Nothing like a down jacket . . . .

Last night I dug out one of my favorite down jackets from the depths of what resides under my bed. I'm positively giddy about it, as it means that winter is coming . . .as is snow. (For Al, it's flannel sheets.) I put it on, savored all of its fluffy and warm comfort, and took in the smells of old Thistledew campfires. So divine! Memories flooded back of moonlight lit solo journeys in the snow across lakes to check on girls (avoiding areas around beaver dams), roasting frozen mozzarella cheese and beef sticks over the fire before bed--laughing and ranting over the antics of the day, sawing so much wood and taking down live birch trees to set up the base for the fire . . .and skies so clear, clearer than summer nights in the boundary waters. And the wolf tracks; waking up in the morning to know that you and the girls were not alone during the night. All that wildlife business, given away by snow.

Loving all of it so deeply . . . .

And the jacket, with its elbow bandaged with ripstop repair tape (due to an incident with the wood burning stove in one of the cabins)--I wouldn't have it any other way.

More Milwaukee: The Art Museum

I've seen this building from land, and I've seen it from water. From all angles it is a genuine work of art . . . . Job well done!

Fresh Carnage

"Mr. Cuddly Bear" lasted for 25 minutes, but you'll notice the rubber ice cream cone continues to thwart Dima's efforts to kill it. Perhaps the bear was gutted and left to die in front of it as an example? An ominous forewarning . . . .

Milwaukee's Third Ward

A little riverfront action.

Lindsay and me downtown.

A former firehouse . . .the wood, the brick, the metal . . .fabulous!

And who thought Milwaukee was only about beer?

Fall and love songs.

There's something about Autumn and love songs. Maybe it's all the change; the last and brilliant confessions of the leaves. They break out from their anonymity of green and move to various reds and yellows. Each one tells its story in its own way, before giving itself up to the whims of the wind.

For the leaves:

-Citizen Cope's Holdin' On
-Postal Service's Brand New Colony
-Ray LaMontagne's Shelter
-Death Cab for Cutie's I Will Follow You Into the Dark
-Iron and Wine's version of Such Great Heights
-Wreckless Eric's Whole Wide World
-Rufus Wainright's Hallelujah, from the Starbuck's album: "Lifted: Songs of the Spirit"
-The Violet Burning's She Says Electric
-U2's All I Want is You
-Tom Petty's Wildflowers
-Storyhill's The Great Divide
-Patty Griffin's Heavenly Day

With the first and last being the current favorites. . . .

Hafiz's "Not With Wings"

Here soar
Not with wings,

But with your moving hands and feet
And sweating brows-

Standing by your Beloved's side
Reaching out to comfort the world

With your cup of solace
Drawn from your vast reservoir of Truth.

Here soar
Not with your eyes and senses

That turn their backs
On the earth's sweet stumbling dance
Which needs you.

Here love, O here love,
With your mouth tender and open upon your lover,

And with your heart on duty
To the souls of rivers, children, forest animals,
All the shy feathered ones and laughing, jumping,
Shining fish.

O here, pilgrim,
Love
On the holy battleground of life

Where there are bleeding men
Who are calling for a sacred drink,
A gentle word or touch from man
or God.

Hafiz, why just serve and play with angels?
They are already content.

Brew your knowledge well for men
With aching minds and guts,

And for those wayfarers who have gained
The rare courageous thirsts

That can never be relinquished
Until Union!

Hafiz,
Leave your recipes in golden drums.

Tie those barrels to the backs of camels
Who will keep circumambulating the worlds,

Giving nourishment
To all our tender wondrous spheres.

O here love, O love right here.
Find your happiness, dear wayfarer,

With your beautiful lips and body
So sweetly opened,

Yielding their vital gifts upon
This magnificent
Earth.