Monday, October 7, 2013
Faces of the Parade
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Trey Steven
Trey
After a short week or two, I’m sure your parents can hardly
remember a time when you haven’t
been with them or a part of their lives. A feeling anyone else that who
has held you can relate to for you’re a keeper. Your arrival on this planet has changed all of us. That’s a
pretty amazing thought, for someone so small and who's days are mostly spent sleeping in dreamland.
I wonder what you as a newborn dream of? Your face smiles and frowns and sometimes gets all smushy,
and I could watch you and guess for hours on end.
There was so much anticipation at your arrival-what you’d
look like, if you’d be healthy, the color of your hair, eyes and your name. Now we know all those things like
we’ve known them forever. Trey,
welcome to your new world. Your
mother and father have already learned what it is to love someone so completely
that it amazes them and they are just starting out. That’s not a difficult
feeling to have when you’re asleep in our arms-about as peaceful as any living
thing can be. When you’re sleeping
or even perhaps taking a peek with your eyes barely open, nothing else in the
world matters for us-it’s a moment lost in your new life.
I don’t know what that life will have in store for you
Trey-the world is pretty crazy and your place here now changes how all of us
will think of it. Before you, the future ahead had been spent maybe thinking of
ourselves, but now you’re here adding a new twist to it and we want it better for you. As a grandfather, I dream of sharing
things I love with you-the outdoors mostly, because that’s where the very best things in life are as my
grandfathers taught me. Hiking, or
at the least holding your small hand out on a leaf shuffling walk , fishing,
hunting, pedaling a bike and shushing skis for sure. I’m guessing like with your mom and uncle Nik, there will be
some sports to watch you play and some major mileage to be put on whatever vehicle is driven to see you.
Your parents love you, but you will scare them, make them
laugh and smile, make them proud
and make them cry-some of those things have happened already in your short
life. You’re a pretty amazing
little guy. Your grandparents love
you very much too-I’m still trying to assess out how this grand-paw thing fits
me, but so far, it’s been darn good.
We’ve “watched” the Packers, fallen asleep to a late night Badgers
game, changed your diapers
and fed you til you’re full and
sleepy. All my friends who tell me
grandparenting is great, so far have been right. I hadn’t doubted it for a second.
If I hadn’t figured out this “Circle of Life” thing yet,
your birth sure has smacked me in the head with it, much like when your mom was
born. Your dad talked about how
old he’ll be when you graduate from high school-in my mind I did the arithmetic
as well and figured out the same thing-ouch, but then 70 will be the next 50 in
new math terms.
Life is a song-sing it. Life is a game-play it. Life is a challenge-meet it. Life is a dream-realize it. Life is a sacrafice-offer it. Life is love-enjoy it. -Sai baba
Monday, September 9, 2013
The Grape Harvest-Sandstone Ridge
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| Howard and The Grapes |
In a chapter of the Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Tom convinces several friends he meets during the day that whitewashing a fence is great pleasure. With a bit of bargaining, Tom
negotiates and collects a small stash of treasure from each boy who passes by
in exchange for the privilege of working on the fence. Tom reflects that all it takes to make
someone want something is to make it hard to get. That timeless story floated around my head as the sweat
dripped off my brow harvesting grapes the other day. It was very warm for mid September as I joined a small group
of fans of the Sandstone Ridge Winery & Vineyards, harvesting some of the
first grapes of the season.
The call had
gone out to friends and family of the vineyard that harvest time was here and
if interested, we could reserve our spot on the picking team for the day. Harvesting will continue into early
October, but like Tom Sawyers friends, I wasn’t going to let this first
opportunity slip by! Although I make my own wild berry wines, this was a chance
to see behind the scenes production on a professional level.
I am an
enthusiast of Standstone Ridge wines and the beautiful winery and vineyard
owners Bob and Connie Dubiel have created
high on a ridgetop in West Central Wisconsin near Osseo. The Dubiels, along with family
and friends have crafted an enterprise in these hills-finding just the right
climate and soil to produce grapes and award winning wines with unique and rich flavors. Although the winery is only in it’s
second year, this 40 acre
vineyard, along with a second smaller one in a valley near Pleasantville, have been painstakingly developed for
some time with plenty of sweat equity and pride.
Our early morning group of volunteers gathered at the
beautiful wood and stone winery for coffee and rolls and introductions. There
was enthusiasm and a bit of
anxiousness to get started, even though most of us had no idea what lie ahead
in the countless rows of grape vines waiting outside.
Bob gathered us in the center of the vineyard and gave instructions on
the proper use of harvesting tools,
picking techniques, which berries to toss and which to keep. We’d start on several rows of plump
white Brianna grape as the morning sun quickly started warming the ridge
top. Even with our late
spring, deluge of rain early and now near drought conditions, Bob reported and
we witnessed how productive this crop was-the bunches of grapes very large and
delicious. He gave us one rule-eat
as many of the grapes as we’d like, proving the myth that wine grapes are
terrible eating so very wrong.
White plastic crates were spread out between the rows and
soon filling as we started getting the hang of this harvesting thing. Pickers would pair up on either side of
the vines and spread out the heavy foliage to find and clip off clusters-some
camouflaged well while others wound around the supporting trellis. After a while, a rhythm almost develops
while picking, meditative, as one cuts and grasps several bunches in the hand
before moving on. Quiet
conversations between harvesters
worked slowly down each row until finished, the white bins now full and ready
for pick up. These grapes would be
sold to another winery and I joked to Connie that we’d work harder if we thought this fruit
would be poured into a glass next summer from the Sandstone Ridge cellar!
Bob moved us
to a different grape, a red Sabrevios which was much easier to see and
pick. The deep purple of the
bunches stood out in stark contrast to the green leaves. Grapes can be trained to grow either
high or low on the trellis, so for myself, the high bunches were within easy
reach. The Sabrevios were more
fragile and having purple stained hands and clothes become quite
fashionable. Sometimes these reds
had a dirty knack of tangling themselves around the wire or send tendrils to
anchor down the bunches, making it wholly a puzzle to free them into my crate. A couple more family members arrived
and within a few hours, we’d finished our assigned rows and thankful for the
break as the day really warmed up under the cloudless sky.
The Dubiels provided a wonderful lunch and even more
welcome, shade under a beautiful
pavilion in the center of the vineyard.
The shared labor brought down any walls and soon the shelter was filled
with chatty friendly people just
enjoying the breeze and scenery.
Six wines were brought out to enjoy with our meal and perhaps help encourage
anyone who wanted to do a little grape stomping. Several did and the red and white grapes were soon a slurry
of “must” (which Bob would donate to the forest critters and not use for wine). It’s more ceremonial than anything, but
produced giggles and red stained feet and well worth it for entertainment
value. Good friend Howard and I
even convinced his wife Bobbie to roll up her pants to give it a go. (I think she really wanted to all
along!).
The family and hired hands returned to harvesting, with Bob
giving us the option of joining back in, but suggested that maybe we’d rather
relax, sample another glass and take in the view. Yeah, that sounded good to me. On another harvest day, I’ll be convinced like
Tom Sawyers buddies, that it is a great privilege and honor to be out among the
vines, filling crates and staining hands.
Honestly, I know most of us here will be back-the Dubiels are just great
people, and this a beautiful
place. But for the rest of the
day, I think I’ll just kick back, relax, enjoy the panorama in front of me and
the fruits of their labor.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
49th First Day
Tearful moms and (even) dads, smiling kids, fresh pencils and waxy crayons-lunch money lines and hurried school breakfast. Long lines of walking backpacks head to the 4K room trailing a teacher with unsure and somewhat afraid eyes. 6th graders went from the big dogs in the elementary school to the little fish in middle school-they'll make it and one of my favorite classes to come though in a while. Once again the art teacher strolls the halls to see the fresh faces-they'll be filing into my room soon enough-my 49th first day in pictures.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Beach Ride
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| The Beach |
Clark County Beach?
Well, not many and too small to qualify as a suitable location for a
beach ride. I’ve always been a bit
envious of the fatbike stories I see about riders who maybe live close to Lake
Michigan or Superior and have the opportunity to roll along for miles on end on
uninterrupted sand.
Ironically, located 150
miles from the nearest great lake, we actually have miles of uninterrupted sand
as well. So it’s not a beach, and
there is no water edge, but we do have sand, the Clark County Forest ATV trails
with no shortage of motorheads churnin up the soil, produce gobs of it.
Although the locals here call Levis Mound home, we do
venture off singletrack from time to time to explore or at the very least, have a change of scenery. The subject of a “beach ride” came up
over a few beverages and since fatbikes are our ride of choice, it was a
perfect match. Back in the day, we
used to organize a mountain bike century-the “Quad Quiver”, but now, ATVs have
the old trails tilled up into miles of deep sand-unrideable for normal mountain
bikes.
Being fairly smart-the plan was to get onto the trails early
in the morning (ATV riders seem to sleep in) when traffic is low and temps
cooler. Our jumping off point
being Rock Dam, north west of Neillsville and ATV central. Good friends and fatbike fans Dan and
Laura happen to live there and with their Pugsleys, and a quick dip of tires on the public beach, we headed
out. It soon became apparent that
even in deep powdery sand, the big treads float very well and we could make our
way smoothly down the white ribbon of trail. The forestry department if often awarded ATV
maintenance funds from the state gas tax, so in some parts of the forest, the
“trails” are very much like gravel hiways. Here, the terrain is fairly flat, so the natural sand, a few
inches below the top soil, is what makes up a majority of the riding
surface. Our itinerary was to ride
a 5 or 6 mile loop in the Rock Dam area to see how we felt. The wheels rolled along well, and soon
we passed by our return loop and ventured further-why not, the fatties were
performing great in the loose sand.
Dan had ATV’d some of these trail many years earlier and there was some
uncertainty as to exactly where we were.
Some east and west power lines and north and south forest roads helped
with dead reckoning luckily. We
stumbled on what may be the only “waterfall” in Clark County-a little gem on
the South Fork of the Eau Claire River.
A perfect place to just relax for a while and debate where we were.
Knowing we needed to head south to return, we followed a
forest road-fresh with skidder and logging truck tracks into a huge oak timber
sale. The road dead ended with no
clear way out, so reluctantly we reversed course until hitting the powerline
again, and decided to bushwack down that-luckily, the fatbikes handle about
everything and we were able to mow down tall swamp grass and hidden ruts and
make our way back to civilization, a few miles from our starting point. Riding a bit of pavement back set our
tires buzzing we rolled into Rock Dam no handed and feeling good after the
three hour adventure-our first “beach ride” a success. Nothing wrong with a little fatbike exploring
and getting lost for a spell. As J.
R. R. Tolkien said: “Not all
those who wander are lost.” I couldn’t agree more.
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