The bad news: spring arrives slowly here on Lake Superior. The good news: you can watch it arrive day by day and appreciate each gift as it comes. (And sometimes goes again, which makes its return all the more precious.)
Gifts don’t always come wrapped in tidy packages. Sometimes they’re messy, or slow to arrive.
Physical injury is messy, too, and we also had that this spring – a big reason I haven’t written in so long. But like the ice which caused it, the pain eventually passes. Like that jagged forward edge of spring, it comes and goes until the cycle completes. Catch up with the news at Camp Many Moons below. (Reminder: I’m a professional writer but write off-the-cuff here. Which means sentence fragments like this one. Just sayin,’ I know I’m doing it. 😉 )
The break-up of the ice is a clear sign that spring is on the way, but it often re-forms before leaving for good. This is the shoreline of Camp Many Moons, spanning 300′.
A few days after the photo above, this. Ice covers the entire bay again, but more thinly. We know wind will push it back and forth until it’s finally, fully, gone.
And a day later, even thinner ice. This is the view from the front porch, 75′ from the water.
Scenes like this are common in April. I love it because I can snowshoe. But I haven’t spent the whole winter here; the permanent locals are tired of it by this point. (These trees are in front of the house. See the bay in the background?)
Winter wind isn’t fun when you’re out in it, but it leaves pretty evidence on tree trunks.
I got in a final cross-country ski in mid-April but haven’t done as much as I hoped. (Related to the injury–not mine–which is explained below.)
This is my first winter and spring inside the new Cabin at Many Moons. During this intense DIY project, I often lost energy – and sometimes faith – but always kept the vision. And here it is. (We managed to complete it in 15 months, from ground preparation to final inspections.)
Part of my vision was the ability to sit in comfort during winter while watching the wildlife. And there they are. Jeff began to feed the deer here while I was away and I’ve kept it up. I’ve “adopted” a three-some that often comes close to the house. Sometimes very close.
Wild turkeys make an occasional appearance also.
Early spring can be brown-ugly, especially when the water goes way out. I’m standing here about 30 feet from shore, in what is usually three feet of water. The seiche (a kind of “inland tide”) has been extreme this spring. I hope the water returns to normal levels.
Sunset is always magical, even when the trees across the bay are still brown. The bird feeder hangs from a cable that used to be a dog run. Sadly, that dog is gone. (Now the cable is, too.)
I spent many evenings burning cardboard on the shoreline and doing other outdoor things normally done by my stronger male partner.
Another atypical chore while my partner was immobile: clearing a frozen culvert on our private road. I’m doing my clumsy best here with a neighbor’s pickaxe. It worked. (Salt helped.)
Here’s the reason for his immobility and my increased activity: Jeff’s right leg, both bones broken above the ankle, now sporting a plate and long screw. It was unusually slippery ice – the kind that even screws in your boot soles don’t handle well. Jeff was one of three broken legs that day in the ER of this very small town. His pain was bad–not just the break itself, but the recovery. It came and went for weeks. The surgery wound was a concern also, and I learned a lot about wound care. I also learned how to resist speeding en route to the ER on icy roads!
Four weeks after surgery, Jeff found some freedom on the four-wheeler, crutches on board. Today, six weeks after surgery, he has a “no restrictions” slip from the surgeon and is off crutches. (Returning to a normal walk will take longer.) I must be nearly as relieved as him, since it’s hard to watch someone you love deal with pain. (Not as hard as theirs, of course.) So, yay for progress!
I did enjoy cooking a lot, while “holed up,” in my spacious new kitchen. Shepherd’s pie, followed by…
As Jeff healed more, I got out more, even taking out the rowboat a few times before the ice was fully gone. It’s weird to see an empty stern. I used to see a dog there most of the time.
I also attended a few marches in my hometown to speak up for checks and balances. As a military retiree as well as a federal one, it’s hard for me to stay silent during so much dramatic and intentionally-disruptive change in how things are decided, communicated, and “fixed” at the national level. I’m a minority around here in that sense, but I’m not alone either. We had 300 here.
And I had time to welcome a good friend from the East Coast for a 4-day visit. We hiked and snowshoed and yacked. It’s so important to keep your close friends close! (We also differ on many views, but we can talk about it and it doesn’t damage our friendship. Yes, it’s possible!)
When Jeff was finally able to go somewhere other than a hospital, we drove to Huron River to see the spring melt. The water was pretty low and the salmon had finished jumping, but it was still good to get out.
Back at camp, I’ve been enjoying that slow and uneven emergence of spring … like the first sign of ferns. The first thing I do most mornings, coffee in hand, is walk the land to see what is popping up. (Or what else the deer have eaten!)
Besides the natural habitat, I keep a close eye on the things I’ve planted. My hardy sedum is starting to emerge, even inside the rotting stumps where I’ve tried to add some decoration. I’m also planting clover for the first time, trying to wean away from a lawn, which was never part of the “rustic” vision. We’ll see if it survives the birds, squirrels, rabbits, deer. Sigh. Both wildlife and humans have their own instincts and cycles. So we try, and try again…
…and take time to notice the natural beauty all around. Fog shrouded the opposite bank at sunrise this morning. The water beckoned but it was too chilly (in the 30s) for a row.And then there’s this guy, hanging on the suet this afternoon. Yeah. We all just keep trying…
I’m so sorry Jeff injured himself! He looks on the mend though thank goodness. As a year rounder I am DONE with this year’s winter. But you’re right. Spring shows up in increments of warming up, snow, cold and warmth, melt and ooala! Green grass and blooming early bulbs like snowdrops. The daffodil shots are peeping up here on DaLedge, too. The water and wildlife are constant yet ever-changing. They teach us resilience and adaptability. I am ready for a nice, hot day with blazing sun!
For Many Moons 
I’m so sorry Jeff injured himself! He looks on the mend though thank goodness. As a year rounder I am DONE with this year’s winter. But you’re right. Spring shows up in increments of warming up, snow, cold and warmth, melt and ooala! Green grass and blooming early bulbs like snowdrops. The daffodil shots are peeping up here on DaLedge, too. The water and wildlife are constant yet ever-changing. They teach us resilience and adaptability. I am ready for a nice, hot day with blazing sun!
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I could hear your voice as I traveled along with you on this uniquely awesome journey. Thank you!
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