House hunters

This morning's heavy rains brought out Mr. and Mrs. Mallard Malone in their annual quest for a suitable nest. First they nosed around the Andersons, then waddled across the driveway to see what the Rolfsruds might have available. Though we doubt they'll spring for a home site in our front yard, we hope they're also wary of the nearby pond bank. Last year Martin P. Marten raised a batch of furry kits there and helped himself to the clutch of eggs (photo below) hidden nearby. It's really hard to find a good home these days.

Last year, this nest of duck eggs hidden by the pond included a golf ball.
The eggs soon disappeared. The golf ball was moved, then
rejected as inedible.

Home again

We saw two of these sandhill cranes 
on the golf course in Florida. Delicious with mashed potatoes.

Dear Virg,
I'm safe at home. I just want to say thanks and report on my drive.
Ideal weather conditions followed me all the way from Florida; as I pulled into my yard at 5 p.m., the last vestiges of a six-month snow cover were burning off under a direct sun. Kathleen has already collected 10 errant balls from the season's first golfers.
I truly enjoyed the nature hikes, golf and an insider's look at the Southwest Florida real estate market; Thanks for all the lovely dinners out, but none were better than the shrimp on the barbie you fixed me poolside in the lanai. The perfect rescue from a brutal Minnesota winter. I was delighted to meet and get to know Gayle. She's wonderful and good company and everything you said. Hope to see her in Minnesota this summer.
A perfect storm of snowbirds, spring breakers and ordinary folks clogged I-75 for 200 miles on my way out Saturday morning, adding two extra hours to the 26 hour drive time. "Extreme Delays" were promised on flashing signboards by the Georgia Highway Department. They delivered.
Three lanes of evacuees, pinched at one point by 24 miles of a two-lane never-ending construction project, stressed the corridor's dwindling supply of patience, gasoline and clean bathrooms.  
(Georgia does seem to have a wealth of "Adult SuperCenters." Whatever is that?)
Relief finally came, of all places, in downtown Atlanta, where 10 wide lanes on a Saturday night easily absorbed the pressure. Posted speed there is 50 mph, but the pent-up traffic accelerated to 70, whipping past the Coca Cola headquarters, leaning into the turns and dodging a swarm of crotch rockets out for a Saturday night of fun. Commuter trains passed overhead. It was 5 p.m., time for the opening tip-off of the Final Four nearby. It was all downright exhilarating. Madness. 
Passing through a calmer Tennessee in the blue twilight, I honored my neighbor, Sandy, and stopped to rest for five hours in Kentucky, then rose early to head for a town I have never seen, St. Louis, Missouri. 
My GPS lady didn't want to go there at all, persistently suggesting U-turns and numerous alternate routes through Illinois until I punched her mute button. I figured it was Sunday morning and I could take whatever downtown St. Louis could dish out. Plunging ahead, I rode I-64 into the heart of the city. Closing on the Mississippi, we clattered through a tangle of ancient freeway ramps and exits all converging piggly-wiggly on this roller-coaster Gateway to the West. 

Although there was no traffic anywhere, with all the twists and turns and busted paving, I almost missed seeing the famous Gateway Arch, but there it was, magnificent and glorious, just a bit of a disappointment after all the build up. Busch Stadium was shoehorned into a riverfront nook surrounded by ramps and concrete. The beer city lived up to its name, broad-shouldered, lots of steel and brick, very working class. 
But the Clydesdales, the brewery tour and free samples will have wait for another time, I pushed homeward on the west bank, very happy to have checked another item off the bucket list.
Thanks again, Virg, for putting an exclamation point on the end of a long, dreary winter.
Now pardon me while I enjoy Kathleen's "Welcome Home Sundae."
Your brother, Stan

A party for Nancy. . .

This cake may not have been for Nancy, but she deserves one this big after the tough winter she's been through with her injured peg. That's Nancy in the very back, joining friends and family at an event last September. Happy Birthday from everyone, Nancy, including the road warrior who is somewhere in Illinois today.

There's always "Battleship Gray"

This manatee photo is taken from the public domain. We were too busy
paddling and making smart-ass remarks to get one of our own.

Turns out a few Target employees aren't the only ones who should be ashamed of themselves.
Tuesday Stan and Virg were kayaking the Orange River, searching for manatees without too much success. We paddled past an observation dock serving Manatee Park, where visitors can walk out to try and catch a glimpse of the shy, love-able hulks that ply these warm waters.
A helpful sign posted on the deck piers had an illustration of the mammoth, rounded manatee, and a number to call to report orphaned calves or "manatee harassment."
Standing directly above the sign on the dock was a youthful, very portly, round-shouldered couple looking here and there for the elusive manatee. Stan just couldn't help making this observation, albeit privately, to his kayak mate:
"Well, Virg, we may not see any manatees today, but that appears to be their first cousins standing upright on the dock." Stan said this in a voice the couple could not hear, but it was a snarky, regrettable, inappropriate comment, nonetheless. He should be ashamed.
Today, according to a wire service story, Target has apologized for its choices in the naming of colors for a new kimono maxi dress. Target regrets any embarrassment or discomfort they may have caused and promises to fix it. And well they should. The name selected for the gray regular-sized kimono is "Dark Heather Gray." The plus-sized version is offered in "Manatee Gray."

------------------

According to Target spokesman Joshua Thomas, “Manatee Gray" is a standard color name used across Target products, plus-size and otherwise. Unfortunately there were two teams of buyers responsible for the two dresses, meaning they each chose different color names without consulting with one another.

Okay. Maybe so. But Stan still has no excuse.

Dan's Date with Destiny. . .

Dan with his sisters, Mary Lou and Kathleen; and
nephew and niece, Tony and Heidi, in his Midtown condo.

We're all looking toward April 11, when Kathleen's brother Dan is scheduled for a hip replacement. Preparations are already well under way, Friday he'll attend class along with a coach or two, as we all learn what's ahead in this life-changing event. It will take place at Abbott/Northwestern hospital, just a skyway and tunnel from Dan's Midtown digs. We'll borrow Mom's chair and wheel him over there, so he's fresh for the day's challenge.

Where's Danno?
Dan has done remarkably well with his cane. It helps that he lives in a stair-less building, but recently he's noted that the first step into his city bus has gotten gradually higher. The disability has never kept him shut in, however. Mr. Mobility, 74,  gamely travels all over town, breakfast at Mickey's, mass at the Cathedral or the Basilica or the chapel at Abbott, fresh treats from the finest bakeries, risky business at Mystic Lake. When we call to his cellphone, we have no idea where it will be answered.

Eating fresh and local at Trotter's Cafe, St. Paul.

We're optimistic that this amazing operation and subsequent rehab will make a wonderful improvement to the quality of Dan's life and we have assured ourselves that, though there are dangers and risks with everything, this is one that Dan wants to take and we are all in full support.
Please join us, in whatever way you can, in willing the best outcome possible for this kind and gentle man.

A night on the old town

Morgan House. There's also dining on the wall walk, as well as inside.
Sometimes a band plays in the courtyard,  jamming the entire
space with revelers.

If three's a crowd, no one mentioned it tonight when Stan joined Gayle and Virg for a lovely dinner at the Morgan House in the newly redone downtown historic Ft. Myers. We dined outdoors again, the cool breeze coming off the broad Caloosahatchee River mouth was perfect for a relaxing, chatty evening.
Our waiter, Steve, introduced tonight's lamb and fish specials. We weren't buying. Stan and Virg ordered the Macadamia Nut Crusted Florida Gulf Snapper with coconut jasmine rice, broccolini, mango salsa & coconut rum sauce, excepting Virg didn't want no broccolini and so he got the baby carrots instead, no upcharge for substitutions; Gayle boldly went for the "Wild Chicken." (She doesn't like broccolini either.)

Stan volunteered to tell Gayle anything about Virg that he might not tell her. She didn't take up the offer. They found plenty of other topics, like who are the worst drivers in Ft. Myers, the snowbirds or the permanent residents? The subject had been explored on a recent editorial page. One reader seemed to settle it all. "I've lived here for 10 years. When the snowbirds leave, the driving doesn't get any better."

The downtown area, brimming with history and spruced up original architecture, has been totally reworked, creating quite a stir in the area, and revitalizing the business atmosphere. Here's the web site. 
The re-bricked streets and alleys, the courtyards, the art deco finishes, the many shops and restaurants combined with the port facilities and ocean-going yachts makes for an interesting stroll on a warm, starlit night.
Stan missed his sweetie.
The Edisons and the Fords and the Firestones are well represented. Theaters and shops and restaurants throughout downtown bear the trademarks of these entrepreneurs who wintered here long ago . . . the original snowbirds.

Closed for the season.
View from Virg's
vacation rental.

Tomorrow we'll tee it up and Virg can give Stan a golf lesson. Stan hasn't had his sticks out for five months. A preliminary bucket at the driving range is in order. Should be an interesting exercise, if not a competitive one.
Earlier today they made arrangements to close up a vacation rental Virg maintains. On the way there we stopped at a place called "Heavenly Pizza" and didn't have pizza; went for the soup and salad and were very proud for doing so. But don't worry, Virg has had plenty of pizza there: the waitress knows his favorites.

Our daily struggles

The struggle between what you want from nature and
what you don't. Wasps under the eaves? No.

 We're heading out on the community hiking trail this morning for a stroll along the Orange River in Ft. Myers. There's plenty of nature to see everywhere, and it's fun observing the constant struggle between the forces at play here . . . especially when you have a local guide with struggles of his own.

Yes

Virg showed me the flora around his homestead yesterday, naming all the materials and explaining why some do well and why some don't. With a year round growing season there's a lot of activity and a lot to know about. He has help, but he does a lot of it himself. The result is a beautiful setting.

They used to ship oranges from here.
(It isn't the same dock, of course)

We continued our exploration of the urban wilderness, heading just down the road to the six-mile cypress slough preserve boardwalk, which is about a mile long public boardwalk along the six-mile cypress slough. We observed squirrels and skinks and in the ponds we saw turtles and an alligator and garfish and a green heron, but mostly the dry season has kept the critters down.

See the turtle?

Years ago Kathleen and Stan took a similar stroll in the corkscrew swamp, quietly walking just a couple of feet above the water.
We're going to put in a couple of kayaks at 10 a.m. today and paddle up the Orange, so named for the international orange traders who once shipped produce from what is now Virg's back yard.
We hope to see a manatee.

Play Ball?

Two please. Way out in left field.

It was the Minnesota Twins opener today, so the timing was perfect. Virg was driving his brother Stan around to see some real estate in Ft. Myers today, so they dropped by Hammond Field just to get in the mood for summer baseball. The field was beautiful and the weather gorgeous. Detroit played the Twins this afternoon at beautiful Target Field where temps were in the low thirties.
We can wait.

The morning news. . .

As the guest sat there in his jeans and reached for his morning coffee, the host said, "you better wear some shorts today."