Sometimes in the morning, setting off on a Bakehouse run, my husband drops Rascal and me off at a location of my choosing. That way, the dog and I can enjoy territory too far from home for it to be reasonable to walk both there and back. Rascal is elated by these extended walks, doing his best to memorize every tree and natural feature between drop-off point and home. Apparently, starting a walk from a different place renders the whole homeward journey shiny and new, even the part of it that was already familiar.
Shiny has been hard to come by, of late. Cloudy is what we have a goodly supply of. We can do cloudy with or without rain, or snow, or some admixture of the two. We’ve gotten quite good at cloudy. What we don’t seem to have the hang of yet is winter. We pretty much always have a January thaw, but there hasn’t been much to thaw from. There was quite the storm over Christmas, but the snow and cold didn’t last. I assume winter will come, but climate change is real and disrupts the very rhythm of our lives.
Our second daughter, who recently became a grandmother, is finding her life changed in an unanticipated way. The new parents are living with our daughter, saving money for a house of their own. They even looked at one last week. In the meantime, rightly or wrongly, they believe the baby needs a toasty house and have jacked up the heat. Our daughter is roasting. Except sometimes she’s not. She’s getting used to the changed indoor climate. That means she’s cold at our house, which she never was before, and freezing outdoors.
Prior to the blessed event, she’d always been winter hardy, the sort that wears short sleeves year round. “Now,” she says, “I wear layers: three! Long sleeves! And you should see the heating bill!” She talked to her kids about the birds and the bees many years ago. She’s tried to talk with the new parents about the birds, the bees, and the heating bill but, to date, the message isn’t getting through.
Anglers are trying to toughen up for sturgeon season next month, the shortest fishing season Michigan has. Last year, sturgeon season lasted thirty-six minutes, according to the state Department of Natural Resources—which wasn’t all bad, as the temperature that day was below zero. Due to the hard work and dedication of many, many people, Michigan sturgeon are making a comeback from near extirpation. That’s why there’s a sturgeon season at all.
Last year, the quota for people not part of indigenous tribes was seven fish. This year, it’s six. There’s a party for everyone before the season opens, the first such party since CoVid. Sturgeon for Tomorrow is hosting the “shivaree,”* which is a lot of fun and a fundraiser for ongoing efforts to ensure the future of Black River sturgeon. The season itself will take place on Black Lake, as will the postseason weighing-in of the fish—also for the first time since CoVid.
The biggest sturgeon caught during last year’s season was sixty-two inches long and weighed sixty-seven pounds. Lake sturgeon have been known to reach six-and-a-half feet long and about two hundred pounds. Sturgeon season may not last long, but it is thrilling. And all five hundred anglers out there on the lake will be hoping to catch one of the six fish. Who knows how long the season will last this year?
On the home front, we had another wine-and-cheese gathering with two sets of neighbors last Sunday. It happened to coincide with my one-dollar purchase of a new cookbook from the Thrift Shop. The book is all appetizer recipes, and my coworkers and I were exclaiming over them during our last shift at the shop.
I tried out one of the recipes for the wine and cheese. As it featured potatoes, the dish was greeted warmly. It’s Cory’s opinion, and mine as well, that you can’t go wrong with potatoes. He allowed as how he’s a particular fan of the multicolored varieties, which I used. He has a more discerning palate than I have, though. All the colors taste great to me.
I like all the colors of Christmas lights, too. Folks may take advantage of this not-too-cold weather to take their lights down for the season. A lot of us won’t mind if they don’t, though. Those lights help us get through the winter doldrums. So do dogs and long sleeves and family and sturgeon and neighbors. And potatoes.
13 January 2023
*That might better be spelled “shivery,” eh?