Fearful Symmetries: May 2024

I had the chance to wander around a bit of the south side yesterday morning in the wake of the nasty storm that rolled through Tuesday night. Branches of various sizes littered lawns and streets alike. There were some downed limbs and, sadly, entire trees like this one in a backyard that I spied.

Fallen limbs blocked streets to varying degrees.

Walking down an alley, I spied a rather large fallen tree.

I wandered over to find that this lovely, majestic white oak had fallen on a car.

Luckily no one was hurt. No humans, anyway. It fell away from the owner's house. I chatted with her briefly and she was very sad to see the tree go. Surely it was one of the oldest oaks in the city - maybe 200 years old. She also remarked that many critters called the tree home and now they would have to find other accommodation.

I was told that it was treated for oak wilt at some point.

I continued to wander and came across some tree limb support structures.

The Bay Creek neighborhood has such a lovely urban forest and it was nice to see people caring for it even if it meant going out of their way.

This photograph doesn't really do the scene justice but I loved it. The big tree in the foreground on a backdrop of green with the mansardy square turret of that Victorian home peeking out in back.

Every year I intend to take a decent photo of that house in the spring or fall when the view from the sidewalk isn't obscured by tree leaves and every year I forget. Instead my view of it is usually that turret thingy from afar.

This view never fails to give me Gabriel Chase vibes.

(late September 2023)

(Watch the prelude.)

With plans for an autumn trip to London once again put on hold due to my Frau's medical issues, I turned to my old standby and devised a trek up north for some hiking. While I would return to my beloved Chippewa Moraine Nature State Recreation Area and its majestic kettle lakes, I began the trip with a visit to Beaver Creek Reserve up by Eau Claire.

Beaver Creek Reserve is a camp that provides environmental education for area youth along with hiking trails for those of us that have graduated to adulthood. It’s a bit like the Aldo Leopold Nature Center here in the Madison area but set out in the countryside of west central Wisconsin, some 15 miles east of Eau Claire.

I had timed my trip in the hope that the trees would be well along in their annual change in color but I was a bit early. On trips up north in the earlier part of September it seemed that the fall colors had only begun to appear. And then a visit in the latter half of October proved to have been very much on the downswing of the change. I figured a trek right in the middle would have been perfect but Mother Nature (and perhaps global climate change) had other plans.

And so, while the trees remained mostly green, it was only just. There was still a fair amount of autumnal hues to be had, thankfully.

I had randomly pulled into the northern part of the reserve and found a school bus from Osseo and a bunch of gaggle of kids who looked to be 5th or 6th graders. I did my level best to avoid them. Finding the nearest trailhead, I happily set my course away from the screaming schoolchildren. They seemed to be having fun so more power to them. For my part, though, I simply wanted some quiet, in addition to the great scenery.

I eventually found myself walking along a creek that I think is Deinhammer Creek. Presumably Beaver Creek was to be found elsewhere on the property.

It was overcast but mild and so I didn’t complain too much when forced to walk through the creek in order to get to a set of stairs set on the hillside.

The lovely scenery continued.

After a while I came to a sign indicating that I was leaving Beaver Creek Reserve and was headed towards Big Falls, an Eau Claire County park. Before long I caught sight of the Eau Claire River.

It was just a few minutes before I heard a faint rumble in front of me. With every step the roar of what I presumed to be Big Falls grew louder until I was standing next to it.

Not the biggest of falls, I agree, but it was pretty and those rapids would surely capsize any canoe I was in.

The rather large outcrops of stone that I walked on were littered with smaller rocks.

I have tried to lookup what type of rock this is but have failed. One site said that the rocks at Big Falls are “Precambrian amphibolite gneisses and schists” but, when I look up “gneisses” and “schists”, I see pictures that don’t resemble mine. On the other hand, Precambrian means old. And I’m not talking Joe Biden old. These rocks were formed many millions of years ago, if not billions. Brazil and Nigeria may still have been part of the same land mass. Strange plants were providing shade for the first animals ever on Earth – our (extremely) distant cousins.

It boggles the mind to contemplate something that ancient.

After taking in Big Falls for a while, I headed back the way I came.

Back at the trailhead, I walked around Hobbs Observatory.

Someday, or some night, rather, I will have to return and check out the observatory. It houses 2 telescopes: a 24-inch Newtonian reflector telescope and a Meade LX200 14-inch Schmidt Cassegrain. With much less light pollution than down here in Madison, there must be some fine star gazing there, telescope or not.

I am reminded of the final night I spent at my dad’s house before moving down to Madison to start college. A friend came over and he and I spent the night with my father throwing back a few adult beverages on the patio and shooting the bull. The sky was marvelous. Being out in the country meant exponentially more stars were visible to us than in a city. Plus there was a full moon, or nearly so. To top things off, the Milky Way was out as well. It was as if the night sky was bidding me a fond farewell as I prepared to plunge headlong into adulthood. Or at least into life as a college student which, I suppose, is not exactly adulthood.

After wandering around the observatory, I drove across the road to the southern part of the reserve and found myself before the Wise Nature Center. Stepping inside, I was confronted by a life-sized diorama of a tree and its various animal friends.

The nature center proved to be really neat with the learning area having various exhibits dedicated to both flora and fauna.

Eau Claire means “clear water” in French and the area was home to many a French fur trader back in the day. And so it is only fitting to have a display of various animal pelts.

We generally think of skunks as being nasty, stinky critters and raccoons to be annoyances that try to rifle through our garbage. But, take it from me, they have some very soft fur.

And being the Badger State, there had to be one of them on display.

This one’s open mouth could be interpreted as a friendly grin but that would belie what vicious little bastards they are. Those claws are more representative of the badger’s demeanor. I have only ever run into our state animal once and I hope to never again. We got hissed at, were given threatening looks, and otherwise was told our presence was not wanted.

There were a few live animals to be found including this turtle who looked like he could use a bigger home.

If memory serves, there was a sign saying that new digs were in the works.

Another exhibit taught visitors how to identify the signs left behind by animals on their excursions – by both prints and poop!

For instance, here’s how to ID the signs raccoons leave (from their) behind(s). Get it?

This one for beavers gave me visions of a Caddyshack-like experience the next time I find myself in a creek or river.

Sadly, not all environmental education involves fun as you learn about various critters and plants, as this display on endangered species showed.

It was disheartening to see one so close to home in Dane County.

With my hike being done, it was back to Osseo for a shower and some muscle relaxant at the Northwoods Brewpub. Always one to drink seasonally, I ordered an Oktoberfest.

It wasn’t great, let’s say that. The body was a bit thin and there were some stray phenols that gave it a hefeweizen taste. The follow-up, a brown ale, was much better.

I got back to my hotel room only to receive word that my youngest stepson’s father had been diagnosed with some form of blood cancer. A lousy way to end an otherwise wonderful day. I felt terribly for them both. Earlier in the month the kid's girlfriend had broken up with him and he'd been unceremoniously kicked out of their apartment in Eau Claire. On my way home I was to stop by there and grab as much of his stuff as my car could fit. I texted him saying that I was sorry to hear the news and that I loved him.

Wanting to change my now sullen mood, I picked up the book that I had been reading, Death in Fine Condition by Andrew Cartmel. I adored his Vinyl Detective series which chronicles the adventures of the titular hero, a vinyl record afficionado. For The Vinyl Detective, Cartmel took Dashiell Hammett's Continental Op, de-hard-boiled him, and then threw him into Agatha Christie-like ensemble situations. We never learn his name.

In each book, he and his ladyfriend, Nevada, are tasked with finding an extremely rare record and all sorts of intrigue and mayhem ensue. Here, the heroine is Cordelia, an impecunious lover and collector of paperbacks. She is usually late on paying her rent but strangely timely when it comes to procuring marijuana. One day at her dealer's home, Cordelia notices a photo on the wall of a couple people posing next to a bookcase filled with what appears to be a complete set of Sleuth Hound paperbacks.

She seeks out the books and purloins them only to discover that their owner is a fellow named Colin Cutterham who happens to be the leader of the local chapter of organized crime. Peril ensues.

While Cordelia is entertaining and certainly a very capable stoner, there's just something missing, something to really endear her to me that just isn't here. I think that a big part of this is that, while The Vinyl Detective would have fun conversations with a cast of goofy people, Cordelia's chats are more serious. Or, if not serious, just more banal. And Cartmel overcompensates for this by making a fair amount of Cordelia's internal monologues overwrought with metaphor and clever allusions.

Death in Fine Condition is still a fun read, but it lacks the magic of The Vinyl Detective novels for me.

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Bonus photo. Here’s Grabby at her first vet visit after we adopted her.