Barronett Bob (AKA Corn Man)

This past month I was reminded about the power of social media and journalism 101. While perusing Facebook, I saw a post that was being shared with hundreds about one of my favorite farmers in the world — Barronett Bob. Or, just the Corn Man. The rumor was he wasn’t going to be selling this year due to heart issues. The post going round seemed legit and I was sad to think I wouldn’t get to enjoy the greatest sweet corn of all time so I shared it on my facebook page. The next day, much to my surprise, I learned the Facebook post had bad information. Barronett Bob was in fact healthy and was just days away from heading up to Ashland to sell hundreds the sweet taste of summer. I was relieved to hear he was ok and happy the information was false. But, I got to thinking and what I found interesting is the person who cracked the facebook rumor did so by something so old fashion–they picked up a phone and called him to confirm the story, only to discover it was false. It seems so simple, yet, it was a great reminder about the benefits of speaking to the source for information.

Next week, I’m excited to stock up on Bob’s treats when he rolls into Ashland with his truck of gold. I’m even hopeful for one of his watermelon. In the meantime, if you’ve ever wondering more about the man behind the corn, check out Julie Buckles and her post: The Secret of Bob’s Super Sweet Corn. Julie is a great author and I think you’ll find the story about Bob almost as good as his corn….

Advertisements

Hot Enough?

Moon Lake summers are awesome… right up to those few days where temperatures surpass 80 degrees. It isn’t the heat but instead the humidity that drives me crazy. Crazy enough that after years of debate, my husband finally realized that if we didn’t get central air, our marriage might not survive. (It helped that I was also 8-months pregnant and on bed rest when he finally caved).

This past weekend, we ran it 24/7. It was pretty much heaven. But, I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about the energy I was consuming. Not enough to turn it off but more like the guilt you get when you sneak a piece of cake when nobody is looking.

I’d like to say my hubby and I are conservative environmentalists. We burn wood when we can, recycle, reuse and steer clear of gas-guzzling vehicles as much as possible. We try to support local businesses. But, I also shop at Wal-Mart and have even contemplated sneaking ketchup packets into the Duluth Grill to avoid using their homemade stuff. It is about balance folks.

That said, I really respect people who walk the talk. In June, I had the opportunity to tour Bailey’s Greenhouse outside of Bayfield. It is a wholesale greenhouse that isn’t open to the public but has gained local attention for its commitment to renewable energy. Driving up, I wasn’t surprised to see the rows of solar panels around the property. But, there definition of renewable energy is so much more than that.

Joe Bailey and Gail Chatfield

Joe Bailey and Gail Chatfield utilize a variety of renewable energies to power their home and business. And, they can truly quantify the savings they are experiencing while doing their part to help the planet. If you’re interested in the numbers, you can read the article I wrote for this month’s Business North here.

This in itself would be impressive. But what really inspired me was their commitment to giving back. They are busy sharing their knowledge and resources with others through a regional website. And, they are investing time and energy into bringing local foods and education to area schools. I only spent an hour or so interviewing and learning more about the operation so I’m no expert on what they have accomplished. But, what I do know is they are passionate about renewable energy and living proof that where there’s a will there’s a way.

Community solar is slowly making its way to Iron River. My husband I were quick to sign up for a few panels. But, after hearing their story and learning more about the potential community solar has for a community, we’ve committed to doubling down on our investment should the initiative move forward. I’m hopeful it will, not only because it is the right thing to do but because it helps me run my AC completely guilt free on those hot, sunny, summer days.

Predator Round-Up, Sea Cave Mayhem, Playing Hookie and an Unwarranted Pity Party

Newsflash: Last week I had an unwarranted pity party. It started during my 5-hour drive home from the UP after a weekend of bonding with women at a 3-day Becoming an Outdoor Woman camp (more on that experience in a different post). I left the camp recharged and excited about life. But then, I had a bout of road rage with an irrational SUV somewhere in God’s country. In the heat of the moment and cursing him out for almost running me off the road, I missed my turn. It was an important turn that resulted in my 5-hour drive being more like 6.5 hours… in a place where there is no coffee. Seriously, look at a map of coffee shops (or any shops for that matter) in the route from Big Bay, Michigan to Iron River, Wisconsin. It is dismal at best. (Although Mount Huron Bakery in Ishpeming and Marquette makes up for it… almost).

About this time, I came upon a small town where trucks lined the highway on both sides for as far as the eye could see. My heart jumped for joy believing that any winter festival that draws this many visitors, must be stocked with some fabulous food and a well-kept porta potty. Imagine my surprise when I learned at the epicenter of this UP traffic jam was dozens of dead animals hanging from a poll. It turns out this winter festival was in fact the Kenton Predator Round-Up in which sportsman harvest as many bobcat, coyote and fox over a 3 day period as possible. Despite my curiosity, I opted to not stop at Hoppy’s Bar in Kenton.

It was about this time, something in me snapped. A full-fledged pity party began. I was irritated. I missed my son. I wanted to be vacationing somewhere warm, drinking something indulgent, and sporting cute summer sandals instead of oversized fishing boots. By the time I got home, my mood had only lightened somewhat. Then I logged onto Facebook and saw friend after friend posting photos from somewhere other than here. I was instantly jealous.

This sour mood continued for a few days. And then this happened. A co-worker was connecting with me on a project and mentioned she was taking the rest of the day off to hit up the Apostle Island Mainland Sea Caves. The sun was out. Temps were above freezing. I had no pressing deadlines. So, after a few logistical phone calls, I crashed her party and checked out of work a half day early. For those of you who know me, this is unprecedented. I’m a planner. I don’t randomly use my precious vacation time for spur of the moment events. This was huge (my life is in fact this boring).

Yes, the Sea Caves were busier than they’ve ever been when I’ve been there. Yes, I was a bit appalled by the number of folks I saw talking on their cell phone or shooting selfies even though I’m totally guilty of doing at least one of these things. But, somewhere along the way my mood lightened. I discovered that my life doesn’t involve cocktails on the beach…. right now. But man I’m blessed. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say, crabby pants was squashed by the blessings in my life.
Looking back, it frustrates me that it took a day on a frozen beach to put things back into perspective. But then again, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten these great shots. And for those who missed the memo, the caves are now closed for the season. So for all those folks sipping margaritas in the blistering sun, I’ll see that margarita with a locally made mead and Mother Nature’s glory.

2015 Apostle Islands Sea Caves Update

february2
Photo Courtesy: Apostle Islands National Lakeshore

This post is a general public service announcement for those who are stumbling across this site due to my posts last year about the Apostle Islands Sea Caves. As of today, February 4, 2015 they are not open to the public. In fact, the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore posted this shot of the Sea Caves on Monday.

Again, I’m just posting this because I’ve noticed a spike in traffic of people reading posts about my Sea Caves experience last year and I don’t want anyone coming up here thinking the caves are open. Should they open, please note there will be a $5 parking charge. This is a great deal and would help cover the costs that come with having so many people visiting this national treasure. While the Sea Caves aren’t open right now via walking on Lake Superior, you can still access them from the top via a great walking trail. There’s also plenty going on in terms of the Apostle Island Sled Dog Races coming up this weekend, along with the infamous Bar Stool Races and Book Across the Bay on Valentine’s Day. What better way to spend time with your sweetie.

Meantime, I’m looking forward to an upcoming expedition that’s going to include the Eben Caves in upper Michigan. Expect to see plenty of photos from that adventure in early March.

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas…

claregreenhouseLast January I had the pleasure of spending an afternoon with my good friend Clare Hintz of Elsewhere Farm. While I always enjoy hanging with her, this encounter was particularly special because I was drilling her about her year-round greenhouse for Northern Gardener Magazine.

For years, Clare has inspired me with her passion for local food production. She is brilliant, funny and the hardest working woman I’ve ever met. Conversations with her often result in me imagining abandoning my small lake lot for a spacious hobby farm in the woods where I can let my Little House on the Prairie dreams of collecting chicken eggs and wildflowers in the wind come true. The only difference, I don’t actually want to do the work. Clare does. And, she does so everyday through her efforts as a farmer, PhD student and all-around awesome friend.clarehintzgarden

The article came out this November. I’m attaching a pdf of the piece here for any northern gardener that has the desire and drive to create her own winter greenhouse oasis. In the meantime, I think I’ll reread the Little House series, buy some locally laid eggs and perhaps plant a few microgreens in my windowsill. Realistically, that’s what this struggling mama can muster up in terms of farming.

claregarden2 This year, winter hit extra early. I already find myself feeling vitamin D deprived and dreaming of warm summer nights. Instead, I’ll have to make due this winter crashing Clare’s greenhouse oasis in the wonderful Herbster community. As we enter this season of giving, I’m just so happy to have folks that have found their true passion in life a part of my life. It makes me genuinely happy and inspires me to keep pursuing my passion in life… even if it isn’t abandoning life on Moon Lake.

PS We’re soon to be proud landowners in Cable. Turns out we won a land auction last month after the person who outbid us discovered he couldn’t in fact afford to outbid us. Pretty excited to be adding land in the southern part of Bayfield County to our mix!

 

YOLO: The Wild Waterfalls of Northern Iron County, Wisconsin

This isn’t meant to be a political post. Over the course of the past year, news from Iron County has inundated my Facebook feed via a flurry of political, economic and environmental posts. The posts were often triggered by a proposed mine that may or may not ever happen. But buried within the posts were references to countless, unknown waterfalls that I hadn’t seen referenced on a regular basis in travel publications or local news stories.

Waterfalls mesmerize me. I’m naturally drawn to water and there is something cascading waterfalls that calms my soul. When my husband and I completed the Lake Superior Circle Tour, we stopped at every easily accessible waterfall on Lake Superior. We’ve done countless North Shore trips, day hikes and exploring in our neck of the woods to photograph just one more fall. By default, this included at least 2 waterfalls in Iron County. But, after some digging on the Iron County website and reading an article on the Travel Wisconsin website, I learned there were at least a dozen documented falls that were accessible to the public.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOn a cool, crisp, and extra wet fall morning I decided to load up my trusty Subaru with my camera, snacks and a worn-out gazetteer to see just how many of these falls I could find. I had 10-hours and a full tank of gas. Given my time constraints and location (I live two counties away), I had to limit myself to northern Iron County. By my initial estimate, I thought I could photograph and explore seven waterfalls. My initial estimate was wrong. I didn’t factor in a torrential downpour, mismarked roads, flooded backroads, incomplete directions (thanks Travel Wisconsin), and at times a lack of common sense on my part.

By day’s end, I managed to discover and enjoy seven of the nine waterfalls and a gorgeous overlook where I enjoyed some serious windburn and a beautiful view of the Penokees. As usual, Mother Nature did not disappoint me. Many of these waterfalls were remote. Fall colors were at their peak with the rain and haze drawing out the vibrant golds and radiant reds against the grey sky. Swirling leaves, rapid waterfalls and solitude provided the perfect backdrop for the photographer in me to pause for a moment and reflect on what an incredible place I live.

The day held one flaw I saw repeated over and over again in the backroads of Iron County. A disconnect between man and nature. As someone who loves hidden gems, I understand the value of locals keeping some things private. I also get many of these backroads aren’t meant to be major thoroughfares for folks to travel. But, would a simple, occasional road name sign be so much to ask? Or better yet, could we limit the bullets to hunting animals (in-season of course) versus signs? As a lone, single women in God’s country, it is not very comforting to find the path to what you hope is a waterfall posted with a graffiti ridden bent metal sign filled with bullet holes. Last time I checked, this isn’t the wild, wild, west in the 1800s. It is disheartening to see remote, pristine campsites posted with a simple request of no cutting trees, next to a series of stumps. But I digress.

I end my day at Superior Waterfalls. Here the Montreal River makes a final 90-foot plummet before finding its way home to Lake Superior. It is an impressive way to end a day full of discoveries and a thunderous reminder that sometimes exploring in your own neck of the woods is as calming and invigorating as any far away place.

Over the course of the next days I’ll share directions and additional photos from this day but in the meantime, here are a few of my favorites:

 

Amnicon Falls: The Unassuming State Park of the North

Amnicon Falls is one of those often overlooked but beloved state parks near my home in northwest Wisconsin. The park is small compared to nearby Jay Cooke State Park. It is often lost in the hype and marketing of the North Shore and the countless parks and waterfalls that dot the shoreline. By some respects, it falls on the wrong side of the bridge. I have a hunch, if it were 15 miles northwest, it’d trump Gooseberry Falls in visitor counts and poised family waterfall photos.

Lucky for me, it isn’t. Instead, this unassuming park provides meaningful moments of reflection and an opportunity to pause in life. This past month was no exception. I awoke early on a Sunday morning to meet a friend for coffee in Duluth. As I pulled out of the driveway, I discovered I was ahead of schedule and had an extra 20-minutes to kill before breakfast.

As a new mom, these moments of unexpected solitude are prized possessions that compare to winning the lottery. I immediately knew I’d find myself at Amnicon State Park. I arrive at the park just before dawn. Despite the park being open for over an hour, the parking lot is empty. This is often the case when I visit these falls. I hop out of the car and take in what the park has to offer. By many definitions, it isn’t much. But for me, it is everything.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe park has no extensive trail system. There isn’t a single set of stairs to an expansive overlook of Lake Superior. The state hasn’t invested in a multi-million dollar interpreter center or deluxe restrooms. Instead, it is a simple park that encompasses an impressive portion of the Amnicon River. Within seconds of getting out of your car, you find yourself staring at a series of small but picturesque waterfalls. A few moments later, a wooden canopy crosses the river framing a set of lower falls that is a photographer’s dream.

amniconbridgeAccording to the Wisconsin DNR, the bridge is a Horton or bowstring bridge, named after Charles M. Horton. Horton patented the bridge structure while working in Duluth. In its prime, it was one of several highway bridges that allowed folks in northwest Wisconsin to connect to the west. Today, only 5 of these Horton bridges remain. The bridge moved the park in 1930. During the height of the Depression, the Brule CCC constructed the wooden roof that covers the bridge.

One can’t argue the park’s beauty. But what I love most about it is its simplicity. To me, parks exist for people to reconnect with nature—a simple time-out in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. In some cases, this means wilderness areas that can take days to explore or hikes that are measured in miles not footsteps.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI snap photos for a few minutes and then pause to take in the silence. Despite being just moments from Highway 2, the only sound is that of thundering water. I wander across the bridge and upstream to another set of falls. Snap, snap, snap. I have photographed these various streams of water countless times. I pause on the riverbank and take in this untouched beauty. I admire the neat line of pines and the golden needles that are starting to fall from their branches. After another few moments of pause, I make my way back to my car. As quickly as I arrived, I leave knowing this park will wait for me until next time.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA