Written for the Solstice gathering at The Yard on June 19th, 2026
Turning tail to run, the night
Is banished by this pagan light.
Eternal sun lords overhead
To keep the children from their beds
And banish from our minds the dread
Of snow and winter, dark and dead.
So be alive, and celebrate,
And feast with friends, and stay up late.
The absurd mental geography of a man with way too much time on his hands.
Hold my face
while I replace
the holes behind
my seeping mind.
Eli Whitney, cotton gin.
Mortal combat, mortal sin.
Old MacDonald, open late,
it's a sin to m*********.
Steel and wood, an edifice.
Hyland mountain, witness this
fearsome verticality
soaring outward, endlessly.
Hobo sittin' on the railroad tracks,
Hobo eatin' from a flour sack.
Come here Mr. Hobo and hear what I say:
You're gonna be marryin' my daughter today.
(Quickly realized that I had a pretty painful shoulder strain, it got a little better though)
Shot in shoulder, holy shit
One hour later, over it.
Zombie hikers don't say "hi",
Getting out, but dead inside.
What does it do? Where does it go?
What kind of magic does it grow?
A trailside lamp? A luminaire?
A Hyland Hills electric chair?
Californians walk astride
The steadily encroaching tide
While vagabonds all turn their cheeks
To take it on the other side
Sand will make a decent bed
For those with heart and heavy head
The sea has something yet to teach
These sun-crazed dwellers of the beach
Round and round, and rise and fall
Up hills and mountains short and tall.
Endless outdoor carousel,
Insane, absurdist circus hell.
I'm out on a stroll, let's see how far I can go!
Oh dear Lord, there's a disk in the air,
I hope it doesn't hit me, I should've been more aware.
Now the frolfers are mad and I'm runnin' away,
I want to run over there but I'm a little afraid.
Oh I'm out on a stroll!
Laufen schnell gefällt mir so.
Es macht mich fit, es macht mich froh.
Laufen macht mein Herz schnell schlagen,
Und mich warum ich laufe fragen.
(English translation)
I love running fast like this.
It keeps me fit, it makes me happy.
Running makes my heart beat fast,
And makes me ask myself why I run.
Elected congresswoman was
All for the washing of the spuds.
Her conscience was depicted hence:
An outstretched arm, protuberance.
(Pro-tuber-rinse, get it?)
When farm is the course,
Spectator: Horse.
A chorus of geese in the grass by the path and they're roaring.
While me and my Toms put on miles single file like it's boring.
[Call me Dr. Doolittle]
Rub a dub dub, Turkey running club.
In celebration of Burns night 2026, the Tardy Explorers gathered and shared:
Ode to the Turkey
Curled at the foot of an ancient oak
On the slope of a wooded hill,
I wait.
For hours, I scan the edges of the trees,
Stare through the narrow tunnels of foliage into the farm field beyond
Until the layers of forest transform into strange shapes and my eyes grow tired.
Bird songs and gentle wind,
The occasional creak of a limb,
The dull, distant roar of the highway
All coax me into a pleasant daze.
A low, rhythmic thrum steps forward
To distinguish itself from
The general noise of the woods.
My uncle taught me how they will beat their wings
Like war drums, so I clumsily pinch off
A few yelps from my Quaker Boy.
The woods erupt behind me.
A resounding volley of guttural language
Peals around the trunks and off the valley walls,
Then silence returns.
Naive visions of how my adversary would emerge,
Clumsily and obviously,
At the end of the deer trail between my 10 and 12 O’clock
Swept away by the blunt realization
That I am being flanked.
A second staccato burst announces
That he is advancing
(hurdling branches, juking, rabid),
While I fall over myself moving my back
To the other side of this damn tree.
I wrack my panicked brain to remember the mechanics of
Chamberlain’s heroic wheel maneuver
At Little Round Top.
A flash of crimson through the brush
Sixty yards away,
So far to the right that my optic nerve is on the verge
Of snapping.
My heart, pounding, seems to have climbed into my throat.
My weapon feels inadequate
And unsteady in my arms.
Never have I felt more acutely observed
Than in the presence of this great beast.
A moment or an age passes
As I slouch here, shaking,
But the next outburst comes from far away,
The voice of my foe blending with the county road
As it wanders off to pursue
More interesting machinery.
The wind floats down the valley,
The electric adrenaline buzz fades away,
And leaves in its place
A shell of a man.
What hubris draws me into these woods
In pursuit of a god?
Ode to a Pissknife
Oh Mighty Pissknife, you glorious blade
you lay the freedom for the glade.
When nature calls, fury and fast
it’s you, that saves the day at last!
Held high, ye part the crowded way,
a biffy bound hero, bold and fey.
No crown nor sceptre has made more life,
than you; you bonny, bonny piss knife!
On the Carrot
The blooms of white
brought forth by spring
Beneath, a hearty taproot
Lacy and bright
with orange below;
Parsley’s massive offshoot.
Mighty carrot
colored by royals
on vegetables veranda.
Eat for better
optics spoils,
as said in propaganda.
Twa bunnies in the yard
(Chorus) Twa bunnies in the yard,
Twa bunnies in the yard,
Watching saunas heat and people’s feet,
Twa bunnies in the yard.
In the spring they came and made their home
Twa bunnies in the yard,
The yard with saunas big and warm,
Twa bunnies in the yard.
Good Peter, he watched over them,
Twa bunnies in the yard
In the mornings bright they’d talk to him
Twa bunnies in the yard.
When Summer did come, the bunnies they grew,
Twa bunnies in the yard
Eating boulevard grass and flowers few,
Twa bunnies in the yard
Watching steam rise from the saunas stoves
Twa bunnies in the yard
Funny people round with ner’ any clothes
Twa bunnies in the yard
Now winters here, it’s dark and cold
Twa bunnies in the yard
The snow is deep and the wind is bold,
Twa bunnies in the yard
The bunnies, in their warren dream
Twa bunnies in the yard
O’ the sweetest spring and summer’s green
Twa bunnies in the yard
A couple moose wandered through Beryl Creek last summer.
Back in 2023 a hummingbird set up a nest on our friends houseboat.
The nest was a little bigger than a golf ball
After many years of dabbling and dreaming, I finally set sail again. This August and September Dame Dooms and her executive assistant joined me on the wild waters of Bde Mka Ska for a few ventures. After earning my basic sailing qualification with the Mpls Sailing Center we were allowed out on the water, free to run, reach, tack and gybe.
Memory of the sound and feel of a boat under sail came back in a rush when I joined Dame Dooms for a group sail in early August. I just had to have more, it was an addiction I’ve had since I was about 8 and my neighbor invited me along with his family to sail on Lake Waconia. Through the years I was lucky enough to get some instruction and experience on a few different boats, but its been a while.
In true Tardy Explorer style, we are definitely not the first or last to get a taste for sailing. to Be continued…
During an unseasonably cool start to September, my home’s thermostat read 60 degrees. Being morally and fiscally unwilling to turn the furnace on at such an early date, I darted from room to room gathering bits of warmth in an attempt to distract from the bracing cold. My wool knits prematurely ended their hibernation, but layering wasn’t enough to keep from shivering during zoom meetings. It was then I remembered a bag of loose tea shoved towards the back of my cupboard.
Fisherman’s Blend, a mahogany black tea from our local shop Tea Source, offered the feeling of a thick wool sweater but for the insides. I chose my favorite mug, chipped but reassuring, to take the chill off. Opening the bag I was met with the fragrance of damp woodfire smoke. “No milk needed for this brew”, I thought. A kettle whistle and deep inhale later, I was gazing through ice-crusted windows on a high up lighthouse, waves crashing against a grey North Shore below. The first sip, gently thawing. A mugful, the corporal fortification needed to brace against the chill of morning. I was ready to head into the gales of November, when I remembered its only just September…and my team is waiting for me to start the zoom call.
Todays review – Classic Ice Blue Aqua Velva aftershave.
Having not shaved much for many years, the skin under my beard is not very pleased when it gets scraped clean. According to the bottle, Ice Blue Aqua Velva has been around since 1917. When I first opened it, the scent is recognizable immediately, bringing back memories of my grandfather and others of his generation. Like the bottle states – it smells clean and fresh I would also add it has a tinge of alcohol and for lack of any better description the scent matches the bright blue color.
It had a bit of sting when slapped on my unhappy skin but quickly cooled and felt like it was soaking in. The tag line says it Firms and Tones, and I’d say my skin feels pretty firm, soft and smooth after a few minutes with this on. The scent lingers and I heard from one outside observer that it’s a little strong so ventilation and an after rinse might be necessary.
All in all, a very pleasant feel and skin soother after shaving.
What is the best time to visit the arctic areas around Beechey Island and King William Island without getting stopped by Sea Ice? Sea Ice coverage in those areas varies pretty widely over the course of the year. Maps of Sea Ice coverage over the last 40+years can be found through the excellent Sea Ice Analysis Tool at the National Snow and Ice Data Center (https://nsidc.org/sea-ice-today/sea-ice-tools/sea-ice-analysis-tool). Digging in a little, It looks like the best times for the least sea ice coverage in that area is historically August and September so I created some animations showing the sea ice coverage during those two months by year.
My unbiased review of Lectric Pre-Shave by Williams
As I gazed at the handsome bottle, eyeing the bright green color(which reminded me of Prestone Antifreeze). I slowly turned the cap off, and inhaled lightly. The scent was light, and pleasing. It was reminiscent of an old timey barbershop, or a high school locker room from the 70’s-80’s.
I splashed some of the green liquid into my hands and liberally applied the liquid onto my bearded face. I waited 15 seconds and fired up my electric razor.
I was amazed how the razor glided over my stubble, like a hot knife cutting through a Dairy Queen cake.
When I was finished raking my face, my pores felt lively and tight. The pleasing sensation is still with me, although the aroma dissipated quite quickly.
Although, Lectric Shave will probably never be considered a bespoke product, I found it quite enjoyable and pleasant!