Too much, too early

Goodrich Avenue November 16

On a visit to Minnesota in the early 80s, I saw the book Bring Warm Clothes in a bookstore: I can't say I didn't know what I was getting into all those years ago when I moved here. Of course, I've always lived in "the north country" and I enjoy winter. I love the little crystals of snow sparkling in the winter sunlight and cheerful winter activities in the fresh air, and nothing can beat the feeling of superiority that comes from thriving in this harsh climate.


Unplowed Goodrich Avenue

Not much snow has melted since Monday's winter storm and we got more yesterday, enough to shovel this morning. More cold weather, 20-30 degrees F below normal temperatures, is promised for at least another week.

The streets in St. Paul are treacherously icy and yesterday evening vehicles were sliding through most stop signs in the neighborhood. On all but snow emergency routes, I guess the City of St. Paul is relying on Plan B (the sun) to melt the snow and ice.

The first snow is usually just a reminder to finish the raking and put away summer toys. Seems like more of a warning this season.

Rufous Hummingbird Way off Course

Rufous Hummingbird - Wikipedia

I had never heard of a rufous hummingbird until this morning, but now I realize I missed a great opportunity on the next block.

Yesterday afternoon when I was out in the alley clearing snow, a young couple -- all bundled up and looking a trifle eccentric -- asked me if I knew where to find "the hummingbird" somewhere in the neighborhood. I mentioned that I thought I'd seen a hummingbird fluttering among the last blooms in the prairie garden but figured that this was simply wishful thinking, given the time of year.

More snow last night so this morning I was out with my shovel again, and two of my neighbors mentioned the "rufous hummingbird" on the next block, where a local birder had set up a makeshift warming station for the bird. Photographers were capturing beautiful images of the bird, so I planned to visit this afternoon, though I felt sad that the little creature seemed to be so alone and far off its migration path.

I read on a birding site early this afternoon that the bird had been captured and was headed to wildlife rehab. I hope this is a good thing for the bird, but it's definitely bad for me because I missed out on a great photo shoot.

Giving me pause: I may have looked just a little "off" myself this morning. The day was cold and I was wearing a big jacket, hat, heavy mittens and rather masculine looking hiking boots. My transition lenses were dark, despite only a little sun. The first neighbor gave me a knowing look and asked, "Are you into birding at all?", before starting in on the rufous hummingbird story. "Oh yes,", I answered with enthusiasm. So now I guess I am readily identifiable on the street. Next thing you know I'll be in full birding gear, leaving no doubt as to either my birding bent or mental status.

Première Neige

University of Minnesota Medical Center, East Campus

Forecasters are predicting a storm that may rival the Halloween Blizzard of 1991, so I felt a little apprehensive when I went to bed yesterday evening, knowing that I had a 7:30 a.m. appointment for a routine mammogram. The snow began to fall shortly after midnight and it was blowing mightily across the deck when I got up shortly before six.

I'm a mediocre driver who requires ideal conditions: perfect weather, no rain or snow, excellent roads, and, most important, no traffic. This morning I decided to drive Bob's 4WD  Chevy Traverse instead of my little Ford Focus. I've been driving it since Bob's surgery, so I didn't experience the dread that usually overtakes me whenever I have to take his meticulously cared for vehicle.


Beginning of the storm on Goodrich Avenue

My trip was uneventful, despite icy roads, especially in St. Paul. There was a lot of traffic on East Mississippi River Boulevard, since commuters seemed to be taking city streets to downtown Minneapolis instead of I94. However, no worries in the Traverse. The back-up camera, superb control, miracle of anti-lock brakes and great visibility gave me an easy ride, as did the big girl underpants that seem to fit so well today.

A Just Reward

Canon Pixma MX922

I've been thinking of a new printer for awhile, especially in recent months as my old but great HP PhotoSmart has been showing its age. After thousands of pages of text and hundreds of photos, the printer was jamming more frequently. With the holidays approaching, I knew I'd be needing reliable printing, so I started shopping several months ago.

My first choice was another PhotoSmart, but I was irritated with HP for changing the printer cartridges for newer models, so that I wouldn't be able to use ink that I still have in my cabinet. I finally decided on a Canon Pixma MX922, on sale at Best Buy for $125, with free delivery. I was a little dismayed to find the same printer at Amazon for $99 ...

The printer arrived Friday afternoon, 3 full days earlier than promised. I unboxed it right away, and went to work on setup on Saturday morning. Like many of my IT colleagues, I took only a cursory glance at instructions; after all, I've set up dozens of printers and one is much like the other. However, the ink cartridges were a little different on this printer, easy to install the wrong way. I did this several times until an online video and a little logic (often in short supply) led me down the path to success.

One online reviewer warned that wireless networking was harder than expected, but fortunately I've done this for many devices and my problem was limited to figuring out the buttons for the little keyboard on the device display.


Canon Pixma MX922

The printer is fast and output is almost like laser printing. The tools that come with setup are easy to use and will serve me well for use with digital photos -- I don't do much editing but I do straighten and crop photos before archiving.

A new device -- laptop, phone, camera, speaker, printer -- is always a great pick-me-up. I'm thinking of it as my "caregiver bonus".

Demolition Derby

Just before demolition

Photos.

In the introduction to a later edition of Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh explained that when he wrote the novel in late 1943 and early 1944, he anticipated the imminent demise of the English country house and the British upper classes. Both proved to be more resilient than anyone could have anticipated during those bleak days of World War II.

This morning the heavy wrecking equipment arrived onsite to demolish the house of our longtime and much beloved neighbor, E.L. The house was sold earlier this year to a professional buyer of distressed properties, a "knockdown" house like so many in these older neighborhoods of Minneapolis and Saint Paul.

10 minutes into the job

E.'s lovely little house was no typical knockdown property. She completed home projects with predictable regularity, one every year or so: the kitchen, her pretty little porch, the roof, metal siding. She loved her garden and especially relished her annual "first ripe tomato" contest with my husband. E. won every year, until I tied store bought tomatoes on one of Bob's bushes so that he would finally be credited with his first win.

E. spent a few years in a nursing home before she died in August two years ago. Her house has been vacant since then, and we had been hoping for new neighbors as pleasant as recent arrivals on our block. It seems, however, that the estate sale last January was the beginning of the end.

The little house is half gone after an hour

We have been dreading this day since the remodelers' sign went up last spring. Since then, we've taken note of the many large boxes built on our small city lots, designed to blandly fit reasonably well into our neighborhood of early 20th century construction. Sometimes the little houses on either side look out of place, and they are almost always deprived of light by their new neighbor. And, of course,occasionally property values increase and neighbors are happy with this urban renewal.

Today I feel very sad. Selfishly, I hope that we don't lose the eastern sun when the new property is raised. My greater sadness is for Saint Paul and for our lovely old Macalester Groveland neighborhood. I hope that I, like Evelyn Waugh, will be pleasantly surprised by the impact of what today seems like the beginning of a great decline.

Fall Clean-Up

The oak has lost enough leaves to make a big job in the yard

I was amused when Bob referred to me as Nurse Ratched but my underlying restlessness was no laughing matter. Being inside so much was getting on my nerves, but I didn't want to go too far from home so soon after my patient's total knee replacement surgery. Early last week I wanted to begin chopping up the oak leaves in the yard with the lawn mower, but I couldn't start it. I'm not very mechanical, and over the summer Bob always had it running for me, so I'd forgotten the steps.

The "one-pull" Honda wasn't even close to any kind of action after five or six pulls and I had to give up. Yesterday, Bob thought that I might have forgotten to engage the clutch while pulling the rope, and of course he was right. I guess I'd put all my (minimal) brainpower into remembering to set the choke. I quickly changed into my yard work clothes and sure enough the mower started like a charm.

The oak is over one hundred years old and a lot of leaves were on the ground -- not all, by any means, but enough to fill three barrels and six lawn bags, tightly compressed. If the leaves weren't chopped, I would have had about 25 bags: I know this, because I had to do fall clean-up once before, when Bob was out of town for almost the entire month of November. That was back when I had never used any kind of machinery at all, except girly things like a stove or a sewing machine.

Today I even put gas in the tank and hoisted the leaves into the Traverse for a trip to the compost site, under the supervision of the head lawn guy, of course. I felt proud of my work, happy after several hours in the brilliant fall sunshine, and confident that I'm ready to deal with starting a snow blower when winter hits.