Bosca Dubh

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
Lake Isle of Innisfree, William Butler Yeats

Another from the Heart of the Beast puppet theater’s May Day parade at Powderhorn Park.

University Avenue, Northeast Minneapolis.

Named as a Tuesday’s Photos Favorite for the “Signs” theme! Huzzah!

I found this lovely couple sitting on a snow-covered chair after Round 2 of the winter storm two weeks ago. They were still there, at the corner of Grand and 38th Street in Minneapolis, the next day. We were made of sterner stuff in those days I suppose.

The Million Writers Notable Stories have been announced by storySouth! My story Self Defense, published in Pindeldyboz, made the list, as did many fabulous stories from around the web. Set aside some time to sample the stories on the list; you won’t be disappointed.

The Top 10 will be posted on April 1.

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.

Not really ectoplasm–this is dry ice vapor being swirled into a simulated tornado at the Science Museum of Minnesota in St. Paul.

Don’t forget–the 2006 Million Writers Award have opened for nominations. Start thinking about the stories published on-line in 2005 that deserve the nod! (If you’ve got one you’d like to spotlight, let me know through a comment or e-mail). The process this year is exceptionally open–you can see all the stories that have been nominated, and by whom, making it a great directory of the best short fiction published on the web.

Taken on Minnehaha Creek.

Don’t forget–the 2006 Million Writers Award starts taking nominations on February 15. Start thinking about the stories published on-line in 2005 that deserve the nod! (If you’ve got one you’d like to spotlight, let me know through a comment or e-mail).

It looks like we got a couple inches of snow overnight; when we went skating last night, there was enough snow on the ice that it was hard to find the puck and we had to improvise a Zamboni with a shovel by the rink. At last, winter returns…

Through October 31, 2010: Buy a print of this photograph at Etsy and all proceeds will go to UNICEF

Washburn Water Tower, Minneapolis–my favorite Twin Cities landmark, hidden away on a hill in Tangletown.

Named a Moody Monday “melancholic” favorite–yowza!