a storm came in from behind us tonight and is pounding us as i speak, interrupting an internet connection that was spotty to begin with. so i type this on word, hoping to get on blogger later if ever. I like the storm as long as the cabin holds out; we seem to be safe inside with everyone asleep except me.
this morning it was a fog, that gripped this entire end of the lake and reduced visibility or rather made a very clear lake turn into infinite grayness as you looked out at it. also a foghorn sounded regularly from the nearby bay; its doleful wail was clear even in the cabin. this is wonderful for me, as minnesota is having a beautiful, typical summer whereas southern Illinois, where we will return soon enough, is at a wretched 97 in the shade, no chance of rain ‘til november.
the local town (two harbors mn) had its “heritage days” which ran their course naturally on the foggy day, yesterday, when all the booths were up again in spite of a drizzle and cool morning. i got a good sense of what life is like in a town of 3000 or so where the one annual parade is a pretty big deal; virtually everyone was at the parade, such as it was, and the only problem was that my own boys were in a pretty rotten mood, maybe not used to the fog. both the fog and the parade were fine with me; i’m ready to indulge my fantasies of actually living in such a place, though these are somewhat unrealistic, given the family situation, with grandbabies coming, kids growing, jobs, etc. what are the chances? nevertheless it feels like being let out of a jail, to be able to go outside in the summer, to be able to hang around at the shore of a huge lake, and watch the sun go down and the lake change colors, to come and go from one’s own front door without one’s internal system gearing up to face a high-pressure, high-temp world that one can only survive with one’s car a/c on full blast.
minnesota also has another advantage over even iowa, which has always held my heart: it is relatively free of the pesticides/fertilizers/toxic sprays so common in farm country, that are killing the frogs everywhere south of the lake country. I wouldn’t mind making a life out of fighting the increasing use of nerve gas to grow soybeans in even the most typical fields; these hard metals are responsible for a lot of damage besides just your usual two-headed frog problems, but it’s almost impossible to fight a system so huge and pervasive, better to just move where it isn’t an issue. winter, of course, would be an issue. making a living would be an issue. nerve gas in the drinking water wouldn’t be an issue.
ah, you see, my fantasies are run amok again. the lake laps up on the rocks outside our window. the storm has passed; the pine trees all have that wet smell. what a place! the secret will be to bring some of that feeling back with me, in order to survive august and then september, which, inasmuch as it’s still summer in the tropics, is what i consider the cruelest month. october, you can finally come outdoors again.
this morning it was a fog, that gripped this entire end of the lake and reduced visibility or rather made a very clear lake turn into infinite grayness as you looked out at it. also a foghorn sounded regularly from the nearby bay; its doleful wail was clear even in the cabin. this is wonderful for me, as minnesota is having a beautiful, typical summer whereas southern Illinois, where we will return soon enough, is at a wretched 97 in the shade, no chance of rain ‘til november.
the local town (two harbors mn) had its “heritage days” which ran their course naturally on the foggy day, yesterday, when all the booths were up again in spite of a drizzle and cool morning. i got a good sense of what life is like in a town of 3000 or so where the one annual parade is a pretty big deal; virtually everyone was at the parade, such as it was, and the only problem was that my own boys were in a pretty rotten mood, maybe not used to the fog. both the fog and the parade were fine with me; i’m ready to indulge my fantasies of actually living in such a place, though these are somewhat unrealistic, given the family situation, with grandbabies coming, kids growing, jobs, etc. what are the chances? nevertheless it feels like being let out of a jail, to be able to go outside in the summer, to be able to hang around at the shore of a huge lake, and watch the sun go down and the lake change colors, to come and go from one’s own front door without one’s internal system gearing up to face a high-pressure, high-temp world that one can only survive with one’s car a/c on full blast.
minnesota also has another advantage over even iowa, which has always held my heart: it is relatively free of the pesticides/fertilizers/toxic sprays so common in farm country, that are killing the frogs everywhere south of the lake country. I wouldn’t mind making a life out of fighting the increasing use of nerve gas to grow soybeans in even the most typical fields; these hard metals are responsible for a lot of damage besides just your usual two-headed frog problems, but it’s almost impossible to fight a system so huge and pervasive, better to just move where it isn’t an issue. winter, of course, would be an issue. making a living would be an issue. nerve gas in the drinking water wouldn’t be an issue.
ah, you see, my fantasies are run amok again. the lake laps up on the rocks outside our window. the storm has passed; the pine trees all have that wet smell. what a place! the secret will be to bring some of that feeling back with me, in order to survive august and then september, which, inasmuch as it’s still summer in the tropics, is what i consider the cruelest month. october, you can finally come outdoors again.
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