Temperature Relief and Update

When I arrived home from the southern Illinois misadventure, the high temperatures continued in Wisconsin with our warmest days of the year.  With our well-shaded home, we rarely use the air-conditioning, but it received its first work-out of the season.  

Callie and I took early morning walks (5 a.m. before sunrise) to get our steps in.  Then we both retreated to the basement for most of the rest of the day.  

The weather finally turned this week.  Julia was up in Door County with some girlfriends, so I played pickleball every day.  One of the guys I recently got to know at pickleball turned out to be the fraternity roommate of my dormitory roommate.  Small world.  We both like pickleball and good small breweries, so we've gone out for beers a couple of times too.  I had pretty much lost touch with our mutual friend Joe, but Mick has stayed in contact, so it was fun catching up.  Maybe we will all get together someday for a beer.

I completed the repair of the Scamp bathroom door after consulting my friend Dean.  The door was previously held in place by small screws from the inside bathroom door trim to the outside bathroom door trim. After 22 years, the screws had backed out or stripped.  I drilled bigger holes and put in machine screws with fender washers and an acorn nut.  It seems  much better secured.  

In the last few days, the weather has been much cooler with lows at night in the 40's.  I celebrated with hikes at Gibraltar Rock and at Pheasant Branch.  I also restarted my sourdough starter and baked some bread to take the chill off.  I like fall.

I have no September plans to Scamp.  Allie will be home again this weekend  and staying for a week before she stands up in a friend's wedding the following weekend.  At the end of the month, Julia leaves for a long-planned trip to South Africa with a girlfriend from optometry school.  I may take a trip then but probably will travel within Wisconsin.

Why am I not going to Africa?  It's just not a place that I have any current desire to visit.  Ten years ago, I wanted to hike Mount Kilimanjaro, but that desire has faded away.  Julia is going to do a safari, and that doesn't sound like fun for me, especially given the expense.  I'm glad she has a girlfriend to go with, and so is the girlfriend's husband who also declined not to go.  

Next year will likely be a big travel year for us here in the U.S.  I'll save my pennies for those trips. 

Gratitude vs. More-more

 A minister who gives me something to think about is more likely to see me on Sundays.  This week, our minister told a story that stuck with me.  When this pastor was a youth, he worked summers as a day camp counselor for fourth graders at Marshall Park on the western shores of Lake Mendota.

As a special summer treat, the counselors would find some garbage can-sized tubs into which they would pour water, root beer extract, sugar and dry ice.  Coupled with vanilla ice cream, and you had all of the makings of root beer floats (or black cows as they are called in Iowa).

The kids would line up for their floats while the counselors filled the paper cups with root beer and a scoop of ice cream.  He noted that no one got a perfect float.  Some of the cups were fuller than others; some floats had more ice cream than others.

Years later, the minister still remembers the kids falling into two categories.  One category of kids said, “Thank you, Thank you!”.  These kids had smiles on their faces that could light up the world.  The other category of kids wore frowns, looking at their cups and at other kids’ cups, and asked for more root beer or more ice cream.  Some of the really greedy kids would down half their root beer floats and, without even leaving the line, ask for a re-fill.  The minister remembers that the counselors called these kids the “more-mores.”

The point that the minister was making is that people who feel and express gratitude are generally happy people.  People who aren’t satisfied or search out ways that life is not  fair are generally unhappy people.  I reflected on that during today’s six-mile hike from Marshall Park to the top of the hill at Pheasant Branch in Middleton and back again.

From Allen Blvd., I walked north to the end of the road next to the Walgreens, discovering a private trail easement that the Heins family thought to donate to the community.  I was thankful for their generosity, which established a link to the Middleton Trails System and Pheasant Branch.

Ten minutes later, I was enjoying nature, and I was grateful that to the many governmental entities and volunteers who worked to establish the Pheasant Branch Conservancy, a safe place to hike in the middle of deer hunting season.

I was out here not that long ago for the first time, but I discovered a new feature:  the Frederick Springs  These springs feed the wetlands, producing 1100 gallons of water per minute and 1.6 million gallons of water per day.  Steps lead down to one of the “boils.”

The temperature of the spring water is 52 degrees Fahrenheit, no matter what the season.

I’m grateful to the Friends of Pheasant Branch Conservancy who  protect and maintain this valuable natural resource through countless volunteer hours.

On the way home, I stopped at Taqueria Gonzalez for a carne asada burrito and a Modelo Negra beer. I am grateful for diversity in America, good food and drink,  and hard-working immigrants.

Be grateful; be happy.

Last Settler’s Syndrome

Years ago, my wife and I built a new house on a big bluff overlooking a Wisconsin River flowage (Lake Wisconsin).  We had unobstructed views of the water, the deer, and the wild turkeys.  Over time, the residential lots on top of the hill and on the hillside filled in with big houses and little houses.  A structure resembling a double wide lay in the path of our view of the lake.

I remember complaining to Professor Tom Heberlein, a casual acquaintance, about losing my view.  He looked up at me, peering over his professorial glasses, and said, “Ahh, you have last settler’s syndrome.”  Heberlein taught rural sociology at the University of Wisconsin and lived part-time in Lodi and part-time in Sweden.  So I didn’t feel stupid when I asked him what he was talking about.

“Last settler syndrome is where each new settler wants the area to remain the way it was when you first get there,” Heberlein explained with a wry smile.  After that sunk in, I remember feeling a little bit ashamed. 

Heberlein lived in an old existing farmhouse that didn’t require new development adding to road congestion, hillside erosion or  new infrastructure.  In putting up a new house, I contributed to the degradation of the natural beauty that attracted me to the area. A decade after that conversation and continued development, we didn’t want to live there anymore.

Eventually, we moved away to an older home set back in the woods with far-away neighbors.  We have views of marsh and woods.  If I want to pee outside, there are safe places to do so.   Strangely, ever since I thru-hiked the Appa-lachian Trail, that is one of the symbols of personal freedom that remains with me.

Yesterday, I hiked in the Pheasant Branch Conservancy in Middleton, Wisconsin.  The first part of the hike brought my blood pressure and stress down to acceptable levels.  I saw flocks of sandhill cranes, migrating geese and ducks.  The boundary trail wound up a hillside prairie that was capped with strong, thick oaks.

From the top of the hill, I could see Lake Mendota and the faint outline of the state capitol. Sitting on the bench that appears in the center photo above, a peace washed over me. Then I turned around and continued.  The trail took me within a stone’s throw of houses in a subdivision.  Some of the houses were new and had changed the landscape recently.

My intention is not to be critical of people choosing these homes.  Obviously, they love nature to choose such a spot.  The owner of the home with the swimming pool even maintains a private path to use the conservancy trail.  The conser-vancy is a wonderful place for the subdivision dwellers to get away from the stress of urban life.  However, it occurred to me as I hiked that I want to visit more remote places during the next phase of my life.  And it’s important for me to do so while adhering as much as possible to the “leave no trace” ethic.