Iceland vs. Minnesota

Seems like an interesting comparison at this dark and frozen time of year.  The most obvious is that Minnesota is much colder. At least where there are people trying to survive. In Iceland, most people live around the edge of the country and the sea keeps them warmer. Maybe the Icelanders are smarter in that respect. I mean why go looking for trouble when there is a simple solution? I live by Lake Superior which is a huge lake, but it's no ocean. It does moderate the temperature somewhat if you stay close enough to it. Of course, if you do that you tend to stay a little more damp.

Wind chill. Today the wind chill was approaching -40 as the winds were 25 to 30 mph and the temperature was well below zero. While the edge of Iceland is warmer than us it sometimes (sort of regularly) gets hit by gale force winds which sometimes reach hurricane strength. It has been known to bend automobile doors totally the wrong way. I have no idea if there are serious calculations for wind chill when it gets going that fast.

Yesterday afternoon we had about 5 inches of snow. By this morning it had blown away. I suspect it went across the lake to Michigan, but I haven't called anyone over there to verify that that's where it went.

Darkness. Iceland is darker since it is farther north. But that means they get Northern Lights more often and that may offset some of the lack of sunshine. The good news is that in a week the days start getting longer for all of us in the Northern Hemisphere.

Food. We have Lutefisk (made from cod) here in Minnesota. It is an acquired taste, but if you take a piece of lefse, stuff it with mashed potatoes and butter, and then throw on a little Lutefisk it can be tolerated. Sort of like a Norwegian taco.

O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk, how fragrant your aroma,
O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk, you put me in a coma.
You smell so strong, you look like glue,
You taste just like an overshoe,
But lutefisk, come Saturday,
I tink I eat you anyvay

Iceland has Hákarl which is fermented Greenland shark. Fermented is a nice way of saying "rotten" or "putrefied". The taste is apparently something like ammonia. I say apparently because I have never tried it. Maybe next time in Iceland. Maybe. This is also supposed to be an acquired taste, although I cannot imagine how or why anyone would want to acquire it.

Both of these "delicacies" require long periods of time to make. Burial, fermentation, sitting on the floor in the corner of the outhouse may be things they have in common. I suspect that is why the occasional stray dog gets a chance to urinate on them for that "special" flavor. Both are meant to be eaten with traditional beverages like Aquavit or Brennevin. These drinks can be referred to as "Water of Life" or "Black Death" again depending on whether or not the taste for them has been "acquired". I'll have to admit acquiring the taste for them, but not the food with which they are used to chase.

Minnesota has Cold Spring, Spring Valley, Pine Spring, Glennwood Springs, and numerous others. These are cold, but good to drink. Iceland has many hot springs because of the volcanic nature of the country. Most of these taste like sulfur. So the question here is, do you want to quench your thirst or warm up? This time of year "warm up" wins. You can always melt snow if you are thirsty or have one of the aforementioned beverages. 

Ways to stay warm. In Minnesota we have trees. We turn them into firewood and burn them in stoves to keep us toasty warm. In Iceland they have no trees. Why they don't is subject to debate, but that is usually done halfway through the Brennevin. They do, however, have sheep. Lots and lots of sheep. I suppose you could cuddle up with a bunch of them for warmth (be careful of rumors) or sheer them in the spring and make warm clothes out of the wool. Often the wool is made into a Lopapeysa, or traditional Icelandic sweater which is warm and somewhat water repellant. The preferred method of using sheep for warmth is probably different from the country to the city, but I don't want to start any rumors. What happens in Iceland stays in Iceland.

Those of you in warmer climes probably don't understand why anyone would live in such a place, but sometimes you need the painful feelings of your extremities thawing just to let you know that you are alive. Screaming, "I want to go to Miami," as this thawing occurs is permissable.

Sea Smoke or Winter comes to Lake Superior

The change from late autumn to early winter is often abrupt. Basically, overnight in fact. There I was, minding my own business, spacing out the entire month of November, when all of a sudden it's December and I am up to my eyeballs in snow. When it falls horizontally that isn't saying much, but we really did get a foot or two over a few days. Now the ground is covered and the frost probably won't penetrate down more than a few feet.
Late November:

A few days later in Early December:

Sea smoke is an interesting phenomenon. When the cold air from the arctic whooshes down upon us like a (insert clever analogy), the "heat " from the not quite frozen Lake Superior rises causing a mist or even a small spinning vortex of steam to be seen rising into the air. The temperature needs to be close to 0F (-17C) for this to occur in a noticeable way. This morning it was -10F (-24C) so it is definitely noticeable. In fact it gets so high over the lake that sunrise is delayed by about a half hour. But it makes for some interesting light. Sometimes you start to see things in the mist, but what?

Then you keep scanning the mist and there! I'm sure that is something. Look closely and you will see a ship plying through the cold inland sea.

Do you see it now?

Someday I may think I see the Flying Dutchman plying through the cold and dangerous waters of the big lake. The more likely thing, considering this area is sometimes referred to as the Scandinavian Riviera, might be to see the Flying Norwegian or the Flying Swede. If a person believes in ghosts or ghost ships Lake Superior would be a good place to see them. There are over 350 shipwrecks with more than a thousand lives lost in the relatively brief history of sailing on this lake. It demands respect from those who ply its waters.

I'm a little behind ( ! )

The deed is done and I am recuperating at home. Staples come out tomorrow and I can walk using a cane instead of a walker now. I am not sure I should try and write anything just yet, as the medications and general discomfort may be having an effect on my thinking-thingy. My ability to concentrate and sit in any one position for even a short length of time has been seriously compromised, but it gets better every day.

I have only been able to read one book. Last Rituals by Yrsa Sigurðardóttir. I got through it in a day as my sleeping habits are pretty screwed up and I had little else to do other than physical therapy exercises (which I will have to do for most of the winter). It was her debut crime novel and while not supposed to be her best, I found it enjoyable and really wanted to learn about her character Thóra. I intend to read the rest of that series and like to get in on the ground floor. Just like Arnaldur Indriðason's Inspector Erlendur there are always interesting back stories in the main character's life.
Thóra is a much different character than the dark and broody Erlendur. Both have their appeal to me, but if both were real I would much rather spend time with Thóra than go down into the depths with Erlendur.

For those of you who like crime novels and would like to try a different setting, these are good reads. There are a handful of other Scandinavian crime-fiction writers who are also very talented and deserve some time to read. So many books, so little time.

Needless to say I haven't been out to take any pictures, but right before I went in for surgery I got these on the way to work.

Then, of course, I need to remind myself of the reason for getting a new knee. I really love to walk. Here is a return to July and a day walking along the Thames. Taking a moment to strike a relaxed pose as Andie and I take in the touristy, but quite wonderful, sights of London.

Feed me some random thoughts

When I open up Google Dashboard to write down an idea I get to look at my feed which I hardly ever remember to look at. Then I get sidetracked by all the great stuff people are writing and my train of thought jumps the tracks. I had a really pleasant surprise to see one of my all-time favorites come back to life after a year of having been put to rest.  Iceland Eyes is back and Maria's photos and words are as wonderful as ever.

Scrambling toward winter, I have been trying to get all the preparations done on the farm. Winter water, working light bulbs, feed supplies, faucet washers, and other details need to be tended to. Most of this is anticipation of my new bionic knee that I am supposed to have installed on Friday. Procrastination is a luxury I can't afford at the moment, but will be happy to return to when the time is appropriate. Effective procrastination takes a lot of procrastination to perfect, but I keep putting it off.

Did I mention that the PBR finals are going on now? No, it's not beer (Pabst Blue Ribbon) in this case (or keg), but Professional Bull Riding. Who in their right mind would do such a thing? Young guys with more testosterone than brains, but it makes for some great entertainment. The bulls live a pampered life and the cowboys, or in this case bullboys, try to keep from getting seriously hurt while staying on the back of a specially raised and trained bull. It is only for eight seconds, but so much can happen in that time. These are the best bulls and riders in the world and more often than not the bulls win. Mostly Brazilians and Americans compete with a few Aussies, Mexicans, and Canadians thrown in for a little variety.  

The last time (and first time) I had surgery was on Halloween two years ago. I was taken aback when they rolled me into the OR and everyone was wearing masks, but then realized what day it was before they put me in lala land. This time it is on the day after Halloween, so I wonder if they will still be wearing masks. What is it they are trying to hide anyway? 
 I think of my horses missing my twice a day company, but Stitch will take on most of those duties. When they stare at the house before feeding time I wonder if they will think like this? 



I hope stitch is up to it. If she holds up physically to the rigors of hay-flinging and water-hosing she won't have to do this anymore to stretch her back. At least I think that is what she was doing at this moment.

Maybe I'll get a chance to finish reading a few books before I have to go back to work.

Foxes climbing trees

A long time ago, the Cooker made a Chinese dinner called Ants Climbing Trees. I don't remember much other than the name and that it was very tasty. The Chinese apparently use a lot of descriptive ways to name food, but the only other one I remember is their name for Coca Cola when it was introduced to them some years ago. Are you ready? They called it "Bite the wax tadpole". If I ever named a drink that would not be what I would call it, but I live in a much more bland (food descriptively wise) culture.

After my step mother died my father, Otto, and my brother and I went out to a local Chinese restaurant for some dinner. My step mother wasn't real fond of Chinese cuisine and my father, therefore, hadn't been to a Chinese restaurant in many years. That didn't really surprise me, but what did was my father addressing the woman who owned and ran the restaurant in Mandarin! Hell, I didn't know he spoke Mandarin and I had known him for fifty some years! In his first years in the U.S., following WW2, he had a good friend, and fellow foreign student,  by the name of Steve Yang. I vaguely remembered Steve from my early years, but that was so long ago. I wonder if Otto taught Steve any Norwegian or a handful of other languages that he spoke?

But I digress. Things climbing trees. The raccoon goes up the tree...

    The raccoon goes down the tree...

And the deer just keep looking for any more apples that the 'coons missed.

Then there was something I had heard of, but never seen, until now. I had no idea that foxes climb trees. It is obvious now that they can, but I also didn't know that foxes might like apples. Since this was taken at 5:04 AM, I must assume that the fox was getting some fruit to put on its otherwise bland breakfast. Maybe.

These are things that go on in the 'hood when I am not looking.
 

Falling

"If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me understand.
'Cause I've been in love before
And I found that love is more
Than just holding hands."

No shit! Aah, naivete. We had it! From the Beatles "If I Fell".

The leaves are falling, the temperature is falling, the day length is falling, and soon snow will be falling. Last week was still warm (above freezing) and not too rainy, but the last vestiges of autumn are showing.

 The wind kicked up, but the sound was different. The rustling of leaves was replaced by a whistling over the bare branches and the crisp, cool mornings were a reason to put on a jacket.

The Cooker made a pot roast last night with veggies that Stitch harvested from her gardens. It was all our home grown except the meat. It was delicious!

The rearranging that the beavers did last fall has had some postponed results, like this tree they didn't finish dropping.

I sometimes think that their long-term strategy for water control may reach out many generations ahead. It will be interesting to see what they do on their way through this fall.

I set up the critter cam near the apple tree and left it for two weeks. There were 1170 pictures of mostly deer. There were a few bucks, a fawn nursing on its mother, raccoons, bunnies (snowshoe hares), a coyote, a fox, and some unidentifiable things, but it showed the flurry of feeding activity that is Fall. Maybe that's why I am so hungry. I am probably genetically programmed to fatten up in the fall for a sparse winter. How deep a role does genetics play? I wonder about this when the billboards on the way to the Big City show messages from happy babies. You know, the ones that say, "when I was a twelve week old fetus I had fingerprints!" I always think, "you also had gills and a tail!" Just things I wonder about.

In this picture of the middle pasture last week, there are still leaves on the Aspen trees. This week, not so much.

Our horse Gyllen Aften (Golden Evening in Norwegian), call name "Pookie" left this week to take a job as a therapeutic riding horse in central Minnesota. She was born here on the farm in June of 1996. She came home a couple of years ago after retiring from the Kentucky Horse Park where she was a driving horse for seven years. She is short, wide, strong, not easily bothered by things and she likes to work. I doubt if she'll come back here, but I may stop in to visit her on occasion just to see how she is doing. Here she is with Vedas in a light snowfall.

  Pookie is the wide one on the left. I was able to pick her up during the first few days of her life. Now she can carry my 200 pound carcass with no problem. Funny how things change with time and chapters seem to close in the Fall.

Broderick Crawford and Cheese

Today is October 4th, or as my old friends and I referred to it, Broderick Crawford Day.  Our greatest recollection of the actor was his special way of barking "10-4" into the microphone of his police radio in the TV series "Highway Patrol".

He played many other parts on the stage and in Hollywood winning an Oscar for Best Actor in 1949 for All the Kings Men. He played in many roles and formats for over 50 years everything from vaudeville and radio, to drama, and even an episode of Saturday Night Live back in the 70's.  "Twenty-One-Fifty to Headquarters!" was perhaps better known than our "10-4" for his Highway Patrol years.

 Mr. Crawford had one of those faces you don't forget. Probably not handsome, but one that had seen a lot of living.

 
                            

Cheese! Fellow blogger Pearl inspired me with one of her bus/bus stop stories. This one was about finding string cheese in her purse. Ah, the things hunger will drive you to looking for. The story reminded me that I have seen string cheese come out of many Minnesota purses over the years. Is this one of those mysteries about what women, especially Midwestern ones, carry in their purse? About half of Minnesotans (generally the ones with deeper voices) wonder about this except maybe the ones that carry "European Shoulder Bags". I imagined that women carry a basic survival kit in there that can include, depending on age and musical preferences, things like food, drink, a change of underwear, various prescription and OTC meds, writing utensils, phones, ipad, ipod, money, first aid items, keys to all kinds of things, and in Pearl's case, string cheese. Being from just south of Philadelphia I imagined women there keeping Cream Cheese in reserve for emergencies. In Upstate New York you might find a wedge of Herkimer County Cheddar or in a  Vermont purse, some delicious Jersey or goat milk cheese.

Personally, I will carry a more masculine purse. It's actually a 1981 vintage Igloo cooler that has most of the above mentioned items, less the ipad and iphone, along with some old grocery lists and receipts for stuff I don't remember buying. And my lunch on most days.

And on the way into work this morning... 

The sunsets, when we actually have them, have been pretty nice, too.