Pelicans

As I was preparing to install stop for the garage doors, I happened to glance skyward and noticed a flock of pelicans riding a thermal above the river.

Pelicans circling

They were way, way up there. Circling, circling, circling. It looked (to earthbound me) to be effortless.

Effortless

Man, I would like to be able to do that!

Soaring

I'd even eat raw fish if I could soar so effortlessly!
Even better, then I'd be able to sit and rest in a place like this!

Pelicans resting

Siigghhhhh....the stop still must be installed for the garage doors......

I've never seen pelicans on the river by our place before.
I LOVE living here!

April in the Park

Today, April 14, 2015, was a very good day for a walk in the park - Lake Bemidji State Park.

Leaving the car in the parking lot, I headed for the lake shore. The beach has endured some "shoveing about" by the lake ice.

Ice-caused sand berm

Took a right at the beach and walked up to the overlook at Rocky Point. Very clear water undisturbed by wind or ducks gave me a look at the structure of the bottom. The colors and shapes are intriguing.

The bottom of Lake Bemidji

Ice on Lake Bemidji hasn't quite left yet.

Ice on Lake Bemidji

Leaving the shore of Lake Bemidji, I headed into the woods on the "Old Logging Road" trail.

Into the woods

After an hour's stroll through the pines, birch, and aspen I fetched up on the shore of Big Bog Lake. This lake has lost its ice.

Big Bog Lake

It looks like the beaver lodge on the far side of the lake has survived the winter in fine shape.

Big Bog Lake Beaver Lodge

Heading back on the boardwalk, I came upon a UFO - an Unidentified Fallen Object. Don't know what it is, but it is colorful!

A red UFO

The pitcher plants haven't begun to green-up yet. In my opinion, they are more striking while dormant.

Pitcher Plant

A look into the business end of a pitcher plant.

Welcome to my parlor, said the plant to the fly.

From Big Bog Lake and the Bogwalk, I wandered over to Sundew Pond. The pond had also lost its ice and was an image of peaceful quietude.

Sundew Pond

Looked as if a pair of Goldeneye ducks also appreciated this quiet corner of the north woods.

Resting Goldeneye ducks

A very good day for a walk in the park!!

Notes from Barb: Fish Dinner, Anyone?

When a person goes out to dinner, it is usually not just to eat . . . or to get out of doing the dishes. We enjoy a bit of pampering, good service, right? We found a place in Charlevoix, Mich., an "in" place that served nothing but excellent fish dinners. It was located on the shore of Lake Charlevoix right in front of the fish dock. The fish served were whatever fish were caught that day. Once we were met at the hooked screen door with, "The fish boat is not unloaded yet. Come back later!" No "Please", no "Sorry", and no smile. We came back later . . . that was the way of their customers.

The place itself was an old Victorian house with none of the fancy trim we associate with houses of that era. It was the fisherman's former home. Guests came in off a side porch, took a left into the dining/living room. (A right led to the simple old-fashioned kitchen . . . a very ordinary "somebody's kitchen".) The floors were bare wood; tall, narrow windows had no curtains; walls were painted over wallpaper; and a simple fireplace mantel stood naked. However, a piece of fishnet was draped over nails on one wall. An arty touch? The whole house had a decided list to it.

No menu was offered. Patrons got what was served and that depended on what fish were caught that day. Occasionally one struck it lucky and could choose between lake trout and whitefish. You always got a choice of potato . . . and that ended your choices. Also you were served a vegetable, hush-puppies, and a cube of pineapple/carrot/lemon jello that had a distinctly different, delicious flavor. Once I asked what made that different taste. With a cold stare the waitress said, "We do not tell our cooking secrets!" (I had sinned by asking, that was clear.) All the food was the best ever . . . and they knew it.

Once a party of eight came it, sat down, and asked for menus. "We don't have menu. We serve fish dinners." "Fine. We'll have five fish dinners and three hamburgers and fries for the kids." (I flinched for them.) "We don't serve hamburgers here! If that's what you want, go to the hamburger stand." They left. I felt sorry for these unsuspecting souls who did not know the rules of the game.

We heard of this spot through friends as if we were being let in on a local secret . . . there was no advertising . . . just word of mouth. And since paying the check was no concern of mine, it wasn't until years later that I learned that prices there were compatible with the best restaurants in the area. Last time we were in that area, we found the entire house was gone! Probably it just leaned a bit too far one day.

Notes from Barb: The Evolution of Milk

Horse-drawn Milk Cart circa 1908

A couple of days ago while buying gas at a convenience store, I saw a truck unloading stacks and stacks of 2% milk cartons. I commented at how many people must be drinking that awful stuff so the proprietor told me that 90% of his sales were of the 2% milk. How tastes have changed in not too many years! As a child we got milk from a Hermantown dairy farmer who drove a small horse cart . . . his name was Mr. Krause . . . and we furnished the container for him to ladle the milk into. He had a dipper in the cart and when we brought out the pan, he poured the milk into it. (People did not think in terms of germs like they do now.) The milk was then set on the table for the cream to float to the top when it was scooped off for coffee cream. A piece of cheesecloth covered the pan to keep out flies or dirt. After it was skimmed, it was put into a pitcher for family use.

When we moved up on the hill, we could not get service from Mr. Krause so got a new milkman who delivered the milk in bottles . . . 4.5% butterfat! People wanted the "best" and that was rated by the butterfat content. Since the cream always rose to the top, it was just plain decency that demanded that the first to pour milk always shook the bottle so the cream was evenly distributed. Rotten little kids often sneaked off the cream for their cereal. But with three kids in our family, we all watched each other so the chance to cheat did not happen very often. In winter when the milk froze in the bottles, the cream rose up out of the top with the little paper cap sticking way up there. Often I took off the cap, licked the frozen cream a few times and replaced the cap! Real ice cream, that was! And extra good being ill-gotten gains.

Then came pasteurization which made the milk sanitary . . . and drove a lot of dairy farmers out of business as they could not afford the equipment. We had friends who had a farm in Hermantown where we were welcome for a week in the summer. After the milking, the milk was taken by horse cart to a corner cross-roads where the cans were put on a stand to sit in the sun until the Bridgeman-Russell Creamery truck came to pick it up. Needless to say, milk soured quickly . . . and every mother knew how to make cottage cheese at home. So we all also knew what "curds and whey" from the Little Miss Muffet poem was. And Miss Muffet didn't eat so well on her little tuffet if she had to eat that stuff.

Next came homogenized milk . . . which is easier to digest but alas, no cream floats at the top to be siphoned off for a treat. And now they no longer say "butter-fat" but just "fat" and since no one wants to be guilty of drinking FAT, it may seem OK to drink fatless milk! But take it from me, that drink tastes like water that has been tampered with! I gave up caffeine for my health and quit over-salting foods . . . but I draw the line at creamless milk. Taking the "fat" out leaves all this cream for making butter . . . but everyone eats margarine now, too, for their health . . . and the government stores the butter. Somehow it doesn't make sense when cream and butter tastes so good! What is this world coming to??? Health?

Decoration Day

Will it ever warm up this year? Here I sit with packets of seeds waiting for the ground to warm up so I can plant them. (By the time you read this, hopefully they will all be sprouting!) We often recall the weather of years past by what it was like on certain holidays, birthdays, anniversary, etc. For example, the last bouquet of the year was often picked on October 8th, my monther's birthday. "The Last Rose of Summer." And yet one October 8 my brother froze his ear on a trip to Forest Hill cemetery . . . and it was rubbed with snow, the standard home remedy of that day. The first flowers of the year were evident on Memorial Day, even if we had to buy them.

The Incline Station on Superior Street

The Duluth Incline Railway

Preparation for Memorial Day began several days before with a trip to the greenhouse. Since we had no car, we took the stret-car from home to downtown, 7th Avenue West & Superior St., where we transferred to the Incline! Too bad that is gone now! Now there was a ride! As thrilling as a Ferris wheel ride, it creaked and groaned as it jerked its way slowly up the hill, stopping about six times to let passengers on and off. As the doors closed, the operator would pick up his phone and call "East car clear!" (or "West car clear") in such a sing-song voice that one had to KNOW what he was saying as otherwise one could never figure out what was said! We kids would practice it, imitating him until told to stop. Higher and higher it climbed until the buildings got flatter and smaller and we looked out over rooftops, the whole bay and the lake. The thrill was well seasoned with FEAR; yet we asked every trip to be told again how once long ago the cable had broken and the cars plunged into Superior Street. When the fear about surpassed the thrill of it, we reached the top!

The "Dinky"

There we transferred to the "dinky" which was just a trifle anti-climax after the Incline ride. That thing swayed and screamed its way through the woods, around curves as such a fast clip until it ended at Duluth Heights. From there we walked to Austin Greenhouses. My mother was a friend of the Austin sisters who owned the greenhouses so we were always given FREE our choice of a Begonia. For us children, this was always such a difficult and time consuming choice as each one looked bigger and better than the last. After Mom had picked out her plants, we were invited into the house for cocoa and cookies. (That was the only subdued part of the whole trip!) Then we were each loaded with boxes, as much as we could carry, for the trip back to the "dinky", the Incline "down-trip", the street-car and home.

Duluth Street-car. Note that it is electrically powered by overhead wires.

Add to that load, garden trowels, rakes, a picnic lunch and you will see how loaded down we were a couple of days later when we went to the cemetery . . . also via street-car! While Mom dug the grave-shaped beds and set out the plants, we kids played tag and hide-and-seek among the tombstones. No sad emotions involved for us as our grandparents had died before we ever knew them . . . it was a big fun-type adventure. Now we just pay a fee and someone else does the watering of the baskets . . . a lot less hassle, but . . . . . . ???

(Ed. note: A history of the Duluth Incline Railway is available to read at the Zenith City Archive. Follow this link. Also at the Zenith City Archive is a brief history of the street-car system and the "dinkies". Those street-car and "dinky" operators had to be a tough bunch!)

Notes from Barb: Potatoes

The highlight of my garden harvest this year was the potatoes. I had never planted them before so now know what I have missed all these years! Digging the hills is almost like opening Christmas packages . . . you just don't know what you've got there. And for me, each potato was a bonus. Last spring I had a small bag of old potatoes that had gotten soft with sprouts some at least a foot long, so I was taking them out to the garbage when I remembered that I had a row of unplanted dirt along the shady side of the garden where nothing ever did grow good so I decided I'd stick these repulsive tentacled blobs there and if nothing came of it, I'd only be out a bit of my labor. I knew just about nothing of potato culture except to bury them in the ground . . . I put one potato to a hole. There were only eleven little shriveled, mushy seed-potatoes! So this fall I pointed and Bill dug! Voila! I couldn't believe the results as smooth, beautiful potatoes lay there as each shovel was turned. We got 3/4ths of a bushel . . . and I would have thought myself lucky to get a peck! Some were huge . . . none were tiny. Maybe I am psyched up about them because I never tasted any better than these.
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This is another potato story and I swear it is TRUE! The main character must remain nameless for fear of repercussions. I will refer to her as Mrs. X. She planted a little garden in her back yard . . . her first garden . . . and nothing did well. She had a college student living at her home who was majoring in agriculture so she asked her what would grow well in the soil she had. The student took a soil sample and said that in the condition the soil was, potatoes would be the only sure bet. So next spring Mrs. X duly planted some potatoes. Next fall the same student came back and one day casually asked how the potato crop had been. Mrs. X said, "It was a complete flop! About the time I thought the potatoes would show, the darn plants all died!" The student, a girl brought up on a farm, said, "Don't you ever call a farmer a dumb hick again! You city gals are so stupid! You have to DIG potatoes!!!"

This just goes to show you that can raise a kid, send her to school and assume she picks up bits of information along the way even thought some things are not actually taught to her. But am I a failure as a mom since I never got around to mentioning that potatoes grew underground?

Notes from Barb: The Great Depression

(Ed note: This article is dated Nov, 1987. This was just after the largest percentage decline - to that date - in the Dow Jones Industrial Average. It was a nervous time for many.)

Events on Wall Street these past few weeks brought to mind some recollections of the last big depression. The market crashed in '29 far away in New York City and was of no particular concern to us. Sure, we knew some rich folks lost a lot of money and some of them took their losses very hard, but that was their affair. Little did we know. It took nearly two years for the full effects to reach the mid-west. We lived in Two Harbors, a one-company town. Rather than wholesale lay-offs, the Company cut the shop workers down to two days a week. My father, a shop electrician, made 88 cents an hour. But prices were so much less, too. A loaf of bread went for a dime; butter, a quarter; gasoline was about twenty-cents a gallon; a soup bone was a dime . . . or if lucky, sometimes it was free. A night at the movies cost a dime with a free glassware dish to entice in customers on certain nights. (I thought these free dishes were crappy then and even now, knowing what collector's items they have become, cannot work up any enthusiasn for them. I still have some pieces as I just don't throw away anything in working order.) The best part of living in a one industry town was that everyone was in the same boat . . . no one had any extra money so there was no peer pressure. People took pride in getting by. We ate, we paid the rent. And we often waited through several pay days to get a much needed item like shoes or a coat. We made clothes over from cast-offs and we ate a lot of hot ceral and stews. But I don't recall ever feeling underpriviledged . . . was that term around then? We all took pride in "making do."

President Roosevelt started many government programs . . . alphabet programs such as the W. P. A., the N. R. A., the C. C. C. etc. How those bureaus have grown! I often wonder if anyone in Washington knows what all the letters stand for? Most of the young men from Two Harbors went into the C. C. C. from which we have a legacy of beautiful forests now. And the W. P. A. made the lovely stonework buildings at Gooseberry State Park, a monument to the Depression and a joy for many years yet to come. The C. C. C. also strung many miles of rural telephone lines back in Lake and Cook counties. You could spot those lines for years by their red-topped poles. There was no Social Security, no Welfare, no Medicare. People laid away for a "rainy day" and for their old age. I recall one woman remarking about a family whose father was laid-off. "He worked steady for ten years so the must have enough laid away for at least two years!" So we survived and kept a measure of pride.

I guess what I am saying is that if a depression should follow this market crash, we are going to be dealing with a whole different type of people .  .  . and a whole different attitude in Washington! It won't be the same.