Plant Your Own Flowers

Ice Cave Sunrise

There is so much good ice along the north shore of Lake Superior right now, I'm sort of wishing I didn't have a day job so I could spend all day every day exploring and photographing the ice! This is another shot from yesterday morning's sunrise near Cascade River State Park. This cave wasn't very big. I basically crawled into it head first then turned on my side to make photographs of the sun rising behind the icicles. I sure love the color of the ice as the sun illuminated it from behind. What a beautiful sight!

Beautyberry progression

The Beautyberry (Callicarpa americana) was fantastic last fall. This year I was able to figure out what the bushes were when they first bloomed.
The blooms appear along the stems in bunches.

They're in this green-berry stage a LONG time.

Finally the berries are ripe, and flower arrangers everywhere rejoice.

But this year we had such a dry September that I had a hard time finding any decent berries to photograph. Everything's so droopy.
The scientific name Callicarpa comes from the Greek words kallos (beautiful) and karpos (fruit).
Other words using this root include:
calligraphy (beautiful writing),
calliope (beautiful voice)
and callipygian (having a shapely butt).

Contemplating Structure

More from Music of Silence-"As the shadows lengthen, we have intimations of the end of the day. We notice the limits and boundaries that give our lives structure. The hour of None (3 p.m.) wants to lead us to the right understanding of limits; to see them not as prisons, but to face them and work within them. And if they are arbitrary limits that inhibit our genuine growth, then we must overcome them.
Our lives have many structures-our jobs, our families-because it's only within limits that anything meaningful can happen. If all possibilities were available at all moments, if there were no limits, no boundaries, no definitions, we'd be lost. People mistakenly think that happiness comes from removing all limits. The lesson of the lengthening shadows is to forgive and to live to the full within the inherent limits and boundaries of our lives."
Schedules and boundaries in my life have been on my mind a lot lately. Laurel and I both laugh at how we love to make very precise schedules committed to paper and then find it impossible to stick to them.
I've found that the only time I can keep to a rigid schedule is if I stay home all day by myself and have no interruptions. How often does that happen? Maybe once a year. So for the rest of the time I try to stay on schedule and be flexible if interrupted.
But I'm not satisfied with this method anymore. I want less boundaries the older I get. I need more time for contemplation and for soaking up the moment. So I'm trying to arrange my days a little differently.
I'm keeping Darcie on her schedule, because she has schoolwork to finish in a timely manner and places to be at certain times of the day. My early morning time will be the same as it has been for the last thirty years; worship from 6-7 and exercise from 7-8. Breakfast, cleanup, getting dressed, and light housework from 8-9. The difference will be from 9-6. I'm not breaking it into tiny pieces anymore. I'm writing down a list of what I want to accomplish every day and numbering it in order of importance. I'll work away at #1 until it's done and then go on to something else.
Or I might do #5 first. I'm a rebel that way. Anyway, it's a more laid-back approach to living that I hope will still allow me to get things done but with more mental leisure.
I'm beginning to see that the quest for balance is as illusive as joy in the midst of chaos. Both are worthy goals but probably not attainable for very long in this lifetime. Or maybe it's just me. Has anyone out there achieved balance or joy for long periods of time?

Hymn Singing

I've been trying to be more mindful during our church's worship services and really notice the words I'm saying and singing. Some things I've been practicing during this Lenten season are helping. I'll share more about those later.
We, as Protestants, have such a rich heritage in the hymns that have come down through the centuries. One that has meant a lot to me recently is Rise Up, Oh Men Of God.
The first verse says: "Rise up, oh men of God. Have done with lesser things. Give heart and soul and mind and strength, to serve the King of Kings."
I've been trying to 'have done with lesser things' and it's making a difference in my mental state which is affecting my outward demeanor. I'm not angsting anymore and am more joyful and calm.
I'm really enjoying this season leading up to Easter. I'll tell you tomorrow what I've been doing.

Imagining Dad In the Garden

It's a dozen years since my dad died but he was with me in imagination as I mowed and wandered around the garden today. He loved our Illinois garden and if he were here he'd recognize these first 10" blooms as the Blue River II Hibiscus. Dad would know the Citrina daylily. A neighbor shared it with me in 1978 and it's bloomed in four of our gardens. Dad disliked purple clothes but liked purple flowers so this basket of Calibrachoa might get a nod of approval. Even if the visit is imaginary I'd better do something about the tree saplings sprouting in every shrub and flower bed. That was one of Dad's pet peeves. Get that pecan out of the hydrangea! There'd be no excuse for not weeding once Dad saw the Cobrahead tool Anneliese sent me for winning a contest on the Cobrahead blog. And he he might be amused that the winning plant ID was Horseradish, something he grew near his picnic table. If we were lucky we could catch a glimpse of the small Praying Mantis hanging upside down on the Meyer's Lemon. We could taste the first 'Carmello' tomato - a new one this year. Under bird netting some 'Early Girl' tomatoes are coming along and so are a cluster of 'Costoluto Genovese'. With so few tomatoes we'd have to use canned tomatoes for spaghetti sauce. In my mind I hear him say, "getting a little heavy handed with the oregano, aren't you, missy?" He'd be okay with lots of basil, I think...not being Italian never stopped my dad from cooking old-time Chicago Italian dishes - pounding round steak thin, rolling, filling and tying it to make Brachiole in red sauce. With maybe some zucchini sliced, dipped & fried in olive oil on the side.
I can't even imagine what kind of conversation we could have about the non-garden world - my father was a pipefitter at a Fisher Body plant, the division of GM that made car bodies. Every news broadcast this week has made me wonder how my parents would have felt about the whole thing.
What would he think about part of his family living in Texas?Dad learned to hate Texas weather when stationed here on manouvers prior to shipping out for 3 years in New Guinea during World War II.
Forty years later he learned to dislike Texas highways and their primitive rest stops when he & Mom drove IH35 all the way through Texas to San Antonio one hot September. But like most guys - once he got to the reunion of old army buddies, he had a great time.
Miss you, dad!

Images of the flood

According to the data over at Statcounter.com, a few people have visited this page looking for some pictures from the flood damage of last weekend. I've been hampered in uploading these, first by a camera failure, followed by the purchase and set up of a new computer. Memory cards, on the other hand, seem to be remarkably resilient. Consequently, I've been able to save the images from last Saturday's ride.
In other news, Mark from Epic Cycles got in touch with me via email regarding the Zefal pump I purchased there that didn't work, and offered to replace it. We're all quick to complain when we think customer service has been poor, so I'd like to take the opportunity to give some credit where it's due on this occasion. We can only wish this sort of thing happened more often.

Dashing!

It was a chilly morning when I lined up in Hobart on Sunday for the ASH Dash. I haven't done that many organised rides this year, but the turn out for this one was more than I was expecting on a 210km ride with such a reputation for being brutally hilly. As it was, I decided to remove the leg warmers just before the start -- figuring that at 10 degrees C, they'd probably just slow me down on the first climb.
The first few kilometres out of Hobart to the 510 metre climb of Neika set the tone for the day -- uphill. I remember having a chat with one of the locals before realising that I was breathing a lot more heavily on the climb than he was. I decided to let him go and just ride my own event, which may or may not have been a wise decision. I crested Neika with another group of riders, but it was after the third climb on Vinces Saddle that I started to run into problems.

First of all, I got dropped on the descent after stopping for a "pitstop", which wouldn't have been a major problem -- except that at this point there was an error in the route directions. The cumulative distance indicated Huonville was 2.7km away -- when it was, in fact, 12.7. At the bottom of the descent I began to worry that I'd taken a wrong turn. I'd expected to see a roundabout and a bridge after 2.7km, and saw neither.
I turned around and went back up the hill, another 300 metres of climbing, only to find that I'd been on the right track all along. The problem, of course, was that I'd lost valuable time in getting to the first checkpoint, which was still 25km away -- against the wind. The good news, the positive response to the situation, was that if I could make it here, the rest of the ride should be within my grasp. I never really got to grips with the wind on my first visit to Tasmania, but on this occasion I never really had a choice.

The ride to Port Huon along the river was just beautiful, as was the ride back after I just made the checkpoint and composed myself over a drink. Someone at the shop asked about the route -- good. This was a chance to get familiar with it. The next checkpoint was at the top of Silver Hill, and was quite reachable in terms of distance, but the final climb at the end made it tricky. I made it there with 10 minutes to spare.


From Silver Hill there was a descent, and another climb to the next checkpoint at the top of Woodbridge Saddle. This was the hardest section of the day. I tried to attack the climb and get some time back, but it was killing me. I then retreated to a "holding pattern", figuring I had 10 minutes from the previous checkpoint to hang onto. Even that seemed remote, and I reached the summit genuinely believing I'd been eliminated on the basis of time. Then I was told that I'd not only done enough to stay alive -- but actually gained time on that stretch. I was even told I'd gained as much as 30 minutes on some of the riders who had left me behind when I got lost.


I wanted to celebrate right there, but there was still some work to do. What followed was a windswept coastal stretch, which now turned around and went against the wind for a while. Now I was able to really enjoy the ride. I had figured that I'd probably be the last rider home no matter what I did, but that finishing would be within my capabilities if I just didn't try to rush things. As it turned out, with scenery like this, nobody wants to rush anything.



I followed the coast right around to Cygnet, and onto the dirt road toward Pelverata. I hadn't been paying much attention to distances at this point, but here it began to dawn on me that there really wasn't very far to go, and that the wind would be behind me virtually all the way. I have enough experience of dirt roads not to have been at all worried by the gravel, but my mind was on the climb of Kaoota, which had a bit of a reputation.

I needn't have worried about Kaoota. Either the climb was considerably easier than Woodbridge Saddle, or I was getting stronger. I was able to spin through most of it in a low gear. There was one steep section, but it wasn't long enough to really trouble me all that much, and I reached that particular summit fairly comfortably for the final checkpoint before the finish back in Hobart.

I have to say the support on this ride was excellent. Even though I was a considerable distance behind the other riders, through nobody's fault but my own, Paul was always waiting at every checkpoint with more than enough food on hand, and plenty of encouragement. Given the number of other riders he had to attend to that day, I don't know how he did it, but I certainly appreciated his efforts.
I managed to descend Kaoota fairly quickly, and passed through the locality of Sandfly (which would probably be more appropriate in parts of New Zealand than Tasmania). Now I just had to finish it off with a climb that I had done three years ago with a full touring load. I was travelling much lighter today, but this was on the back end of 200km. I ground my way through it, enjoying the scenery before raising a fist at the summit, and not caring if anyone saw me.

The final analysis after the descent into Hobart was that I'd ridden 230km, with 3,739 metres (12,267 ft) of climbing, and still finished with an hour to spare on the 200km time limit. I was actually more than satisfied with that effort, despite being the Lantern Rouge for the day. This now gives me the full set, having been the first rider home on The Wonders of Glorious Mee in 2005.
Whatever the finishing order, this is a wonderful ride. The weather in Tasmania at this time of year is just about perfect, the scenery is marvellous, and the support is excellent. All in all this was a memorable day which made the airfares and the running around for a last minute bike repair the day before worthwhile.