Saturday, April 14, 2007

The Max Wahl apartment building is 75 years old this year. Old Max had a flair for a grand entrance, didn't he?

The cryptic notice "This Entrance" has been amended by some wag to read "This is France," which makes about as much sense as the original, now that I think about it.

Friday, April 13, 2007

After a magnificent dinner at Peppino's starting with crab cakes and ending in orange and pumpkin cake with coffee, I finally noticed the sprig of rosemary growing from a pot in the window. How did I miss that? As I got up from the table I pulled a single leaf and held it to my nose to savor the rich aroma. Wonderful.

Spring slattern of seasons
you have soggy legs
and a muddy petticoat
is your hair your
eyes are sticky with
dream and you have a sloppy body from
being brought to bed of crocuses
when you sing in your whiskey voice
the grass rises on the head of the earth
and all the trees are put on edge

- e.e. cummings

Thursday, April 12, 2007

On, Wisconsin! Come snow, or sleet, or gloom of winter storm ...

I'm sure by this time the whole 'snow in April' theme has been done to death by dozens of Wisconsin bloggers, but I took the pictures and I've been slogging through the stuff all day, so I'm going to post, dammit!

I'll do this guy next, just to get the statues out of the way.

I can never remember who this guy was, other than he died in the battle of Chickamunga, and he was Norwegian. My memory, scrabbling around for something to call him, comes up with Sven Chickamunga.

He's looked better.

The wind-driven snow flocked all the trees in capital square so they stood out from the background as if they were lit from within. This stand of trees along Pinckney were very nearly incandescent, even in the early morning gloom.

Some courageous soul dared to walk the narrow, snow-covered granite curb running the length of the sidewalk leading up to the capital and an hour of the day that I can hardly walk a straight line on level pavement. Bravo!

Grace Episcopal is a commanding presense on the square even on an overcast day, when it's cloaked in a muting blanket of snow.

Flocked bikes locked up to a rack at the top of State Street.

The top of State Street has always seemed like a cozy place to me, and especially so on this frozen morning when my destination is Michelangelo's coffee shop (the awning marked "coffe" to the right) for a piping hot beverage.

We're all hoping that, by this time tomorrow, the snow will be gone, and we can eat our acorns without having to dig through the white crap to find them.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007


That's the Russian word for "snow" and I like it a lot right now because it sounds sort of snot-like and messy.

I've of two minds on snow.

On the one hand, I like snow so much that I moved back here, the state where I grew up, because I missed the variations of the seasons, and snow was one of those variations. They have snow in other latitudes, but not like we have it here (except in northern Japan; they have a pretty darned good winter season there).

I love the silent snow fall at night, the thrilling mid-day flurry, the fearsome attack of a stinging gale-driven snow. I love the way wind makes it pillow up. I love heavy, wet snow that throws bare tree branches into sharp relief as it sticks to the wind-swept side.

When the temps stay well below zero, the snow remains a flowing, fluffy blanket, but after just a day of warmer temps, even in the lower thirties, it crusts over so that an adventuresome boy can walk across its frozen surface or, if the mood strikes, and it certainly will, he can stomp holes in it.

Just a foot of snow fall will lead adults to heap it up at the ends of driveways high enough for kids to dig labrynthine fortresses in it.

Snow's real purty, and it's lots of fun.

On the other hand ... this is freaking April! Enough already! I'm ready to stroll down the street in my shirt sleeves on my lunch break. No such luck today. One look at the slush-covered sidewalk and the runnels of melting snow in the streets and I went back to my cubicle to read.

Enough, thank you. Time for spring.

Oh, Ye Gods!

Look at the date. Look at the date! Does that say April? Of course it does! So what's with all this white crap?

The first guy who makes a "global warming" joke to me gets a roundhouse kick right in the nose.