Vacation, Day 2: Maple Hill

Monday morning was calm; there was not a ripple on the lake.

Absolute calm Monday morning

We had blueberry pancakes with peaches and bacon for breakfast.

Breakfast

I’d seen fireweed blooming on previous visits. It belongs in the mustard family, and I assumed from the long, slender pods that its seeds were small, round, and mustard like.

Fireweed blossoms and long seed pods

I was wrong. The seeds are tiny and wind dispersed by long plumes. Interestingly, this plant growing in front of our cabin was the only one that had matured to the point of dispersal, and we saw hundreds of fireweed plants along the roadsides.

Pods splitting to release wind-dispersed seeds

Close up of tiny seeds and large plumes

When we were at the Visitors Center in Grand Marais Saturday, we picked up a passport-sized brochure called Passport to the Past. It featured a number of historical locations that we had never visited. We started with a visit to Maple Hill, which was founded in 1891 by John and Peter Rindahl, immigrant brothers from Scandinavia. Maple Hill? In the land of birch and conifers?

The first surprise was that there were maples on Maple Hill. In fact, once I started looking for them, I saw maples everywhere.

We found the Maple Hill church, which seemed to still be in use. A Weber grill was outside the front door. It’s behind the tree in this picture.

Maple Hill church--the tree on the left hides a Weber grill next to the sidewalk

I walked around the adjacent cemetery, looking at gravestones. The Passport to the Past said that “memories of the early years were of hardship and near starvation.” If the soil in the cemetery was typical of the area, farming would have been a difficult pursuit. I wondered if they dug graves with a jackhammer. This grave, from last February, shows the rocky soil with not a single plant growing. A grave from 2017 was only sparsely covered with grass.

A grave from February has no plant growth on it

Whenever I walk through a cemetery, I wonder what stories are lying underground. M. Jane Burley had an interesting life. Her headstone suggests that she was a scientist, artist, and musician. “A chosen life well lived” for 96 years. An inspiration to us all.

This is the headstone of John Rindahl. I had more questions about this one than answers. If 1891 is in fact a birth date, he may have been the son of John Rindahl, founder of Maple Hill, which would mean that John Rindahl had a wife either when he came or soon after he arrived. Or maybe it is the grave of the original founder, and the first date is when he came to Maple Hill. If so, he was either crazy or just unfortunate to start a life in a new land at the beginning of winter.

Grave of John Rindahl

There are the markers of sadness and tragedy as well. The first graves in the Anderson plot were not the expected Grandmother and Grandfather, but Grandmother and Grandson. Grandmother may have been one of the first residents.

The graves of Grandmother and Grandson

Here’s another one for an infant who died in 1918, the same year as the Spanish flu pandemic.

Possible infant mortality from Spanish flu

I liked the loons on this stone.

Loons on the headstone

Did this young man die in combat? I’ll never know. “Forever smiling in our hearts.” SpongeBob in the Pattymobile is on the right, an unopened can of Bud Light is on the left. There’s a story there.

Veteran's grave decorated with Bud Light and SpongeBob

Whether this tree was planted or began as a seed, this little spruce growing in the stump of a dead tree is a reminder of the cycle of life.

Life from death--a spruce grows in the stump of a dead tree

After these reminders of our own mortality, we went to Sydney’s in Grand Marais for custard before returning to the cabin. As the saying goes---life is short; eat dessert first.

We had lemon chicken with garlic, green beans from my garden, and fried leftover baked potatoes for supper.

Lemon-garlic chicken, green beans, and fried potatoes