Day 17

by   September 2, 2023 with No Comments

By David Freeze

 Last evening was perfect at the Aspen Inn in Grand Marais. I wrote my article to the sound of rain and thunder and enjoyed the coolness in another non-air conditioned room. Minnesota needed the rain and some of the Lake Superior north shore area got as much as 9 tenths of an inch.


   Water was still standing as I left this morning with mixed thoughts. I traveled today on the same Grand Marais to Silver Bay that I had done in reverse just two days ago. The route is reasonable except for dreadful hills the last 20 miles into Silver Bay and one segment of poor shoulder, about six miles of trying to squeeze out a few inches extra to stay away from moderate to heavy traffic.


    The first town was Lutsen, where I met Postmaster Laurie two days before. She had already seen me on her way to work and was waiting and waving. That was a big lift, as we talked about her cycling and travel and why I preferred to keep visiting new parts of the same states I had visited before. This was one of the top conversations of the whole trip and I will stay in touch. I grabbed a breakfast bagel and some cookies at the country store next to the post office.


     On down the road a few miles was Tofte, with the only Holiday convenience store on today’s ride. I stopped there to make something right. I had promised the young cyclists I met a few days back to try out the World’s Best Donuts in Grand Marais, yet I had not because the store has not been open when I was in town. The convenience store had them and  I got a Long John with caramel topping. Was it the world’s best? I need to sample more.


   When I came out of the store, a life size Sasquatch had my bike. I got it back.


   On to Schroeder, the next very small town with the bakery. Just three miles after the Long John, I got a cheese danish thing and a cinnamon scone while talking to the owner about the weather and the rain.


    In this area, the e-bikes were again in heavy use. One group had two kids, mom and dad, and two grandparents.
    Those were the highlights of the day, as the headwind got stronger and brutal hills and road shoulders appeared again. The last 20 miles were a real battle as the distance slowly went by. I had 56 hard fought miles today.

   I got another great room at the Mariner Motel, then rode up a low gear hill to check out the town of Silver Bay. I heard from the desk clerk that Silver Bay is the second largest town on the north shore next to Two Harbors which I will pass through again tomorrow.


    I have two major tourist attractions to visit tomorrow and will report on them afterward. I learned that Lake Superior holds 10% of the world’s fresh water and it is down about a half inch this year due to the Minnesota drought. It usually adds a couple of inches each summer.


  A big challenge is brewing. Too early to talk about, but I will tomorrow if all comes together. That is about it for today, so join me again tomorrow.

Generations

by   September 2, 2023 with No Comments

By Doug Creamer

            My sister hosted a family gathering at her house last week. The gathering centered around her children, who were home from across the country. There were people from my sister’s extended family and our family at the gathering. We were quite a group and we all had a great time.

            My brother-in-law pointed out that there were four generations gathered that day. His dad was there, as were my parents. My sister and her husband were the grandparents. There were three of their seven children at the gathering. Then there were nine grandchildren. Between our family and his family we had quite a crowd gathered together.

            I talked with many of the adults that were there, but few conversations reached any depth. I didn’t get to connect with everyone. I reflected on who I connected with and who I missed while driving home. It’s hard to believe that I am related to everyone who came.

            I chuckled as I walked my mother to the car. I told her that I was confused about which child belonged to which set of parents. She explained that it was easy to be confused because any time a child cried or whined one of the closest adults took care of the child in need. That adult may or may not have been that child’s parent. Those great-nieces and nephews are going to grow up being close to each other.

            I had a delightful conversation with the oldest great-niece. She sat down next to me and we talked about school. She told me about the math she was learning and I quizzed her. She could add and subtract very well. Then I asked her about reading. I don’t know what kinds of books seven-year-olds like to read. She mentioned a few books she liked, and then told me that her lessons were about Dick and Jane. I asked her if Dick and Jane had a dog named Spot, and she said yes and wondered how I knew that. I chuckled and told her that I remembered reading those books when I was in school.

            When I told my wife about this conversation with my great-niece she was immediately transported back to her childhood and remembered exactly where she was sitting in her classroom when she read the Dick and Jane books. As my wife shared her memories I remembered where I was sitting in the circle around my teacher as we read about Dick and Jane and especially… “See Spot run. Run, Spot, run.” I can actually remember the picture of the dog running in my book.

            It was a great family gathering. I enjoyed hearing how these new parents were coping with the responsibilities of parenthood. One of my nieces brought her two-week-old baby to the family gathering to meet everyone. She and her husband enjoyed the opportunity to be with family, but you could tell they were a little tired from all the demands of a new baby.

            I have reflected on my time spent at this family gathering. Not many families are lucky enough to get four generations together at one time. It made me wonder what it will be like to get all our generations together in heaven. One great thing is that everyone will be in good, strong, and healthy bodies. I wonder how long some of the gatherings might last? I mean, time won’t constrain us there, so a gathering could last for days at a time in heaven. Also, everyone will be there. No one will be left out or missed. I imagine the intimacy and closeness will be incomparable. I can almost hear the laughter as we share stories from here and what we will be doing there. Heaven will be one of the greatest family reunions of all time.

            I want to encourage you to make the most important decision in your life, to join the family of God. That way you will attend that great family reunion in heaven. God can’t make that decision for you. It’s up to you to ask Him into your life. Once you have asked Him in, you can be assured of a place at the table when we all go to that great family reunion. I want to see you there, share some laughs and hear some of your stories. My mouth is watering for the good food and my spirit longs for the time we can all be together in healthy bodies, healed souls, and glowing spirits. I am just hoping I will know and remember all the family connections!

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

Jo Ann & the Black-Eyed Susan

by   September 1, 2023 with No Comments

By Roger Barbee

During these days of late August, I am watching the side garden transition slowly from summer to fall. The black-eyed Susans  (Rudbeckias hirta) are the first plants to show their change from one season to the next. Our cluster stands next to our neighbor’s white fence and most of it have lost their rich, yellow, open-faced flowers that reminded me of a wide-eyed youngster full of excitement and wonder.  The golden petals of full summer have fallen to the garden floor to rot leaving each stem holding at its top the dim center of summer now transformed to a dark cluster of seeds.   

The black-eyed Susan is an easy and pleasing plant for a garden. While there are many varieties, our is the native one of local meadows. Known by several names, we prefer the one used here. But, what an odd name that leads to question:  “Who is Susan that the plant is named for?” One internet search tells the legend that the name “originated from an Old English poem written by John Gay (1685-1732) entitled ‘Sweet William’s Farewell To Black-Eyed Susan’. True or not, it is a sweet poem of William telling Susan that her love will keep him safe while he is away fighting in a war.

Legend aside, the late-summer garden needs attention. One task of a gardener has a dreadful name: Dead heading. But the act is not as bad as it sounds since the removal of spent flowers is good for a plant because more energy for growth will be spent on the plant, not the bygone flower. And some folks will say that a plant looks better without what is left of a spent flower. We will not dead head the black-eyed Susans just yet.  

One recent evening, Mary Ann and I were watching the birds at the birdbath. She asked me did I see the slight movement of a black-eyed Susan stem? I  did, and we watched as a female American goldfinch held onto the stem while eating from the dark cluster of seeds. The tiny body barley had enough weight to cause the stem to  bob and weave as she pecked at the seed cluster. Like several female species, this finch did not have the bright colors of a male, but her dark grey and subtle brown had its own beauty, and we  enjoyed watching her finding food on what some people would see as a “dead” plant. While she has a proper name, we refer to her species as “Jo Ann” to honor Mary Ann’s deceased mother, an avid admirer of birds. Although we came late to bird watching, Mary Ann and I now realize the joy of birds, and we are fortunate that we have Jo Ann’s copy of Peterson’s Guide– complete with her  bird-list of sighted species. But the “Jo Ann” is not alone, and in fact she is joined in feasting on the seed heads of the black-eyed Susan by Carolina chickadees, brown-headed nuthatches, titmice, and others that may feed on the ground hidden by the heavy, dark green leaves of the black-eyed Susans.

However, the days slowly roll towards Labor Day, and all the Susans will soon be void of those lovely, yellow-gold petals. But we will not rush out to dead head them. The fine Canadian writer and poet, Patrick Lane, writes that “The gardener has nothing but time.”  Like Lane, all we have is time, and there is no reason to rush the dead heading or anything. In that way we allow the small side garden to be a living space in which Mary Ann and I will enjoy watching the birds feasting, especially the Jo Anns.

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