Wannaskan Almanac

Currently rereading , "Blue Highways: A Journey Into America , " by William Least Heat Moon, pages 177-184, Least Moon enters the Chiricahua Mountains, while driving through the desert on a highway he only identifies as 'Blue Highway 9.' "The pavement made another right-angle turn and a deep rift in the vertical face of the Chiricahuas opened, hidden until the last moment. How could this place be? The constriction of the canyon was just wide enough for the road and a stream bank to bank with alligator juniper, pine, sycamore, and white oak. Trees covered the water and the roadway and cut the afternoon heat. Where the canopy opened, I could see canyon walls rising ... hundreds of feet. "Who but an artist could imagine a cool wet forest between rock formations in the desert?" 'Portal' was a few rock formations and not a human anywhere. Three miles up the canyon Least Heat Moon forded 'Cave Creek' and decided to camp along it under some tr

And here is the Wannaskan Almanac with Word-Wednesday for July 24, 2024, the thirtieth Wednesday of the year, the fifth Wednesday of summer, the fourth Wednesday of July, and the two-hundred-sixth day of the year, with one-hundred sixty days remaining.   Wannaska Phenology Update for July 24, 2024 Wild Red Raspberry Rubus idaeus is now beginning to sport berries in the Wannaskan countryside. This hearty shrub that survives in a variety of environmental conditions from roadsides to wetlands. Like the Jack pine, it survives areas that have been burned, and new generations spread quickly from seed or rhizome [/RĪ-zōm/ n., a continuously growing horizontal underground stem which puts out lateral shoots and adventitious roots at intervals]. Rubus idaeus plays important roles in stabilizing soils, filtering water in riparian [rə-PER-rē-ən/ adj., relating to wetlands adjacent to rivers and streams] habitats, aaaaand providing its prolific flowers for insects and sweet red fruit for mammals

So...I did not set up an independent country on my island vacation in June.  It was always a possibility, but in the end sanity, somehow, reigned.  Perhaps the amazing beauty of Voyageur's National Park soothed my troubled soul and kept me preoccupied.   Approaching our temporary home for the first time As soon as we launched the boat to head over to our island, it started to rain.  Some people might consider that a premonition of sorts, but not me.  It is hard to see the dark side of things when you have a beautiful lady who always seems to look at the bright side of things by your side.  Partly due to the rain and partly due to the fact that the only map we had was from the back of the brochure we managed to get lost for a bit.  Eventually we did find our little non-tropical paradise and parked our vessel in the protected cove that God had provided. Ah, green blueberries! There was an abundance of fruit on the island, however none of it was ready to eat yet.  There were wild stra

  Originally published March 11, 2019... Moving briskly along, we are already beginning the Third Song of  The One . The main character is growing fast in the mysteries of the worlds, worlds where experiences of reality and fantasy make themselves known in equal measure. But who is to say which is which? Once again, passages that utilize italics portray the magical thinking of younger children, as well as pre-language impressions; italics in this epic serve many purposes – these are the uses in the early days of the protagonist.  But what’s this? As we continue to read, harsh realities emerge. Much confusion weaves a way through the main character’s life where there is no fitting in, and no comfort without. Yet, it appears a home waits far away within the stars, but for now, unreachable, full of melancholy.   My voice dives deep into Gold Dragon’s cave awash with jewels on dark green velvet waves Unafraid I consider the glittering hoard pocked with warriors’ skulls and bone-broke hands

  War is like the Garasene demoniac  who could not be bound by chain There was only one solution  for casting out his pain The old should be as giddy as a bunch of kids riding the bus to an end-of-the-school year outing.  Marie Kondo says get rid of everything that doesn’t bring you joy.  I have lowered the bar to keeping everything that  might  bring me joy at some future date. One never knows. A hundred thousand people were born the same day I was seventy odd years ago. It’s about time we had a reunion.  How about Paris after the Olympics? To be canonized as a saint is difficult. To become a saint only requires that we be working on it. We all have the potential for acting like bastards and bitches.  We must unhitch ourselves from our guilty pleasure in playing those roles.  Poets should drink with scientists.   Two drunk poets is not a pretty sight.  The young poet must make an effort to say sensible things. The famous poet can say meaningless things the reader will scramble to deci

Hello and welcome to a hazy Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac by way of Lac du Bonnet. Today is July 20th. On this last trip to the Czech Republic, something remarkable happened. I didn't get sick. Vomit, diarrhea, colds, allergies, I've experienced it all. While some of it might have to do with the season - pollen comes when it comes - I attribute it to stress. Flying with kids internationally takes a toll. I can remember arriving at my in-laws so thoroughly exhausted, that my body would turn inside out, as if my organism needed to completely shut down and reboot. I would be gutted. Convalescing took a couple of days and a concoction of Czech (tea and preserved blueberries) and American (Coca-Cola) remedies to get me back on track. But this trip was different. First, the kids were already in the Czech Republic. Despite trying to solve a last-minute work snafu through wifi and WhatsApp, I was only traveling with my husband, whose few travel quirks elevate my anxiety in oth