Bosca Dubh

trunk and snow

Now that we are all dead, no matter.
Snow recedes from the trees,
hulls of hemisphere where the trunks go in,
and we’ve come back to the den where we spent our
children’s lives playing games that were extinct
in foreign languages we’d forgotten how to speak.

Old People’s Holiday by Mary Kinzie

Now see these:

• cold from myphotosqure
• Ghost Ship from Jim Duggan
• Dawn, 5th March 2009 from Tristan Campbell

ready to launch

Mississippi River Gorge, south of Lake Street

Now see these:

• Slient Winter from Perspective Images
• Washington Hotel from Elaine
• another city behind us: a last post from paris from rion.nu

up the hill

Mississippi River Gorge, south of Lake Street.

Now see these:

• Mike Evans: 1943 from Shorpy
• untitled from rebecca
• expositions from incidence
• lakeshore cairns, 2009 from Under the Amber Moon
• Cub Scout Ceremony Opening from A Walk Through Durham County
• pondering from bighappyfunhouse

trudge

Mississippi River Gorge, south of Lake Street.

Now see these:

• Woodland dawn from absolutely nothing
• into the land of snow from Peter Izarik
• Munich Subway I from phototraveler.de
• Playing With Fire from Bit’s Photography

winter shadows 3

Mississippi River Gorge, south of Lake Street.

Now see these:

• seatac airport from Puja Parakh
• Predict the day from graciform
• Early morning from Sopheava de Lumiere
• 413 from Edmund Leveckis

winter fence

Mississippi River Gorge, south of East Lake Street.

Now see these:

• Array from Feldauge
• Machrihanish Bay from milou
• Snowstorm from Mirror the world

sled prep

If you haven’t got your sled ready, now might be a good time to do it.

Now see these:

• Dutch Gap: 1864 from Shorpy
• Untitled from Mystery Me
• La mal from Jonny Photography
• Set The Mood from marcus claesson

hill shadow 2

Mississippi River Gorge, south of Lake Street, Minneapolis

Now see these:

• Snowy Bridge (2009) from Andy Smith-Petersen
• A day at the beach from Aperture First
• Old New York Subway Car from taraville

shadow on the hill

Mississippi River Gorge, south of Lake Street, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• cologne cathedral from dying light
• Pajama Man, Beijing from SteveBarru
• Chair city from The Maggot
• Parc de Pointe aux Trembles, rue Notre-Dame from une jour_une photographie
• La main sur l’épaule from Jean-Benoît Maréchal
• 5th Ave.tourists and a local… from imagediary

goal

Longfellow Park, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Dry Stone Point of View from Black and White Dreaming
• 109 Earths from graciform
• Bearbeitet from visible-on

face off

Longfellow Park, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• walking the new neighborhood in record london snowfall from Rion.nu
• Tall grass from Richard Vanek
• Abundant Cattails from erik.photoblog
• Ferme de Núpsstaður from François-Noël MASSON

neighborhood rink

Longfellow Park, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Resistentzia from Regard croisé
• Porte from manuamador
• Kristina… from Tonya R. Smith
• just the basic amenities from darren green {takes photos}
• Low Light from morning life

goal keeper

Longfellow Park, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• antinegativ.ro from myphotosquare
• Frozen Treat from Wild.Life.Photography
• fine and dandy from Daedalus’ Photos

on ice

Longfellow Park, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Momanimal from Aperture First
• Teething Pony from …a view from the 6oh lens…
• Patterns from Willow Tree
• (114) from Marzia
• Snowscape from Lightseeker

Sledding at Cedar Avenue and Minnehaha Parkway.

Now see these:

• border whiteout from dying light
• she has recorded her dreams for thirtyodd years from Under the Amber Moon
• Oh Zakir! Chennai is waiting for you! from Traces

launch

Our favorite sledding hill, at Cedar Avenue and Minnehaha Parkway, features a mound of ice that’s perfect for launching your sled skyward.

Now see these:

• Jackson Lake, Grand Tetons, Wyoming from Perspective Images
• NYC Graphics from Elaine
• The Photographer from Memento Mori

big air

Our favorite sledding hill, at Cedar Avenue and Minnehaha Parkway, features a mound of ice that’s perfect for launching your sled skyward.

puck and stick

Longfellow Park rink, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Jumping Hay Bales in a Snowstorm from A Walk Through Durham Township
• vivian from bighappyfunhouse
• Polka Pola from Montmartre
• holding on from apparently nothing

How lovely and strange the gangly spines

What could you be thinking at this moment?
How lovely and strange the gangly spines
of trees against a thickening sky
as you drive from the library
humming off-key? Or are you smiling
at an idea met in a book
the way you smiled with your whole body
the first night we talked?

In Winter by Michael Ryan

Mississippi River Gorge, Minneapolis; Purma Special 127

Now see these:

• Winter Wonderland from Black and White Dreaming
• Solar Peek from graciform
• TR Bulger Inc, Michigan City from fourteen places to eat

where you will be at the end

And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

Lines for Winter by Mark Strand

Mississippi River Gorge, Minneapolis; Purma Special 127.

Now see these:

• untitled from Shallow Greys
• Jenn with a Sketchbook at the Michener Museum from A Walk Through Durham Township
• Carnaval from DONC JE SUIS
• Il neige rue Saint Vincent from Paris Cool

downhill

A photograph’s two dimensions just don’t do justice to the steepness of this hill; you need to be short and fearless to dare sledding down it.

Now see these:

• Time from Feldauge
• Believer from milou
• empty theater, shibuya from 1965 monochrome

rock face

Mississippi River gorge, Minneapolis.

winter ravine

Mississippi River gorge, Minneapolis.

tree lace

Mississippi River gorge, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Edinburgh Princes Street from dying light
• Fakes from graciform
• Uphill both ways from Sopheava de Lumiere
• cold from myphotosquare
• Winter Berry Tree from Jen’s Eye

John H. Stevens

John H. Stevens, Minnehaha Park, Minneapolis

Now see these:

• wishing you happy and merry! from Hanna Birke
• Time from Feldauge
• JR station, mitaka from 1965 monochrome
• Another row from Peter Mannfolk

home for Christmas

Stevens House, Minnehaha Park, Minneapolis

Now see these:

• Fishing from Perspective Images
• Hesitation from Elaine
• The Moravian Single Sisters’ House, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania from A Walk Through Durham Township

and gray falls from the air

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow.

Mark Strand, “Lines for Winter“

Now see these:

• white tree from Electrolite
• confession from bighappyfunhouse
• 20 minutes later from myphotosquare
• Toronto’s Yonge and Dundas in Snow Storm from daily dose of imagery

Gunnar Wennerberg

Statue of Gunnar Wennerberg, Swedish poet and composer, Minnehaha Park, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Frosted Hedgerow from Andy Smith-Petersen
• Lepidopolaroid, or whatever. from a view from the 6oh lens
• Zania in the corner from HELLO

snowy path

Minnehaha Park, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• top floor view from dying light
• 405 from Edmund Leveckis
• Umbrellas are for Wusses from Bald Spots

memorial bench

Memorial for Rachel Dow, along the West River Parkway, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• where is my way? from Memento Mori
• Heart from Helodie
• Winter Bloom from Viewing Life From Safety
• Fishing from Perspective Images

yellow ribbons

Memorial for Rachel Dow, along the West River Parkway, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Horse from milou
• Remember from Feldauge
• chess in the market from BOXMAN fotologue
• La fontaine et la roue from Gorgen
• The butcher from Errata
• X from justPictures

Once Sparkling

Memorial for Rachel Dow, along the West River Parkway, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Dog Walker from A Elaine
• untitled from Under the Amber Moon
• Better Watch Out: 1921 from Shorpy
• The New Frontier: 1960 from Shorpy
• Bottled Lights from *.empty
• Color change from Million Year Picnic

West River Road

Now see these:

• First Snowflakes from A Walk Through Durham Township
• high waves from Kristian Rasmussen
• Winter II from Scarabaeus Daily Photoblog
• Seul…? from Polydactyle
• hush from bluechameleon

snow fence

Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows

the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.

Snow Day by Billy Collins

We have, of course, seen this fence before, in autumn, at night; I suppose I’m playing elegant variations on the Dowling Garden theme.

It’s not enough to feel this

I feel my heart closing.
It’s not enough to feel this;
I have to try, at least,
to figure out why.

from “So” by Eliza Griswold

wrinkling roofs of snow

who cut the string
that sent the white sheets falling?
Nothing but the long
scissors of the sun
unwraps such thunder. Even
a modest A-frame

in a muffled instant sheds
its wrinkling roofs of snow:
black butterfly below.
As if to make
one more clean break above,
the sky—seconds ago

one continent of cloud—
follows the drift of Spring,
splits and refits like Ming
porcelain. The plate
tectonics alternate:
white and blue, blue and white.

Spring Thaw in South Hadley by Mary Jo Salter

I’m on auto pilot this week, while we visit the Grand Canyon; I’m sure that it will be Spring not just astronomically but meteorologically by the time we get back. Meanwhile, here’s a series from the Dowling Community Garden: it was past the vernal equinox, but that’s hardly a deterrent to Old Man Winter . . .

converting to its liquid state

may be nothing but water, yet
there’s a sacramental
joy in how, converting
to its liquid state,
it’s anything but gentle.
A crash from Abbey Chapel—

Spring Thaw in South Hadley by Mary Jo Salter

I’m on auto pilot this week, while we visit the Grand Canyon; I’m sure that it will be Spring not just astronomically but meteorologically by the time we get back. Meanwhile, here’s a series from the Dowling Community Garden: it was past the vernal equinox, but that’s hardly a deterrent to Old Man Winter . . .

underrunning everything

By noon, the ice as thin
as an eggshell veined to show
life seeping yellow,
one’s boots sink in
with a snap; the sap
underrunning everything

Spring Thaw in South Hadley by Mary Jo Salter

I’m on auto pilot this week, while we visit the Grand Canyon; I’m sure that it will be Spring not just astronomically but meteorologically by the time we get back. Meanwhile, here’s a series from the Dowling Community Garden: it was past the vernal equinox, but that’s hardly a deterrent to Old Man Winter . . .

the frozen moment

(in a manner reminiscent
of the insubstantial
finger of a sundial)
less to a point in space
than effectively to Time,
the frozen moment.

Spring Thaw in South Hadley by Mary Jo Salter

I’m on auto pilot this week, while we visit the Grand Canyon; I’m sure that it will be Spring not just astronomically but meteorologically by the time we get back. Meanwhile, here’s a series from the Dowling Community Garden: it was past the vernal equinox, but that’s hardly a deterrent to Old Man Winter . . .

gloved in crystal

not merely in these pine
needles by the fistful
gloved in crystal, but,
from their boughs, the self-
invented digits of
icicles addressed

Spring Thaw in South Hadley by Mary Jo Salter

I’m on auto pilot this week, while we visit the Grand Canyon; I’m sure that it will be Spring not just astronomically but meteorologically by the time we get back. Meanwhile, here’s a series from the Dowling Community Garden: it was past the vernal equinox, but that’s hardly a deterrent to Old Man Winter . . .

curatorial Winter

Old snows locked under glass
by last night’s ice storm left
curatorial Winter, in
whose hands alone we’d hope
to find the keys,
jangling them in the trees—.

Spring Thaw in South Hadley by Mary Jo Salter

I’m on auto pilot this week, while we visit the Grand Canyon; I’m sure that it will be Spring not just astronomically but meteorologically by the time we get back. Meanwhile, here’s a series from the Dowling Community Garden: it was past the vernal equinox, but that’s hardly a deterrent to Old Man Winter . . .

knight and eagle

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

knight and fence 2

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

knight and fence

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

Now see these:

• Balcony (Santiago de Cuba) from MAKING HAPPY
• Transportation from bighappyfunhouse
• Charlando from Mil historias y un atardecer
• Disarray from born to raise blog
• No Title from Louis Mallet

watching

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

My visit was during the last (I hope . . .) snowfall of the season; I caught a glimpse of airplanes descending over the tower through the clouds, and waited in the snow for more to come; but, alas, the sky was too low–I could hear the engines rumbling, but I couldn’t see the planes.

waiting

They say it is waiting for more, the snow
Shrunk up to the shadow-line of walls
In an arctic smouldering, an unclean salt,
And will not go until the frost returns
Sharpening the stars, and the fresh snow falls
Piling its drifts in scallops, furls. I say
Snow has left its own white geometry
To measure out for the eye the way
The land may lie where a too cursory reading
Discovers only dip and incline leading
To incline, dip, and misses the fortuitous
Full variety a hillside spreads for us

Snow Signs by Charles Tomlinson

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

tower dreams

I wonder how many old men last winter
Hungry and frightened by namelessness prowled
The Mississippi shore
Lashed blind by the wind, dreaming
Of suicide in the river.
The police remove their cadavers by daybreak
And turn them in somewhere.
Where?
How does the city keep lists of its fathers
Who have no names?
By Nicollet Island I gaze down at the dark water
So beautifully slow.
And I wish my brothers good luck
And a warm grave.

The Minneapolis Poem by James Wright

Oh, how the winter does linger this year . . .

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

flight path

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

Now see these:

• Hugs! from Aperture First
• order counter from electrolite
• Style from bighappyfunhouse

tower in winter

Washburn Water Tower, Tangletown neighborhood, Minneapolis, MN.

snow and tires

East Lake Street, Minneapolis

The 2008 Million Writers Award, Jason Sanford’s Internet answer to the O. Henry Prize and suchlike, is open for nominations. Look at the rules, check out the previous years’ winners, and find something good to nominate; nominations close March 31.

Now see these:

• The Forest from Aperture First
• Kilt from MONTMARTRE
• Gimme Some Tongue from a view from the 6oh lens

tube

Snow-tubing at Winter Camp.

The 2008 Million Writers Award, Jason Sanford’s Internet answer to the O. Henry Prize and suchlike, is open for nominations. Look at the rules, check out the previous years’ winners, and find something good to nominate; nominations close March 31.

staging area

Snow-tubing at Winter Camp.

The 2008 Million Writers Award, Jason Sanford’s Internet answer to the O. Henry Prize and suchlike, is open for nominations. Look at the rules, check out the previous years’ winners, and find something good to nominate; nominations close March 31.

Now see these:

• untitled from in absentia
• Touch of red from Sopheava de Lumiere
• Spring Hill, Between Rainstorms from A Walk Through Durham Township
• untitled from echo

downhill speed 2

Snow-tubing at Winter Camp.

The 2008 Million Writers Award, Jason Sanford’s Internet answer to the O. Henry Prize and suchlike, is open for nominations. Look at the rules, check out the previous years’ winners, and find something good to nominate; nominations close March 31.

Now see these:

• The Dark Ages from Feldauge
• Across the sound from milou
• monk smoking from BOXMAN

downhill speed

Snow-tubing at Winter Camp.

The 2008 Million Writers Award, Jason Sanford’s Internet answer to the O. Henry Prize and suchlike, is open for nominations. Look at the rules, check out the previous years’ winners, and find something good to nominate; nominations close March 31.

Now see these:

• Driver from Perspective Images
• Stars from Elaine
• Destination Far from Richard Vanek

Brackett Bench

It’s been so cold here lately that I’ve neglected the poor dog’s walking needs, and I’ve also neglected my old box cameras, so last weekend I gave both the mutt and the Sawyer’s Nomad a big outing through the neighborhood. Here’s a bench at Brackett Park, looking forlornly out at the ball field, waiting for spring.

Now see these:

• three trees, blubberhouses from Absolutely Nothing
• Schuylkill County Farm, 5:45 p.m. from A Walk Through Durham Township

late winter moon

glass house lights

Along the West River Road, in Minneapolis, are several modern houses of the stark and low style, quite a contrast with the bungalows of the ‘teens and ‘twenties that fill most of the neighborhood’s streets.

Now see these:

• Ceann Thulabhaig from milou
• view from the restroom, shibuya from 1965 monochrome

spent

Hot air balloons at Winter Camp, after a few trips aloft.

Now see these:

• Broken… from Elaine
• Wood and Water from Richard Vanek
• untitled (from parisian landscapes in the remains of the day) from Rion.nu
• Chastity Brown from Shutter Release

landing

Four pictures today (click the “Anticipation”, “Anticipation 2″, “Anticipation 3″ and “The Catch” links to switch from one to the next).

As much fun as launching our hot air balloons was (and it was a blast), catching them was the real attraction; the scouts scrambled after them and tried to stand under their uncertain downward trajectories as the hot air slowly cooled. That the balloons survived for more than one launch each is a little bit of a surprise–Cub Scouts aren’t exactly gentle with descending balloons…

Now see these:

• Fight for Freedom: 1943 from Shorpy
• central park stretch from the narrative

coming down

Hot air balloons at Winter Camp.

still aloft

Hot air balloons at Winter Camp.

Now see these:

• Flight of the Cosmos from MONTMARTRE
• Evil Knievil from View from the Tundra

along the silver sky

Hot air balloons at Winter Camp.

I note, with much delight, that Jason Sanford at storySouth expects to have the 2008 Million Writers Award gearing up in the next week. This is, for those of you who don’t know, a fabulous opportunity to find all of the great short fiction happening in the on-line world; though started in a bit of a pique (the big players–the O. Henry Awards and Year’s Best …–still tend to ignore the on-line space, even though so many university and independent journals have moved there with the increased cost of print publication), it has become a celebration of short fiction in its million and more shapes.

Now see these:

• untitled from in absentia
• Forgotten from graciform
• 375 from Edmund Leveckis

aloft 2

Hot air balloons at Winter Camp.

Now see these:

• Courage.. from duboaa.net
• A. looking down, K. looking sideways from (donc je suis)
• wigwams from Out of Contxt

aloft

Hot air balloons at Winter Camp.

Now see these:

• Cirrus from Feldauge
• lanterns from the 1965 monochrome
• monk with the umbrella from BOXMAN fotologue

liftoff

Launching the hot air balloons at Winter Camp.

Now see these:

• Parapluies de Paname from Elaine
• Fisherman Fisherman from the Hmmm.

balloon launch

Launching the hot air balloons at Winter Camp.

Now see these:

• Stop: 1943 from Shorpy
• lynn somnia from the narrative

Bivouac

Four pictures today (click the “Bivouac 1″, “Bivouac 2″, “Bivouac 3″ and “Bivouac 4″ links to switch from one to the next).

At our recent Cub Scout Winter Camp, the hardy Webelos slept out in this tent for two nights; we younger scouts slept on the cabin floor, though with the heating system that sounded like someone flinging ball berings into a pie tin I don’t know that we slept any better than the shivering gang in the tent.

Now see these:

• Blue by Wood | Stone
• memory drift by Ed Leveckis
• this flight tonight from Under the Amber Moon

LRT

Nicollet Mall Station, Minneapolis Light Rail.

Now see these:

• DIRTY NEW CONVERSE from MONTMARTRE
• Shackled! from View from the Tundra
• Oberly Farm from A Walk Through Durham Township

waiting

Midtown Station, Minneapolis Light Rail.

Now see these:

• untitled from in absentia
• Loppet from Wood | Stone

night pillars

The Saarinen (Eilel and Eero) Christ Church Lutheran church, Longfellow neighborhood.

snowfall

The Saarinen (Eilel and Eero) Christ Church Lutheran church, Longfellow neighborhood.

Now see these:

• Sortie from Elaine
• In case… from Richard Vanek

night cross 2

The Saarinen (Eilel and Eero) Christ Church Lutheran church, Longfellow neighborhood.

Now see these:

• How Things Work from Shorpy
• Birthday shades from HELLO

night cross

The Saarinen (Eilel and Eero) Christ Church Lutheran church, Longfellow neighborhood, on a recent chilly snowy night (the dog and I were on our way to retrieve the car after Kelly had retrieved her recently-repaired bicycle from The Hub).

Now see these:

• in between days from Absolutely Nothing
• niagara #4 from myphotosquare
• Kameralehti comp from strap photos

East Entrance

West River Road, Minneapolis.

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Birch trees from Feldauge
• A shadowy existence from milou
• prayer wheel from BOXMAN fotologue

42nd Avenue

West River Road, Minneapolis.

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis.

The “Lake Wobegon” Scam Artist?

An interesting e-mail came over the transom today:

It’s my pleasure to invite you to my Father’s 70th Birthday Thanks giving service which is going to take place at Geneva United Methodist Church Geneva, Minnesota,united States on May 30th 2008, please Let us know if your compnay will be available on that day to take the Photography service for us and any other necessary things at the event,And get back to us with your package for like 5 hours, presently am not in the state but it’s my duty to take care of this part that’s why, I have to contacted you myself. Let me know if you can receive your payment with a CHEQUE from my client in the states.

There are a few things that are tip-offs here that something’s not on the up-and-up: the payment by “CHEQUE” (not how it’s spelled in Geneva, MN …), the stilted English, the suggestion that I might be an event photographer (take a look at the blurry Holga pictures and strange night pictures, and tell me if you’d really want me anywhere near your father’s birthday “Thanks giving” party…). But I find this almost touching in its lack of ambition: no crown prince of Swaziland, no royal family of Ghana, no lottery winnings from Spain or Ireland, just some guy at the United Methodist church in a little town near Albert Lea. Have the scam artists given up on their dreams and decided to settle down in Lake Wobegon?

A similar trick is outlined here: Scams on Artists, mnartists.org. The trick usually involves a cashier’s check that turns out to be bad, though after you’ve deposited it into your account, and a portion of that bad check being sent back to the miscreant (I’ll pay you $4,000, you keep $950 and send me the change . . .). And since it plays on the dreams and aspirations of someone with an artistic bent, it’s particularly cruel and nasty. Over at Daily Dickinson I pointed out another scam artist put to shame, this time by Emily Dickinson, or someone rather like her. It’s this sort of stuff that sucks the fun right out of the Internet.

night flare

West River Road, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• uninvited guest from the narrative
• Weathered from Perspective Images
• The Candidate’s Toes from Unphotographable

light at the window, light at the door

West River Road, Minneapolis.

Now see these:

• Gate of the moon from Aperture First
• ARPEGGI from MONTMARTRE

court lights

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis.

air conditioner service

It’s cold here; like, “it will warm up to -1 degree Farenheit” cold; like, your breath doesn’t just fog, it freezes into ice crystals that shatter at your feet. No one around here needs air conditioner service today . . .

Now see these:

• afternoon light from 1965 monochrome
• untitled from UrbanGhost

river road nocturne

Now see these:

• Winter Solitude from Perspective Images
• Allons au cinéma from Elaine
• from behind the scenes of paris’ hidden kitchen from Rion.nu

lace of light

Now see these:

• Santiago de Cuba (Havana Club) from MAKING HAPPY
• frosty morning from Absolutely Nothing
• Don’t leave home without your camera from Still alive

snow branches

Now see these:

• Grey Stone Fence from A Walk Through Durham Township
• Stonescape from 3 a.m. from Kyoto
• Logan’s Shooters Bar & Grill, Logansport from fourteen places to eat
• encounter from bighappyfunhouse
• Inside the Cage from Black and White Dreaming
• Watching from Wood | Stone
• Full Up from Sopheava de Lumiere
• Winter Tree #1 from tomo (seen at “Film is not dead it just smells funny”)

night frost

birches

new snow shoes

follow the leader

I’ve been a sort of snowshoe evangelist for the past several winters, and especially this incredibly snowy one (we got more snow on Christmas than we have any year since 1950!). Of all the winter sports, this is the one that requires the least skill and the least investment: if you can walk, you can snowshoe, and a pair of shoes that set you back less than $100 (far cheaper than most skates, skis, and snowboards) will take you into wintry places you’d never get to by yourself. And you can do it pretty much anyplace with good snow cover: around the block, through the park, across the yard. Our favorite spot is the oak savanna preserve on West River Parkway, a few blocks from home.

Sledding, I suppose, is a cheaper winter sport–a decent saucer sled shouldn’t cost more than $10, and you can get a few runs out of a piece of cardboard before it disintegrates–but you need a hill to do it. And hills are sometimes hard to come by here on the plains.

Snowy days a downhill adventure

The day after Christmas, the boys and I headed out about 10:00 AM for a sledding hill near Minnehaha Creek. We were surprised and delighted to find that we had the hill to ourselves: no dodging people who insist on climbing up the middle of the slope, no waiting in line for the big icy bump, nothing but fresh powder all the way to the bottom.

About a half hour into our sledding, a white truck pulled up and two cameramen from KARE-11 News (they have snazzy blue ski jackets) arrived and started filming the boys in flight. The boys were unphased by the cameras; if anything, they seemed a little annoyed–they were like a couple of surfers looking for the big wave, and didn’t have time to be pestered.

Other sledders arrived, and a few hammed it up for the cameras, but we continued in our serious sledding. We finally broke for lunch at about noon (and scheduled the TiVo to record all the KARE-11 news shows). Our piece played at 4:00 PM (opposite Oprah) and at 5:00 AM; but you can see it here: we benefited from good editing (I especially like the “whoosh” of Peter’s sled going over the jump).

trudge

snow(shoe) angel

snow run

merry

At Mother Earth Gardens, Minneapolis. Merry Christmas to all!

Yet in thy dark streets shineth

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

glory

This was a completely unintentional triple (or more?) exposure; the sprocket holes on the film tore, and it took a few frames for things to slide back into place. Still, I like the serendipity of it.

A couple of bits of Christmas cheer in case you’re looking for help getting your spirits in the right mood:

• Six funny stories from Kevin Kling: this whole broadcast from MPR is fabulous, but of particular interest today are his story of making a friend at an Uptown bar and how to ask God to ask Jesus to tell Santa that you need a squirrel monkey. And if you need a last-minute gift, grab the book.
• Christmas Past: Dick Gordon talks to illustrator and author Tomie DePaola about Tomie’s Christmas adventures, from a 1940s childhood full of magic fireplaces and war-time blackouts to Gregorian chants at a New England monastery to a San Francisco apartment festooned with a dwarf forest. There’s a great book behind this one, too; I picked up the last copy at the East Lake Street library, but no doubt it’s floating around elsewhere . . .

parkway stars

his work of forging

Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
From his couch arose the artist,
From his couch of stone, the blacksmith,
And began his work of forging,
Forging Sun and Moon for Northland.

Kalevala, Rune XLIX, translated by John Martin Crawford

How to lop its hundred branches

Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Thought awhile, and well considered,
How to kill the mighty oak-tree,
First created for his pleasure,
How to fell the tree majestic,
How to lop its hundred branches.
Sad the lives of man and hero,
Sad the homes of ocean-dwellers,
If the sun shines not upon them,
If the moonlight does not cheer them
Is there not some mighty hero,
Was there never born a giant,
That can fell the mighty oak-tree,
That can lop its hundred branches?

Kalevala, Rune II, translated by John Martin Crawford

How to live without the moonlight

Young and aged talked and wondered,
Well reflected, long debated,
How to live without the moonlight,
Live without the silver sunshine,
In the cold and cheerless Northland,
In the homes of Kalevala.
Long conjectured all the maidens,
Orphans asked the wise for counsel.

Kalevala, Rune XLIX, translated by John Martin Crawford

Far more beautiful than moonlight

Come bedecked then to thy chamber,
Thus return to this thy household,
To the greeting of thy kindred,
To the joy of all that know thee,
Flushed thy cheeks as ruddy berries,
Coming as thy father’s sunbeam,
Walking beautiful and queenly,
Far more beautiful than moonlight.

Kalevala, Rune IV, translated by John Martin Crawford

These night pictures pose a few more challenges than usual: the traffic on West River Road isn’t heavy, but sneaking in a longer exposure between headlights takes some luck; the metering is bad guesswork at best; the mirror on the Spotmatic often gets stuck in bulb mode, which means I can’t see anything through the viewfinder; and the dog doesn’t understand why she has to wait 30-90 seconds while I stand behind the tripod and try to keep her from tangling up the shot. And it’s cold. Really cold. Hasn’t been above freezing in Minneapolis since Thanksgiving.

tall, and sound, and hardy

I am tall, and sound, and hardy,
Have no flaws within my body;
Three times in the months of summer,
In the warmest of the seasons,
Does the sun dwell in my tree-top,
On my trunk the moonlight glimmers,
In my branches sings the cuckoo,
In my top her nestlings slumber.

Kalevala, Rune XVI, translated by John Martin Crawford

In the oak he maketh pictures

Young Kullervo has not perished,
Has not died among the branches
Of the oak-tree where we hung him.
In the oak he maketh pictures
With a wand between his fingers;
Pictures hang from all the branches,
Carved and painted by Kullervo;
And the heroes, thick as acorns,
With their swords and spears adjusted
Fill the branches of the oak-tree,
Every leaf becomes a soldier.

Kalevala, Rune XXXI, translated by John Martin Crawford

Three pictures today (click the “Image One”, “Image Two”, and “Image Three” tabs to switch from one to the next), for largely geeky reasons:

1. Between my neighborhood and the Mississippi stands an oak savanna, a tiny piece of the kind of land that existed before the Europeans arrived. It’s a fascinating chunk of land, perfect for my current experiments in night photography. Maybe too perfect–my little audience doesn’t need to be subjected to a whole roll of pictures of oak trees in the snow in the dark.
2. The contractor I’m working with at the day job mentioned the YUI JavaScript framework; lately I’ve been pushing paper instead of writing code at work (and loathing every second of it…), so this was a chance to take a look at this framework and try it out in a new context. It’s pretty easy to use, and I may tinker with it a bit more in coming weeks.

No more to glimmer

Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Northland’s old and toothless wizard,
Makes the Sun and Moon her captives;
In her arms she takes fair Luna
From her cradle in the birch-tree,
Calls the Sun down from his station,
From the fir-tree’s bending branches,
Carries them to upper Northland,
To the darksome Sariola;
Hides the Moon, no more to glimmer,
In a rock of many colors;
Hides the Sun, to shine no longer,
In the iron-banded mountain

Kalevala, Rune XLVII, translated by John Martin Crawford

That the moon once more may glimmer

Loan to me the strength of oceans,
To upset this mighty oak-tree,
To uproot this tree of evil,
That again may shine the sunlight,
That the moon once more may glimmer.

Kalevala, Rune II, translated by John Martin Crawford

The Kalevala is, of course, Finland’s national epic. It figured in a small way in my story Sunshine Over Helsinki, published in 2004 at failbetter.com. Northern epics are the perfect reading material for our chilly winters here in Minnesota.

Alley

All summer, the alley on our block is busy with kids on bikes and skateboards; it’s the main highway between the blocks, and the surest place to find the short family members when it’s time for supper or baths. In the winter, though, it’s an eerily peaceful place, the silence broken only by the soft scrape of snow shovels.

winter sunflower #2

winter sunflower

autumn’s last sentinels

bundled up

Yesterday was all about scrambling to find boots and scarves and hats that have been put away since last winter, getting the shovels and sleds out of the garage, and re-learning the Minnesota winter driving skills we’ve forgotten during our too-brief summer (like judging your stopping distance when it’s not clear what’s between your wheels and the road). A good start to winter, all in all.

This picture was actually taken during the last blast from the winter of ‘06-’07; this pair of scarecrows stand in a yard at the corner of 46th and Lyndale, and change their outfits with the season.

leaf

Featured on the Daily Dickinson site.

I’ve got some color film at the developer’s, and a couple rolls of black and white in the basement, so more seasonally-appropriate pictures are on their way … Meanwhile, a couple things to note this weekend:

• Merlin’s Rest grand opening: the Irish-Scottish-Welsh-what-have-you pub on the corner of 36th and Lake makes it official today, Saturday, April 28, 2007. There will be music, Irish dancers, a ribbon cutting, and good beer.
• World Pinhole Day is this Sunday, April 29, 2007: dust off your box and expose it to a little light. It should be a bright, sunny day here in Minnesota, ideal conditions for pinhole pictures, so I’m looking forward to taking out the modified Hawkeye. Last year was rainy and overcast, and I managed to get just one blurry tulip shot in the alley.
• Choo Choo Bob’s Train Movies at the Riverview Theater: there’s still time to run over to the Choo Choo Bob’s and get a ticket for the 11:00 showing today, April 28, of another collection of train films for the young and young-at-heart.

winter field 3

winter field 2

Despite the spate of snowy pictures, it really is spring at last here in Minneapolis. One of the sure signs of spring in these parts is the sudden explosion of weekend activities; if you’ve got time on your hands and kids in your care, here are a few things over the next few days to help get the sap flowing after a long winter’s sleep:

• The Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival has a few interesting kids’ movies this year, including a series of animated shorts from the U.S. and Sweden screening this Saturday, April 21, at the Oak Street Cinema.
• A Washburn Water Tower LEGO model will be constructed at Fuller Park, 48th and Grand, in the shadow of the Henry Wild Jones landmark (and my favorite Twin Cities building); Peter is deathly afraid of the “guys” who ring the tower, but he’s a LEGO freak, so there will be some interesting push and pull getting to this event…
• Next Saturday, April 28th, Choo Choo Bob’s Train Shop is sponsoring a series of short train movies at the Riverview Theater. For the film and train buff of a certain age, this is a nice outing. Tickets are free, but have to be picked up at Choo Choo Bob’s on Marshall Avenue in St. Paul.

winter field

Four selections:

• Waiting area, Great Styles By Us, Frankfort from Fourteen Places to Eat
• the Brunehaut stone from from belgium with love
• Passing Strangers from Looking without Seeing
• lodrö tharpa from zsolt suto

winter marsh

Five selections:

• Oak Bay Garage from Mad Media Studios
• wigwam canal winchester ohio from pinkie style
• Harajuku III from dreamprovised
• F Train ~ Smith & 9th Street ~ 6:35pm from Express Train
• mary from bighappyfunhouse

up from the marsh pond

There are backflows of broom and mayweed,
coal rillets
slick on the mine path.
And the bulrush reeds stretch up from the marsh pond
like the stiffened tails of lions.

The Ghost Trio, Linda Bierds

We’ve had a run of late winter weather, with a couple of snowfalls well into April. It’s as if snow and winter have come disconnected, with the former starting and ending later than it should. April snow can be pretty, I suppose, but it’s not much fun; the snow pack that made it possible to trudge across the pond on snowshoes is long since gone.

not so easily undone

But you’ll find it not
so easily undone;
dangerous in the dark and cold
and wet, when it matters most.
These knots command allegiances.

Knots & Splices by Bruce F. Murphy

watchful

Three selections today:

• solitary soul from Absolutely Nothing
• Piano Man from MikesRightBrain.com
• znoszone części przeszÅ‚oÅ›ci from suseu.art.pl

O heart, O troubled heart

What shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart – this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog’s tail?

The Tower, William Butler Yeats

expected the impossible

Never had I more
Excited, passionate, fantastical
Imagination, nor an ear and eye
That more expected the impossible -
No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,
Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben’s back
And had the livelong summer day to spend.
The Tower, William Butler Yeats

The same spot and day as yesterday’s photo, but a different eye to look through–this time, the Brownie Hawkeye Flash with its lens flipped around.

Lá feile Padraig shona doibh!

From ruin or from ancient trees

I pace upon the battlements and stare
On the foundations of a house, or where
Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;
And send imagination forth
Under the day’s declining beam, and call
Images and memories
From ruin or from ancient trees,
For I would ask a question of them all.

The Tower, William Butler Yeats

I stopped at the Washburn Water Tower at the tail end of our last snow storm; I hadn’t visited for almost a year. It’s still a magical spot.

this larger world

The last few gray sheets of snow are gone,
winter’s scraps and leavings lowered
to a common level. A sudden jolt
of weather pushed us outside, and now
this larger world once again belongs to us.

Cold Spring, Lawrence Raab

blow the dry leaves

Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!
Flash, like a Love-thought, thro’ me, Death
And take a Life that wearies me.

Fragment 3: Come, come thou bleak December wind, Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Happy Pi Day!

Four selections:

• câlin, Emilie, Nathaël, etc. from kea, etc.
• Bird feeder and yard, Knox from fourteen places to eat
• Stumpen from Peacemans Pixel
• untitled from Mareen Fischinger

poles

Bonne fête, Ti Jean!

Winter kept us warm

Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot

Three selections:

• LIE IN THE SOUND NO.2 from Wink
• Y’a toujours min copain Pierrot… from Irregular Photoblog
• untitled from Visions

The filling places

Soft as a shadow on fur
The filling places
Where his footsteps were;
Lost without shape or grime
His path through the level spaces.
How can we certainly know
If this is time
Falling, or snow?

White Darkness, Virginia Hamilton Adair

Four selections:

• … not that far? from XoverIP
• Parisian Cotton Candy from rion.nu
• Canada Geese Overhead from A Walk Through Durham County
• Shooting Star from polom.org

against a sure winter

Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.

Winter Trees, William Carlos Williams

Our own sure winter is surely on the wane here in the upper Midwest–the snow is turning to fog today, and with temperatures near 50 degrees predicted for next week it looks like Spring is on the way. I probably only have one or two more days where there will be enough snow for my snowshoes.

Four selections today:

• Untitled from Populuxe
• 春の影 (Shadow in spring) from Million-Year Picnic
• alaska highway moose from the narrative
• fruits of labor from bea

Now whispered and revealed

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.

Snow-Flakes, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The troubled sky reveals

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

Snow-Flakes, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Over the harvest-fields forsaken

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Snow-Flakes, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

We’re in the bicentenary year of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, best known now, perhaps, for his narrative poems–”Song of Hiawatha”, “Evangeline”, “Paul Revere’s Ride”–but no slouch in the lyric category, either. The Maine Historical Society (Longfellow was born in Portland) is sponsoring a Responding to Longfellow project if anyone is so moved to participate.

knee deep

Snow!

The predicted snow arrived a little earlier than predicted yesterday, with good accumulation by about noon. There’s ample opportunity for snow shoes and sleds!

wide load

From our January snow tubing event: the piles of innertubes at Green Acres in Lake Elmo. Our trips down the hill were characterized more by mud than by snow; it sounds like things will be a little whiter there this evening, though the near-blizzard winds might make tubing more of an adventure than most people are willing to brave.

Three selections today:

• Overboard from imitationeye
• Mother & Child from populuxe
• lemons from digitalpeace

get on the bus

From our January snow tubing event: the bus boarding.

Another round of snow is on schedule for the rest of the week; the local Fox affiliate predicts 12-20 inches (of course, these are the folks who love to predict disaster); Paul Douglas over at WCCO predicts a more modest 8-14 inches; the National Weather Service appears to predict about 13 inches if I read their graphics correctly.

In any event, I’m glad I swung by REI on my way home last night to pick up a couple pairs of starter snow shoes for Jack and Peter. We tested them out on the boulevard, zipping down the block and leaping the treacherous sidewalk chasms. Should the streets be impassible to automobiles, I’m confident that we three will be able to brave the elements and come back to base with freeze-dried victuals, water-purification equipment, and toilet paper to get us through the storm.

do not block

Three selections for today:

• dark poppies from twinlens
• untitled from sguardo
• Purple wall, Shady Lanes, Walkerton from fourteen places to eat

tubes

The predicted snowy armageddon was slightly less than apocalyptic–Friday’s predicted snow turned out to be mostly sleet, and it took a while for things to turn over to the white stuff on Saturday. But it was still a good sledding opportunity.

No pictures yet of our recent blanket of snow, though–no time to play with chemicals after spending the day at Auntie Betsy’s house, sledding, playing hide & seek, and discovering the wonders of Dance Dance Revolution. So instead here’s a rather more bare picture from a January snow tube trip we took with the boys’ Minneapolis Kids gang. It was more mud tubing than snow tubing, but no one complained.

Three selections for today:

• Minus the people 2 from Graciform
• Latte (Cherry Bomb) from MAKING HAPPY
• 1er arrondissement – Concert de sacqueboute sous le pont Royal from pariscool

sledders redux

We’re anticipating a winter storm this weekend–5-9 inches or so, according to the National Weather Service, but the local news outlets are pounding the drums for 12-18 inches of snow, the biggest in many, many years. In any case, we’re looking forward to testing the new sled from Auntie Kathleen and taking Granddad (visiting from western Maine–I think we can blame him for drawing the blizzard down on us) to our favorite hills.

sledders

sledders

Three selections:

• No Swimming from Mike’s Right Brain
• red chair from Electrolite
• yellow cabs from the streets are alive

up the hill

Sledding consists of hours of uphill trudging punctuated by seconds of crazy mad terror and delight.

The Twin Cities being mostly flat, there aren’t a lot of secret sledding hills around that are worth the trudge; you end up having to navigate the good slopes with a dozen or more fellow sledders who are also hurling themselves downhill on bits of plastic with no stearing apparatus. Collisions are a necessary part of the Minnesota sledding experience.

Three selections:

• drooping tulips from twinlens
• carnival from sguardo
• Sorrow from ottok

what branches grow

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water.

from The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot

Two cullings for today:

• Persona from gallery(bea)
• Getting a haircut, Uncle Doug’s Barber Shop, Plymouth from fourteen places to eat

The breath of night

The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
From caves of ice and fields of snow
The breath of night like death did flow
Beneath the sinking moon.

Lines: The cold earth slept below, by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Three cullings for today:

• 2nd Weekend Free from Luminescent
• Clothing ##04 from BlackthornCreative’s Photoblog
• the dingy from DARKpx

These are the things that I know are true

In the dregs of the year, all steam and rain,
In the timid time of the heart again,
When indecision is bold and thorough,
And action dreams of a dawn in vain,

I saw high up over Bloxham vale
The ploughshare tilt to the next long trail,
And, spying a larder in every furrow,
The wagtails crowd like a dancing hail!

A second wonder there on the hill:
Beneath the hedge, I saw with a thrill
The budding primroses laugh good-morrow
From a deep cradle rocked by a rill!

Wagtail smart in his belted blue,
Primrose paying her gold ere due,—
(Out upon Winter! Down with Sorrow!)
These are the things that I know are true.

Firstlings (January 7, 1915), by Louise Imogen Guiney

It was 35 years ago today — January 7, 1972 — that John Berryman flung himself from the Washington Avenue bridge; Minnesota winters will do that to sensitive souls. I had planned to read some of The Dream Songs this weekend, but the poetry shelf at the Merriam Park Library had a gaping hole where Berryman should have been, even though the catalog said they should be there. Perhaps the ghost whose footsteps are sometimes heard on the bridge hides these books once a year. I had to schlep over to the Highland Park Library with Jack and Peter for the collected poems, which doesn’t include The Dream Songs (and for some Curious George stories, also sans Dream Songs).

But I did stumble across a Berryman poem about a little corner of my neighborhood, near Cedar on Lake Street, which has given me some ideas for a project. The only question now is which camera? Will the Holga’s rough edges, the Hawkeye’s eerie blur, or the Nomad’s simple purity best capture Berryman’s Minneapolis?

Two cullings for today:

• Keep Out from serial photographer
• flowers from catherine buca photography

decorate this silence

I would like to decorate this silence,
but my house grows only cleaner
and more plain. The glass chimes I hung
over the register ring a little
when the heat goes on.
I waited too long to drink my tea.
It was not hot. It was only warm.

Winter Love, by by Linda Gregg

Five cullings for today:

• Warm post II from milou
• with minnie from 1965 monochrome
• Allá que vamos from fijaciones
• Mums The Word from Jinky Art
• Memory from bighappyfunhouse

Good Ol’ Charlie Brown

Among the Peanuts statues in Rice Park.

Four cullings this New Year’s Eve:

• The Edge from serial photographer
• untitled from catherine buca photography
• laundromat from Tyson Williams Photography
• Zen serie & best wishes from chambrenoire.fr

Athbhliain faoi mhaise doibh!

thinking wall

Skating at the Landmark Center in St. Paul. I’m on auto-pilot for a few days while we head to Chicago for a nerd fest (museums!) and to Wisconsin Dells for a winter splash.

Rice Park

Skating at the Landmark Center in St. Paul. I’m on auto-pilot for a few days while we head to Chicago for a nerd fest (museums!) and to Wisconsin Dells for a winter splash.

skater

Skating at the Landmark Center in St. Paul.  I’m on auto-pilot for a few days while we head to Chicago for a nerd fest (museums!) and to Wisconsin Dells for a winter splash.

silver bells

From our Santa-and-tree errand at Mother Earth Gardens.

Three cullings today:

• A GIRL NAMED BOO from Wink
• The Boundary from serial photographer
• Christmas Tree from Out of Contxt

lovely, dark and deep

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

This is the same tree featured in Lace, one of my favorite pictures from the end of last winter; we finally got measurable snow, though it will be touch and go if it has the fortitude to stay until Christmas Day — it’s been a weirdly warm and dry winter for these parts.

Three cullings today:

• Bergdorf Goodman holiday windows from carte blanche pedicure
• winter berries from Mad Media Studios
• You Bring Light In from 3 a.m. from Kyoto

A change of mood

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Robert Frost, Dust of Snow

Two cullings today:

• #607 from amateur commune
• Dawn Walk #2 from Photographically

Jolly Old Elf

Three cullings for today:

• Shooting cards from chemical
• Matter of Time from imitationeye
• We Are Dancing a Black Waltz from OpticDistraction

All I want for Christmas

At the risk of getting even more traffic from people looking for farther christmas (sic) and choo choo bobs, here are some Father Christmas pictures from Choo Choo Bob’s Train Store.

Three cullings for today:

• Untitled from E Y E S P E A K
• Firestarters from moodaholic
• Untitled from t a r a v i l l e

33 years 4 mos.

I have a few flowers in the hopper still, but somehow those didn’t seem appropriate for All Hallow’s Eve. So instead, here’s a tombstone, from a wintry afternoon at St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery on Chicago Avenue.

I love the way old grave stones give the person’s age in great detail, as if every day wrung out of life was an accomplishment and full credit should be given.

Happy trick-or-treating to all (or good luck in the pumpkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin, depending on your denomination…).

Remember winter?

I’m a little behind in processing film–I’ve got a Holga black & white to toss in the toxins tonight, four miscellaneous rolls (I think some from May Day…) that have gone off to the developer, a few other 35mm rolls floating around (including some early morning pictures from this weekend in the woods) and unfinished rolls in the Holga, Argus, and Nomad. Which leaves me scrounging for pictures, like this one of Peter on the last snowy day in March when we went sledding at Longfellow Park.

Our trip to the woods was a bit of a bust. The first night it was bug city; not wimpy little gnats and mosquitoes, mind you–these were flies that would make small birds nervous. The lake and playground were a two mile hike through forest and marsh (across a portage boardwalk–I hope those shots come out…), after which the rest of the camping party demanded that I run back to the site and get the car. Which I did–took me just 30 minutes, with a couple of photo-op stops on the way.

Though it rained a bit on Friday night, we stayed dry, and it was nice to lie in the tent reading ghost stories by flashlight while everyone slept and the rain pattered on the roof. I love reading Victorian ghost stories–the purpler the better–when camping, having discovered M.R. James by firelight at Moose Lake some years back.

Saturday started off nice enough–we did a little canoing, and I think I got some Holga shots of a pair of loons–but when we stopped for another playground break it started to rain. And rain. And rain. We played Old Maid and Go Fish, pondered the state of the runoff ditches, and waited for the rain to stop. It did not.

Then when Jack woke up from a nap, we were greeted by a little face that looked more like the Elephant Man than a preschooler. His eye was swollen almost shut, and his forehead was bulging. He didn’t seem bothered, but we didn’t think we should stay in the woods with him in this deformed state. Peter wasn’t impressed with our stamina.

So we spent Father’s Day at urgent care, while the doctor tried to figure out what was wrong with the boy–he looked like he was suffering from orbital cellulitis, but he didn’t act it; he acted like Jack–goofy and charming and unbothered by the swollen head. He was, though, greatly bothered by the two shots of antibiotics and the two pokes into his arms for blood. Now a day into antibiotics and antihistamine, Jack’s looking a little more like himself while continuing to be a little charmer. Kids are incredibly resilient.

tower and oak

The last of the Washburn Tower for a bit, I promise.

World Pinhole Day is this Sunday, April 30. I’ve taken a screwdriver to one of my Hawkeyes–it doesn’t really need a lens anyway–and I encourage everyone else out there to similarly mangle a camera for Sunday’s festivities. Show the world that all you need to take pictures is a box with a hole in it!

winter tower 3

The Washburn Water Tower again, taken during Round Two of the March blizzard.

World Pinhole Day is this Sunday, April 30. I’ve taken a screwdriver to one of my Hawkeyes–it doesn’t really need a lens anyway–and I encourage everyone else out there to similarly mangle a camera for Sunday’s festivities. Show the world that all you need to take pictures is a box with a hole in it!

winter tower 2

The Washburn Water Tower again, taken during Round Two of the March blizzard.

winter tower

The Washburn Water Tower again, taken during Round Two of the March blizzard.

hat

Sledding at Longfellow Park.

I’m a little tired of the winter pictures, too. We’ll take a break from them starting tomorrow, shall we?

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.

top of the hill

Sledding at Longfellow Park.

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.

trudge

Sledding at Longfellow Park.

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.

Peter’s Ride

Sledding at Longfellow Park.

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.

downhill

Sledding at Longfellow Park.

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.

sledding hill

Sledders at the Dowling Community Garden, March 13, 2006.

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.

left out

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.

willow

Another from March 13–Opie Pond, a little bog near my office accessible that day only by snowshoe.

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.

planters and snow

Another from March 13–Riverview Cafe.

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.

birdhouse

Another from March 13–birdhouse at the Dowling Community Garden.

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.

the children’s blizzard

Let us thank God for having given us such ancestors; and let each successive generation thank him, not less fervently, for being one step further from them in the march of ages.

Main Street, Nathaniel Hawthorne

My ancestors–at least a good three quarters of them–were Puritans of the worst kind, the sort who banished Christmas as a too-pagan celebration and flogged Quakers for failing to conform to the Puritan program. They were made of stern stuff, those Puritans, weathering harsh New England winters and carving a civilization out of the wilderness by brute (and brutal) force. They were also the source of our obsession with work, if we take Max Weber at his word–dauntless and intrepid labor is its own reward.

I like to think I’ve travelled a long way from those ancestors some three and half centuries past, that I’m thoroughly post-modern and totally hip. But a big snow like we had last week gets my Puritan blood thumping; getting to work, normally a thankless task that I dread, becomes an adventure, a proof of my ability to stand up to adversity. And probably, in some deep Puritan corner of my heart, a guarantee that I am, despite all evidence to the contrary, among the Elect–for surely God guided my car through the snow drifts.

Jack and Peter are not yet driven to be intrepid. They were excited by the snow, and wanted a snowman, but thought that maybe it would be OK if they watched out the window while Dad made a snowman. Of course, I dragged them out into the blizzard so they could work on the snowman, and they had a good time, but I don’t think they saw the challenge in it. But then, their Puritan blood is diluted by sensible Irishness that knows that when it snows you stay inside.

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.

This picture is available as a notecard at Zazzle.

sledders

Slowly easing into color for a stretch–this is from the Monday, March 13, snowstorm.

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.

trunk and snow

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.

snowbank

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.

lena cota bog ban

Nach deas í an tuath
lena cota bog ban
ina codladh go sá¡mh
sa sneachta geal glan.

Sneachta, Má¡ire Nic a’Daird

The first bit of Irish poetry I ever memorized; roughly:

How lovely is the world
with its soft white coat,
sleeping snugly
in the bright, clean snow.

Being able to recite the occasional bit of Gaelic doggerel has won me a few pints of Guinness, and redeems me for the fact that my ancestors were decidedly Cromwellian.

St. Patrick’s Day is the one day a year I’m happy to let everyone else pretend to be Irish. They can have their green beer and “Kiss me I’m Irish” buttons and bad brogues; I’ll sit in tonight with Thai takeout and a movie and leave my favorite bars to the Irish version of Easter-and-Christmas Catholics.