Soggy Weather

Posted in Uncategorized on September 12, 2022 by dexheimer

As it got all windy and drizzly again this morning, I oddly thought the marsh was especially magical and beautiful. The sunflowers and susans competing with the early tinges of fall color are set off by the deep grays of the sky and the deeper color of soaked foliage. Even the deck and the house are more photogenic in the drippy, moody weather.

I could see it all from my chair, but I got up to savor it more closely. There were five turkeys marching along on the west side of the yard by the big rock. And another bunch pecking at Turkey brunch around the willow to the east. All unfazed by the primeval gloom. As I opened the door a single large Turkey goes running the length of the yard.

I agree with Sam. They feel more like dinosaurs than birds. And when they run it is very reminiscent of the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park.

Our dinos could use a new name.
Turkiraptor?
Waddlasaurus?

I think you could make a scary movie with footage of herds of turkeys running. Of course you’d need a ‘turkey wrangler’. And a notice that no birds were harmed in the making of this movie.

As I was riffing on my imaginary turkey movie, I thought back to the magnificent fans they displayed earlier in the year. Their inflated and alluring (to girl turkeys) selves stunning and stately opposites of speedy raptors. Since we now believe dinosaurs were more colorful and richly plumed than leathery skinned lizards, I wonder if any of them could display like a turkey’s fan.

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A Cautionary Tale

Posted in Uncategorized on October 23, 2018 by dexheimer

I recently painted a wall. In preparation for that new, obscenely huge TV I purchased for the loft. It was so wonderful to have some color where I’ve been living with white for nearly 30 years.

This morning I was re-attaching the electrical face plates. The second screw was not threading properly and I was swearing to myself. Then I discovered I’d put the screw in the grounding hole. My internal dialogue changed, ‘Come on old people, wear your damn reading glasses when you need them.’

Screwing in the wrong hole can be dangerous. And embarrassing.

It is also embarrassing to have this site and not use it for years. Consider this a small return to sharing ideas on the fly rather than perfecting them.

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Comet Tails

Posted in Cycling, Photos, Vernacular Architecture with tags , , , , , on September 10, 2012 by dexheimer

Recently I wrote that some New England Asters that I encountered on a ride were “breathtaking”. I’ve been ridiculed for my gushy hyperbole. And rightly so. But when I rounded the corner on the trail and saw this stretch of eight to nine foot asters forming a brilliant wall of purple, I did gasp. I thought, I should take a picture. But I was really cruising, feeling strong and wanting to have my best time for the Cap City Loop, so I passed, thinking I’d come back later.

Two days later, I had some time, so I rode leisurely to the spot and there’s nothing. At first I think I must have been delusional. But I stop and look around. I find the plants but they’ve gone to seed. In the dusk there’s still a hint of purple but it’s only 20% or less of the inflorescence. At first I thought it must be the time of day. But then I suspect it’s the drought and the really hot days. Asters usually persist for weeks. Not this year.

So I have no photo. No vindication. Only a brief memory and a tweet.

I take pride in still seeing the natural world around me while I bike. Riding gives you access to so many stunning vistas and an intimate perspective on the roadside ecology. But once in a while you see something you’d like to photograph or stop and check out; and you don’t want to stop. Going too fast, pushing too hard or gasping for breath. I won’t stop on an uphill. Nor on a downhill. And I’d hate to lose that momentum on the flats. It’s a dilemma to be in these places you’d never see any other way, and be unable to explore them the way you would in the past.

Yesterday, I rode out near Dodgeville. Roads and hills that were new to me. High ridges and deep hollows.  It was a great ride, harder than I expected but worth the pain. My legs were not happy with stairs today.

I knew I was going to like Cave Hollow Rd as soon as I saw the name on the map. I wasn’t so sure about Mt Hope Rd.

Black walnuts on the roadway are a biking hazard this time of year. Both Cave Hollow and Mt Hope Roads are wooded and had occasional stretches of walnuts on the roadway. When they are crushed by vehicle traffic the chemicals in the husks stain the roadway. Riding over a rolling stretch of Mt Hope rode I noticed that the pavement was rarely level. It would tip one way or another for no apparent reason. On one gentle downhill, I noticed a pattern in the stains as they bled across the pavement when our rare rains have washed the hull chemicals away from the crushed nuts. They curved downhill and away from the center of the road in both directions. I was struck by the patterns even though I was whizzing over them very quickly. On most roads and paths walnuts leave rotting nuts and hulls and random blotchy stains. Here they looked like an artist had painted the roadway. The graceful arching streaks reminded me of comet tails.

Another “I should take a photo” moment. But by the time I had that thought it, I was down the hill and wondering if my legs would take my back to Dodgeville. “I’ll come back”, I thought. But I remembered the asters.

The weather for the ride had been perfect. Blue skies, fluffy clouds, and no rain in sight even from the ridges with views to distant horizons. Rain has been rare in Southern Wisconsin this summer. But Saturday night thunderstorms rolled through for several hours. Sunday morning I debated what kind of ride I should do before work. Needed to do my 30daysof biking ride in spite of sore legs. But I thought of the comet tails and all the other things I wanted to investigate in Iowa County. What were those mounds on the horizon (Belmont and Platt Mounds); and what town had the old fashioned water tower that I’d circled from a distance (Bloomfield Healthcare Facility, an Iowa County nursing and rehabilitation facility).

I had a great whirlwind car tour of the area around Cobb this morning. I found the comet tails and took many photos. I also stopped for some very healthy bittersweet and a fence made out of wagon wheels. It felt good to return, to savor the world I had glimpsed the day before.  I discovered that you need the right lighting to see the comet tails. If the road was mottled with bright sunlight they disappeared. I didn’t realize how lucky I had been to even see these elusive patterns. As I stood in the roadway waiting for the sun to go behind the clouds a truck went by, the driver eyeing me suspiciously. As it drove away, I heard the loud POP, POP, POP as more walnuts exploded under its wheels, setting the stage for a whole new natural design. Check out the pics below and you can decide whether the trip was worthwhile, or if I’m overreacting again.

If it weren’t three a.m., I’d share my thoughts on why I feel compelled to take photos and if cycling isn’t teaching me to live in the moment. Count your blessings.

Arching walnut stains

 

Barn with stone foundation

 

Clump of very healthy Bittersweet

 

Wagon wheel fence

 

 

Nut stain closeup

 

 

Branched coneflower in the Black Hawk Lake Recreation Area

 

 

The view down the road

 

 

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Bike Astronomy

Posted in Cycling with tags , on September 10, 2012 by dexheimer

If I’m talking about constellations in September it must mean I did a late night, after-work ride for 30daysof biking.

A little nippy tonight, sweatshirt and shorts weather. I took a road trip this morning in my free time before work instead of biking so this ride started at 10:30p. Two lights of course, but turned off my front light on the way back to improve my night vision.

The Big Dipper is sitting nearly level to the north. Following the handle, I identify that bright red star near the horizon as Arcturus. It is about to set. Not something I’ve noticed very often. My mind takes off on a tangent, thinking that I’ve read that Arcturus is one of the stars whose rising at a certain point on the horizon signals the beginning of a new season. One of the alignments of the Medicine Wheel in the Bighorn Mountains is suppose to detect that event. I will have to check that out.

Sagittarius is still completely visible on the Southeast horizon, reassuring that summer isn’t quite over. And rising from the teapot I can see the Milky Way, not that common this close to the city. I run off the road trying to trace it overhead, but recover without incident. As I roll back down the driveway, I turn my light back on to avoid the potholes. Blessed with fairly dark skies only two miles from the Beltline.

Thirtydaysofbiking is so important to me because I keep learning knew things about me and my bike. I don’t have to wear biking shorts and shoes. I can hop on anytime, day or night, and it is still a joy in some way.  What else have I learned? That’s the story of this morning’s road trip and the next blog…

PS: I was wrong about the medicine wheel. Aldebaran, not Arcturus.

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Gentians and Stuff – 2009

Posted in Flowers, Royx on September 7, 2012 by dexheimer

Though I started with words, I hope to use this place to share photos too. Looking for some pics to practice with I came across this folder with several nice photos.  Sue and Mary’s Buckaroo is one of the joys at the end of summer. In Wisconsin, Gentians are another. Anyone can take brilliant gentian photos. I can’t take credit for awesome material.

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Fringed Gentian on the beach near Gould City

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Royx Kellogg

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Kalm’s Lobelia also from Gould Point Beach

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Slender Ladies’ Tresses Orchids

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Royxaroo

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Demure Royx

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Pubescent orchid up close

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See my tattoos

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Thomas J Hein, USMC

Posted in Family History with tags , on September 6, 2012 by dexheimer

Tom Hein

“T J”

 

Tom was my uncle. My Mom, Dolores (Hein) Dexheimer was his sister.

If you have any interest in family history, I strongly recommend Ancestry.com. It’s a web-based service that really delivers on what it promises. It offers amazing access to online historical records and the genealogy research of thousands of others seeking their family histories. Once in a while you may find someone with a connection to you. If you do join, please post lots of scanned images (high res please, 300 to 600 dpi). People will be snatching them left and right to add to their trees. And you will be able to find where your families connect. My subscription to ancestry is the best spent money deducted monthly from my credit card. And they keep improving it.

 

I mention this today, because I was recently contacted by the sister-in law of my Uncle Tom. She saw a photo of Tom on my Ancestry page. He was a confirmed bachelor and ladies man until he met Dorie, the love of his life. After a few short years together Dorie died of cancer. Tom was a proud Marine who never talked about the war. He always drove a Cadillac convertible. And he always gave all his nieces and nephews two-dollar bills for Christmas. Hearing from Dorie’s sister was a priceless gift.

 

The following is a message I sent to Kathy today:

When Mom was going through chemo from 2004 through 2009, I would spend many Thursdays in Appleton, and many times we would visit Tom in the afternoon at the ever-changing nursing home. Mom and I were just starting to do ancestry research, and one time we asked Tom if he knew anything about the mystery of Uncle Ed. Ed was one of their uncles who apparently disappeared for several years from around 1918 to sometime in the 1930’s. I discovered it when I was showing Mom some old photos that I had scanned. When she saw one she said, “That’s uncle Ed. It must be from after he got back.” Got back? From where? He came back with a new name, Ed Schultz, instead of Ed Hein. And a whole new family and life. Apparently he was welcomed back fondly by everyone, but especially my grandfather, Martin Hein. Ed owned a Mobil Station in Milwaukee and I remember him as one of the friendliest of my great uncles. My guess was that he had been in prison. But when we asked Tom, he didn’t bat an eye before saying “He knocked up some girl and ran away.” Mom didn’t believe him, thinking it was just Tom being Tom. But I researched it at the courthouse and found a marriage record for Uncle Ed when he was still a teenager; and I found a World War I draft registration card several months later from Aberdeen, S.D. on which he had first used the name Schultz. I later found out that he had lived with his brother William Hein who had farm in Aberdeen. I have been unable to find any record of the person he married, any divorce record or anything about a child. But Tom was right. And sharp, and outrageous as long as we visited him.

Tom would often ask me to give him a ride to Madison so he could visit his friends in Monona. I would tell him anytime, and once he took me up on it. His brothers and sisters were worried. They didn’t think he was healthy enough to be traveling, but we were fine. And we had a great two hours to talk. My daughter Samantha was riding with us and we tried to get Tom to talk about his service in WWII. I knew he always made light of it and didn’t talk much about it. But I also new he was very proud of his service as a Marine. I think some of his family assumed that he had some cushy desk job and had somehow managed to avoid any real combat. I would always argue that he was a MARINE. They all saw combat. Well Tom was still pretty closed-mouthed on the way back to Madison. But he did tell us that it was pretty bad. He asked if we’d seen the Tom Hanks movie Saving Private Ryan. He asked if we remembered the opening scenes of the D-Day landing that went on for a long time with the waters turning red with blood. We told him yes, of course we remembered. Tom said, “It was worse than that.”

I’d like to find more info about his service record. But have not had much luck. Next time I see my Uncle Jerry, I’m going to ask if he’ll make a formal request to the Marine Corps. All I have so far is a news clipping from the Appleton Post Crescent from when he was home on leave in 1944. He listed all the worst battles of the Pacific, saying he’d been there. But that was all he would say.

I would love to see any photos you have of Tom and Dorie. I’m only sad that we didn’t connect before my Mom died. She would have been so excited to know we were exchanging email. I remember going through family photos shortly before she died and she wished we had more pictures of Dorie.

Tom on leave – 1944
Division St, Appleton, Wisconsin

“Tom, the man”
Caption from Mom’s 1946 photo album

The quintessential TJ in his Cadillac convertible

 

Uncle Ed and me in Waukesha

Uncle Ed’s gas station in Waukesha

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Eat My Words

Posted in Family History with tags , , , , on September 6, 2012 by dexheimer

This blogging is scary. If I get pompous and blustery in person, no one will hold me accountable several months from now. I won’t be embarrassed if I should learn better.

I wanted to write about sleep and a general perception on my part that I know better than most of the doctors and medical professionals I’ve dealt with lately. Besides worrying about having to eat my blogged words, I worry about grammatical things. I’d like to write slightly smarter than auto correct and grammar check. I have a thing for dangling prepositions. Maybe you will think its quaint, betraying my Wisconsin origins. But I try to be smart about them and occaissionally cover them up with an adverb, if not an object. Lost you already? Don’t worry, I’ll be checking google to make sure I’m somewhat close to knowing what I’m talking about.  The dangler above that inspired this tangent is “with lately”.

On Sunday, my sister Donna handed me an envelope of stuff. She had been storing some of mom’s stuff and decided to divide it among the rest of us. She hinted mine contained more than just photos and I may want to  check them out “later”.  What reminded me of the manila envelope was the grammar rant above. Donna also handed me a beatup three ring binder that was mine from my freshman year of high school. Inside were Latin conjugations, algebra equations and sentence diagramming. I excelled at diagramming.  But a report card indicated I was best at Latin, a 100. That didn’t last long. I never had biology in school because I went away to the seminary. That deficit has haunted me my whole life. So many things I don’t know but have had to pick up on the streets or from Wiki. It was especially apparent when I got permission to take a graduate course on the ecology, morphology and identification of sedges. But here in this notebook handed to me on Sunday was proof that I had been taught the fundamentals of reproduction by a priest, Fr Pilacynski.

My granddaughter started third grade yesterday. Guess what they’re learning? To write cursive. That seems as archaic as studying Latin (which I’ve always valued) and diagramming sentences. I tried to coach her that all she really needs to do is perfect her own fancy signature. At least her initials in flowery capital letters. Then she’ll be able to sign her life away by refinancing a house. Cursive is inextricably connected in my mind with nuns. My mom had great penmanship. My sisters do okay. The last time I hand wrote a whole police report, many years ago, I printed the whole damn thing.

But I wanted to tell you more about that manilla envelope. Donna was right to raise her eyebrows slightly when she gave me that look. The stack of papers and photos was about four inches thick. I pulled out the pages and notes which were all handwritten, in cursive. I must warn you, the older I get the more emotional I get. Ever since Bill Clinton made it okay to tear up, I’ve been crying at the drop of a hat. I don’t think there’s an episode of Parenthood that hasn’t gotten me choked up. So several of the documents in the manilla envelope got to me. I won’t bore you with all of them, but one in particular was very special. I actually gasped. You know I’m crying now, right?

There was a small 5×7 spiral notebook. It didn’t look too old.  It was actually from 1997. It was a journal my mom kept of a week we spent in Canada at Port Cunnington. Mom died in 2009 after a six year, second round with breast cancer. So it was special to find something she’d written about time we’d spent together in the past. She loved the times we took her to Canada because it was a resort and lodge where she got her own cabin, Chickadee, and was served three fantastic meals everyday in the dining room. It was luxury and being taken care of that she didn’t experience that much in her life.

The journal was touching but mundane. She wrote a lot about what she ate. And teaching Mouse to play Sheephead. Reading at the beach. I was smiling and fluttering my eyelids a little as I read every word. But nothing too emotional.

As she got toward the end of the week, she wrote that I took her to Algonquin Provincial Park. She mentions that we hiked into a cedar bog on a boardwalk. She wrote, “Jim is very knowledgeable about all the plants etc. Very interesting.” It was very nice to read after all those years. I was glad that I had waited until I was alone so that I could savor it.

After the last written page, there was a torn off piece of heavier paper folded over to fit in the notebook. As I carefully unfolded it I gasped. There were several dried plants. Bunchberry, Bog Rosemary, Sweet Gale and Labrador Tea. Now I was sobbing. All these years mom had saved these plants I had handed her in the bog.

People are usually polite when I get all excited on a nature walk and start handing them specimens and showing them things I think are fascinating. But after a while, I notice they’re holding them awkwardly. Sometimes they’ll ask, “do you want me to keep this?” I tell them “no just toss it.”

My thoughts on sleep, and doctors and being smart will just have to wait.

Mom glowing on the dock at Port Cunnington

Mom and Margaret playing cards at Red Wing

Mom in the boathouse at Port Cunnington

 

The dining room in the lodge.
Mom closed her eyes when she saw me with the camera.

 

At the train station in Huntsville, Ontario
Earlier we spent eight hours together in the ER there.

Good night.

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Cycling with Swallows and Bats

Posted in Cycling, Sandhill Cranes with tags , , , on August 24, 2012 by dexheimer

Tonight on my short ride I pushed hard all the way back to my door. After dumping my bike in the house, I hurried out to the deck to cool down. The house is far to cold to sit around when sweaty. I started typing on my phone to capture the tweet I had composed in my head on the way home. In an endorphin-induced frenzy of two-fingered typing, 140 characters became several paragraphs. My first blog follows, a tweet that got away from me:

I bike for fitness. I bike for the sheer pleasure of sailing along the awesome roads of Wisconsin’s Driftless Area. But if I ever forget to enjoy the birds and plants and rocks along the way, take my bike away from me.

Tonight a barn swallow and I surprised each other around a blind corner. Thank god one of us was agile enough to avoid a collision.

Later going through the prairie along the Cap City Trail, way too fast for a prairie, a bat flew under my chin.

Recalling the 90 mi ride around Lake Winnebago last weekend, I marveled at the power of drafting, but I realized I saw a lot less of the things around me while focused on that wheel inches in front of me. I was actually looking forward to the last 57 miles on my own, at my own pace. And I did look around more, enjoying some of the same roads I biked as a kid.

But slipstreams are like a drug. It’s hard to see one passing you without being tempted to take another vacation. Add the built in motivators of an endurance ride to do well and have a good time (on the clock) and it is easy to miss out on some of the other joys of cycling. For me one of the biggest challenges of cycling is balance. Not only being fully in the moment while riding, but not neglecting the other joys in my life because I have to get in another ride.

Two Sandhill Cranes just landed in my marsh. Of course they announced their arrival while still miles away. Cranes have blessed many of my rides. Last night, close flyovers graced the beginning and the end of my ride. I recall specific places where Great Blue Herons have flown with me for a while. I wonder if serious birders appreciate the benefits of cycling to their passion. I’ve only experienced birds intimately while riding. To cruise down a rural road for a mile or more as part of a flock of Goldfinches is a joy for me but I also think I get a glimpse of their joy.

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