St. Croix River frozen still late in March
Photo by J. Harrington
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Girl From The North Country
Written by: Bob Dylan
Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin’ winds...
When we first moved to Minnesota's North Country, we arrived knowing enough to not spit into the wind. Something new we've learn'd during our time here is that a similar rule applies to snowblowing. We'll fired up the Toro later today, if and when the winds no longer "hit heavy on the borderline." Even though we thought we knew better, the past couple of snowfalls have caught us blowing snow when shifting "breezes" left us with our faux fur parka hood ruff coated in a "snowflakes storm" from the blower's discharge chute.
rivers aren't all that freeze
Photo by J. Harrington
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Tree branches that, as recently as yesterday, had lost their snow cover to wind and a brief burst of seasonable warmth are once again blanketed in white. Red squirrels have created a maze of tunnels leading to the bird feeder in front of the house. One or two cottontails are tantalizing the dogs with the scent trails they leave as they wander looking for dropped sunflower seeds or anything else that may be edible. If Spring melt doesn't come soon (not in the forecast), there's going to be a number of critters that may not make it through the this Winter. So far it's been an inconvenience for us. For the birds and bees and their cousins Spring's arrival is a matter of life and death. For others it is the start of a season to sell Winter's harvest. Once "summer ends," for many it can take too long a time to return, even in countries that are warming faster than many.
Ice Men
One cuts blocksFrom the abundant river,Hauls them house to house.
One falls, unseen,The heartInoculated cold
Against a sky still moving.Moving even nowAbove the river,The canal.Willows shimmering
Across the water,Muskrats diving out of reach.The river whispersTill it freezes—
A bodyTwirling sluggishlyBeneath the surface as again
One stack, thenSpreads the straw.
Another falters,Slips, orPuts a sliver on your tongueTo feel it melting there—The ice-lit
UnderworldOf someone else.
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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