What is a Pine Tree Worth?

My wife and I married in August of 2002. Along with the promise of our vows, so came a promise to my daughter (8) and to Carri's daughter (6). We knew that blending two families together would be a challenge and that our relationship would need to be strong and deep. We also knew however that the rewards could be long-lasting.

Because the four of us had already planned a summer vacation together before we got engaged, we decided to forgo a traditional honeymoon, and instead take a "family honeymoon." My friend Jeff Wiley provided us with his Spider Lake cabin, just east of Mercer, Wi. Here at Spider Lake we began to build the foundations of our new family.

After a week in the woods we made a trip to the back of his property and dug up a small white pine. It was 13 inches tall (probably in its second or third summer) and fit snugly into our tidy white pot. When we returned to Madison we transplanted the tree in our back yard. We surrounded the pine with mulch, watered it daily, and hoped for its survival. Its roots and its stability were an important symbol for our family.

Months later, after the warmth of spring had melted the snows, our seemingly fragile pine had sprouted its trunk upward and its branches outward. Amazingly, after an August transplant, it survived a Wisconsin winter. A good sign!

Then in the late winter of 2005, eight months after our third daughter joined the family, we moved to a larger home as we had simply outgrown our cozy ranch. When selling our house we added language to the sales contract that would allow us to come back in the spring to dig up our white pine once again.

This time we transplanted the pine directly out our front door, in a spot where we would see it several times a day. I was a little concerned that another transplant would hurt its chances for survival, but my wife assured me that it would be good for its long-term health. It appears she was right. After surviving a hot and dry summer, the pine then made it through another Wisconsin winter and was again providing us with its inspiring spring-time growths.

During the late winter of 2007 we were hit with a horrible ice storm. Everything was frozen and everything was shut down. My neighbor came over to find out why I had a hair dryer attached to an extension cord in my front yard, melting the ice off of the pine. He could only smile and nod his head as I tried to explain the significance of the White Pine.

Then later in the spring we noticed that the entire pine had very suddenly turned brown and that its needles were falling off. I panicked. I thought we had lost it. I thought I had killed it. I poured over books and reference pages and came to the hopeful conclusion that the browning of its needles was natural. That sometimes white pines just shed their needles. But all we could do was wait. Then almost as quickly as the needles turned brown, they recovered, and once again lifted themselves towards the sunshine. Another good sign!

Now, during its 10th or 11th summer, the pine has grown taller than me. It's no longer a fragile tree, but one that can withstand strong winds, deep snow, drenching rains, hot, dry weather, and even neighborhood children thinking it is a toy. It is healthy. It is growing.

Sure its just a tree, but when I leave my door in the morning I see a companion and a protector. I see widespread roots and growing branches. I see shared struggles and shared joy. I see a symbol of strength and courage. I see a white pine, the most majestic of all Wisconsin's trees.

A Pileated Performance

Traveling to Minneapolis to see some friends last week, I decided to stop by the cabin for one night on the way. Although the detour added an extra 2.5 hours to the trip I didn't hesitate to make the drive.

On Friday morning I decided upon a kayak trip instead of a hike. I believe I made the right choice.

Although I wasn't feeling great motivation to fish, I still grabbed a fishing rod and hopped into the kayak. Force of habit I suppose. After only a couple of casts I was distracted by the distinct hammer of a woodpecker.

I put aside the rod and silently paddled to the shore. Even though I did not capture a good photo with my camera, I was fortunate to get the following video:



And then I paddled away, leaving him to his work, and me to my fishing.

A Morning at the Lake

John Muir admitted in his journals that "[he] shouted and gesticulated in a wild burst of ecstasy..."

It was kind of like that:

Up for the sunrise...














but someone beat me to it...














A tree to dance beneath... (need my wife around for that one)




















The boats beckon...















A Pileated moment...

The Rewards of an Early Start

Sunday morning promised rain. I therefore awoke early, knowing that I needed to get outside for a bit. What awaited me was an absolutely glorious morning.

My reward for waking before sunrise was arguably the most spectacular dawn I have ever witnessed. The fiery eastern sky drew me out of the cabin and towards the lake. The silence was as riviting as the sky: no one was around, the lake was still, the birds were just beginning to stir and a bright mix of pinks and purples were lighting the horizon. An inspiring sight. I felt fortunate to have witnessed it.

After a quick breakfast and a bit of coffee, Ezra and I headed out for an early morning stroll. Even with a light rain just starting, my hike through a mixed northern forest added to the splendor of the day. This ATV trail is the closest thing we have to a trail around here, so there is always the reality that a four-wheeler could come around the corner. But considering the time, and the fact that I am near the end of a dead-end trail, the chances of being disturbed by these machines are quite slim.

As far as hikes go their is very little to rave about. Because it is an ATV trail, it is wide and fairly well used, there is very little terrain to speak of, and in the middle of a hike are the results of a "100 year" forest-cut. Although the hike makes its way through a pleasant woods it is not difficult to recognize it as a managed forest. I see no "old trees" and the majority of what I see are similar in size. But at least I am alone and moving.

Towards the far end of my out and back hike I stumble across a decomposed carcass. It is the remains of a large animal, probably a deer. What is interesting about this is that the carcass is pretty far gone, and yet when I walked this exact same path on Memorial Day weekend I saw nothing. The only thought that makes sense to me is that of a poacher. I hope I am wrong. I hope it is wolves, or wild dogs.

But after seeing the carcass I moved forward, eventually turning west onto what is called Boundary Road. It is a seldom used gravel road that cuts around Blueberry Lake and connects Hwy CC and Hwy H. I had not taken this route before, and because of the rain I figured this would be less wet. The road was quite straight with a small gradual climb up a lengthy hill.

As my eyes climbed the hill, trying to decide where I should give up on this weather and turn around, I noticed two black spots at the top of the gravel road. Before I could make sense of it they had moved across the road. "Damn! Those were bear" I said aloud. I stopped, angry at myself for not recognizing it quicker, and for not having my camera in my hand. Then just as I grabbed my camera they reappeared, one at a time. Just for me. They hung around for a bit, and then both slowly moved off to the woods, back to where they came from.

No this wasn't the same heart-stopping, pulse-racing bear encounter that I have had in the past. It was nothing like the face to face meeting I had when I was backpacking and fly-fishing in "The Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness" in Idaho in 1997; or the "sow and her cub" crossing the trail 50 yards in front of me in Colorado in 2007; or even the big male running in front of our van in Rusk County in 2002. It was nothing nearly this exciting. Yet it was still a bear. Two of them to be accurate. And bear are good karma. Bear are good for the soul. I know my summer will be better because I saw a bear. Two bear to be completely accurate.

A Blueberry Kind of Day

Last July my in-laws bought a cozy cabin near Hayward, Wi. It's a great spot and one that we hope to get to know quite well over the years.

Here are some photos from a peaceful late-June morning on Blueberry Lake:

Looking east, around 6:15 a.m., nearly an hour after sun-up...

The pier at rest, long before the kids set up camp for the day...

The cabin in the early morning sunshine...

Mom and daughter, covering "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

An afternoon and a magical moment to cherish...

Now That's a Father's Day

Father's Day in America has become like so many other Hallmark Holidays. Although meant to spend time with family, too many of us head to the stores to try and find what we can buy dad. I personally am tired of these consumer based holidays. For my Father's Day this year I wanted quality time with the family, and I got it.

The day started off at 5:00 am. I know rising at 5:00 am might not be every dad's ideal start, but today I was up to see my nearly 15 year old daughter off to Europe. She is leaving the country with her mother and her 10 month old sister for 15 days, so I got up with her to spend a bit of time with her before she headed to Chicago and Boston and eventually Paris.

Next week she is going to spend a day in a French classroom giving a presentation to a bunch of 15 year old French students. She is excited, although this did create a bit of work for her. She put together a neat little picture portfolio of her high school and classmates here at Madison West High School. It was fun to help her put the finishing touches on the project. I'm guessing she is going to be able to add a bunch of friends on her Facebook page.

I then helped her create a blog, mainly so we can stay in touch while she is traveling abroad. We took a few pictures, had a breakfast together, and talked about her trip. She's a great kid, she had a terrific freshman year, and is incredibly interested in cultures and languages. Even though I will miss her, I am excited for her and this opportunity.

Later I took the dog and headed over to Elver Park for a nice long stroll through the woods. I left the house, was inside Elver within 10 minutes, and was able to hike for about six miles, only backtracking at the very end of the hike. This urban park is also amazing simply for the manner in which I am able to isolate myself. I was gone for nearly 90 minutes and after I got beyond the frisbee golfers I didn't see another soul.

These trails sit far away from city traffic, and run completely through a woodland forest. The trails in the photos are wide enough to bike on, although only foot traffic is allowed in the summer. In the winter months these trails are filled with cross-county skiers. Madison has a large cross-country skiing population as many skiers use these trails to train for the American Birkebeiner. Yet the beauty of these trails is that within 15 minutes of my front door I can be away for the people and the traffic. Today it was a great hike.

After returning home and grabbing a quick lunch, my wife and I then took our youngest daughter to the neighborhood pool. Our five year old could not swim as of last SundayBut after spending a week in the water and taking a couple of lessons she is cruising all over the pool. Watching her figure out how to swim has been really cool. The smile on her face says it all as she absolutely loves playing in the water. I have a feeling we will be at the pool nearly everyday this summer.

Now that's a Father's Day to remember. No commercialism, just kids.

I'm on Summer Vacation... (the late childhood years)

It was late May in 1992. I had just finished my first year as a high school English and Journalism teacher. I immediately left the small northern town of Medford and went north to the Chequamegon National Forest for a long Memorial Day weekend. I returned to Medford for a couple of days of golfing before heading to Quetico for a week long canoe trip. After some very successful walleye fishing I returned in time to load up the truck and head off to the Rocky Mountains. I spent six weeks travelling from Colorado to Seattle to Idaho and to Montana. With the exception five days in Denver and Seattle, I was alone and in a tent for the rest of the trip.

I lived with a tent, a camp stove, a food cache, and some biodegradable soap. I slept in the front of the truck in a wayside on Interstate 80 somewhere near North Platte, Nebraska. I slept in the bed of the pick-up twice, once on the edge of the Wind River Mountain Range in Wyoming, and once along the Salmon River outside of Stanley, Idaho, right smack in the middle of the Sawtooths. I caught trout in five different states that summer (six if we include Wisconsin); I set up a tent in four states; I bathed in hot springs; I made coffee on my truck's tailgate nearly every morning; I drank fresh and tasty local brews in front of a campfire nearly every night. I even remember collecting as many newspapers as possible to put on my bulletin board back in my classroom. Back in my real life.

Weeks later on my way home, and as the Mississippi River valley drew closer, I reflected upon the summer. I had less than 10 dollars in my pocket, my MasterCard was nearly maxed out, my gas tank was getting low, I had been eating crackers since eastern Montana, the Ranger was a little temperamental, yet I was joyful. Tired but refreshed! Lonely yet fulfilled!

Over the previous sixty days I had spent nearly all of them out of doors and nearly 45 of the nights pitched in a tent. I had seen a lot of America. I was hooked!

Next Up: Fast forward 18 years!