I saw three Canada geese flying north over Digi-Key this morning. Declaration: I miss diving into complex fiction. I miss the words of Momaday: Dypaloh. There was a house made of dawn. It was made of pollen and of rain, and the land was very old and everlasting. There were many colors on the hills, […]Read more "Three Geese"
Weather-wise this past week ended on a high note. Friday’s afternoon temperatures stretched upwards to forty-five degrees under sunny skies. The weather promising to extend into the weekend, I woke early on Saturday morning. Lunch packed, my husband and I were soon on route to the Fertile Sands Hills anxious to experience what the day […]Read more "Forever Changed"
The sun shone brilliantly off the snow this afternoon. Ice crystals glittered like multi-faceted diamonds – just in time for Valentine’s Day. Come Tuesday, February 14th, lovers can escort their sweethearts outdoors and offer diamonds too numerous to count. Unlimited diamonds. Diamonds galore. Gifts to carry forward in one’s mind and imagination for years to […]Read more "Anticipation"
It’s been a topsy-turvy week weather-wise. The temperature dropped from twenty-seven degrees on Tuesday morning to negative nine on Wednesday. I woke Thursday to negative eight degrees below zero with a discouraging wind chill of negative twenty-four. Today is Saturday. At 8:00 this morning the temperature was fourteen degrees, the day was overcast, and some type of […]Read more "Time Evaporates"
There is a tree half-standing in the north woodlot, a cottonwood, long dead. My husband remembers the summer day he heard it fall. Today what remains of the cottonwood’s splintered top-half angles toward the ground like the bent tip of a wizard’s hat. Indeed, I think there’s something Tolkien about the tree, the way […]Read more "Tolkien Cottonwoods"
This is a winter story. When I was young and trudging through the northern-Illinois snow, feet frozen in inadequate galoshes, my mittened fingers cold to the bone, I resolved that when I grew up, I would have warm winter boots to insulate my feet and mittens so thick I could stay outdoors for hours. I remember being […]Read more "A Winter Story"
January in northwestern Minnesota is cold. Fields lay beneath snowscapes of sculpted drifts, sometimes windblown in peaked escarpments, sometimes divoted as if by choppy waters, sometimes rippled in gentle waves. Ditches so deep that in spring they might serve as transport canals are in January filled with snow and flush with roads. This week’s blizzard […]Read more "Frozen Landscapes"