others are still calling and playing, so perhaps this was not one of their relatives. But for a few brief moments, I got to be close to it, like a relative, and had the joy of seeing its beauty up close, and in my hand. What a rare gift it was.