In the lobby of Sassy Lu, the best little hair salon in Minneapolis.

We don’t see much of each other in the winter here; like bears and woodchucks, we snuggle down in our burrows and emerge in the spring, blinking and staggering, surprised to notice that we have neighbors (and that our neighbors are as pasty pale as we are, and have put on some fleshy pounds as well during the dark months).

Except when there’s a good snow storm.

If the Star Tribune article about the melting of Minnesota is true, losing winter would be quite a loss indeed. Snow storms create a sort of camaraderie that’s special to these northern parts; when we grumble about traffic in the summer, it just sounds like whining, but in the winter we all want to hear and tell our bold tales of intrepid commuting. And if everyone is late for work, then no one is late for work. People are a little more courteous on the roads and ready to pitch in to roll cars out of ditches and jump start old batteries. Snow is the great leveler; we’re all in it together.

Losing the snow would let Minnesotans drift deep into their burrows and fall into the sleepy smugness that would be our lot without the shared adventure of a blizzard.

Noted in the Tuesday Challenge “Trees” category.
Noted in the Shutterday.com The Best category.

This is from last summer’s camping trip to Duluth; I was up bright and early with a tripod and a camera to catch the sunrise (not that I could sleep anyway with two four-year-olds crowding me in the tent).

I’ve featured these fish before, as captured by the Holga and on color film cross-processed in Diafine; here they are in color.

Nominations are now closed for the storySouth Million Writers Award; a huge thanks to everyone who participated this year. Now the waiting starts: the list of notable stories will be announced on March 15. Last year, my story “Sunshine Over Helsinki” was on the notables list, which was quite a thrill indeed.

I’ve put a little calendar project up on Lulu, a company I used for the boys’ Christmas gift to Granddad and Great Grammie & Great Grampie. It’s $24.95 right now, but I’ll be reducing the price as the months pass. Get yourself a copy–it makes a unique after-Christmas gift to yourself, and usefully lets you keep track of your life while looking at a few vintage camera pictures (Spotmatic, Argus, FED3, Lubitel, and Holga snaps are featured).

Yesterday I did some damage to my driving karma. We went to Ikea for lunch (o glorious meatballs…), then promised the boys a visit to Legoland. Unfortunately, everyone else in Minnesota and Iowa decided that yesterday was a good day to visit the Megamall, and the parking ramps were chock full o’ cars.

While making my way across two lanes of incoming and outgoing traffic to troll the lot for a space, I was preparing the “Minnesota wave” for a little gray car that I thought was going to let me through. But when that same little gray car casually rolled, very slowly, across my path, my “Minnesota wave” turned into a one-finger salute directed at the two girls in the car.

I don’t normally make obscene gestures when driving. In fact, I’m usually a pretty calm and considerate driver, I think–I’m never going anyplace urgently enough that I feel the need to cut someone off, and I’m a big fan of keeping the crazy drivers in front of me and as far away as possible. So I really did feel bad about the finger, and was sure that the gods of parking would frown upon me. Luckily, I found a spot, and though my attitude toward humanity didn’t become any more charitable in the crowds, I vowed to repair the damage.

The chance came last night when Kelly came back from her walk. She had met a young man on 36th Street with a Saturn that wouldn’t start. She felt uncomfortable going back in the dark, so I took the Jeep and my jumper cables out into the slush. The young man was nice, unaccustomed to the jump-start process (inhale, positive to positive, negative to ground, exhale), and I was glad to get him rolling again. I advised him to drive around for a half or so to get the battery charged back up, and wished him a happy new year. I hope this puts a little mark in the positive column of my winter balance sheet–no doubt I’ll need a jump start myself in the coming months.

In unrelated news: I’ve put a little calendar project up on Lulu, a company I used for the boys’ Christmas gift to Granddad and Great Grammie & Great Grampie. It’s $24.95 right now, but I’ll be reducing the price as the months pass. Get yourself a copy–it makes a unique after-Christmas gift to yourself, and usefully lets you keep track of your life while looking at a few vintage camera pictures (Spotmatic, Argus, FED3, Lubitel, and Holga snaps are featured).

Lakewood Cemetery, October 26, 2005.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o life shall run.
- Robert Burns, “O, My Luve is Like a Red Red Rose.”

Featured on the Daily Dickinson site.

I get not-infrequent visitors to this page who appear to be searching for the poem from which I took the title. So as to be helpful, I’ll suggest that you go here for the full text, and here for more about Robert (“Rabbie”) Burns; and if this taste of Lallans Scots poetry whets your appetite, might I also suggest:

• Robert Tannahill, a contemporary of Burns
• Capernaum a poem published in 1930 by Lewis Spence

(a bit of an Atlantis nut when not writing poetry)

• Scots-Online, Pittin the Mither Tongue on the Wab

Another summer memory: Jack at Portland Head Light. It’s not quite the Wyeth painting (Wyeth was a friend of my mother’s family–more on that someday), but Jack’s pose reminded me of Christina Olsen a bit.

Yesterday our neighbor Dave, Erin’s husband, came over to help with my storm window project. Two of the windows went in last weekend without a hitch, but two more turned out to be 1/4″ or so too wide. Damn old houses and their characteristically inconsistent measurements. But Dave is a carpenter by trade, and in no time those windows were in place and ready to calk. I’m such a pathetic handyman.

Three things for which I’m thankful:

1. Good neighbors with useful skills
2. Choo Choo Bob’s Train Store, 2050 Marshall Avenue, St. Paul–Santa does all his shopping there
3. “Easy” to assemble gingerbread house kits

Be sure to check out the current issue of JMWW!

A happy accident from the Holga; I think this was actually a developing catastrophe–you can see the circles from the backing paper–but there’s something magical about its imperfection.