And now, some photographs

Great White Dispatch
Notes From Damn Near Canada
No. 18
2/15/09
15:25

Since I'm sure everyone's tired of my blathering, here are some pictures.

Airika and I tend to spend Saturdays buzzing around Minnesota, checking out places we've never been. This weekend we drove two hours west to a little town called Mankato, which allegedly grew up at the confluence of two rivers. More like two creeks. Mankato was underwhelming. However, the trip was surprisingly and pleasantly buffalo-oriented.





A few weeks back when Airika's parents were here, we hit the National Eagle Center on the Wisconsin side of the river.


I actually got a picture (sort of) of the damn coyotes we hear constantly.


Finally, your weekly allotment of deer pics.

Something about the river

Great White Dispatch
Notes From Damn Near Canada
No. 17
2/10/09
10:00



For the first time in three months, I can see Minnesota ground. It's Tuesday and I'm in my office, watching a driving rain shine up the world. It's 45 degrees and very gray outside. A nice switch from -10 and very white.

From my office window, I can see Main Street, wet and new. People are hunkered down, shoulders hunched against the moist and the windy. Beyond the main drag, I see the train tracks and then the river. The Mississippi, finally, is nothing but open water. Right now a flock of ducks are fighting a heavy, snowmelt-fueled current. My building's windows are rattling with the wind. Everywhere, dirty piles of snow drool filthy water. This would be a typically miserable Ohio day, even in February. And truth be told, it's not the nicest of February days in Minnesota.

I haven't been this happy since I ran over that cat.

That was a joke, by the way. The cat, not the happy.

Being out from under winter's frostbitten thumb, even for just a little while, has nothing to do with my mood. I like the snow and looked forward to the wonders of a Minnesota winter. Hell, I hope we get a little more Arctic blast before all is said and done. No, our temporary truce with winter isn't what has me down with the warm and fuzzies. I'm not exactly sure WHAT has me in this state.

But I think it's the river.

We've been here nearly six months now,and I've kinda grown to love everything about the mighty Mississipi. I love the thousands of sailboat that speckled the surface in the waning days of summer, the packs of tourists zipping alongside it in their classic cars , the eagles perpetually soaring above, scoping the surface for a kill. I love the big-ass riverboats, those relics from another time. I love the constant presence of long-legged water birds along the shore.

There's just something liberating about this goddamn river, how it can't be stopped. Even under two feet of ice, you know the river is still chugging along, sustaining life. You can spit off a bridge, and that little bit of your DNA just might make it to the Gulf of Mexico. Makes you seem larger than life and totally insignificant all at the same time.

For over half the time we've been here, the river's been solid ice. But today, for the first time in forever, I can see it moving, alive. It might be frothy, filthy and temporary, but today, I can see the river. My river. And that will make me smile any day, especially a warm day in the winter.

Weenie Winter

Great White Dispatch
Notes From Damn Near Canada
No. 16
12:10

So the little Punxsutawney weather-rat predicted six more weeks of winter. Awesome. Nothing like dropping half a grand every month to heat your cavern because, for some archaic reason, propane is the primary form of heat energy here on the banks of the frozen Mippy Pippy. I swear. There's no easier way to keep my house warm? Hasn't someone figured out the super-benefits of smelting stray cats or something? Propane, you and this satellite internet connection are killing me. (By the way, in Minnesota, 'satellite' appears to be code for 'dial-up'.) Hooray! It's 1990!

Anyway. Six more weeks of winter. Yawn. Besides my ridonkulous heating bill, our first Minny winter has been...soft. As of Groundhog Day, it hadn't actually snowed in over three weeks, and there isn't a flake in the forecast. We've had two harsh storms all season. They were impressive, I'll admit, impressive enough to make certain mile-long roads that double as certain mile-long driveways impassable, but not so much that I rued the day we moved to this frozen tundra. I mean, it could be worse. We could be back in Ohio, where it started snowing in November and hasn't stopped yet.

Heh. It's not exactly irony, but it's pretty damn close.

No, our main obstacle this winter has been the cold. We had a few nerve-racking nights of -30 degrees. When the mercury hits neggo 30, there's always cause for concern, and I tend to lean toward the bad side of worry anyway. What if the power goes out at night? Will we freeze to death? Will the pipes freeze? Will the cars start?

Most importantly, Will my cheeks stay chapped? Seriously, they're chapped worse than Jon Bon Jovi in the Dead or Alive video. Ow.

The temps bottomed out the second week of January with a low of -39. That's 70 degrees below freezing. We didn't have a day above freezing from Christmas to February. Propane and firewood flowed like wine. Expensive, expensive wine.

So yeah, it was cold. But overall? Not too bad. Hell, last winter in Ohio was a billion times worse. Piles of wet, sloppy snow every day, fluctuating temperatures dropping the flu on everyone, roofs caving under the weight of all the slush, something like two feet of snow in January. That was much more annoying than what we've experienced here.

This is not what I expected for our first Minnesota winter. I expected days and days of impassable roads. I expected tunnels to the driveway. Hell, I expected snow days at work. As winter inches towards spring, I'm actually a little disappointed. We were warned of Alaska and we got North Carolina. Only chillier.

I realize that I've just jinxed myself for the next month (or six weeks, if Phil is to be believed). I'm sure there's a string of Albert Clippers forming now, just frosting at the bit to wipe the confident smirk off my face. I'm also sure that I'm ready. Bring it, winter. I didn't move here to see grass in January.