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May 24, 2007
Asparagus Festival ... Hers and His
Last year Empire's Heidi Skinner (l) donned the asparagus stalk and lovely lipstick for the village's annual festival the weekend before Memorial Day. This year it was her husband Paul (r). Who wins the beauty contest?
Posted by editor at 10:00 AM | Comments (0)
What the spring brought, and what happened while you were away
By Jacob Wheeler
Sun editor
Jack DeGroot of Grand Rapids didn’t catch any scale-breaking fish in Little Glen Lake the weekend before Memorial Day, but he also didn’t have to leave Glen Arbor to fill up his gas tank for the drive home — and that bit of news was enough to put a smile on the outdoorsman’s scruffy face. For the first time in two summers the Glen Arbor Quick Stop just north of town is up and running — or more accurately put, up and dispensing petroleum.
Downstater Jack DeGroot feeds his hungry tank
Sure, at over $3 a gallon, the only people jumping for joy are the Saudi royal family and Hugo Chavez, but the fact that Glen Arbor residents and tourists no longer have to drive to Empire or Maple City for a fill-up is good news for our seasonal economy. Thus, Debbie Smith and Homecare Management’s acquisition and opening of the old Shell Station on M-22 is the most important news around town.
Smell the flowers
Jeanne Stevens filled another gaping need in Glen Arbor when she opened the doors to Freshwater Floral and Gifts in late April, painting the town pretty with colorful plumage. Her store is located next to Glen Arbor Realty across M-22 from the Town Hall. Now the local young bucks can pick up a sensual bouquet on the way to meet their honeys at The Homestead (and fill up the BMW on the way out of town).
Jeanne uses only top-notch, fresh flowers that she gets directly from growers, avoiding the middlemen who would leave them to dry out in trucks and warehouses and have to give the flowers the equivalent of an IV injection before you buy them. Jeanne is originally from Burdickville and graduated from Pathfinder School in Traverse City before she lived in Florida for three years and learned the art of flowers from a native-Long Islander who ran a flower shop in Fort Myers. She quickly discovered she had a knack for florals and took classes with FTD (Florists’ Telegraph Delivery). “I’d been thinking about opening a flower shop for six or seven years,” says Jeanne. “I was able to open the store in Glen Arbor because the space became available and everything came together. It was just the right space at the right time.”
The enthusiastic florist was more than happy to tell me about the science of her trade. “Some think you just cut the stems off the flowers and stick them in a vase, and that’s it. But there’s actually a lot of care involved with fresh flowers before you get them. All flowers are different (and require different ways of staying hydrated). For instance, you should take all the leaves off the stem of a carnation because as they turn bad and fall into water they’ll foul it through the gasses they emit, which will hurt the flower because other flowers aren’t drinking the freshest water.”
Jeanne also sells a variety of unique indoor plants to go with gourmet gift baskets and foods, not to mention her mother’s handcrafted jewelry. She delivered a tropical bouquet with ginger and roses to Le Bear for its opening weekend. And she’s heard numerous passersby say the words, “It’s about time we’ve had a flower shop here.” We agree.
Same Totem, new owners
The Totem pole and benches will remain out front at the nearly 70-year-old Totem Shop, an integral part of the Glen Arbor tourism experience. In fact, not too much will change in the store that Diana and Marc Oberschulte ran from 1989 until they sold it in April to a new company called Leelanau Gear, owned by Richard Roberts and Doug Thomas, who also own acquired the Harbor House in Leland.
“We’re bringing in some new lines. That’s the only difference,” says Doug. “We’ll still keep the souvenirs and toys and gifts that have always been here. We’ll add to the sweatshirts and t-shirts and also some new apparel, like The North Face and Merrell shoes, which will become mainstays. We want to keep the same feel of a resort store where the tourists can find the things they’re looking for, but with products that also appeal to the local residents. They can come in and find a jacket or a fleece without having to drive all the way into Traverse City.
“One of things that appealed to me is that, having grown up in this area, I remember coming to visit the Totem Shop and going through the toy room to find something I wanted,” Doug remembers. “There’s some nostalgia there. It’s just a good store with a good name that has always been successful. The Oberschultes always said that the Totem Shop was a fun store. Lots of kids come in, and almost everyone who comes in is on vacation.”
Doug laughs when he remembers April 17, the day that Leelanau Gear and Diana and Marc closed the deal. “We met at the Traverse City State Bank to do the closing there. The fire alarm kept going off and we kept evacuating building. We joked, ‘Is this some kind of sign?’ So finally we moved down to the Oberschulte’s attorney’s office on Front Street to sign the papers.”
Add a cherry on top
Now there’s one more cherry outlet in Glen Arbor, though it’s not another colony in the Cherry Republic empire. While Bob Sutherland has opened a Cherry Republic store on Front Street in Traverse City, what’s new to our town this spring is Brownwood Farms, which is moving into the Art’s Annex next to the tavern. Brownwood Farms, which opened in 1945 with a line of cherry butter and kream mustard, has expanded to cherry salsa and cherry barbecue sauce. The Williamsburg-based company, which does 90 percent of its business wholesale, has distributed to nearby stores in Suttons Bay and Leland in the past. It will rent about half of the annex from Tim Bar and Bonnie Nescott, but not all the products inside will be under the Brownwood label. “Our goal is to have lots of local products,” confirms Brownwood Farms’ Jeff Hughes.
Garden grows out of old laundry
Phil and Sue Deering keep taking on more responsibilities around Empire. The owners of Deering’s Market have now launched a Garden Center in the old laundromat on M-22 just south of the blinking light, which sat vacant for three years prior. Sue ran the garden center in the alley next to Deering’s for the last three years, but as demand increased, the space grew more and more crowded.
In its new, spacious location, the Garden Center offers a full line of perennials, annuals, shrubs and potted plants. Sue also boasts four rooms of garden art, decorations, birdbaths, feeders, birdseeds, hummingbird feeders and oriole feeders. “It’s a fun, relaxing experience running into everyone around town in here,” says Sue. “It looks nice, a little oasis on the highway. And it smells like spring and summer.”
Insuring the Rembrandt Building
After 21 years at Devette & Ford Insurance in Glen Arbor, Traci Apsey is fulfilling her dream of owning a business. Traci ran into Jan Keuning, who runs the Lighthouse Insurance chain out of Holland, and his son Ken, while eating a burger at the Empire Village Inn following a snowmobile trip last winter. The conversation that unfolded over the burger prompted her to open a local Lighthouse branch across the street in the old Rembrandt Building, which had been vacant for three years. Lighthouse thrives on the small-town appeal and runs several profitable agencies in villages throughout northern Michigan.
Posted by editor at 09:07 AM | Comments (0)
Fleet-of-foot Treece boasts Olympic dreams
By Nadine Gilmer
Sun contributor
On my first day as a cross-country runner at Glen Lake High School two years ago I was told that, without a doubt, Marissa Treece was going to win the race. I assumed that just meant she was “pretty good”. So I watched that race. Indeed, Marissa was the first person to finish, but I was confused because she was all alone — really alone. A few minutes later the second-place runner came down the shoot. “Wait a second … was Marissa in the same race,” I asked. The rest of the team smiled knowingly at me. She was, in fact, part of that race.
Photo courtesy of Pete Edwards
And now, as Marissa’s heralded high school running career comes to a close with the state finals on June 2, the Maple City native has her eyes set on even bigger races: NCAA Division 1 accolades, and maybe even medals in Beijing in 2008 or London in 2012.
For two years I’ve participated in almost every single track and cross-country race that Marissa has run. I know how hard it is to run those three-, two, one-, half-mile or the 1600-meter relay races, much less maintain the pace she keeps.
She is an amazing runner in the truest sense of the word, and she excels at more than just running. Marissa’s grade point average during her senior year at Glen Lake is 3.97 and she was a central part of the girl’s basketball team before she focused on cross-country. Marissa, who will run at Notre Dame next year on a full-ride athletic scholarship, is known simply as a winner. Her recipe to success is simple: “I am not really afraid to be around people I don’t know. I am comfortable with myself and I’m not worried about getting embarrassed. I’m pretty outgoing, so if I want something I always strive to get it … and people can recognize that passion in someone.”
That passion, and the opportunity to work with northern Michigan running guru Joe Shay of Central Lake over the past year, secured her Michigan’s Female High School Athlete of the Year award on May 14. The Detroit Athletic Club chose her among thousands of seniors and many sports, not just for her running talent but also for her grades and extracurricular activities. Marissa and five other nominees were presented on stage, and interviews with each student-athlete were shown before the product of Maple City was announced as the winner.
Comprehending what this honor means is so difficult that Glen Lake held a full school assembly to promote it. Thirty-two pairs of running shoes were lined up on the gym floor before Athletic Director Paul Christiansen announced to the crowd that 32 was the number of running shoes Marissa has gone through during her high school running career. And these shoes had their miles cut out for them. Her miles over the past four years add up to roughly 6,000. That’s from here to Orlando, Florida more than four times.
“I hated running for the longest time,” Marissa admits. “Now it’s definitely my favorite sport,” because of, “the success I have had and the competition I go against. It’s really fun to be with good competition and know that you are giving it your all, plus it forces you to be in good physical condition.” Of running seriously, Marissa remembers, “I was never really excited about it until freshman year when I won states ... but even then I thought I was going to be a basketball player. I got really excited about it after my sophomore cross-country season and then got more serious about it after I lost the state track meet my junior year.”
Serious training is no light jog, and it requires very specific personality traits to obtain the kind of success Marissa has enjoyed. “I am very competitive,” she says, “and I’m always interested in becoming the best that I can possibly be. Most people hear 60 miles a week and they are amazed or dumbfounded. But it’s not like I just jumped in — I worked myself up to that point, and if I did much less than that I wouldn’t be where I am now. I know that it will pay off in the long run.
“Plus, I just feel better after I go running. For sure, there are days when I don’t want to go on a speed workout or when 10 miles seem like they are taking forever, but I always try to keep a positive mind. Only once Joe Shay saw me lose and decided he would help me did I finally realize that I would go somewhere with my running and that I needed to focus in order to become the best I could be.”
She certainly is going somewhere. Marissa plans on becoming an All-American at Notre Dame and going on to become an NCAA champion in track and cross-country, and eventually running in the Olympics — 2008 or 2012, “or hopefully both”.
With the lustrous possibility of glory in Beijing or London hanging over her head, Marissa gets a lot of attention. Fellow track athletes have come to her asking for autographs, and she has become something of a celebrity among runners in the area. “I try to be as humble as possible, say ‘thank you’ and always try to remember what I was like when I looked up to the high school athletes. And I try to be a role model for all the younger the kids.”
It’s rare to find someone who could very possibly be in the next Olympics or someone that breaks impossible records. To really understand her achievements, I guess you would have to walk a mile in her shoes — or in her case, run 6,000 miles, fairly quickly, in what would take 32 pairs of Marissa’s shoes.
Posted by editor at 08:03 AM | Comments (0)
Leelanau cultured veggies: great farmentations
Pat Stinson
Sun contributor
This area’s growing community of food artisans is taking us back to our agricultural and culinary roots, reclaiming traditions of planting, growing, preserving, cooking and baking handed down to us by previous generations. Knowledge of these simple food processes are learned gifts that many of us have forgotten how to enjoy, have taken for granted or have chosen to ignore for the sake of convenience.
One by one, however, local artisans are turning back the clock to save the future of food.
Nancy Curley inspects her bok choy and cabbage prior to planting
On the sunrise side of Lake Leelanau, in Elmwood Township, Nancy and Pat Curley have joined a nutritional food movement that is sprouting across the country. Using raw vegetables and herbs grown from seed on their 13-acre, U.S.D.A.-certified organic farm, they produce live-culture (fermented) veggie condiments with an infusion of sea salt, herbs, spices, skill and loving care.
They call their product, “Leelanau Cultured Veggies” because, as Nancy explained, the couple loves Leelanau County, the “land of delight,” where they make their home. Pat calls the process “farmentation” because every step needed to produce the final product — planting seed, nuturing plants as they grow, harvesting and fermenting veggies, and packing and labeling the jars — occurs on their farm.
Unlike commercially-produced fermented foods, their recipes do not require heat (used in pasteurization) or vinegar to preserve the ingredients. Their certified kitchen, conveniently located between fields next to their home, doesn’t need a stove or an oven. The natural fermentation process is simple, as Sally Fallon, a nutrition activist, describes in the third edition of her book, Nourishing Traditions. After harvest, the veggies are washed and cut, blended with salt, herbs or spices and pounded or mixed to release their juices. The mixture is stored at room temperature for a few days to allow fermentation by naturally-occurring lactobacilli. These organisms turn starches and sugars into lactic acid. The salt keeps putrefying bacteria from forming until enough lactic acid is created to preserve the condiments for long-term storage in airtight containers, which are then placed in a refrigerator or other cool, dark location.
The bright flavors of these naturally-fermented raw foods, as well as their reported health-promoting properties, have made them popular items at area markets, including the Cedar City Market and Burritt’s and Oryana in Traverse City. Ty’s Spicy Beets is the creation of the Curley’s youngest son, a San Francisco chef who was living in Traverse City at the time he developed the recipe. Daisy’s Pink Ginger, made with red and white cabbage and a generous dose of ginger from Oryana, was the brainchild of daughter, Daisy, an artist and water quality tester, who felt that at least one of the products needed some of the aromatic spice. Curry Kraut, Kale Kraut, Dill Carrots and Nancy’s Kim Chee were recipes Nancy developed using her own taste buds and a time-honored Korean sauerkraut tradition. The kim chee recipe may vary, depending on the harvest, and might include farm-grown Napa (a Chinese cabbage), cabbages, bok choy, carrots, hot and sweet peppers, radishes, onions and garlic, plus salt and spices — all organic.
A Taste of Good Health
Whether genetic or learned, the response to intense flavors of organically-grown, handcrafted food is overwhelmingly positive. It’s the serotonin surge experienced by those who have bitten into crisp and juicy Brabenec apples from Northport or munched on fresh, crunchy asparagus from the Norconk farm in Empire. It’s a sensual taste experience most of us do not have with our supermarket vegetables.
“I study and do a lot of reading, I really care about the soil,” Nancy said. “People have commented that they can tell by the taste of our vegetables.”
The veggies’ great taste is no accident. Nancy and Pat have enjoyed and planted a garden together every year since they first met — in a garden — 34 years ago. Their skill, experience, shared passion for growing food and their commitment to health, hard work and stewardship of the land have resulted in an honest, “traditional healing food that more people can eat.”
Both Nancy and Pat had been vegetarians throughout their marriage — until the fermented food bug hit. Nancy said her years as a vegetarian and eating “tons” of soy all changed when a friend gave her Fallon’s book to read seven years ago.
“I thought I was doing the right thing for the earth by eating vegetarian … and that soy was good for you, but it’s hard to digest.”
Nourishing Traditions became Nancy’s food “bible,” and she read about the benefits of incorporating aged meats, cultured dairy and fermented grains into her diet. The book cites the historical tradition of fermented foods among isolated, older cultures. The story of dentist Weston Price’s travels in the 1930s — and his observations of traditional peoples, their food habits and fewer health problems — struck a chord with Nancy, who had been making sauerkraut for years. She began experimenting with recipes and added carrots and beets to her fermented foods menu at home.
Some health benefits of eating lacto-fermented foods include their high nutritional value and their ability to enhance digestion, increase vitamin and mineral levels and fight toxins. Everyday, to jump-start their digestion, the Curleys eat small portions of their cultured veggies as an appetizer or on a salad before a meal. They suggest serving them with pasta or, as Chef Nancy Krcek Allen likes to eat them, as a soup garnish.
Feeding the dream
While shopping at a store downstate, Nancy Curley discovered packages of fermented food products made in Canada. It was a turning point for her, as she knew she wanted to make fermented foods for a living, and be her own boss. For Pat, who wanted to do something besides painting, it was a chance to learn a new business. He visited the Quebec facility producing the fermented foods to study their operation.
Neighbor Marty Heller comes to get his share of the compost
When an opportunity arose in 2003 to buy a farm with good soil and lots of sunshine, they took it. Seeds were started in a greenhouse owned by Jim Moses and Linda Griggs. Fields were plowed and hay was planted. A potting shed was built and a building for the commercial kitchen was added. Last summer, they started building a new home on the property with the help of their son, Jesse. They moved to the Curley-Ladd farm in February, named in honor of Nancy’s grandparents.
None of this could have been possible, Nancy said, without the help of many, many people, including Moses and Griggs, close friend Benny Bowmaster, who helped with many projects; Fred Heltinen of Cedar, who did all of the tractor work, excavating and plumbing for the pole building; Jake Elliot, who helped with the farm and whose family originally owned it; neighbor Marty Heller and friend Karen McCleary, who help with the farming and processing; Chef Ted Sizma, of the Grand Traverse Resort; Rob Serbin for his help with the sale of the house and purchase of the new land; and for others who have expressed interest in carrying veggie products in their establishments.
“We are so blessed,” she said. “So many people have helped us, and we’re grateful for friends who donated time and words of encouragement.”
Last spring, the Curleys graduated from a 10-week course called, “Tilling the Soil of Opportunity,” offered through the county extension office. They learned how to evaluate “value-added ventures” and write a business plan. At the same time, they were sowing the seeds of their future business with plantings of cabbage, Napa, bok choy, kale, onions, garlic and peppers.
In April, the couple made their first deliveries to area markets and attended a presentation by Sandor Ellix Katz, the author of Wild Fermentation: The Flavor, Nutrition and Craft of Live-Culture Foods at the Leelanau Horticultural Station in Bingham Township. Brad and Amanda Kik of the Island Institute (for Sustainable Living, Art and Design in Bellaire), and Marty Heller, the Curleys’ neighbor and farm helper, made Katz’s presentation possible by finding sponsors. The event was well-attended and helped raise community awareness about the importance of reconnecting with techniques for cultivating and harvesting our own food.
“It’s about taking care of the earth and how farming should be — without the chemicals,” she said. “It’s about keeping the faith.”
Posted by editor at 07:47 AM | Comments (0)
WuzthataWintererWudnit?
By Norm Wheeler
Sun editor
“Light snow is falling in Ely, Minnesota today, May 20, 2007,” says DJ Ray Nargis. (Remember Ray Nargis? He used to live on Echo Valley Road, teach at The Leelanau School, and recite poetry at the Beach Bards Bonfire on summer Friday nights. Stream his Sunday morning (10 a.m.-1 p.m. EST) radio show on WELY.com End of the Road Radio — kind of a cross between Northern Exposure and the Stone Circle. Great stuff!)
Snow in late May in the upper Midwest? What’s going on? Is it ironic evidence of global warming? What about the fickle winter we just escaped here in Leelanau County? Ask a local and the recent surprise, dismay and chuckles flow right out of their short-term memories. A warm Thanksgiving (record high 54 degrees on Nov. 24) was followed in December by a week of heavy snow. Then the roller coaster climbed into a week of 40s with rain, and that good base was all gone. Here we go again, everyone sighed, another winter that can’t make up its mind. Another record high of 50 degrees followed on the Winter Solstice! Ugh, a brown Christmas!! Then a record 48-degree New Year’s Day, (the only predictable part of that day was Michigan’s loss to USC in the Rose Bowl!), and it stayed 48 all week! Chris Skellenger played golf at The Dunes on Jan. 4, and he had to call for a tee time!
Finally snow returned by mid month, the lifts were cranked up on Prospect Hill at The Homestead, and a semblance of normalcy returned. By early February the deep cold dug in, ice mounds formed 50 yards out from the beach on Sleeping Bear Bay, and that same lone coyote loped from somewhere below Alligator Hill past the Observatory to the mouth of the Crystal River along that ice shortcut as it does once every year. February 26 was everybody’s Snow Day after a heavy foot fell. The lion of March roared 50 mph winds (see Rob Karner’s photo) and then bit down with brutal cold. Skellenger left 90-degree Belize on Feb. 4. When he got off the plane in Traverse City it was zero, and nobody felt sorry for him.
But it was 55 degrees by the March 21 vernal equinox, and the thermometer gasped with “the bends” from coming up too fast. It hit the 70s a few days later, and no one could have guessed how April would make us pay for that apparently early spring! (Thanks to Andy McFarlane’s Leelanau Almanac @ Leelanau.com for weather details!)
“The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March."
(Robert Frost, from Two Tramps in Mud Time)
On April 1, Louan Lechler drove past a church marquee on Cherry Bend Road that said “The Rest of the Christmas Story” and then it began to snow! The April Fool dumped two snowstorms, one just before Easter and one just after. The Leelanau Enterprise reported that it was the first April since 1966 to deliver over 15 inches of snow.
On April 5 I drove up from Chicago, returning from Spring Break in warm places like so many others. There was a dusting at the Indiana border, several inches in Holland, and by the time the freeway turned into a two-lane it was a grim almost foot of snow. The saddest creatures were the robins, hunched forlorn and scowling along the thawed shoulders of the roads like Republican congresspersons after the last election, or more accurately (since the robins had done nothing wrong) like Bears fans at the Superbowl. The poor birds would fly up in front of the passing cars, apparently committing suicide. Sue Skellenger of North Coast Nursery shoveled off the grass, then collected and chopped worms to save the robins!
Joe Spaulding had closed down his rental house on Bow Road during the March hot spell and headed off for spring break. He didn’t bother to drain the pipes. It took him several days to fix all the leaks in April. Tim Barr reports that April was the worst business-wise ever for Arts Tavern. “Bad weather and bad attitudes,” he recalls. “Those who usually don’t go south suddenly went!”
Now the fruit trees are in full bloom, the trilliums nod in the new-green woods, the grass grows to alarming heights as your mower that won’t start sits in the repair shop, and May is just the way it’s supposed to be. The summer cars return, the businesses sweep off and air out, and we all stretch toward summer, ready to forget the slings and arrows of outrageous winter fortune we just survived. It’s time for the Pickin’ Party. Who’s gonna be in the Fourth of July parade?
Posted by editor at 06:42 AM | Comments (0)
Profile Ann Oberschulte: A fashionista returns to her roots
By Nadine Gilmer
Sun contributor
From her Italian brown leather boots to her equally hip jacket, Ann Oberschulte looks every bit the part of the local boutique owner: fashion savvy and comfortably trendy. She walks around The Cottonseed apparel like the fond owner of a small paradise. The racks of earthy garments and displays of artisan jewelry become a maze she walks through, expertly taking inventory of her hand-chosen goods.
Ann inherited The Cottonseed from her parents, Marc and Diana, when she moved back to Leelanau County. After living abroad in cultural meccas across the western world — from Sweden, to Ann Arbor, to Chicago, to Portland — she returned to ease the workload of her parents and their transition into retirement. They have finally hung their hats after selling the Totem Shop to Doug Thomas and Richard and Stacy Roberts, who also own the Harbor House in Leland. “I grew up on my mom’s back in retail,” Ann says of her childhood spent in the Totem Shop, The Cottonseed and the Sleeping Bear in Empire, which her parents also owned. (The Sleeping Bear recently took the name Bear North and kicked off its new era with an energetic parking lot square dance as part of the 2007 Empire Asparagus Festival.)
When it came time for college, Ann chose the University of Michigan for a degree in Arts and Ideas in the Humanities. After graduating from U-M she moved to Portland, principally to study photography, and then to Chicago where she worked as a traveling saleswoman in a fashion industry apparel showroom for three years, traveling all over the Midwest and occasionally to New York. “In my travels I got to see all of these boutiques and I realized that my parents had one of the best retail environments I had ever seen,” Ann remembers. “It had a lot of potential.” So after years of moving from big city to big city she returned to Leelanau County. “I would always come back for visits, (but I tired of) having to leave my friends and return to Chicago.”
So this hometown girl returned to her roots for good after time had worn away youth’s impatience. “I had my experiences and learned what’s out there,” says Ann. “But this is my home. There’s no better home than with your family and with the people you grew up with.” In doing so she bucks the trend of many upwardly mobile local young people who move away to the glitz of this country’s cities and suburbs, and usually only return for visits.
Early last year Ann purchased and remodeled a delightful home near the New Neighborhood in Empire, where she now hangs her hat. Like the Cottonseed, her home is also a fashionista’s paradise. What was her inspiration? Imagine a Parisian settling in California, she says. But most important of all, her northern Michigan roots are outside and all around.
Posted by editor at 05:38 AM | Comments (0)
Asparagus, a wonder drug and olfactory pleaser
By Waleed Al-Shamma
Sun contributor
Heart attacks, cancer, strokes, diabetes and … the ability to produce and/or smell rank urine? While asparagus may help fight and prevent most of these hereditary traits, it is responsible for one of them.
There is rarely complete harmony in the scientific community. Indeed scientists find it necessary to debate “provable facts” from the Big Bang to the severity of, or human impact on, global climate change. Why should “asparagus pee,” as it’s affectionately known, be left out? Here’s what they seem to agree on: roughly two in five people will either produce or smell fowl urine after eating as few as three or four spears of this inaugural spring vegetable. I had a friend many years ago who claimed he could only smell “good smells”. He once went so far as to suggest that wind, which had recently been broken, smelled reminiscent of maple syrup. At the time I considered this averment beyond reproach, but now knowing that up to 60 percent of the population cannot sense this fetid, putrid, olid, musty, stinky, rancid, malodorous stench, I might be inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt in the future.
This entire olfactory debate is, however, of little value when one considers the myriad benefits of eating asparagus. Particularly the fresh, local asparagus that is so abundant this time of year. Our renown in Michigan is not limited to car manufacturing and cherry production alone. Yes, our state is the third largest producer of asparagus in the country, which happens to be the third largest producer of asparagus in the world. Why fresh? Why local?
There are plenty of nutritional and economical (support your local everything) reasons, but the most convincing reason in my mind is flavor. You have another week or so to try this experiment. Go to your nearest gargantuan supermarket and buy as little Mexican or Peruvian asparagus as you can get away with. (After all, you don’t want to be stuck with a whole pound of the stuff now when the local asparagus is available for such a limited time.) On your way home stop at a roadside farm market or local grocer and pick up a pound or three of local asparagus.
As an employee of Zingerman’s in Ann Arbor, I suggest you follow our four steps to taste great food: know it, look at it, smell it, taste it. Incidentally, I owe my adult rekindling of a love affair with asparagus to Rodger Bowser, chef at Zingerman’s Deli. Should you find yourself at the Deli in May, be sure and eat the Number 5, Rodger’s Big Picnic (asparagus, portabella mushroom, Cheddar cheese & Dijon vinaigrette on grilled farm bread), and a side of asparagus. I say rekindling because wild asparagus grew in my front yard on the Old Mission Peninsula when I was a wee lad. Imagine a seven-year-old eating asparagus for the flavor! I then spent my entire teenage years repulsed by asparagus because that which found its way into my parents’ fridge had more frequent flier miles than I do.
Know your asparagus. Since you are buying it directly from the farmer or from a local grocer, it shouldn’t be too difficult to ascertain where your asparagus was grown, or when it was harvested, or by whom. Look at it. It should be fat and green. There is an alternate method of growing that produces white asparagus and another cultivar known as purple asparagus, but we’ll stick with what is most common. Smell it. I find it has a slightly peppery, heartier “greens” smell. Saving the best for last, taste it!
With smell and taste it’s important to remember there are no wrong answers. People have often told me prior to or during tastings that they felt intimidated; they didn’t feel as though they possessed the necessary “tasting vocabulary”. I am quick to tell people they’re wrong. If you think something tastes like roses smell, or like an old gym sock, you’re right. That is to say taste is necessarily subjective, don’t be afraid to shout out or write down the first thing that pops into your mind. When it comes to my personal preferences for most vegetables, asparagus in particular — oh baby, you know I like it raw! Eating raw vegetables is, of course, the best way to ensure you are getting all of the nutrients out of the food and into your system. That being said, the strong vegetal flavor of raw asparagus is often too much for most people. Eaten as a side dish, it is most commonly boiled, steamed or grilled beyond recognition. In such a sad, limp, pale yellow state, virtually all of the slew of nutritional benefits contained in these proud shoots have been cooked off, leaving you with mushy wads of green that are scarcely more that a vehicle for butter. Knowing that, I suggest blanching your asparagus.
Blanching is one of those things that sounds fancy, but is actually rather simple. Bring water to a rapid boil in a deep pan or a wide pot, one that allows enough room for the asparagus to sit in the water unencumbered. Drop the asparagus into the boiling water gradually from the fattest to the thinnest spears to allow them to blanch evenly. Prepare an ice bath (ice and cold water) in another pan or large bowl. Allow the asparagus to remain in the boiling water for no more than 2-3 minutes. You will quickly see the asparagus turn a lighter, more vibrant green. When you remove it from the water, place it immediately in the ice bath to “shock” it, or to rapidly halt the cooking process. This is often done as a first step prior to further cooking. Blanching neutralizes some enzymes and bacteria and thereby extends shelf life. It can also help to improve flavor by releasing pent up bitter acids and enhance the appearance by releasing some gases that obscure the greenness of chlorophyll.
At this point, the asparagus should still be firm and have perfect flavor. If you want to dress it up just a little, drizzle some olive oil over it and sprinkle it with fresh cracked pepper and sea salt. Save the butter and cheese for imported asparagus during the off-season.
I just polished off the fourth pound of asparagus I purchased from four different local farms over the past week and a half. I’ve also had a glass of water and four glasses of iced tea over the past three hours. How often can your roommate know your diet after you micturate?
Posted by editor at 04:34 AM | Comments (0)
Hunting for Morel mushrooms in the National Park
By Jane Greiner
Sun contributor
Locals and visitors alike are discovering that ranger-led walks are a great way to enjoy the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore (the local branch of the National Park Service). As part of the program, “Saturdays at the Lakeshore,” a ranger meets with the public at the Philip Hart Visitors Center in Empire to give a brief introduction before leading the day’s hike. This spring the National Lakeshore has held walks to a maple sugar house, newly discovered log cabins in the Park, waterfowl observation and a mushroom hunt for beginners.
The two-hour programs are geared to the general public, and as such the rangers often provide free handouts or loaner materials and equipment such as bird books, binoculars and a spotting scope.
I recently joined about 40 adults and 10 children for the beginner’s mushroom hunt. Ranger Marie Scott began by explaining the mission, which is to “preserve and protect” the Park. The general rule is that nothing can be removed from or collected within its territory. No one should pick wildflowers, collect Petoskey stones, dig for artifacts, cut down trees or take home souvenirs of any kind. However, the public can gather fruit and berries and edible mushrooms for their own personal use. The official list of allowable fruits and berries is called the Superintendent’s Compendium.
Using slides and a few fresh mushrooms, Ranger Marie taught us how to identify the edible Morel mushroom by three characteristics: it must have a pitted, hollow cap; it must have a hollow stem; and the cap must be attached to the stem along the bottom of the cap.
Though the Morel is by far the most popular mushroom, there are other edible mushrooms in our midst. We learned that Shaggy Manes are easy to spot and edible, though never to be mixed with alcohol. Puffballs are also edible, but should always be sliced open first to determine that no gills are visible. Gills would indicate that they are not really puffballs and might be Death Angels. But our primary goal for the day would be Morel mushrooms.
Ranger Marie also had three cardinal rules for mushroom hunters, which she had printed out on large flash cards. The first read: “There is no cure for mushroom poisoning.” This is a strong reminder that we must be absolutely certain when identifying mushrooms to eat.
The second rule she had us repeat aloud, “If it isn’t hollow, do not swallow.” All Morels are hollow, including the stem. If a mushroom you have found looks like a Morel but has a soft or cottony inside stem when you slice it open, it isn’t a Morel. Don’t eat it!
The third: “When in doubt, throw it out,” is a common-sense rule of thumb that could save your life.
Ranger Marie said that old orchards and old sawmill locations are good places to look. “Morels like disturbances,” she said. Not recent ones, but places where there had been changes in the past.
She advised us against hunting for mushrooms under pine trees. Morels certainly grow there, she said, but so do some poisonous mushrooms. And if a Morel grows up through the tiny root-like tendrils of a poisonous mushroom, or has poisonous spores nearby, it could easily be contaminated. Her mother taught her never to eat mushrooms found under pine trees, and to be safe, she taught the same thing to her kids.
After the briefing we went mushroom hunting with Ranger Marie at the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive. Our hunt started at the parking area near the entrance, where Ranger Marie showed us a mushroom growing there and mentioned that this area used to be a great mushroom spot before the parking lot was built.
She also listed the equipment she recommends for a mushroom hunt. A mesh bag (like an onion bag) is best for collecting. This helps spread the spores, and keeps the collected mushroom fresh. A plastic bag starts the decomposing process almost immediately. She also recommended water and a snack, a compass, because it is so easy to get disoriented in the woods, and a watch, because you can lose all sense of time in the excitement of a successful hunt. To find your way out of the woods by dark, you need to set a reasonable time for starting back.
We took the walking trail from the parking lot and someone spotted a couple of mushrooms almost immediately. Luckily, the Ranger had prepped us to call out when we found a mushroom and refrain from picking it until all of us could see the mushroom and begin developing our “mushroom eyes.” With so many people it took a few minutes, but we all got to see where the mushroom grew.
We crossed the drive and walked up about a quarter mile and then onto a gentle wooded slope to the left where Ranger Marie hoped we could find more mushrooms. As we walked through the woods she pointed out many indicators for mushrooms such as black cherry (potato chip bark) trees and Jack in the Pulpit wildflowers.
Though it had been a dry week, a few people in the group did find a couple of mushrooms. We also saw some red scarlet cups, which are distinctive mushrooms and often grow in the vicinity of Morels, and a beefsteak mushroom, which, though edible for many people, can, on occasion, be deadly.
Though only a few mushrooms were found on this dry afternoon, the ranger-led mushroom walk was a great success. All of us were able to see mushrooms in the woods. We all learned some useful tips on where and when to look for them. And we all could chant in unison, “If it isn’t hollow, Do Not Swallow!”
Posted by editor at 03:19 AM | Comments (0)
Envirothon teams seek sustainable environmental solutions
By Nadine Gilmer
Sun contributor
Of the many clubs at Glen Lake High School, the Envirothon team receives the least amount of recognition. Glen Lake’s three teams of five players each, advised by biology teacher Karen Richard, are the only Envirothon teams currently competing in our region. They are the kids who meet at lunch on Thursdays and talk about what should be done for the environment around us, but more specifically, what they are doing currently to accomplish this. Each team has a specific project to help the environment — the guidelines for any competing Envirothon team.
Haley Sobczak and Team Awesome's Envirothon project was planting dune grass for the Park.
At the state competition in Port Huron on May 3 and 4, Glen Lake teams presented their projects before a panel of judges before commencing to take the written test. No, not the kind of test that is taken in a quiet room without windows. A bus drove teams of students around to different sites in the area, and each team received a folder with papers color-coded by section (wildlife, aquatic ecology, energy, forestry, soils and sustainable agriculture). Students congregated on the grass or under a tree to examine the questions before them. Each team had to examine a pit of soil, identify a track in a dirt patch, classify a tree or examine a stream with a benthic. The tests were held so deep in nature that plastic booties were passed out at the farm site this year so as not to transport diseases from farm to farm. And after a day of tromping around in the wilderness taking environmental tests, the teams returned to the cozy cabins at Camp Cavell, on the shore of not-so-cozy Lake Huron.
Of Glen Lake’s representatives, Team Awesome, finished particularly well, placing second overall and first in Forestry, Aquatic Ecology and energy and second in soils. Team Awesome’s environmental outreach project was raising and planting dune grass for the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore (the local branch of the National Park Service). The team obtained dunegrass from the Park and raised the grass in the green house of Glen Lake’s biology lab, with much enthusiasm for its slow growth. The students planned to replant their grass at the end of May with the help of the Park.
Two other teams also competed: Team Yea That’s Us and the Tiny Salmon. The Tiny Salmon raised salmon in a giant tank in the biology lab to release into the Crystal River on May 18. Its goal was to teach children that salmon were a sign of good water quality and to inform them of the importance of taking care of our watershed.
Yea That’s Us attempted to introduce biodegradable plastic wear into the school lunch program. The idea for this came from Maura Niemisto, who saw the biodegradable plastic ware used at the music festival in Telluride, Colorado and told the rest of the team about the benefits of it. Yea That’s Us ordered sample spoons and trays from the non-profit organization World Centric and buried them in flowering pots with school spoons and school trays, watering them faithfully every week to simulate landfill conditions. After six weeks the biodegradable items looked positively putrid while the school items looked like someone could still eat off them. After a presentation to Linda Crouch (the head of the lunch program), Yea That’s Us concluded that the biodegradable plastic wear was wonderful and necessary but too expensive for the lunch program to use at this point. Neverthelesss, the school was notified of the issue to raise awareness and concern, mostly due to a survey passed out at the beginning of the operation. All high school students were given a survey asking them if they would support the change to biodegradable plastic ware. The results were 72 percent in favor of the change and some students asked for returning to silverware, which Glen Lake no longer uses due to students too frequently throwing them away. Even though their endeavor did not succeed this year, Team Yea That’s Us has felt the rewards of being truly involved in a solution, as have the rest of the Envirothon members at Glen Lake. Envirothon fills the perfect niche for high schoolers: a way to learn and a way to be involved, and a rewarding trip to Port Huron for their troubles.
Posted by editor at 02:12 AM | Comments (0)
Hummingbird love, and Spring, are in the air
By Jane Greiner
Sun contributor
What a pleasure it is to have the hummingbirds back.
Yesterday I looked up from my book to see a female hummingbird sitting on the feeder. A second one, presumably male, approached the feeder and flew back and forth in front of her in a short horizontal “shuttle pattern.” Back and forth he went, straight left for two feet, straight right two feet, back and forth, back and forth, always facing her. After about 20 zips left and right, he landed on the feeder not far from her. As he did so I thought I saw a flash of ruby red color buried in his chest feathers.
Through all this the female did not budge.
He puffed himself up, ruffled his head feathers, and looked left and right, left and right, snapping his head and long beak back and forth repeatedly.
She just rested there and occasionally took a sip from the feeder.
He sat and puffed and shook his head and scratched himself with his feet and looked at her and puffed himself up and preened himself a bit and scratched under his wing again with his foot.
She still seemed unimpressed.
He stayed puffed up, continued wagging his head and from time to time stopped and looked at her. The puffing, wagging and looking went on for so long there was plenty of time for me to get the camera and take a bunch of pictures.
After they were gone, I thought about what it all meant. The puffed-up bird could have been a juvenile hummingbird or one fresh from the bird bath. But really, with all the puffing up, scratching, and posturing, I had to think that what I had seen was a hummingbird mating ritual. Yes, Spring is in the air!
Posted by editor at 01:08 AM | Comments (0)
A world that’s not beneath our notice
By Holly Wren Spaulding
Sun contributor
Being a writer, I spend a good deal of time in the rooms of my head, the dark corridors of contemplation. The obvious hazard, although there are many others, is that such a lifestyle often takes me away from the vigor of the body and the sense of my feet being on the ground, both literally and figuratively.
The Russian poet Osip Mandelstam once said that Dante must have worn out hundreds of pairs of shoes in order to write ‘The Divine Comedy’. And the French philosopher Hélène Cixous wondered “what kind of poet doesn’t wear out their shoes, writes with their head.” She has said that the true poet is a traveler.
For this and other reasons, I make a point of leaving my desk from time to time, wandering out to look at what is happening.
Just minutes into a good walk, the wind on one cheek, the sun on all sides, I begin to unlink from the engine of my busy life, leaving leave behind my lists, looming deadlines and editors, the need to be “doing.” Most of the time, once outside I don’t even have to make an effort, I simply enjoy the elements and my presence in the moment.
In the middle of the night I am stunned by a sky so vast and lit with lights I cannot name, during the afternoon the marsh marigolds in the ditch near where the horses graze are prettiest, and all May the orchards coming into blossom are the sort of encounters which will, if I am paying attention, remind me to look out, to get down low, to fill my lungs. Concerns about the vagaries of household maintenance, the gravity of the global politics or the vagaries of daily existence are subverted to awe.
I live above a conifer swamp fed by perennial springs. The water wanders, anarchic, into and out of sight, filtering through till plains, hummocks and steep moraines. Our home, this land, is green and fertile because of it. In early spring when the snow is gone, the grass still matted, I walk my dog Lucy in the lowlands, circling the edge of a marsh, ducking among white cedars, hemlock and cattail. When the Leelanau Conservancy did a baseline documentation of the property in advance of our establishing a conservation easement, I learned that there are at least 63 different native and invasive species of vegetation rooted in this place — possibly more, depending on the season.
An anthropocentric world view — a tendency for most of us — would have that our human interests are always greater than the needs or preferences of anything else on earth. It requires some shifting in order to live in deference to dirt; to begin to organize one’s habits in order to acknowledge air and water’s rightful place in the precise, magical equation which ensures livable conditions on this planet.
Last week it began to rain while I planted morning glory seeds and since yesterday there are little sprouts peeking out of the sandy loam on the east side of the house. Soon I’ll set strings for them to climb, and the joy of waking to their bright blue faces will be as good a start to any day as I can think of. The poet Mary Oliver has written that “attention is the beginning of devotion,” and I am spellbound when I kneel before what grows and blooms.
Buddhists have a wonderful notion that in the west we call “right relationship.” The sense is that an ethical life is composed of, among other qualities, a mindfulness toward how we relate to each other, as well as to the environment that sustains us. Eastern wisdom places considerable emphasis on the fact that we share the planet with rocks, lichens and the peat coming into being where a tree once stood. Additionally, Buddhism’s first precept is to “revere all life, avoid doing harm,” and it is clear that this means bowing to the rightful place of non-sentient, as well as sentient beings of all kinds.
The idea of “Right Relationship” proposes that we work to be kind and generous and compassionate toward the ones we love, and all humanity. It also offers the mindset that to be truly at peace and fully liberated in this worldly existence, we must take just as seriously our relationships to the natural world.
How do we practice this ethic? We can start where we are. I can start right here. Such thinking dignifies the particulars of place, the contours of what is local and ripples outward, in ever widening circles of affection. It means not neglecting but loving our home, our turf. But it also asks more of us than pride of place. I think it must be something about both engaging our senses — seeing and smelling and tasting what we’ve long taken for granted — and possibly, it is overcoming a prevalent sensibility that elevates ourselves above all else.
Imagining a world organized around values which support a more egalitarian existence precipitates acts which support, rather than undermine all of the large and small systems which make life possible, fulfilling and decent. It does suggest that we have to open our hearts as well as our minds to the buzzing and silent, small and large beings that surround our hurried lives. There is no doubt that a tenderness is exposed in such a process, and yet would we consider not taking this risk?
I began this detour with a thought of going out walking and taking notice of the quiet growing, the silent moving and the green wildness all around us. I have been trying to say that maybe if we love something, we will take notice and in seeing and hearing and smelling our nearest patch of green, we will become allies to milkweed and dune grass; a true defender of aquifers. Yes, our sensitivities would appear to need piquing. But even over the course of a short walk, our mind marvels to discover the larger intelligence of that spring coming out of the hill; the profundity of the ecosystem, the watershed, our community of existence. The head swoons and the heart follows. They take turns leading.
Edward Abbey wrote that “what most humans really desire is really something quite different from industrial gimmickry — liberty, spontaneity, nakedness, mystery, wildness, wilderness.” That’s certainly how I see it. Acknowledging that not only do we want “right relationship,” but indeed, there is a relationship, and this is the most profound place to begin satisfying some of these desires.
Posted by editor at 12:23 AM | Comments (0)
Fighting off the bear with Internet technology
By Carol Purcell
Sun contributor
One beautiful week last September I headed to the Upper Peninsula for a solitary camping trip. The Hurricane River Campground is a small campground reached by dirt roads, 12 miles west of Grand Marais, right on Lake Superior in the Pictured Rocks. It has 11 sites, one water spigot and one outhouse — basically in the middle of nowhere. At this time of year there are very few campers. Nevertheless, I could tell that the site next to me was occupied although it was 50 feet away and screened from view by trees and brush.
I had been swimming in the lake and messing around in the river until about 6:30 p.m. when I went back to my site to change. I was changing at the picnic table because no one was around, and I had just pulled on my pants when I heard a noise behind me and turned around.
I should backtrack here and mention that my sister Chris gets very concerned when I go out into the woods by myself. She is very afraid that I’ll be killed by a bear — a most horrible death in her mind.
She does have some justification for her nagging … Last year I camped at the same spot at the same time of year. I had some equipment failures that included my air mattress popping. I attempted to buy a new one in Grand Marais, but came up empty. Luckly a nice lady at the local bakery offered to give me some foam that came with her packed waffle cones. She told me she had made the same offer to other campers and she figured they had worked pretty well. So I accepted the lady’s offer and actually slept fairly well for the rest of the week. When I returned home my sister pointed out that I had spent the week sleeping on something that smelled like food and proceeded to refer to me as “Waffle Cone Woman” for the next several months. At least she refrained from using her favorite saying about me: “Six years of College for this!”
Because of my sister’s nagging I promised her that I would go online and learn all that I could about dealing with bears should I encounter one, and that I would take all the necessary precautions.
Fast forward to 6:30 p.m. at the campground … I heard a noise and turned around, and there he was, about 16 feet away (I paced the distance later on). He was beautiful, on all fours about the height of a Great Dane. He looked very healthy and his coat was lush, glossy and very black, though I thought he looked rather small.
Not being an expert or having much experience, I assumed that if I encountered a bear he would be in the range of 400-500 pounds. This guy probably weighed 200 or 250. The thought crossed my mind that he was just a yearling and I briefly considered worrying about Momma bear. I learned later that an adult bear in the Upper Peninsula can weigh anywhere from 125 to 500 pounds.
If you read what the experts say about bears or talk to locals who live with bears, they always tell you the same story. Bears are shy, reticent, easily startled and are more afraid of you than you are of them.
Not!
But I wasn’t really afraid. Looking back, I remember feeling focused, alert and aware. I knew that I was in a potentially dangerous situation and that I had to do everything right. He wasn’t aggressive or threatening. In fact, he looked like he was in an agony of indecision. He was sniffing the air like a dog sometimes will, and I knew he could smell the food in my trunk. Naturally, I had not left the food in the body of the car because I had read that a big bear will sometimes tear off the car doors to get at the food inside. My trunk was closed but not latched.
The bear really wanted to get that food, but to do so he’d have to go through a strange looking creature (me) who was by now following Internet instructions and yelling at the top of my voice such intelligent things as “Go on Git!” (“Git” What the heck is “Git”?) and “Bad Bear”!
But even more baffling to the bear, he’d have to get through the hammock that I had strung between two trees. I think that’s all that kept him from walking right up to me when my back was turned. He came up to the hammock and didn’t know what to make of it. Startled, he made a kind of blowing noise that bears do when frightened, and that’s what I heard that made me turn around.
You can’t run from a bear, they’re too darned fast. They can run 30 miles per hour and climb trees very well. So your only option, if you can’t back quietly away, even if they charge is to stand your ground, and stand I did — loudly. But the bear was not impressed. So I went to the next item on my Internet list and picked up one of the stones I had collected just in case a situation like this occurred. (I confess that my stockpile was pretty small because I was only collecting stones to keep my word to my sister and I didn’t expect to have to use them.)
My pile was small but adequate, as it turned out. At this point I was about 12 feet away from the bear and I began to wonder if I could actually hit anything with a rock because I’d never tried before, and I had no idea if my aim was any good. I figured I could hit him from only 12 feet, though successfully thumping him in the side with a rock said more about the size of the target than it did any latent skill of mine. Yet my rock attack only backed him up another 20 feet or so. Hmmm. This was not the way a bear was supposed to act. All of a sudden he began heading over to the site next to mine.
I hadn’t realized at the time that he had come from that campsite in the first place. The next site was occupied by a young German couple whom I later got to know pretty well. Michael had been building a fire when he turned around and discovered a bear only 10 feet from him. Michael and Bettina apparently didn’t have sisters who nagged them repeatedly about the dangers of bears because I don’t think they knew what to do in that situation, other than to get their cameras and take pictures. (I didn’t see that on my Internet list so I didn’t think to do so).
Or maybe they were just too polite and civilized to yell at a bear, unlike myself. I began yelling, “Hey you people over there! Bear coming your way!” and continued yelling out instructions to them on what they should be doing, like making noise, prefaced with the words, “The Internet says you’re supposed to …” Yes, that’s me, big bad wild wilderness woman.
Suddenly I heard a voice in my head … perhaps the voice of reason? It told me, “Carol, I know that’s a small bear but it’s still a bear. You might want to put some shoes on and give yourself an escape route by finding your keys and unlocking your car doors.” “What an excellent idea,” another voice in my head responded. “You just hit a BEAR with a ROCK! Are you INSANE?” the first one asked. I told that voice to shut up and I put on my shoes. While I was at the car, I laid on the horn. The bear didn’t like that and it backed up another 20 feet. But, he still was not leaving. Hmmm. Very persistent. He was now 45 to 50 feet away and angled into the woods between the two campsites.
I opted for number three on the Internet list and started beating on my metal camp coffee pot with the butt of my hatchet. The bear was still undecided. He kept his distance and began to circle my site to the right, moving in total silence in a kind of bumbling but graceful manner, as he went back and forth trying to decide whether it was worth returning for the food. Finally, Michael came over to my site with a whistle and that made the difference. I think because there were two of us now, both making noise, the bear decided we weren’t worth it and moved on.
To this day my coffee pot is bent out of all recognition.
Bettina and Michael and I bonded after chasing away the bear and they offered to let me sleep in their RV. I also briefly considered sleeping in my car, but after standing off a bear with a pile of rocks and a coffee pot, giving up the ground I had so valiantly fought for seemed rather faint hearted.
I had also read that bears go to sleep two hours after sunset and rise a half hour before dawn, so I figured that I’d be OK if I built a good fire and stayed up late, to prevent the bear from coming back. Of course, that information came from the people who insisted that bears are more afraid of me than I am of them. Hah! Anyways, I did sleep in my tent that night and there was an absolutely glorious thunderstorm with lots of heavy rain. I’m sure the bear took refuge somewhere that wasn’t my tent.
I found a ranger the next day and made my report. He agreed with me that it was very “unbear like” behavior and said he would consult the wildlife biologist. The ranger came back the next day to check on me and gave me the following information:
This is pre-hibernation time for bears and they are very focused on eating as much as possible. It’s also bear hunting season (I saw the hunters and their dogs) and the bear are rather stirred up.
There had been many bear sightings in the campground that summer but the bears had kept their distance and not approached humans. The ranger thought the bear had come close because there were fewer people around.
The Department of Natural Resources usually handles these kinds of situations by relocating the bear, but they won’t tranquilize a bear to move him within 30 days of hunting season for obvious reasons.
And so, because the bear hadn’t done hurt someone the ranger told me they would keep an eye on him.
I remained vigilant but didn’t see any more of our bear that week. I met several really wonderful and interesting people, and my friend Ingrid joined me on Thursday night. We had a wonderful time hiking on the trail along the top of the Pictured Rocks cliffs and saw some fantastic waterfalls. I can’t wait to go back.
Coincidentally, at 6:30 p.m. on that Tuesday night when I faced the bear, my nagging sister in Stanton, Michigan sent her boys out the door for a swim date and she then had an anxiety attack about me strong enough to make her cry and call Mom. I’m of the firm belief that the world would be a better place if everyone had a sister like mine.
Weeks later the Germans Michael and Bettina emailed me pictures of our bear, and I think I may have underestimated his size.
To conclude, I feel very fortunate to have seen such a beautiful animal up close (and lived through it) and I hope with all my heart that the hunters with their dogs didn’t get our bear.
Posted by editor at 12:20 AM | Comments (0)
2007 Empire Asparagus Festival Poetry Contest winners
Adult category
Tom Ulrich
Spare Gus
My grandfather grew asparagus.
Not in raised beds, or rows,
But in a chaos of well-rotted manure
And a ragged forest of spears.
He called it by name, with affection.
When I was younger I thought “Spare Gus”
Was the nickname for an old friend of his
Who came around the same time every year.
As I grew, he showed me how to work the beds,
Just him and me, pulling weeds, spreading manure,
And best of all, harvesting the green spears,
His rough hands tenderly snapping each one.
The beds he planted outlasted him
By a good twenty years — my grandmother
Now harvesting the dwindling spears
And still making his favorite recipes.
Two years ago, I took a couple of asparagus crowns
Out to the cemetery and put them in a furrow
Over his grave — Mixed in a little manure,
And watered them with my tears.
Now it’s a cool May morning, and I find myself
Back at his grave. “Hey Grandpa,” I say,
As I bend down and snap off a thick green spear,
“Look who’s here.”
Youth category
Libby Benjamin
Asparagus
Cold, wet, green stalks
Bound like slaves
With a purple rubber band
Sprayed with ice water
From up above
Drowning in a grocery store cooler
Thrown carelessly in a bag
Twisted shut
The stalks are suffocating
Plunged into a pan of oil
It bubbles, spits, scalds them
Salted
Peppered
Enjoyed?
Posted by editor at 12:15 AM | Comments (0)