As you may recall from an earlier time, the eagle's nest at the cabin blew over in a windstorm releasing the baby eagles int othe woods. Our attempts to catch them and convince them to stay up high and safe resuletd in failure and the last I saw of them was this…

…one of them standing forlorn in the high-grass after a multi-hour downpour. And I thought that that would be the end of it. The jabberwockey's claws would catch, its jaws would bite! But their story went on.

We arrived to hear news that they'd not only survived, but were sitting on a high branch not far away. We ventured into the woods.


My cousin spies the eagles

And 'twas true!

Afterwards, my best efforts to the contrary, I was unable to convince my niece to join me in adventurating. My cousins, however, were willing, so we took off to map a new trail in the area.

Adventurating degenerated into puddle hopping as we discovered that the previous night's showers had flooded out the trail in a number of places. Occasional detours into the brush were necessitated. Once, the GPS disappeared and we had to go back searching.

But in the end, we got the map, made it out of the woods, and back before it started to pour again. But this has led to plans for another expedition. There's a large beaver dam in the area, and I think the trail crosses around the far side of the lake they've construcuted, but I need the traces to prove it. And it was time to eat…

…and watch fireworks. Every year they launch these from one of the islands and the whole lake's 51 miles of inhabited lake shore turns out to watch. We bob about - an armada of tiny boats - and then dissolve into chaos following the show. There's also a small element of danger to this: you can see the fireworks hitting the water.

The water's over forty feet there, so we don't anchor - this means the occasional jumpstart of the motor when we risk colliding with another boat. And, of course, the fourth always requires sparklers.


Experimental photography

The next day, I made a swift return to Minneapolis, just in time to catch an acquintaince at the airport before she departed to Seattle… presumably forever.

So I got to thinking about probability. Oft modeled as a bell-curve, life is, I think, bigger than this. Probability is more distributed than we think, and perhaps it sums to something greater than unity.


(This is a movie, refresh the page to watch it. Or click here and try combinations of F5, Shift+F5, and Ctrl+F5 to start it over.)

Minneapolis is always in need of exploring…

And then there was the World Cup final between Spain and Germany. Beth and I joined Tad for lunch at the Weinery beforehand and then waded into the chaos of the Nomad World Pub's festival. The crowd was ridiculous…

…and clearly pro-Spain. Tad and Alina appeared out of the crowd at various points, as did various inebriated men interested in Beth.
Luckily for her, these would get distracted throwing their beverages at anyone blocking the screens. I left before the match ended, but Spain defeated Germany… again.
Martha and I met up for lunch and afterwards went in search of the oldest tree in Minneapolis. And we found it just in time: it was dying and slated for removal. To commemorate its awesomeness, a troop of Morris dancers was gathered 'round. They had spare hankies and we joined in their dancing.
It was growing late, so Martha walked off east towards her home and I walked off west to find mine.



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