Some Wisconsin stoke

So the picture quality is a bit rough, but it's good enough to tell that Tom is ripping lip out of the great lakes and I'm not.

This might be just the inspiration I need to put the skis away for a couple days, grab the pooch, and flog the water.  Stay tuned; a trip report will follow.

"No good deed goes . . . "

Back when we were in Wisconsin visiting The Wife's family a couple weeks ago, I was conscripted to build a cold frame for my mother-in-law.  Well, "conscripted" might not be the correct term here since, you see, I knew that Jan would accompany any project of this sort with ample quantities of top-shelf domestic macrobrew and, if it's early enough in the day, the occasional bloody mary.  I was quick to volunteer for the task.

Having grown up in the West, in places where nobody is really from, it's always fun to visit central Wisconsin.  If you grow up in rural Wisconsin and move 50 miles, it's a big move.  If you go to, say, Alaska, you might as well be in another country.  My brother-in-law, and good friend, Tyler is one of those locals with deep roots to Marathon County.  You need a used window?  He's got a guy who's got a dozen for you.  You need some lumber on Saturday when the local yard is closed?  He's got as many clear 2x10s as you might need.  Tools?  Forgetaboutit.  If Tyler wasn't such a nice guy, you'd think he was part of some Wisconsin Polish mafia.

With materials and bloody mary in hand, Tyler and I made short work of building the cold frame.

The sides are 2x10s cut to the appropriate length and width and joined like a log cabin so it can be disassembled for easy transportation or storage.

The window is on a hinge for easy access to the inside. 

And an updated picture with the fresh planting:

Of course, now that we're home and things are starting to warm up, The Wife is going garden crazy.  She's already sourced a bunch of old windows and, as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.  She just better have a bloody mary waiting.

A picnic at the shack

The Wife and I are on assignment in Wisconsin this week, where all things revolve around cheese, cheese curds, traditional American macrobrew, the Packers . . . and Leopold's land ethic. 

Having never visited the shack and needing to catch up with our good friend Alanna, who happens to work for the Aldo Leopold Foundation, we worked our way over to Baraboo for a quick sit-down.

It's quite the place, and there's a ton of history.  Where else can you have a picnic where Leopold wrote A Sand County Almanac?  Where else can you sit in Leopold's chair, fer crying out loud?

Although, he made it look better: