R.I.P, Huck

Six years ago, on a night made quiet and dark by an ice storm, my father sailed away.

This year's view from the cove

Jupiter is still bright in the west in the evening sky, bright enough that I can see it without my glasses. I couldn't see the boat out on the lake. I could hear the voices of the boaters, but I couldn't see the boat. Jupiter, though, I could see.

The lake water has warmed enough that we can stay around for a few minutes between visits to the sauna. Two weeks ago, it was a jump off the dock, hit the water, and get out as quickly as possible. We'd get back into the sauna, but our legs felt like they were covered in cold cloth.

After sauna, the aches of body and soul were gone. There's a lot to do in cleanup, routine work, and new projects and most of the work calls on muscles that haven't been called on for a while. There's a pile of rocks to be moved, a stack of wood to be split. leaves to be raked, trees to be trimmed.

Most of the work can become meditative, only the work, only that rock that needs to move 40 feet to the south. A wheelbarrow would make the work easier, taking four or five rocks at a time instead of just one. This way, though, I get to think about each rock and where it should go. If I had a plan, I'd use a wheelbarrow.

When my father was my age, he put an oil tank in the cellar, sideways. That the heating system never worked reliably isn't the point, I think. He did stuff. If it worked, that was good. If it didn't work, he'd move on. The oil-fired heating system never worked reliably and was replaced by a barrel wood stove that worked fine for 30 years.  The barrel stove connect to the chimney that was to be used by the oil burner.

The lake has warmed so that a thin bit of fog settles on the surface in these cool nights. Heating and cooling take away the aches of the day.

 

I wonder why Huck didn't have one of these

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640" caption="Car Stove, via bookofjoe"][/caption]

R.I.P., Huck

Five years ago tonight, we had an ice storm. In the powerless quiet, my father sailed away.

Obit and Services

Thanks for all of your kind notes. I'll reply individually soon.

You can find my father's obituary and information about the services at the Smith Funeral Home web site: http://www.gardnerfuneral.com/

Over the horizon

On Monday, 15 January, my father passed away in his sleep, by the fire in the wood stove in his living room. Huck was 93. An ice storm had come through on Monday, leaving us without power for 12 hours. What work we had to do, we did by the light of flashlights, candles, and kerosene lamp.

He left as he lived. His last meal was a half cup of coffee and bit of Finnish coffee bread, kahvi leipa, that Adam had made. His family and friends came to visit and to share stories of a remarkable life.

Huck loved sailing and sailed until he was 90. If you're clever, and he was, you can use the strength of the wind to go where you want to go. Many times, when we were sure that there was no wind at all, he kept the boat moving and made it safely to shore.

And so it was, when it was dark and quiet, he sailed on home.