Pictures Of Thanks

            This Thanksgiving Break has been a series of good times with family; both our immediate family as well as the extended.  I decided to take pictures of a few of the various meals that we had, to capture some of the moments that happened in and around those good times.  We were blessed indeed for the food, but the obvious focus was with the people that we spent time with.

            Todd came home late Tuesday night.  On Wednesday morning, Jodi and I ran in a slight drizzle and then we relaxed and took care of a few errands.  Each fall, for the last five years, we’ve taken a drive into Southern Wisconsin, and eventually ended up at a hometown restaurant where we could get a good, solid burger.  This year we took an afternoon drive up to check out Gibbs Lake, and then drove the small, back country roads over to the outlet for Lake Koshkonong.  We ate at the newly renovated grill named “The Anchor.”  We had eaten there back in 2012 during an outing up along the Rock River, a few years before a fire had damaged it.  Now rebuilt, it’s a great little setting along the water, and one we’d like to check out sometime in the summer when I’m sure it’s hopping with boaters stopping by.

Gibbs Lake

Family at "The Anchor"

            On Thursday we began the day with a breakfast casserole that Cindy made.  We ate it while watching the news and parade.  I called and caught up with my friends Travis & Chris; a tradition on Thanksgiving Day for many years now.  Todd and I headed out afterwards to cut up a tree that had fallen into a nearby field so that we would have quality firewood going into the winter months.  He took a picture of the two of us afterwards in front of our Jeep full of wood, but it was on one of those blasted (yes I said blasted) social media sites that disappears after 24 hours.  So it exists out there somewhere in cyberspace, I just don’t know where.  We did, however, fill our wood rack and so I enjoyed having his help and company.  That Thursday afternoon we drove to my parents house where we visited, ate a meal Mom whipped up, looked at old pictures, and spent the night.  My Dad and I came as close to “Black Friday Shopping” as we’ve ever been, as we went out trying to find someplace that was open where we could get evaporated milk.  My Mom needed it so she could finish her pumpkin pies.  It was touch and go, but we found a Walmart in Lake Delevan that was open and managed to get in and out through the crowds that were already starting to form.  When we returned, I was able to talk on the phone to my sister who lives down south, and then I went to bed.

            On Friday we continued looking at some old pictures, and then together with my parents, drove over to my youngest sister’s house to have Thanksgiving with her family.  We played games, snoozed, and enjoyed a great afternoon together.  We had brought along our dogs, Kati and Kora, who are always up for what they deem as an exciting trip with the family.  In unison we meet my sister’s new puppies.  Bella and Bear were soft, roly-poly, and cute.  Although reserved at first, in the end all of the dogs were romping around (both inside and out) and fun to watch as they played.  We drove home late that evening.

My nephew with all of the "pups"

            On Saturday morning, Jodi and I ran 7 miles in preparation for an upcoming race.  As we ran, the sun came out and it gradually warmed up.  I don’t usually like to waste a day sitting, and watching an entire football game anymore, as I typically like to spend it actually doing something.  I will occasionally watch excerpts of a game if I pass through the living-room, or a majority of a night game if the teams interest me.  On this day, however, I did watch the whole Michigan-Ohio State game.  It was a great game, but it really didn’t end as I had hoped, and so I went out afterwards to take advantage of the fading sunlight.  I raked the leaves from around the fence line, and then edged by pushing my mower around the outside.  I was just about to jump on the riding mower to mulch up any leaves left in the interior of the lawn, when Cindy told me it was time to get ready.  I hate when I can’t finish a project, but I dragged myself away and got cleaned up.  As a family we went down to Rockford’s “Stroll on State” festival.  We parked and walked downtown to watch the lighting of the Christmas tree, and listen to the music being performed.  We also got something to eat.  Jodi and I had tacos, Todd had a burrito, and Cindy got a quesadilla.  The meal hit the spot in the crisp air, and we ended the evening by walking along the waterfront and looking at the lights.

            On Sunday I got up early, and ran four miles with my friend Scott before coming home and getting ready for church.  The service had some great music that helped me align my perspective, and the message was centered on how our spiritual growth is driven by an informed knowledge of God.  Afterwards we went to Cindy’s parent’s house for a Thanksgiving gathering with her family.  Her brother and his family was not able to make it, as they now live out west, but her sister and her family were there.  We enjoyed a delicious meal, good conversation, and games.  My brother-in-law and I moved a few things in and out of the garage, and then we all sat and relaxed.  The house is small, but very cozy and comfortable.  

Once back home, I decided to go over to school to work on my lesson plans for the week, while Jodi dove into some of her homework.  When I returned, the kids decided to go to a movie together; a final outing as siblings before everyone is back in the routine of daily life.  It’s been a nice closure to a great couple of days together, and for that I give thanks.

            See you along The Way…

A Day In The Woods

                It was an early start for Chuck and me.  He drove north to our house, and by 6:00 we were headed west toward Jo Daviess County.  We were in the woods and sitting by 8:00.  On the hike in, Chuck spotted a white tailed deer slowly walking up the hollow toward us.  With the wind blowing up through the hills, the four to six point buck could not smell us, and as a result, he literally walked within just a few yards of us.  He glanced our way a few times, but as we stood frozen and with no scent to warn him, he registered zero fear; rightfully so, as we were there to hunt bushy-tailed squirrels.  I made the “meep” sound of a bleating doe, as he was about to go over the ridge to freeze him, and then after a few seconds, whistled at him like a buck in warning and he lifted his tail and bounded out of sight.

Chuck and I sat a couple of hundred feet apart, as the sun came up over the top of the ridge behind us.  Slowly it began to warm up, but a hat and gloves were still necessary.  With the rising sun came an increase in the wind as well, however, and so you had to hunker down to ward off the chill.  We scanned the treetops and ground for any movement.  The only animal of note was a pileated woodpecker as it called, and flew from tree to tree along the ridge.  They truly are a big sized bird, and it’s a unique opportunity to see them in our area of Northern Illinois.

After a little less than an hour, we worked our way down into the hollow, and up over another ridge that was rimmed by exposed limestone.  We hunkered down, as a flock of turkeys moved through the ensuing valley below us.  Again, the scenery was great, and the chance to simply sit was relaxing, but there just weren’t any squirrels to be seen or heard.  Time stood still, and then Chuck and I rose, and side stepped our way down into the valley, and to the border of the property we were hunting.  We decided to sit once more to see if there would be any activity in this section as it began to near noontime.  Later, Chuck said he began to doze at about that time, and I was tempted, but I finally heard a squirrel barking.  Unfortunately as I looked up the hillside, from where the sound came from, I was looking directly into the sun and could not locate it specifically.  I stood and began to slowly work my way up the steep incline.  Chuck saw me move, and began to walk in the same direction; flanking me by a hundred feet or so.  As we neared the top, we motioned to each other as to the direction we were going to move, when I heard what sounded like a couple of bounding leaps in the leaves up ahead.  We walked in that direction and circled a couple of trees, when Chuck finally saw the gray squirrel I had been hearing.  It dodged among some brambles, and then went out onto a branch on my side, presenting me with an open lane.  I took the shot, and brought it down.  

Chuck and I talked a bit, and then I cleaned it, and bagged it.  Sometime soon I’ll make a meal from it.  The thought of the dark meat wrapped in bacon, and then cooked in a slow cooker with some cream of mushroom soup and sour cream made my mouth water.  As I mentioned this to Chuck, and that I would like to serve it over a bed of wild rice, he said, “You had me at bacon.”  That was pretty funny.

Scouting

"Maiden Hair" Ferns Going Dormant

We tried one more area on a beautiful and slightly open ridge surrounded by red and white oaks, but it was to no avail.  The squirrels, other than the one that I shot, simply were holed up and not coming out.  Perhaps it was the bright sun.  Perhaps it was the wind.  No matter; it was great to get out, enjoy the autumn season, talk as we drove country roads through the small towns of classic Americana, and spend a day in the woods.

See you along The Way…

A Dog Day Of Fall

On the riverbank under a giant oak.

            The wind is steady, at sixteen miles per hours, and out of the west today.  More importantly, the air is dry, remarkably warm at seventy degrees, and autumn is upon us.  Leaves fall regularly now.  They sail twice; first from the sky, and then on the water’s strong currents; ever pushing onward and Southerly.

            I’ve been on the verge of a cold, but I always joke and tell myself, “I don’t do colds.”  I’ve gotten a couple of nights of good sleep, drank a lot of water, and clicked a few outdoor things off my “to-do” list before things freeze and the snow flies.  I’m hoping that will “hold the cold at bay.”  I figured I’d take an hour this afternoon to drive west, hike in with the dogs, and sit on the bank of one of my favorite rivers.

Kati (foreground) and Kora

            I have a lot of favorite bodies of moving water, each for different reasons.  This is one of my favorites because it’s close, and runs through as wild of country as you’ll find in Illinois.  Today the sky is as blue as it can get, as the sun begins to set over the tree tops on the opposite bank.  Shadows are beginning to extend over me.  Our smaller, two year old dog, Kora, sits tight beside me.  Sometimes she can’t get close enough.  Growls rumble in her throat as two friendly kayakers paddle by.  She is ever alert.  Our larger dog Kati, now a month off from being thirteen years old, lays off to the side.  At first she was in the mud, but I managed to coax her back into the more spongy ground.  She enjoys watching across the water, and smelling the scents upon the breeze.  Both are almost always in picture-perfect poses whether I can ever capture them with my camera or not.  They’re stately, and I like that.

            I don’t know how many more times I can bring Kati out on adventures, but I’ll continue to for as long as possible.  She’s been with me on countless of them over the years, since the days when I first started exploring Winnebago County’s natural areas.  Kora picks up where Kati leaves off.  She’s a good “pup,” and although she could be refined a bit, that will come in time when I can work more one on one with her.  Right now I hate to take her too much without Kati.  Kati still wants to be a part of the action, albeit at a slower pace, and Kora sometimes follows her more than she listens to me.  They’re good companions for the woods though, and I’m glad I have them here beside me on this beautiful, fall day.

            See you along The Way…

Bustling, Fishing, & Paddling

            The winds are blowing now at 20 mile per hour from the south by southwest on this warm, Monday night.  They carry with it memories of a week and a half ago.  It was a weekend of bustling about.  I’ll take a break now from correcting school work, to put together a collection of pictures and videos from that weekend.  I’ll do that for no other reason than to remember it when the winds shift out of the north, and bury us in a blanket of snow a few months from now.  As if we should be so lucky!

Sunrise from a bypass over I-90

            The unofficial weekend started on a Friday that was a “School Improvement Planning Day.”  Having a day like this without classes meant that I could take time to enjoy the sunrise, and then spend it with colleagues that supported each other with positive attributes in an activity designed especially for our staff.  We needed that with the winds of change that we’ve had as of late.

Heading South on Highway #2

            On Saturday, October 8^th I got up early, took Jodi to meet the cross-country bus, and then went for a short run in our neighborhood.  Cindy gathered her things, and then headed out to coach the junior high volleyball tournament that our conference has for the end of the season.  When I got a text from Jodi that said she was going to run one of the earlier races down in Sterling, I took off as soon as I got cleaned up and ready.  It was a beautiful drive south along Highway#2.  I made it to the course about 2 minutes before the 10:00 start, let her know I was there, and then set off on a sprint so that I could cheer her on as many times as possible.  Over the years I’ve found that if I “Put the Hammer Down”, and cut along the hypotenuse between each corner, I can see my kids about 11 times along that course.  I’m whipped afterwards, but the kids have always appreciated it, and I secretly enjoy it.  Jodi ran an excellent race, and cut about 30 seconds off her previous time from a race a few weeks prior.

            In the meantime, I got a text from Cindy that said her team of 6^th and 7^th grade girls had won their first two games, and advanced to the championship (a great run for the #3 seed).  I said goodbye to Jodi, and headed back north along the Rock River; hoping I could maybe make the final couple of points, but it was not to be.  I was greatly disappointed that I couldn’t be in both places at once to see her and her team as well as Jodi run.  Apparently Cindy's girls had played well, but they fell to a good team, and so took 2^nd place.  I shook it off as best I could, and went home to mow the yard.  Soon afterwards, I got another text from Cindy that informed me that the varsity team had also advanced to the tournament championship.  I went and picked up Jodi from the high school, and we headed down to watch the 7^th and 8^th grade girls, coached by one of my fellow 5^th grade teachers, Jacqui.  It was a great run, as they came back from a loss in the first game, to win the next two and capture 1^st place.  It was pretty exciting, and Jodi enjoyed seeing them play.  It reminded her of her 7^th grade year where they too had won the volleyball championship on that same gym floor.  We came home, and they cleaned up while I finished mowing, before we all went out to get something to eat.  It had been quite a day.

Jacqui and Cindy

            On Sunday, October 9^th I got up and ran 7 miles with some friends, before heading to church.  It was a great sermon from a guest speaker on having freedom in Christ.  Our pastor was spending his Sunday morning down cheering on his own daughter in the Chicago Marathon.  I sent them a few texts for motivation. 

            Once home I gathered my fishing stuff together and then met my Dad.  We planned on heading into Wisconsin for one of the last trout fishing outings of the year.  To show just how fickle the whole process can be, we went to the same creek that I had visited two weeks beforehand.  Yes, the one where I had caught 30 fish in one day (See "Documenting the Story").  Dad and I enjoyed a nice day on the water, and saw a few fish here and there, but we literally caught absolutely zero trout.  It was unbelievable really, but it was a beautiful day to be together and talk, so for that reason it was well worth the travel and energy spent.  My Dad did catch one thing, a small piece of barbed wire with a loop on the end.  One of the barbs on his spinner snagged it.  Afterwards we sent a text to my uncle who had caught a perfectly smooth rock while salmon fishing a week or so before.  Similarly a barb on his spinner had caught the one little dimple on its surface.  We told him we’d match him and raise him one.

            When I returned home, I put away my gear, and then headed for the store to buy the supplies I would need for our traditional “Columbus Day Outing” with the Gulo Adventure Clan.  (See "C.F.A." ) Due to some other commitments by a few of our members, there would be five of us riding the currents of the river the following morning.  I stayed up and prepared the food and equipment, and then collapsed into bed.

            The following morning was cool and brisk, but it was beautiful, and promised to be a remarkable day.  We met, did our traditional portaging of vehicles to drop off our kayaks and canoe, and headed down the river by 9:00.  The water was high, and covered all of our usual sandbars that we get out on to cook or stretch our legs.  

We finally found a bank we could skid up onto, and enjoyed a great meal cooked on the good ole fifteen inch skillet.  It’s quickly becoming a classic, and worth its weight in what it takes to haul it along. 

The iron got so hot though, that it burned right through the brand new hot pad that my Mom had recently bought me.  I hated telling her that the nicely decorated hot pad, with the nature scene, now had a large melted spot through the silvery backside.  She was glad it at least wasn’t my hand.  It just shows how hot that skillet can get though.  Let’s just say that I’m really moving fast with the spatula and spoon as the food nears being finished.  

We completed the trip in two and half hours on the faster currents, and all of us agreed that it was a great trip.  I tried to foil the outcome by accidentally leaving my keys in the vehicle back at the put in site, but after flagging down a passer-by with my hitchhikers thumb and a wooden paddle, we sent one of the “rookies” back with the stranger to retrieve his truck (and my keys) so that we could load it all up.  In reality, no time was lost in the process, but we did have to break down and use a little ingenuity to solve the problem.  It was all in a day’s work.  Speaking of work, we had to work that day too as we neared the finish of our paddle, and bucked the wind coming out of the south.

Doug, Ted, Tyler, Louie, and I on the Sugar River

            I better post this entry; it’s going to be good sleeping while listening to that wind blowing through the trees tonight.

            See you along The Way…

Creek Walk 2016

This is a revised journal article I originally wrote in the fall of 2010.  The following year it was printed in the "Notes From The Dells" newsletter put out by the Severson Dells Nature Center (Part of the Winnebago County Forest Preserve).  This year's Creek Walk Day was held on Friday, September 30th.

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            Dry Run Creek.  Its history is marked since the early 1800’s when the first white settlers came upon the land in Illinois’ northern Winnebago County.  Winnebago County itself was not established until 1836, after Illinois become a state in December of 1818.    Earlier that year the northern counties of Illinois almost became part of Wisconsin until the territorial representative in Congress, Nathaniel Pope, suggested that they move the state line further north.  Before that time we know only bits and pieces of information in regard to this region.  That information was passed down through early voyagers, as well as the tribes of native First Nation peoples who lived in, or traveled through, the vast sand prairies and the great river-ways. 

            For twenty-eight years now Prairie Hill School District students have had a small taste of the importance and excitement this area once held.  From where I sit now, writing in my journal on this oak covered bluff, I am overlooking the big bend on the Rock River’s journey south into Rockford.  Dry Run Creek is only a hop, skip, and a jump north toward the Stateline.  It’s a tributary, and a small one at that, but essential none-the-less.  For as its cool, clear waters trickle over shallows; twisting and turning its way southwest toward Hononegah Forest Preserve and the memories of the area's original trading post at "Bird’s Grove."  It has a story to tell.  It began in the creations of time, and yet still it captures my heart when I take this hike each year.

            At first it was the intrigue of moving waters, and the memory of my family and youth from which I felt too far removed.  When I first began teaching in the Prairie Hill District, the area was new and unfamiliar, but this creek I could relate to.  This creek I could immerse myself in; and so I did.  In the autumn of 1989 I brought the students of my two 5th grade science classes down to the bank of the creek, and simply started sharing small excerpts of what I knew of water and land.  There is so much to the environs along this waterway, that I hardly scratched the surface of the plants and animals here.  My cherished trees of Northern Michigan were far away, and I knew none of these.  Life’s creation is immersed in symbiotic relationships, however, and so it was these that I attempted to share.

            The 5^th grade Creek Walk has grown year by year; giving information, leading discussion, allowing for exploration, sharing the excitement, imploring the conservation, and modeling the connection.  It has grown from our science classes to an entire day-long 5^th grade experience.  It is a holistic endeavor.  The Creek Walk now encompasses every 5^th grade teacher and subject.  Over the years the team of teachers involved Deb, and Heather, and Tyler, and presently Chuck, and Jacqui, and I.  With the region’s growth, the original two 5th grade classrooms have grown to three and four classes over the last eighteen years.  It involves the parents, and hence the community.  It has grown beyond the biological relationships of science, to the rhythms of history, stories, game, and verse.  As the walk to Dry Run Creek has grown, this one day each fall embodies what we strive for; that sense of excitement that comes from creative learning.  One is left wondering how it can be improved for next time.  One wonders how its influence will ripple outward as the students remember and share what they’ve sensed, experienced, and learned.  One ponders what the life of a teacher would be like if they had opportunities such as these in which to teach; and teach within these opportunities consistently.  Would it still hold its awe?  Would it still be held sacred?

            It is what it is, because it is what it has become.  The Creek Walk requires effort.  The Creek Walk requires involvement. And that is the irony.  When one thinks about Dry Run Creek, it is still out there, still trickling along, always running, always eroding one side and building onto the other.  It is a living entity.  It has been living for hundreds of years now since the bison and elk last drank from its waters, and yet Dry Run Creek continues to find a way to satisfy my thirst.  As the sun sets to the west on my back, and the dry breezes blow, I realize that the Creek Walks have helped me in my own connection to this land.  For that I give thanks.

            See you along The Way…

Merel and I clearing trees & brush

Merel mowing a path along the soybean field

A classroom cleared & ready for students

A trail in the woods

Chuck, Jacqui, and I set the tone by reading "Stone Soup"

In My Science Station "Classroom"

Learning that everything in nature is important

Creatures found in the currents of this watershed

An activity to show connection in our ecosystem

Homeroom class in front of the beloved silver maple

(See the past blog post of this tree by clicking: Acer Saccharinum )

Merel & Kris pass out soup at the day's end

Documenting The Story

“The water itself, being the most passive of elements, happily takes on the character of the country it runs through – fast, slow, deep, shallow, whatever you want – and the trout are very much like the water.  They’re numerous or few, they grow big or stay small, as conditions dictate.  They do exactly what they’re supposed to, no more, no less.”

John Gierach – The View From Rat Lake (1988-Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, NY)

Droplets on a Spider's Web

I’m not going to write too much tonight.  I don’t need to.  The pictures and videos will speak for themselves and document the story.  This morning I was up at 5:00 and in the water by 7:00.  It started to drizzle about then, and throughout the morning it actually rained hard several different times.  It was under those conditions that I thought I’d have a lot of hits while trout fishing.  In actuality it was marginal; but throughout the course of the day the action picked up significantly.  In the small little spring creek I was fishing, there are both brook and brown trout.  When I fished a different section of it two weeks ago (A Simple Day), I mostly caught brookies; and they were no bigger than ten to eleven inches. 

A Twelve Inch Brown That I Ended Up Keeping

Today I mainly caught brown trout throughout the morning hours.  I like to “keep score” of how many I catch of each species when the fishing is good.  The browns took a commanding lead today, and continued to add to their score even if I brought a brook trout to my hand.  The brookies were sure and steady, however; and they eventually surged ahead, as the weather cleared, and didn’t look back.  What was the final score you ask?  Brook trout 17, Brown trout 13.  Amongst the fish that I caught were several good sized ones.  I landed a sixteen-plus inch brown, in addition to 3 twelve inchers.  For the brook trout, I caught three or four in the twelve to thirteen inch range.  I have never caught so many fish in one outing.  It was a lot of fun and I hated to quit.  

When I ran out of water, with my total count of trout at 30 total fish, I took one more cast.  It was then that I caught an eight inch chub.  It was a sign that I needed to call it a day.  From those I caught today, I released all but 2 that I kept for a meal later this fall (one of the 12” browns, and a 10” brookie). 

A 16+ Inch Brown That I Caught And Released

A Beautiful Brook Trout In Fall Colors That I Released

It was 2:30 and I still had a forty-five minute hike out on the trails to reach my Jeep, and then an hour’s drive to reach home.    It was a great day, in a secluded setting, with beautiful scenery and fish.  It’s a story I won’t soon forget.

See you along The Way…