Making the fishing trip list ~ May 20, 1993

David Heiller

The list has been started, in my head at least. Jack-knife, binoculars, good book. Essential things for a five-day fishing trip.

The Socks

Matches, candle, plenty of socks. About four years ago, it rained so much that all my socks got wet. Cold feet. I was miserable. It was even worse when I had to watch the other three guys wearing warm socks and smug smiles.

That was the trip I snuck a rock into Paul’s pack, which more than made up for my physical discomfort. He still promises to get me back. I wonder if he will this year?

I wonder at things like that these days. My thoughts are drifting like a canoe toward our fishing trip, drifting like that canoe Dave forgot to pull onto a portage last year. It floated across the bay like a silver phantom, and Dave had to retrieve it using MY canoe. I’ve got pictures to prove it. I guess I had a smile that time.

Maps, compass, flashlight. I’ll be working in the garden, and I’ll feel the wind coming from the northwest, and I’ll wonder how that wind will feel on Cherokee Lake, how it will affect the fishing.

The Paddles.

On a sunny day, I’ll hope it’s like that up north. I can almost see that blue water and blue, blue sky. On a rainy day, I’ll hope we see that weather too, a little at least, just to see the rich green moss on the rocks, just to appreciate the sun that much more.

I wonder how many sleeping bags Jim will bring. He used to bring one, but got so cold one year that now he brings two. Will he go for three this year? He’ll take some teasing on it.

How will Paul fare as the only smoker? He won’t have Dave to bum them from any more, since Dave kicked the habit. I think about things like that these days.

The other guys do too. Dave called two weeks ago and asked in a worried voice if I had my fishing gear ready for the trip. I laughed and said, “Are you kidding?” He said, “Me neither,” in a relieved voice. We both will get it ready a few days before, at the most.

Fishing license, life jacket, Msukanis paddle. My fishing gear will include a red and white spoon with two red eyes that Dave gave me for Christmas last year. Dave’s will include a new rod, after he broke his last year on a 20 pound slab of granite.

Our family starts thinking about the trip too. Cindy has her own list of all the things I need to do before I go. De-tick and shampoo the dog. Get wood chips. Fill the wood box. Mow the lawn. Sheetrock the porch.

The Goodbyes.

Same with the kids. Malika came out to the garden on Saturday evening in her nightgown. She said she wanted to say goodbye. I said it was only Saturday. “We’ll only have a chance to see you three more times, Sunday, Monday morning, and Tuesday morning,” she said.

I smiled. It’s not like I’m going off to war or anything. But I didn’t say that, and we hugged in honor of her love and her dramatic train of thought.

The next morning she put it into seven-year-old perspective: “Bring me back something,” she reminded me.

Noah asked that I bring home some fish for him. I said that I would try. Maybe that Red Eye spoon will catch another eight-pound lake trout, like that one I caught four years ago. I could show you pictures, but Jim’s camera wasn’t advancing the film. I’ve got to remind him of that.

Oh yeah, don’t forget the camera.

Just watch out for creeping Charlie ~ May 30, 1996

David Heiller

One of the nice things about gardening is giving plants away and receiving plants in return. A friend, “Cynthia,” came over for supper a couple weeks ago. Before she came, she asked if we would like some physostegia. I think that’s how you spell it. Like most flowers, it also has a common name, “sensitive plant.”

I thought it was mighty sensitive of Cynthia to ask, so I said yes. Never turn down a free plant, unless it’s creeping Charlie. More about that later.

“Do you have any catnip?” I asked. Yes, this sensitive person replied, and she brought some of that along too. Both of them are growing in our garden now.

After she left, I was mad at myself because I didn’t send any plants home with her. I meant to. But I will. Guys can be sensitive too. Another friend, whom I will call “Liz,” dropped off her daughter to stay with our daughter on Sunday. We sent Liz packing with some foxglove and hollyhocks. And the next day, when she came to pick up her daughter, Liz had some phlox for us. We found a choice spot for it right away.

I brought another friend, named “Sue,” some Sweet William a few weeks ago. She thanked me sincerely. She’d had a hard day, she said, and a plant was just what she needed. Then Sue called on Sunday and said she had some extra asparagus for us, and if we stopped to get it, could we bring a bleeding heart and a few hollyhocks?

David is partially responsible for 75% of all hollyhocks growing
 in northern Pine County! He loved giving them to people.
 This photo was taken by Cindy Mae Swee.

No problem. I dug them up and we dropped them off, and the next day, Sue called again and asked if we could use any potatoes. Yes. Never turn down free potatoes. Now creeping Charlie on the other hand...

I could go on. Maybe you’ve got similar stories. If you do, you know that it is just plain fun to give and receive plants. Giving something you’ve grown, something that’s alive, is like giving a part of yourself.

And contrary to that old cliché, ‘tis even better to receive than give. When the plants grow and flower, or are harvested, they remind you of that person.

I was interviewing Erv Prachar of Willow River for our Spring Home and Garden Edition about a month ago. He’s got a fantastic garden. I noticed some peonies in his yard, and mentioned that I liked peonies. “Yeah, my sister, Albina gave them to me. They come from the home place,” Erv said in that loud voice of his.

Albina Sostak is a great flower giver, and she gave me some peonies last fall, which are doing well. I told Erv that. “Hey, we’re related,” I and that made us both laugh.

Think about it. Our gardens must make Peyton Place look like a nursing home. There are probably first cousins marrying each other right before our eyes, and we don’t even know it. Maybe that’s why we plant them in flower beds.

Creeping Charlie looms large... yikes...

As for that creeping Charlie, I have a whole yard full of it. And it all started from a slip plant that a “friend,” whose name is “Chauncey” (I’m not making that one up either gave me back in 1981 when we were selling insurance together. He gave it to me at a sales meeting, and said I was as persistent as creeping Charlie, and I took that as a compliment, and planted it, and now it’s proving a lot more persistent than I’ll ever be. It’s the zebra mussel of the plant world. Nothing can stop it from spreading.

My wife, whom I’ll call “Cindy”, still reminds me about it every time she pulls creeping Charlie from the flower garden in the front yard.

So give some plants away. You’ll feel and you’ll get a few in return. Unless you give creeping Charlie.