star island, part III

It's down in the 30s, we have a steady fire going, Dad turned on the gas heater in the living room, and it's still damn cold upstairs in the cabin.

I couldn't get back to sleep after waking up, and am consequently online for a bit. Sunrise is happening as I type, though, and it's quite pretty to watch the sky over the lake.

Yesterday the wind shifted to the west and then died down by late evening, so we went down to the dock for a bit to watch the stars come out and the loons swim in pairs across the still waters. The mayflies were pleasantly still, driven into huddles by the cold.

The only bad spot yesterday was that I burnt my left thumb and index finger rather badly on a marshmallow skewer. I had sterilized it in the fire, and then taken it to the kitchen to clean. But I forgot, for the necessary five seconds, that I had to run it under cold water before swiping the ashy residue off. So I currently have almost an inch-long narrow burn where I pinched the metal between my finger and thumb.

Thank god for ice-packs.

star island, part III

It's down in the 30s, we have a steady fire going, Dad turned on the gas heater in the living room, and it's still damn cold upstairs in the cabin.

I couldn't get back to sleep after waking up, and am consequently online for a bit. Sunrise is happening as I type, though, and it's quite pretty to watch the sky over the lake.

Yesterday the wind shifted to the west and then died down by late evening, so we went down to the dock for a bit to watch the stars come out and the loons swim in pairs across the still waters. The mayflies were pleasantly still, driven into huddles by the cold.

The only bad spot yesterday was that I burnt my left thumb and index finger rather badly on a marshmallow skewer. I had sterilized it in the fire, and then taken it to the kitchen to clean. But I forgot, for the necessary five seconds, that I had to run it under cold water before swiping the ashy residue off. So I currently have almost an inch-long narrow burn where I pinched the metal between my finger and thumb.

Thank god for ice-packs.

star island, part IV

Today was pancakes for breakfast, made with almost the last of the Bisquick. (Vicky is now laughing at me for asking how much Bisquick we have left, and caring enough to write about it. Sisters. Gotta love 'em.)

Today I have sawed branches, clipped branches and twigs, split logs, hauled logs around to woodpiles, refilled the woodbox, kept the fire going, and walked to the east portage and back. The portage leads from Cass Lake to Lake Windigo, the only lake-within-a-lake in the northern hemisphere, I believe. We're somewhat proud of that, on the island.

The mayflies are back, now that the weather's warmed up to 70-ish and the wind is southwesterly and thus not disturbing them in the long curve of the East Shore. Fortunately, they're pretty much a waterside and open space phenomenon, and don't go into the deep woods, unlike flies and mosquitoes. (Those vicious little beasts are mostly still unhatched, thank goodness.)

This evening we're packing up some non-essentials and taking them to the van so we won't be too heavily loaded tomorrow morning when we shut the cabin up again. Since people will be here off and on for the rest of the summer, we don't have to do nearly as much work leaving as we did when we arrived. The pump and the electricity stay on, for example.

I love the island, and I've really enjoyed the stillness of being up here so early when over half the cabins still don't have docks put in, let alone people inside. It's very peaceful.

But it will be nice to get home again.

star island, part IV

Today was pancakes for breakfast, made with almost the last of the Bisquick. (Vicky is now laughing at me for asking how much Bisquick we have left, and caring enough to write about it. Sisters. Gotta love 'em.)

Today I have sawed branches, clipped branches and twigs, split logs, hauled logs around to woodpiles, refilled the woodbox, kept the fire going, and walked to the east portage and back. The portage leads from Cass Lake to Lake Windigo, the only lake-within-a-lake in the northern hemisphere, I believe. We're somewhat proud of that, on the island.

The mayflies are back, now that the weather's warmed up to 70-ish and the wind is southwesterly and thus not disturbing them in the long curve of the East Shore. Fortunately, they're pretty much a waterside and open space phenomenon, and don't go into the deep woods, unlike flies and mosquitoes. (Those vicious little beasts are mostly still unhatched, thank goodness.)

This evening we're packing up some non-essentials and taking them to the van so we won't be too heavily loaded tomorrow morning when we shut the cabin up again. Since people will be here off and on for the rest of the summer, we don't have to do nearly as much work leaving as we did when we arrived. The pump and the electricity stay on, for example.

I love the island, and I've really enjoyed the stillness of being up here so early when over half the cabins still don't have docks put in, let alone people inside. It's very peaceful.

But it will be nice to get home again.