Drifting Rudderless

Today I was adamant with myself that I needed to go for a drive to the lake. I had a specific place in mind, but I wasn't sure if I would find it again so easily. 

Fortunately, I found it just fine.

Where the Maumee River meets Lake Erie. Photo by author, September 19, 2022.

It wasn't just about lake time, though. Today was about finding a new way to anchor my ambition and career goals. Wandering through blue space helps me gain insight and clarity. 

The reality is that I am feeling boxed in with few opportunities. Since I am not yet ready to move to a new city, I need to find ways to throw out a few grappling hooks (so to speak) into my cities of interest to find remote work opportunities.

As I was driving through Toledo (and before I got lost in the north neighborhoods) I remembered there was a newspaper and magazine publisher I had done some writing work for years ago that is based there. I think maybe it is time for me to pick that back up and see where it might go...

In the meantime, I shall plod on with my myriad blogs and mixed media as a labor of love.

Sunset over Lake Erie with West Sister Island in the distance. Photo by author, September 19, 2022.

© Dawn Nelson, 2022.

Rambling the Zukey

A bit of afternoon gardening and tidying up preceded a walk down to Zukey Lake and memory lane. I once caught small fish with my hands in this lake, long ago. I'm hoping I'll manage to catch a few fish this summer (with a fishing pole) and remember how to clean them and prepare them for dinner. Not too many though, PCBs and all. I imagine there are more than a few. Good thing my child bearing days are done.

Still a beautiful and comforting view.

 © Dawn Nelson, 2022

the March begins!

So, so close.

A little colder today though, only 35 degrees F and a bit windy so that will slow things down after yesterday's spring heat wave (which was in the 50s).

I made a trip to document the ice cover further down river yesterday and was reassured there is still plenty of it, although much less stable now. This was really such a short winter recreation season on the ice. The ice fishing folks probably have a thing or two to say about it all, I'm sure.

But the March begins! I guess March comes in like a lamb and goes out like a lion now? All these folklore sayings simply don't stand a chance against climate change. The cultural impacts on what constitutes 'common knowledge' is only going to get weirder over time. 

Taking this into consideration, I can appreciate that I have had the opportunity to live in one general watershed region nearly my entire life. As much as I may fuss about it some days, the benefit is that I have a core of knowledge gained from the lived experience of the seasons in this region for decades. I can sense the changes more instinctively. If this is the consolation prize for not having lived in more places across the US, and beyond, it's a pretty good one. 

Here is my recommendation for the day: take a moment to really listen to the birds that you hear outside today. Another beautiful aspect of this region is that it is central to several major North American continental flyways. This means we can observe a lot of migratory birds as they pass through. It's an exciting time for the birding community. In fact they dedicate a whole week to it, called the Biggest Week in American Birding. Only two months until the biggest week begins in early May, so it's time to get ready! 

In the meantime, check out this cool birding blog where they discuss why ornithology should be taught in high school: 10,000 Birds.

Creek Life

A foggy mist out there this morning.

Just a trace of precipitation over the last day. I spent a few hours yesterday afternoon walking by the creek and river. The creek is working overtime doing its job. It's always so beautiful to see it functioning in top form. So often throughout the rest of the year it is a tiny, quiet tributary, but in the season for snowmelt, it shows off.

As I was walking along the creek I thought about how fortunate I am to live so nearby that I can see it from my balcony. A two minute walk and I can quickly gather the status of its condition. Knowing this little creek will ultimately flow into the Huron River, and then on to Lake Erie, is such a lovely blessing. It is a very simple way to feel connected with nature and the Great Lakes, even an hour inland from the nearest shore.

I decided on my walk that my goal will be to capture as much of the river's journey throughout the spring season as my capacities will allow. From creek to Great Lake.

North edge of the hill

There may not be any snow left for tonight's full snow moon! Of course the snow always melts much slower on the north side of the hill, so maybe. 

Tuning in to the actual pace of melting ice and snow into water really slows down your sense of time and equilibrium. We always feel so compelled to rush around and do so many things on any given day.  I think finding a natural process to follow along as it unfolds can be very therapeutic. 

Yesterday as I went out to check my rain gauge, I heard a woodpecker not too far away. It made me realize how often I might tune out the sound of a woodpecker, but this time I really listened, and it reminded me of summer, as if a promise. 

This early spring thaw is a little disorienting to me, this is weather I expect sometime in mid to late March so my sense is that summer will arrive much sooner than it actually will. 

Perhaps there is a benefit to living on the north edge of a hill. It tempers the personal impact of climate change on your sense of season's change.

Driven to precision

A bit of a colder start this morning so the natural world can say a long goodbye to the ice. I finally revved up my Android Blackberry device to take some photos -- it is a phone I bought aftermarket and quickly realized it functions much better as a field camera than as an actual phone. Here are the results: 

This is the west end of the pond as seen from my main balcony. A lot of the ice cover is gone from this side because the water drains into the creek, as you can see. 

The more I write about what seem like mundane details about the time of year the ice melts, the more I want to go out in the field and document and share more observations. It is an excellent motivating force and one most welcome. It drives me to be ever more precise, which I find rewarding.

A view of the pond facing north-northeast

26 degrees F at the airport on the south side at 9am this morning and 29 degrees F on the northeast corner of the city. I'm sure the variation is due in part to different sensors, but also the difference in elevation (about 70 feet farther up the hill on my side of town). 

And there is a lovely clear blue sky this morning; it seems we can look forward to more of this over the next several days (finally!). 

Update: A peek at the Huron River this afternoon around 3pm: