Saturday, October 31, 2015

Notes from the weekend; Vento Winds, Appleton; Falling Gingko leaves

See the angel I saw in the Helt yard.  For your viewing I've drawn in some wings, upper right.
I see it without the wings being added.
Windmills and gigs are many, and they were turning in the wind.

"He sent and signified it (The Revelation)  by his angel unto his servant John:" - St. John The Divine.


Dee and I visited the Helts on Saturday.

We re-surveyed their massively and magically retouched property,
including their long front yard in the rural subdivision setting.
We have already covered much of the Helt lore
(Search the SRN under Helt)
including their solar panels and the pulling of grandson Emerson
in the small sleigh wagon through the snow....

This time we focused on the deep yard stretching from
the 'double wide' to the road.  I call it a double wide only to
rib John.  It is a one-story dwelling with a flat roof
and no basement.  Resemblance to a trailer ends there.

This image was from a former visit before the tractor grill provided interest around the
yard light above the front door.  The rising moon over the house was a lucky bit of timing.
Their circular drive winds through a 'forest' of tamaracks  and tall grasses,
planted by them.

John is retired now from a lifetime of pastoring UCC churches.
Dee and I met him in the 1980s when he came to his first assignment
out of seminary, 
Friedens UCC in the shadow of Pabst brewery at 13th and Juneau, Milw., 
and he married us in 1983.
At the time -and ongoing throughout his long ministerial life -
 he kept himself in accordance with standard appearance,

In his now grandfatherly incarnation
as the farm boy he grew up as in Burlington Iowa
he and his wife, Master Gardener Cindy have pulled out
some stops and adopted a new stance on their glorious property
near Holy Hill in Hubertus.

John and I are like brothers.

Some proof is provided in this photo below of me
sitting in the Mitchell Field airport waiting for a plane to Maryland
in 2007.

Through the years John and I have been fortunate
to escape many snares and misfortunes;
he serving some churches where he was sapped, greatly taxed,
and I with my now 10 year survival from events leading to
the surgeon's saw and  knife.

The care I've received from my doctors
- who monitor me still - has been 

All we ask, John and I, is to occasionally act up 
 - with our hair.

We've tented together (trailered together) more than once.

And if the creek don't rise we'll continue to do so.
In spirit anyway.


On Sunday
we drove to Appleton
to witness the humongous concert
of the Vento Winds Symphony in which 
ou daughter plays clarinet.

Erin said beforehand that she thought I would especially enjoy
the concert's conclusion.  See the attached program.

She'd heard me playing it very often when she was little.

Ever since the film with Alec Guiness and WIlliam Holden
(3 yrs after I graduated WHS)
I have considered this whistled 'stiff upper lip'
British WW II march a theme to have in mind
when things go  bad:


See her Lawrence University haunted video:


Those delightful South Street Gingko trees

As of yesterday, the day before All Hallow's Eve,
the Gingkos, one in front of the Early Waukesha-nate
limestone where we presently live, are in their last stage
of shimmering gold before they drop simultaneously
behind their 'fruit fall' which just happened,

and afford this saver his opportunity of gathering some up
to tuck into his snail-mailed correspondence.

Yes. these prehistoric uniquely-shaped fan leaves 
do not blow down from their moorings one by one 
in the autumn winds.

They, by some ancient cue, hit the ground
all at once.  They will be there in one pile
when they opt to end their season