Wednesday, April 24, 2019


Oh, hey!  How are you?

Well, all we can do is our best, right?

Good.  Keep it up.  You've got a lot to live for.

Now back to Brady P. who loves to do his best. 

Yesterday we stopped at the general store for an ice cream after our rock throwing session by the mouth of Fanny Hooe Creek which is probably the most raging I have ever seen it.  All the waterfalls are off the hook right now.  If you've got time for a drive, get it.

After we were done mucking on their porch in the sunshine, little man decided to get down from the porch via the highest drop.  I didn't measure it, but it's about 16-18" which is approximately half his height.

I knew he could make it, but he stood there going over his plan in his mind.  Finally, I showed him that I could do it, then told him it was his turn.

He took a deep breath, imagined his landing, then.... jumped!

He put his hands to the ground the first time, but that was not his last.  I think he jumped down about 50 more times.  

Not kidding.

He jumped down, stuck his landing, turned around and crawled back up.  What a workout!  And what a way to work off that Oreo ice cream bar.

With all that repetition, I had to get a video.  A slow motion one, in fact, so you can see what he's thinking as he perpetuates his movements.

(If you are reading this on the email,
you'll have to open the blog page to see the video.  It's worth it!)

Look at him stick that landing!

That's how superheroes are made, my friend.  They try something new everyday and do it till they got it down.  There is always more to learn and give and be grateful for.

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Addicted to Rocks

There's no turning back now, baby!

It's rock throwing season!

This weekend Brady P. and I took our first bike cruise of the year to the lighthouse lookout.  I pedal and he rides in the "Chariot" behind me.  With his whip.  Yelling, "Faster!  Faster!"

And yesterday we took our second trek on the bike.  I gotta tell ya.  I love riding a bike.  Even pulling Braeden the dictator.  I just think it's such a smooth, quiet, fun, fulfilling way to get around this town.

So the mouth of Fanny Hooe Creek and the harbor are open enough where we don't have to sit on snow or icy rocks anymore.  It's pretty great right now, actually.  I never thought to start out at the mouth of the creek before, but the shore line certainly isn't giving in yet.

Down by the Harbor Haus beach, we've got a little spot.  It's pretty sandy and wet still, but for a quick fix, I'm down.

And yesterday B-man got his fix all right.  We went to the Harbor Haus beach on our way home from school and threw for about half an hour.  Then around 3pm I spun us to the lookout.

Luckily I brought the Bike Instructor Certification manual for the class I'm taking next month (to get certified as an intermediate level instructor!!!) cuz I got a third of the way through that.

Then I took a little rest lying in the rocks and daydreaming... in the glorious sunshine...

Then I decided to look for rocks myself because I have new art projects to work on.

During all this time, I asked Braeden intermittently, "Are you ready to go home?"

"Uh-uh," he said.  That means no.

He was having a ball.  I honestly don't know how he does it because my arm rebels after like 15-20 minutes of throwing rocks full bore.

Rocking my sunglasses

But three hours later...

Yeah, three hours later my tummy started to rumble, and I knew he was getting hungry because he ate three fruit strips in a row and wanted another.

I say no to that.  Time to go home for dinner.

"Three more rocks, Braeden."

"Uh-uh.  Ten!"

"Okay then.  Ten more rocks."

But ten was still not enough.  He would not budge from the beach.  So I picked him up and carried him up the snowy trail and plopped him into the Chariot, so he wouldn't run away.

Then we rode home singing one of the Sesame Street ABC songs.

What a lovely afternoon.  Our faces are sun burnt!

Wednesday, April 10, 2019


Watch out, Harbor lover.  I'm 'bout to go old school on yo' behind!


That the that the that that that lake
That the that the that that that lake 
That the that the that that that lake 
She's open!  She's open!

Yeah, boyeeee!

Okay, I don't really mean old school like that... more like reminiscent of  the Little Slice of da Harbor days.  You know, when I was excited about every little thing that meant spring was coming.  Or the buoy was back.  Or the berries were out.  Etc.

Here we go.

On Sunday evening, I took the M-26 Lakeshore Drive on my way back from a weekend in my hometown.  On a whim, I turned off in Phoenix thinking, Okay, lemme just see what's out there.  Even though last time I was severely disappointed.

But this time Eagle River Falls was ripping.  I should have stopped.  Jacob's Falls was getting there.  Great Sand Bay and Eagle Harbor were still pretty ice locked.  I decided not to get my hopes up.

But just before Eagle Rock Studio and the Lizzadro Preserve, I saw splashes near the shore.

Wha-- whaaaaat???

I stared in disbelief.  

I should have stopped driving, but then Brady P. and I would never have gotten home.

I rolled the window down to try to hear Her Majesty's voice whispering in my ear and feel her breath on my face.  I began to tremble and weep.

You might think I'm crazy, but I don't care.  I was under her spell.

At Hebard Park, I pulled off the road, told Brady P. I'll be right back and skipped a few yards toward the shore.

Oh my gosh golly gee whiz.  I was home.

I flung my hands in the air Titanic movie-style and bawled.  Thank you, Lake!  I missed you!  Oh my God, it's so wonderful to see you again!  Oh, thank you!  Thank you!

After a few moments of that, I had the mind to shut my wailing trap and listen for a bit.  Just listen -- still trembling, mind you -- but listening.

It was almost as revitalizing as actually jumping in.  Now, if I didn't have to drive Wee Man home and there wasn't still ice chunks floating around, I probably would have.  But one brain cell still worked in my mesmerized mind, so I did the smart thing.

Still weeping (Braeden thought I was nuts), I drove back to da Harbor.  The harbor itself was still frozen.  Oh well.  I was coming down from my first open water experience of the year, so I could handle it.

But then, guess what???

The.  Very.  Next.  Day... 

The very next day, the harbor was open!!!

My brain tricked me into thinking it was still frozen when I took Braeden to school that morning, so when I got home, I fluttered about getting ready to start as many projects as I could in my two-and-a-half hours of B-less-ness.

Then, on my way up the front stairs, my eyes registered waves down the road.  I stopped in my tracks and stared again, squinting in disbelief.

The harbor is open!!!  I must go!!!

So I plunked my screw gun onto the stairs, yanked my bike off the hook and coasted down the road with my heart beaming out of my chest. 

I dropped my bike in the snow and ran to the edge at the rock line (somewhere under all that snow!).

But within seconds, I said, screw it, and walked down to the very edge of the ice.  The pieces floating by were at least a foot thick, so I figured I'd be fine.  Besides, I was two blocks away from a warm house and dry clothes.

I crept to the edge on my knees and took a big scoop of that holy water.  I rubbed it all over my face and squealed.

Spring has sprung, baby.  And my heart is light.  I am grateful. Yee haw!

Today I went down to get a couple pictures for you.  The sun was beaming, but the NNE winds blew lots of the ice pack back toward the shore.  I did my best to show you it's really open.

 Shot from the edge of the ice
Trying to show the open water towards Porter's Island

Alright, homie.  Peace out!

Wednesday, April 3, 2019

Trickle by Trickle

Brady P. is born again.

With spring approaching and the harbor starting to open at the mouths, his favorite pass time is creeping back into our lives.

Throwing rocks!!!

During my alone time last week, I scouted the area by the lighthouse overlook.  It's where Fanny Hooe Creek enters Lake Superior.  And right along the edges of the rushing creek, I saw those smooth beach stones poking their little noses out, begging, "Bring us Brady P!"

Monday, though I was ill-prepared, I took him to the rocks with our friend Stacia and local puppy Fern.  We walked to the lookout area and hobbled down to the "lake" which is still a frozen tundra into the distance.  

(However, her shimmering blue majesty is writhing on the horizon.  Oh, am I trying to be patient!)

As we plodded along the crusted snow, hand in hand, I remembered about the rocks along the ice line.  Fern was already in the creek, so we headed toward her.

When we got to the edge, little Brady P. caught sight of the rocks in the water.  Remember, he was hanging on to my hand, so not only did I see his body straighten out of the corner of my eye, I felt his energy rise through his mitten.

You may as well have told him he was getting a pony or a kitty cat.  He was so excited!  He perked right up at the sight of those rocks, and my heart just beamed at the thought of how much he likes being out there.

I fished out a pile of rocks, so the boy didn't fall in the creek.  He had to stand to throw them because he had nowhere dry to sit in his jeans.  

Our only other conundrum was that Fern loooooves to catch rocks --  just like Duce did!  But we weren't going to subject her to that, so we practiced throwing to this side and that.

Yesterday the four of us set out again.  This time with a seat for Braeden and a change of mittens.  He was pumped all day to get out there and throw rocks.  Man, he was really in his element.

And so was Fernie girl.  We actually had to separate those two, so we didn't bring her back to her mama with fat lips and missing teeth.  Those rock hounds, I tell ya!

Look at that boy beam!

Note the ripples in the open water and the ice fishermen perched at the edge of the harbor ice.  I don't think I would even go out there!

But as the runoff continues, and the sun beams and the rain sprinkles through the porous snow, our rock beaches will open up.

Spring is coming... trickle by trickle.