Abby and I left the snow free Harbor at mid-morning for her postponed encounter with the dog clipper. Monday's appointment cancelled as the roads "up the hill" were snow clogged and in whiteout conditions. Power outages on storm day were widespread, with power at the Harbor out for over seven hours. It was not a good computer day, as even when the juice was flowing there were frequent momentary outages. It's been three or four years since we experienced as much power outage. I assume the very heavy snow, unusual for the Copper Country, dropped out-of-shape tree branches down across the lines. At times I wondered if the designated caller, whomever she or he might be, had notified the power command center that our little outpost was dark.

All seems back to normal as I write on this early Wednesday morn. The Wonderdog seems at ease with her new haircut, snoring away on the warm hearth - not "traumatized" as at least one of her many web admirers noted after viewing the "post-shearing" photo. Not much wind at the moment, although I just listened to a radio report from 1,000 footer Burns Harbor, about 12 miles out from the harbor, reporting 33 knot winds and big swells. A warming spell is apparently on its way, so the creeks snaking down from the "higher terrain" will soon swell with the melt from the storm. Gosh knows the lake needs the water. I've installed an Ace yardstick harbor water level measuring station over at the Marina, and can report about a half-inch rise in the last week or so. This could be just storm surge.

We are also experiencing very noticeable seiches, rapid changes in level caused by divergent barometric pressures over the big lake. Harbor summer visitors sometimes notice what seem to be strong tides moving in and out of the passages between the harbor's entry rocks. Those are seiches, and they can sometimes cause one to three foot level changes in fifteen to thirty minutes. That's why deep keel cruising sailors like me always like to have a cushion of two or three feet of water under the keel at an anchorage.

Yes, it's sailing, not snow, that dominates my thought as we await another early spring day.

Abby's over by the fire, blissfully unaware that on this "winter storm warning" day, she is going to get her spring shearing. I better load up the inside wood box. She's going to be a fire groupie.

Yesterday's hike into the bush was a study in contrasts. Warm enough that my jacket could be shed, yet cool enough to preserve snow tucked in tree and ridge shadows. The brooks are babbling, and snow melt is standing in ditches and trail depressions, but bent trailside bushes and underfoot ground cover are extremely dry, a foretelling of summertime trouble. Lots of snapping and cracking as I wander about and the Wonderdog crashes through the undergrowth in search of whatever it is that turns her on. (In the process gathering burs, twigs and gobs of dirt in her big furry paws and long leg and belly feathers - the reason for the upcoming haircut.) The bushes in sunlight clearings are beginning to bud, and birds and ground critters are scurrying about in springtime revelry. Yet, late in our trek, a sudden chilliness brought on by gathering clouds and a northerly wind shift, and the spooky moaning of building wind working through the treetops, suggested the frolickers may need to temper their activities for awhile. Perhaps what I perceived as revelry, was instead preparation for a storm - the four legged and feathered seem to sense such things long before their two legged, big brain brethren are able to decipher weather station reports.

The dawn of this new day is still a few hours away. I suspect its light will unveil a scene of turbulent water, scurrying gray clouds, and streaking rain. I can hear the wind whistling through the nearby trees. It's not yet at camp rattling force, but clearly building. Cabin lights and the monitor displaying these words are flickering. Better shut down.

This promises to be an eventful day.

We did chop a tree down a few days ago, a big one at that. The Harbor population about doubled when twenty or so power company and county workers showed up on Front Street and began sawing away at the century plus old pine out in front of Carlton's. A grand tree, made even more special because it was the lone remaining tree of note along our beachfront.

It's been showing its age the last few years, shedding limbs and rotting at its core, and posed a toppling threat to nearby power lines. Its size dictated a top down removal, so chain saw laden workers were lifted aloft in bucket rigs and began the dismantling. I watched for a few minutes, saddened by the fate of this harbor landmark and impressed by the respectful way this army of workers conducted their surgery.

A few chunks have been saved for a millennium celebration beach fire this summer, but another old friend has been carted up the road and laid to rest in the town's brush pile.

Another ancient tree, the big popular that stands guard alongside my camp, will soon make her own trip up the hill. It's badly rotted and beginning to split down the middle. It moans mightily in even the fairest of breezes, and in a fierce wind, such as we are experiencing this morning, the creaking and cracking is ominous. If it topples, either my place or that of my neighbor, will be split open to the foundation. I've called and left desperate messages with every tree guy in the phone book, but if you know Copper Country customs you are not surprised to learn that I'm still waiting for the return calls.

Another calamity about to happen is the closing of the Harbor Inn this evening so that Mary and Dick can take a well-deserved six-week break. We all gathered last evening for the wake, lingering a bit longer than usual and testing Mary's abundant patience and always cheery disposition as table turn lagged and folks from up the hill and down the road began to stack up in the waiting area. She added to her woes by offering a special desert for the occasion - a yummy toasted banana cream cheese cake that fostered slow savoring and cups of conversation coffee.

I departed reluctantly - the listlessness of a week of rotten weather and "tree chopping is news", replaced by the energy and good spirit of Harbor comradery.

A follow up note from Bob Carlton."You may be interested in a bit of background to the now fallen tree that watched over Lot 26 Front Street for well over a century.

A general store, Raley and Shapley, which had been a bustling business during the early lumber and mining days, was located on this corner. The first ODD FELLOWS lodge (Lodge #68 IOOF) installed in the Upper Peninsula, was located on the second floor of the general store. Lodge #68 moved from Eagle Harbor to Cliff Mine then Keweenaw Lodge #82 was established at the Eagle Harbor location in October 1863 and by 1883 had 63 members. In 1902 the building had all but been abandoned and in May 1903 my grandfather, F.S. Carlton purchased the lot and empty building. The building was demolished and he built the FIRST SUMMER COTTAGE in Eagle Harbor on the site in 1903.

The tree was large enough for the Carlton children, of that generation, to spike climbing rungs into the trunk and erect a tree house in it's sturdy limbs. Some of the old photos taken prior to 1890 show the tree in all "her' majesty.

I climbed to the top ,circa 1938, and took pictures with and old box camera, of the Harbor, which are around somewhere. At that time the tree had no visible signs of rot or lightning damage.

Just before the 1939-40 school session was about to start, the family members were gathered around the Zenith radio on the front porch, the news beaming from CKPR Port Arthur, the Nazi's were invading Poland at lightning speed. There was a blinding flash of light and a simultaneous explosion that startled all in the group on the porch, blew away the antenna that was strung to the tree. A bolt of lightning struck the tree at the top and stripped bark all the way to the ground.

That 1939 lightning strike, and several others in later years, mortally wounded the "old girl" and in the year 2000 it took chain saws to put her 'rest'."

Now see, they have gotten me all worked up. I need to focus on the coming summer of sailing. In truth, such contemporary public accusations pale in comparison to the utterances of publishers and mining tycoons in the early days of our beloved Copper Country. I was reminded of that as I browsed through the Michigan Tech Library archives in search of information about our Eagle Harbor schoolhouse.

I stumbled upon a history of the five newspapers published in our little mining port between 1860 and 1876. There was a fierce battle between such upstarts and the older Mining Gazette for the circulation and, more importantly, advertising revenue from the mining companies, local merchants, and mine suppliers. It was a no holds barred match with little attention to truth or scruples. At one point the Keweenaw Times, the fourth of the group, wound up in the hands of Reverend W. H. Benton, the Methodist Church (now the King/Boutwell cottage) minister. Rev. Benton was apparently a "fire and brimstone" character who waged a mighty struggle with the "establishment" paper for reader and advertiser attention. Here's how the Gazette wound up an editorial about the competition; our local preacher turned publisher.

"Such is W.H. Benton, the self-exposed slanderer, dirt-eating, villifier, swindling, lying, devil-turned preacher, and bought up champion of a band of thieves. He has become the High Priest of the Father of Lies!"

Now there's a real "ouch". Such scurrilous attacks were common in those days. Recently selected by a room full of presidential scholars as our nation's "best" president, Abe Lincoln was often so vilified as he campaigned and carried out his duties in the time of our nation's great trial. Makes today's so called "attack ads" seem harmless by comparison.

So with that perspective, I now return to watching eagles sore and wondering if my 10" March snowfall forecast will prove to be a pasty generator in our all but forgotten forecasting competition. My mood is further mellowed by the nearby presence of sky blue harbor waters slowly undulating as they await the gale force winds predicted for the coming night. It appears as if a large bowl of slow dancing blue jelly. The blues of sunny early spring days are intense, especially when the calm surface of the big lake and the sparkling clear air above team up in a frenzy of reflected light. The effect is further heightened by the presence of fresh and brilliant white snow nestled among the red hued rocks and in the crooks of pines now beginning to show the sheen of spring greening.

The wonders of the natural world are a constant source of solace and healing - nourishment for the soul. I suppose that's why I and my "fanatical" friends sometimes mount the green battlement and endure the stones and arrows of the encroaching developer infidels and their beholden heralds.