There is no frigate like a book to take us worlds away ...

Most Impregnable Snow Fort In Madison

Spotted on Pinckney Street last week.

Festive Pagan Seasonal Pine Bough 2007

The Jon Coulton Show at the Majestic

Opening act Paul & Storm (far left and far right) join Jon on stage along with audience participation volunteer Alyssa.

Evening Snowfall on Cap Square

Capital Dome In The Falling Snow

Nap Time!

Woodland Fairy Houses at Olbrich Gardens

The leafy veins of a bronze sculpture in Olbrich Gardens fill with new-fallen snow.

OMFG


We have one of these here? Seriously? I haven't seen one of these since the 1968 issue of My Weekly Reader with the cover story about Paolo Solari and all those goofy-looking buildings in the Arizona desert. Zow!

Is it just me ...

... or has advertising slipped to a new low?

The very latest in bicycle accessories:

The hoagie chain guard.

What I saw on my morning walk

Footprints in the sidewalk cement. A raccoon, maybe?

Homicidal electricity.

Ice already skimming the surface of the ponds
at the Edna Taylor park.

A cool-looking tree house with a custom-made circular stair.

Lazy Jane's for Lunch

I took My Darling B to Lazy Jane's Cafe for lunch. We've been driving past it for more than a year going to and from work and it always looked so appealing, but we didn't stop in for a bite to eat until last weekend.

The food is delicious and the atmosphere is cozily like home. Although their collection of decorations seems eclectic, it all seems to share a common vibe somehow.

Are there any cookies in that jar? I wasn't bold enough to find out.


It's on Willy Street, by the way. Worth the trip for a breakfast, lunch, or just a cuppa joe.

Unfinished building

At the southeast corner of State and Lake
there's this odd little building that looks almost as if
somebody began building an art deco office block,
got to the third floor and ran out of imagination, money and willpower
all at the same time.

An oracular voice speaks truth via the marquee of the Orpheum

A Morning Walk

With the sun still low in the morning sky,
the capital building catches the light in different ways ...

The northeast entrance catches the muted golden reflection
off the windows of the building across the street.

The north portico is tinted a subtle shade of aqua,
again a reflection off the windows on the other side of Mifflin St.

The northwest entrance is still in shade,
but the sunlight has caught the leaves on the trees across the lawn.

Uh-oh, time to feed the pig!

First Snow

It hardly amounts to more than a dusting,
but this snow fell last night and it was still there this morning.

Autumn leaves seen on my walk through the neighborhood this evening.

Opheum marquee poetry:

An autumn day in the country

A visit to Pleasant Hill Market Garden, a CSA farm just outside Stoughton, to pick up some pumpkins for pies and jack-o-lanterns.

Cirrus clouds hanging high over the farm fields.

Now there's something you don't see every day

A super-sized papier-mache mascot for the anti-tax rally last week on cap square.
I wonder if they plugged one parking meter or two?

The battleship Wisconsin, reduced to a size that's easy to display, at the Veteran's Museum on Mifflin Street in cap square. She plied the high seas with The Great White Fleet in the age of the dreadnaughts. That's the helmsman's wheel from the real thing off in the background.

A dive-bomber's-eye-view. The modeler put a lot of love into this one. Sadly, the artist's name isn't posted beside the model.

This version of Wisconsin, built to slightly larger specs, was launched on the anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack. She's a sister to the Might Mo.

Again, the modeling is exquisite. Rigging the antennae alone must have required hands as steady as stone.
Again from above. When all the guns were blazing to hold off an attack, it must have looked, sounded and smelled like the crack of doom vomiting hellfire at the sky.


Wisconsin's fantail. How many sailors did it take to swab that clean?


The full-sized Wisconsin is still afloat and maintained as a museum in Norfolk, Virginia.

The Philosophy of Beer Drinking, in t-shirt form (part II):

Because the beer fest was inside the tent (instead of around the outsides of the tents, as it was at the Great Taste of the Midwest), I had some trouble getting a clear shot in the low light.

This happy sampler's t-shirt reads, "fizzy yellow beer is for wussies."

This guy was in a hurry to meet somebody at the other end of the tent and I couldn't catch his attention to make him stop a moment, so I had to take several snapshots on the fly. The final word of this "Scottish proverb" is thirst.

Quivey's Grove beer fest ... the carefully posed photo:

And what we really looked like:
(blurred vision and all)

I tried to take a couple photos of our beer-guzzling group by holding the camera at arm's length and snapping away. A fellow taster, passing by, offered to take a proper shot of us. He did a great job (and thanks very much), but I can't help feeling that the bottom photo better captured the mood, the action and the fuzzy-headedness of the event.

The beer fest at Quivey's Grove is one big tent (as opposed to three big ones and several smaller ones at the Great Taste of the Midwest). The brewers set up on tables around the outer edge of the tent so you can circle it once around the inside to make sure you try everything, a pretty clever way to keep things simple for twenty-five hundred soon-to-be-drunken ticket holders.

I made it all the way around the tent this year and tried at least one beer from every vendor. I think Jim and Gabe may have tried every beer, but I haven't had a chance to confirm that. It's too early in the morning to risk waking them from what I'm sure is much-needed sleep.

Still My Favorite

Autumn is my favorite season. Spring is pretty good, too, especially after a harsh winter, but it's a long time until the excitement of the first green shoots pushing their way up through the frozen ground to seek the warmth of sunlight. The trees are a burst of sunset colors themselves right now, and the primal satisfaction of kicking through fallen leaves has stuck with me.

A Curmudgeonly Question:

Suzanne Vega has a voice as cool and soothing as a Tom Collins on a dog day in August, so why does the sound guy turn up the volume on the band's instruments until it's nearly impossible to hear her?

Undoubtedly her finest moment on stage at the Barrymore tonight was when her band faded from the stage, leaving her alone with a six-string to sing Gypsy. I liked all the songs she did tonight (except for the DNA remix of Tom's Diner; I've never gotten used to that), but I found myself most liking the songs that featured her voice more than her band.