Enjoy this October morning

Looking east

Directly across the lake (look carefully and you can see the tree line on the opposite shore)

Looking west

It was 31 degrees out at 8:00 a.m., but the lake was too beautiful for me to remain inside. I sat for a while on the lake steps, taking it all in, until my feet were too cold for me to remain outside.

Another one bites the dust....but which one?

What?
Avila!
What?
Avila!
What?
Avila!

Er....go Tigers.

Bye bye, Bunker Barge...see you in the spring.

Our beloved pontoon is making its last voyage of the year, down the lake to the boat ramp at the Black Lake State Forest Campground, where Mark Miller and Jeff Turi will take it out of the water, winterize it, and store it in Mark's pole barn for the winter.

This annual ritual is made more tolerable this year by our imminent family vacation to Aruba.

Bye bye, Bunker Barge, and in just over 30 days, hello Bunker Bar.

Million Minnow March

At about 6:15 p.m. today, Grandpa and I noticed some lake weed floating in toward shore.

Ken observes the strange phenomenon

The funny thing was, that clump of weed seemed to be moving toward shore a bit faster than you'd think, given the stillness of the lake. And we really knew something was up when the clump suddenly disappeared under the water near shore.

When I went out to the dock to investigate, I saw hundreds of tiny minnows moving from east to west along the shore. We do see minnows from time to time, but never so many and never moving with such purpose in one particular direction.

Peering over the edge of the dock with camera. Bottom to top of frame is east to west.

This went on for so long I finally went inside and had Pa come out. And even though he doesn't move fast, he was fast enough. He stood and watched till his legs complained, and when he got back inside the minnows were still coming.

Every so often, the column would react to sound, movement, or tiny bugs hitting water's surface. But within seconds they would reorganize and resume their migration. This went on for over an hour maybe longer if it started before we noticed.

What gives? Must Google.

Found this poem by Richard Brautigan.

And this journal article, which describes shoaling behavior in response to predation.

Another journal article, this one about shoaling as a defense against parasites.

It is apparently not related to spawning, which occurs in early summer.

Must See to Appreciate: Grandpa's Haircut

"Number one, all over, barber!"

That was Grandpa's instruction as I began his haircut. I've taken on this duty while Grandpa's regular barber is on hiatus. It's quite easy, really, requiring only patience on his part and a steady hand on mine.

Step one is cleaning up the neck, step two is buzzing all the hair off his head. That's where the "number one" comes in: numbered guide combs clip onto the electric clipper for various hair lengths: #1 is the shortest.

Step three: The Hunt. That's what Sherry (regular barber) calls it when she searches over Pa's bald head for stragglers. Grandpa says The Hunt takes longer than the cut.

Next comes the beard. For this, I use barber shears. Comb it all out thoroughly, and clip and shape it like a hedge.

Then the delicate matter of eyebrows, ears and mustache. Clippers on the shortest possible setting, no guide comb. How do you cut hair on eyebrows, ears, and upper lip? Carefully. Veeerrry carefully.

Ta Da!

These photos don't capture the drama of before and after, but do show a happy barber and customer.

They wouldn't even recognize him at the Duck.

Conversation at the Dirty Duck

Ken: Well, that's just water over the bridge. 

Me: What? 

Ken: You know, water over the bridge. 

Me: (to Pa) Did you hear what he said? 

Pa: Nope. 

Me: He said "that's just water over the bridge." 

Pa: (Laughs, shakes head.) He's funnier by accident than I am on purpose.

Taking in the lake view on the dock

Here's Grandpa on the dock today after our pontoon ride across the lake. Perfectly content to just sit and stare at the lake, which was especially calm and beautiful today. The weather turned out to be perfect for his visit. In the 70s during the day, cool at night, not much wind, lots of sun.

Grandpa is one of those rare individuals that gets to stare at water no matter where he is. The Grand River at home, Black Lake up north.

Also beautiful.

Can you figure out what this is?

If you've been to the cottage, you might recognize the objects in the photo on close inspection. But the pattern on the wall (northeast corner of the sunporch) was sunlight dappled by leaves, streaming through windows it only penetrates in the fall when the sun sets further south over the lake.

My god that's beautiful.

Those words escaped my lips when I looked out the window at this:


This time of year, with the sun lower in the sky, we get these diamond scattered views on sunny days. It happens during the summer, too, but not this brilliantly. The photo is pretty, but of course doesn't do it justice.

Here's a shot without all the paraphernalia in it:

 And look how the lights look like constellations against the wave patterns near the dock:

Doppelgänger

"Who do you look like?" 

I've often asked this question of people who remind me of someone in my life, or maybe a celebrity, living or dead. (Sometimes it's an animal or cartoon character, but I don't usually tell them that.) 

But other than my parents (both of them) or Ken (to whom a casual friend referred as my "half-twin stepbrother), it's a bit unusual for me to be compared to anyone, be it a celebrity or other lesser player. My face isn't remarkable for any particular feature; pleasing overall, I've been told, but average in its parts.

So it's fun when a similarity appears. At Richard Thomsen's memorial service back in 2009, Steve Wildern (Nancy Kammer's husband) and I were similarly attired and similarly coiffed, and both wearing dark-framed glasses.

Now I doubt that anyone would mistake us for each other on the street (he has blue eyes, I wear lipstick), but you get the idea. Since then, I've referred to him fondly as "my Doppelgänger." (I also like to think we're both smart and funny. He is, for sure.)

I told you that story so I could tell you this one:

Last year, one of Steve's Facebook friends posted a picture of him, again in a suit, probably on the job at the Wayne County Community College Performing Arts Center where he is the facility manager and associate dean.

I commented, "Lookin' mighty fine, my doppelganger." 

To which our mutual friend Dick Hill replied, "Your doppelganger?....hell, at first glance I thought Steve was Bill Clinton!" Several other commenters agreed.

This inspired Steve to create a Venn diagram (a diagram that shows all possible logical relations between a finite collection of sets, according to Wikipedia) of himself, me, and Bill Clinton.

I just ran across it yesterday, while looking through my computer's download file. It had its moment on Facebook last year, but I wanted to be sure this would live on in family history and lore.

So here it is: A diagram of Steve Wildern, Karen Stock, and Bill Clinton.*

*  Technically, this diagram should show "all possible relations between a finite collection of sets." I think I need not go into detail about the kinds of relations that might have been left off of the diagram in the interest of taste and discretion.

Lightning show at midnight

Imagine this: It is sunset, the sky lit with horizontal streaks of burgundy, gold, and slate blue.

Now imagine the sun disappears abruptly, leaving a darkened sky. Then the lights flicker on again for an instant, and against the colors of the sunset, lightning streaks from cloud to horizon.

That's what it was like last night. Flashes in the south and southwest, lighting up a colored sky in short flickering bursts, taking turns grabbing my attention--first in the south, then a bigger flash in the southwest, then the south again.

But no sound.

So that meant, I reckoned, it was a big storm, but still far away. Making the lightning flashes even more impressive.

Here's the radar from last night (early this morning, really--about 12:45 a.m.). I took the photo off an "app" on my smartphone called "Radar Now." Thunder came, eventually, but in deep, long rolls, not booming cracks. Finally, I went to bed, and I'm guessing (because I was able to sleep) the storm died down as it approached, maybe because of the lake.

I wish Ken could have been here--he would have loved it so much.

My birthday boat ride and Hack-Ma-Tack

My birthday! 61 years old, 365 days till Social Security!

The day was a bit cool but so pretty and sunny, so Ken suggested a birthday boat ride. We went up the river, which is the best approach on a cool day--less wind and more warmth. Even so, it was cool enough for a sweatshirt and a makeshift muff. The trees are still green but you can see the color shifting toward yellow and orange around the edges.

This little buck was finding something on the ground to eat (there was an apple tree nearby) in a yard along the way. He was watchful, but apparently sensed no danger from us. He moved through the yard, feeding as he went, as we passed by in the pontoon.

And finally, at the Hack-Ma-Tack for our dinner, this year sponsored by The Topologist. This is our tradition on my birthday for several years running. We eat in the bar. One year, Joe called to wish me happy birthday during dinner and ended up driving up that night, spontaneously, with Ashley. And another year, we met another 9-16 birthday girl--this one in her eighties--and had fun chatting with her while she and her son and daughter-in-law waited for their table. This year it was just us, and that's always a nice thing, too.