News From Down The Lane

The happy news from down the lane is that winter has at long last begun to loosen its grip on our small part of the world.

We had quite a snow storm last Friday.  It left us eight inches of heavy, wet snow on top of the winter's record accumulation.  As usually happens, we drove through most of it, white-out conditions and slippery roads reducing our usual 70 mph pace to a frustratingly slow 35 mph, and less when the bald-tire support group placed one of its members directly in front of our car.

But then Saturday dawned sunny, clear and warm (if 45 degrees can be called warm).  The day stayed clear and the snow began to melt.  It was a day meant for being outside and happy.  Azure skies, clear, sweet air, and enveloping sunshine.

We went for a drive, sunroof open, radio playing bluegrass music.  With no particular direction in mind, we just drove.  Soon enough we spotted hand made signs directing us to Maple Syrup Fest up in Phelps.  We followed the signs.

Maple Syrup Fest was held at the local school.  The only school in town, in fact, because when your population is 1,350 one building is all that's needed for grades K through 12.

The cafeteria was filled with vendor tables.  It was all local people selling maple syrup making equipment, cookies, toffee, blankets and quilts, pottery, log furniture, spice mixes, hand made sweaters from wool grown on the knitter's farm, coffee, and so forth.  A local maple syrup producer was demonstrating how syrup is made and graded.  Kids were making maple candy.  Lunch was available. The Fest was small and lovely.  Everyone seemed to know everyone else.

The school was open so we took a walk through.  The main hall has framed photos of every graduating class, from 1939 through 2013.  The class of 1939 had eight graduates; the class of 2013 had eleven. The graduating classes in between all had between six and twelve graduates.  Phalps has always been a small town.

The early graduating classes had photographs of serious looking young men and women.  The men all wore nicely tailored suits, vests, white shirts and neckties.  The women all wore lovely proper dresses, modest and fitted.  The men all had pretty much the same haircut, likely because there was one barber in town.  The women all had shoulder length, highly curled hair.  Then in the middle 1950s, the photographs began to change, probably about the same time that television became available in Phelps. Some of the men had slicked down hair, with a strand hung down the forehead, suits with no ties, and colorful shirts.  Some of the women had more contemporary hair styles, and wore sweaters and felt skirts.  Saddle shoes appeared on a few feet.


Styles in the photographs changed again in the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s and every decade up to the present, when some young men wore camo tee shirts and beards in their photographs, and the young women wore contemporary fashions, skin exposed, a few tattoos showing.  Television back then, and the internet now, have spread a common culture into the deepest regions of the north woods.

The school in Phelps is quite remarkable.  It's small enrollment makes it like what you would imgaine a private school to be like - small class size, every student has a laptop computer, there is much group work, younger kids are helped by older kids, teachers teach multiple subjects.  Nearly everyone lives withing walking distance of school.  The gyms are open Saturdays for kids and families to play, as is the workout room and sometimes the library.

Nestled in the Nicolet National Forest, the Phelps School District offers a wide variety of learning opportunities to its students. Phelps is a true 1:1 school, providing a laptop computer to every teacher and 6th - 12th grade student and an iPad to every 4K– 5th grade student.

Committed to building a 21st Century Learning environment, technology is integrated throughout the curriculum and the building including SmartBoards in every classroom and wireless Internet access. For four years, Phelps School has been awarded the US News and World Report Bronze Award for top high schools in the nation and has been designated a New Wisconsin School of Recognition seven times between 2003 and 2011 by the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction.

Phelps is a vibrant community deeply committed to its school. In return, the School is open to the community for varied uses, which include the fitness center, computer lab, wood and metal shops and gyms. The School Commons is the frequent site for many community meetings and events, and the in-house day care center, open from 6:45 AM to 5:15 PM, provides top-notch care for young children in the community.

Phelps sends an unusually high percentage of its graduates to military academies, colleges, universities and technical colleges.  Every graduate, in fact, goes on to some form of higher education.  Our local newspaper publishes wedding photos of young people, a surprising number of whom have graduated from medical school, graduate schools, engineering programs, and so on.  Good job, Phelps.

The time spent at Maple Syrup Fest started me thinking about how people live, and why they choose to live in small towns.  In this instance, Phelps is in a beautiful area, surrounded bu lakes and woods, away from the problems of urban and suburban life.  Kids play in the woods from the time they can walk unaided.  Hunting and fishing are family activities, as are church, swimming, skiing, snowmobiling, ATV riding, and so on.  Everyone knows everyone else's children.  It's a paradise to be comtemplated.

Back home, I went out for a walk.  Bumped into George, the neighbor who is a fishing guide.  George told me that ice fishing was still strong and that bluegill activity has been decent, expecially in weedy areas on larger lakes.  Waxworms are the best bait.  Perch action is improving as the fish are nearing their annual spawning period.  The perch are moving into warmer waters for spawning; wigglers and waxies are the best bait.  Crappies are still hanging around in the deeper water, sometimes near the bottom, sometimes right under the ice.  Minnows on tip-ups are the best bait.  George is an encyclopedia of fishing, but he usually forgets his wife's birthday and their anniversary.

It was quiet, walking down the lane and back.  No cars, trucks, or other mechanical noises. Snowmobiling season has ended.  The only sounds were my own breathing, the schlop schlop schlop sound of my boots walking through slush, the cawing of crows, and the staccato knocking of pileated woodpeckers.   It was a good two hours of quiet thinking, spent in clear, cool air, in loving, restorative sunshine.

I walked along thinking about what I didn't need with me - cell phones, internet, television, anger, conflict, arguements with anonymous people in other parts of the country and world.  We get so tied up with these things that being without them on a walk in the woods seems like a special occasion.  Lesson learned.

I'll head back home later this week, back to the city where a list of tasks and activities and obligations and meetings waits for me.  Until then, I'll revel in the peace and tranquility of this small part of the woods.