Author: Sue Ahrendt

I was going to write about the gorgeous weather. With a week of temps in the high 50s and 60s, the snow couldn’t possibly hang on, and the ice is fading fast. It seems that May showed up , first melted, then dried everything up in the north woods? It is very very odd, and too early, but still we can’t help but smile the spring smile.

Instead, I’m going to tell you about my beloved niece who visited this week (with her parents and mine (her grandparents).

Maria has huge brown eyes that soak in the world.

She has sturdy little athletic legs, that match her Mayan ancestors. I’m sure she’ll grow up with ties to Guatemala, because my sister and her partner are already promoting all of that. But she’s all ours. And we are crazy in love with her.

She’s inquisitive, and independent, and of course brilliant. She’s such a little peanut that she seems even more brilliant, because we forget that she’s almost 5 years old. She’s tough, but she also wore a tu-tu most of the week. She says stuff like—“I like that word— ‘startled’ —but you know what Sue-a (pronounced Sue-uh)? I don’t like the word zamboni any more. I used to like zamboni, but now, I just don’t.”

We began discussing the safety of the ice as the week went on, and pretty soon there was no flipping way she was going out there anymore. Probably a good choice: now there are a couple of Maria-sized holes, even though I think there is still a foot of ice out there. Well, there is a foot of rotten ice where there isn’t open water…where there aren’t spring holes, where it isn’t pulling away from the shore.

Her favorite place is outside. “Point my feet in the right direction, and I’ll go find Shelby and Daniel” This was literal. I had to point her feet.

She laughs at my jokes.Her parents try to get her to sit down at the table, when she is just the perfect size to stand on the bench, and put her hands on the table and jump a little bit during dinner, when conversation gets exciting. I said—”What if we all did that all the time?” And I got up on the bench, and my dad is always game for that, and pretty soon everybody stood on their chairs and started jumping. And oh—she thought it was so funny she kept remembering it all week. I like that in a kid.

Her high point of Tuscarora? Definitely Denali. Only she says “Denowli” .

We were on the rocks by Lake Superior last night—the kind of beachy flat rocks that make the North Shore. Maria got punchy, and wanted to hold my hand and run and run and run. It was hard, I had to focus on my footing because…because I’m old. But she held my hand and was reckless and laughing like a maniac, and she never wanted to quit. i thought, if only I had a hand to hold, I could run wildly like that. It was a nice night, the daylight savings sun was keeping us warm, plus the running running running. I don’t know what was so funny about it, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that it has been unseasonably weirdly warm, it didn’t matter that there was a list of tasks somewhere, or even that we didn’t know how many more times we were going to run the whole length of cove we were in. We were just running, and she was a lunatic. It was refreshingly mindless.

One time she said “I am full of love and joy.”

And I’ve decided that is exactly what I want to be when I grow up

We’ll all be at Canoecopia in Madison this weekend-

Andy will be at the Tuscarora booth–the kids and I at Becoming A Boundary Waters Family booth/activities.

If you’re in the Madison area, come and find us!

My folks will be holding down the Tuscarora Fort for us.

And now–we’re off!

I was reading about this American woman making soup for these farmers in Zimbabwe. The fields were dry, they had been in a drought for awhile and as they began to eat, it started to pour. So hard that the sheets of rain splashed the soup out of the bowls into their faces, and while she was running for cover, the farmers just sat there in the pelting rain and ate the cucumber soup. Because, if they got up and left the rain, then they were afraid the rain might leave them.

It was the season of rain, and they wanted more rain.

In the season of rain, they were savoring the rain.

I was going to be deliberate about that this March weekend. Strive to treasure the moments, just as they came. I didn’t want any more or any less, was just was going to cherish what I had.

Let me tell you though, it wasn’t difficult to do that with this weekend. Gorgeous, sunny spring, 50 degrees. Definitely relishing these moments wasn’t a huge challenge, there was no rain….but still. Maybe I could just practice for a rainy day.

Andy spent a couple days on vacation— with some good friends of his who came up for their annual boys’ weekend. These are really good guys, even if they cheat a little at broomball. (!)

Daniel had a hockey tournament canceled, we only went to town for one tennis practice, otherwise, we had unbroken hours at home for a change. We played a lot a lot of broomball. Hours of broomball.

There was some fishing, we skied some, We had some nice fathers/sons guests who ventured out fishing too. Easy sunny days.

Right now I’m spent. Daniel and I just finished a game of Stare, and he didn’t cream me like as badly as he usually does. Andy has fallen asleep on the couch, Denali is rolling around on the floor while Daniel scratches her ears. Shelby is doing some homework.

It is really good to be here and now.

If anybody would have asked me, I’d have put 38 days in February. It’s by far the best winter month.
Tuscarora hosted the broomball game for the 6th annual Winter Tracks Festival. We had a smaller crowd this year, but whatever we lacked in numbers, we recovered in gusto. I’d just like to point out, in the far back row, left side of this photo behind Kieran in the white t-shirt, you may not see the guy in the big black goggles. We’re not sure who he is, but we think he wore protective eyewear because he was afraid somebody might take him down.

This year we had our youngest broomball participant. He had such a perfectly cute round head, that when Roman first met him, he thought that we put a baby-prop on the sled. The kids got a kick out of having the “Little Dude” around. I got a kick out of watching Daniel try to fold himself in half to meet his eye…Daniel, who was a little dude himself about 10 minutes ago…sigh…

We had a perfectly sunny afternoon, but..that’s been about par for February this year. Some afternoons, we even get out.

Denali prefers the days we ski in towards Brant Lake—in the back country so she can run like crazy. Some afternoons we leave Denali at home to visit the Upper Gunflint groomed trails, because they’re really nice too.

This hole was an Edith Lake mystery. We didn’t drill it—it was wide open on this cold day, there were no tracks around it, I suspect the otters were keeping it open, or the beavers? Maybe it started as a spring…but there is at least a foot of ice out there.

Can you see the moose in here? I’m sorry you can’t see her face because she thinks she is camouflaged on the side of the Gunflint Trail. The other day, one mother stepped in front of her yearling ….she was ready to take on my car I think. I just waited out the face off, she eventually got off the road–about 10 feet. To hide.

Andy’s buddies Bob, Roy, and Eric gave Andy and Dan another good excuse to head into Tuscarora. They kept 5-and laid them out for the photo, but can you tell if they are guppies and fingerlings or trophies? Not so much. Daniel the sherpa had them cleaned and cooking before I even saw them.. Apparently they did make a feast…fresh fish-from lake to dinner plate in 4 short hours.Daniel usually jigs longer than anybody else, and …you know what they say about the odds.

I had to include this one, for those who recognize the rock. This particular boulder marks about 1/3 of the distance on the portage from Missing Link to Tuscarora Lake. That spot is just high enough to rest your pack, but too low to bridge your canoe. It’s that place all people rest, and you wish you were half way, and you like to think you are half way, but you are not half way.

Now ,well into March. the days feel so long, the sun is intense, my blood must be really thick because 35-and sunny is absolutely balmy. Winter is fleeting-we’re relishing these days.

When I was a kid, I said my favorite color was orange. It was unique, and it is pleasant and bright I think.

Now I’m older, and I’ll admit it. Blue is my favorite.

Even if it means I’m just like everybody else. It’s blue all the way.

Always it has been blue.