Frost on the punkin? #phenology

Earlier this week we had a morning or two of clear, sunny skies following cold nights. Frost didn't show up well (at all) on the "punkins" lining the driveway, but it was beautiful on the grasses in the fields, until the sun climbed high enough to warm the stems and melt the frost. We could use more days like those before the snow flies.

Autmn's frosted grasses

Photo by J. Harrington

Mice, crickets, and spiders have been creeping and crawling into the house looking for Winter shelter. We've manage to catch and release the crickets and spiders. The mice, and one mole / shrew, didn't fare as well.

While we were visiting Duluth yesterday, after an enjoyable lunch at Fitger's Brew House, we stopped by the Bookstore at Fitger's, where we picked up a book titled Natural Connections, exploring northwoods nature through science and your senses, written by Emily M. Stone and published by Cable Natural History Museum, where Ms. Stone is the Naturalist/Education Director. We started reading with the Fall section, since we're in the middle of that season. It's enjoyable, entertaining and educational. You should at least check it out [previous link] if you're interested in North Woods phenology.

North Country loon

Photo by J. Harrington

According to some phenology sources, we've reached the time of year when our North Country loons will be heading South for the Winter. Except for the howl of a wolf, we can think of no sound more evocative of the North Woods than the ululations of a loon.

When the Frost is on the Punkin

By James Whitcomb Riley

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,

And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,

And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,

And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;

O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,

With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,

As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere

When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—

Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,

And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;

But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze

Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days

Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,

And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;

The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still

A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;

The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;

The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!—

O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps

Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;

And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through

With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...

I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could be

As the Angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me—

I’d want to ’commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

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A dreary day, trip to Duluth

We took a trip to Duluth this am. We're happy to report that, despite being battered by some very, very early November gales this October, much of the city is as we remember it, although with some added road construction backups. We're also quite happy to report that the burgers at Fitger's Brew House are as tasty as remembered. Duluth is one of our favorite Minnesota cities but, unless we're careful, we let too much time pass between trips there.

Lake Superior under clouds

Photo by J. Harrington

The further North one heads on I-35, the more barren of leaves branches become. Our North Country is well past peak color and into the late Autumn drearies. Tamaracks are the exception. Most of them remain covered in golden needles. The Big Lake was gray, to match the sky and the falling mist. If there was a horizon, we couldn't see it. Noteworthy wildlife viewed on the trip:

• one pair of bald eagles perched roadside
• four separate road-killed whitetail deer
• one road-killed wolf, reported by the Better Half, our view was obscured by road spray

Taylors Falls Lighting Festival, pre-parade

Photo by J. Harrington

As we headed South, through rain most of the way, the proportion of oaks increased in woodlots and that enhanced the numbers of leaves still visible on the trees. The Better Half made a bet with us about this year's first 1" snowfall, one that doesn't promptly melt away. She claims it will occur by November 17 wile we're holding out for December 2. (According to NOAA records, the median date of the first 1-inch snowfall is November 16 in the Twin Cities, but the first plowable snow often doesn't arrive until late November or even December.) We agreed that November 24, probably at noon is the dividing line. Snow before that, she wins. After that, we do. (We're hoping for the El Nino influence.) That's also the weekend of the Taylors Falls Lighting Festival, attendance at which has become a family tradition.

Snow-flakes

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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. 

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. 

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. 

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#WorldRefugeeDay: karma, anyone?

Today is World Refugee Day. The country that is now known as United States of America was founded primarily by religious refugees. But you knew that, right? It just slipped your mind recently. Yet, this year, the regime currently governing the United States is, in our opinion, violating most of the ideals which the founders of this country honored in its establishment through, among other things, it's shameful treatment of refugees, especially vulnerable children. Many of us who were once proud to be Americans feel shamed and dishonored.

A former candidate, who lost the most recent presidential election by 3 million or so popular votes, won sufficient electoral college votes to become "president" and now has created and instituted a "zero tolerance" policy against many less fortunate than he or almost all of us are -- those who are seeking asylum in this country. Think about that for a moment. As we write this, that individual is visiting Duluth, a port of entry to this country. If he hadn't been born here, would we admit him, now that he's been accused of crimes against humanity?

Duluth, MN: a port of entry to the United States

Photo by J. Harrington

The last time we checked, we could find no evidence that any of us chose to be born. We had absolutely no choice of who our parents would be, what their circumstances would be, whether they would be rich or poor, what color their skin would be, what their religions were or of which nation they were citizens. These are all what we consider accidents of birth. Being born into this universe is a complete and total crap shoot.

Most parents want what's best for their children. Many want something better for their children than what they had growing up. It's considered "progress." Yet, among christians, there's the question "For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" [Mark 8:36] Are we not close to that tipping point as a country, or have we already crossed it?

The universe in which we live is not a zero sum game, no matter how many folks may think it is. Nature not only abhors a vacuum, she does not support monocultures, except those artificially created by humans or those that support little life. Before we turned the prairie into row crops, the mixture of plants and animals was exuberant. Once we turned forests into lumber and ship's masts, we created  pine plantations, similar to row crops. Look at what's left of natural areas. Do you see single plants dominating?

Here's our view of a bottom line:

• We are all members of the human race.


• We are all citizens of planet earth


• We need to outgrow our overdeveloped sense of tribalism


• We share this world with a multitude of other species, on whom we depend for the foundations of life, clean air, clean water, healthy soil


• For the foreseeable future, there is no Planet B.


• We are failing, miserably, our responsibilities to husband (in the agricultural sense) and steward our life support systems.


• Unless we are among the indigenous peoples who, as afar as we can tell, originally left Africa to inhabit North America, we must live in a way that makes us native to this place


• Those not native to a place deserve the opportunity to become naturalized


• We must find a way to create a shared vision of the kind of world and the kinds of life we want for humanity. This is our shared home


• We would do well to remember who it was that said “And the King will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
  

For the Children

Gary Snyder

The rising hills, the slopes,
of statistics
lie before us.
The steep climb
of everything, going up,
up, as we all
go down.

In the next century
or the one beyond that,
they say,
are valleys, pastures,
we can meet there in peace
if we make it.

To climb these coming crests
one word to you, to
you and your children:

stay together
learn the flowers
go light

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Of spaceships and ships

We finally made it to see The Last Jedi. No spoilers here. The last 30 minutes or so were excellent. The first two hours or so should have been edited down to one hour.

Winter traffic outside Duluth harbor

Photo by J. Harrington

at anchor in the cold

Photo by J. Harrington

Yesterday's trip to Duluth offered us a chance to visit the Fitger's book store's regional poetry section and take a couple of photos of the freighters stacked up outside the harbor before we talked with some folks about mining and water quality and land use. We saw a similar freighter parking problem a year or two ago in the Summer, so, if the cold and ice are creating the back up now, what happened in August or September when we previously noticed several freighters at anchor. Anyhow, we're glad we're not trying to stay warm out there.

A MARK OF RESISTANCE

by Adrienne Rich

Stone by stone I pile
this cairn of my intention
with the noon's weight on my back,
exposed and vulnerable
across the slanting fields
which I love but cannot save
from floods that are to come;
can only fasten down
with this work of my hands,
these painfully assembled
stones, in the shape of nothing
that has ever existed before.
A pile of stones: an assertion
that this piece of country matters
for large and simple reasons.

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North to sustainability?

Long, long ago (2010), in a country far, far away, it came about that

"The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) defines sustainability as the satisfaction of basic economic, social, and security needs now and in the future without undermining the natural resource base and environmental quality on which life depends. From a business perspective, the goal of sustainability is to increase long-term shareholder and social value, while decreasing industry’s use of materials and reducing negative impacts on the environment.4" 

"4 U.S. EPA, Sustainability, Basic Information, http://www.epa.gov/sustainability/ basicinfo.htm#sustainability (last visited Apr. 2, 2010)."

We learned this from a paper by Jane Kloeckner titled Developing a Sustainable Hardrock Mining and Mineral Processing Industry: Environmental and Natural Resource Law for Twenty-First Century People, Prosperity, and the Planet. If it's not clear yet, we're strongly in favor of people, prosperity and the planet, but without the latter, the first two don't do very well. In fact, although we reserve the right to revise our opinion at some future time, we prefer the cited EPA definition to that of the oft quoted Brundtland Commission [p. 41]:

"Sustainable development is development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. It contains within it two key concepts:

• the concept of 'needs', in particular the essential needs of the world's poor, to which overriding priority should be given; and
• the idea of limitations imposed by the state of technology and social organization on the environment's ability to meet present and future needs."

All of the preceding has been triggered by our continuing and growing interest in the possibility of helping Minnesota become a world leader in sustainable mining. [We'll pause here so you can either recover and catch your breath or finish laughing uproariously.] Canada, our friend and competitor to the North, has been working for some time on an approach called Toward Sustainable Mining. We like to believe that the "Toward" may be in recognition that an extractive industry may not ever get to be truly sustainable. Perhaps not, but we can certainly do better in Minnesota in increasing long-term shareholder and social value while we further reduce negative impacts on the environment. (See why we like the EPA definition?)

Duluth harbor, steel hulls and taconite pellets

Photo by J. Harrington

Even the steel industry itself is getting into the "sustainability business." Unfortunately, they seem to have missed the significance of the early parts of their supply chain, the entire mining sector. Fortunately, others are busy helping the industry focus on such concerns and offering strategic guidance. For example, from "Steel Available ... a data-driven supplier relationship management and sourcing platform that connects buyers and suppliers while ensuring compliance and visibility in the heavy industry." we learn:

"Often required by different sustainability advocates nowadays, companies need to adopt ‘ethical sourcing practice’. Therefore, they have to select suppliers with high economic, social, and environmental value and work with them. Recall a principle from operations management: a stable partnership with only a few suppliers is usually more favourable. Along the process of selection, suppliers with similar values and operation systems can be relied on and even grow together in the long term. This pushes for mutual reliance of supplier and buyer, achieving a better power balance in the buying process as well."

While the world is changing around us, some folks are pursuing what seems to be a least cost commodity tactic for Minnesota's mining industry, reducing or eliminating or not enforcing environmental requirements. It doesn't have to be like that. For example, did you know that "Today, DNR is the largest single FSC-certified land manager in the U.S." (Forest certification is a voluntary third-party process that identifies and recognizes well-managed forest land. It takes into consideration the ecological, economic, and social components of forests and surrounding communities.)

solar panels on a northern Minnesota farm

Photo by J. Harrington

We now live in a world where engagement rings need to hold blood-free diamonds in fair trade gold settings. Next thing we know, companies like Ford (you can buy any color you want as long as it's black) will have lots that look like rainbows and will be advertising fair trade steel in their EVs. Take a look at their sustainable materials strategy.

Wouldn't you think Minnesota would want a piece of that kind of action? To get it, we'll need healthy communities in a healthy environment with mines that meet stringent requirements, won't we? Or else Chinese steel from Canadian ore might be a more sustainable source, because Minnesota failed to value and use its assets to increase shareholder and social value. We have most of the necessary tools, but that's a posting for another day or two (or three).

Prayers of Steel

Carl Sandburg, 1878 - 1967

Lay me on an anvil, O God.  
Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar.  
Let me pry loose old walls.  
Let me lift and loosen old foundations.  
  
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.  
Drive me into the girders that hold a skyscraper together.  
Take red-hot rivets and fasten me into the central girders.  
Let me be the great nail holding a skyscraper through blue nights into white stars.

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Looking for Spring in the North Country

Yesterday we experienced another sign of Spring in the North Country, flocks of tourists descended on Canal Park in Duluth. Like gulls they were hopping and squawking about, raising a ruckus about bright shiny objects and bits of delicious food. I suppose that, technically, since we aren't residents of that fine city, we must count ourselves among the "touristas," but, having worked on several projects in Duluth during the past decade or so, I'm granting myself a non-resident exemption from the tourist label on the basis that I know that Canal Park used to be a Duluth neighborhood known as Finn Town.

Spring colors awakening

Photo by J. Harrington

Spring colors are returning to the road sides and are particularly noticeable at the tops of the dogwood and alder bushes, turning from Winter's browns to brighter shades of red. The reds are highlighted by grasses, rushes, and cattails, which all remain sere and tan. Their time will come. Each of the rivers we crossed, Snake, Kettle, Moose Horn, St. Louis, and creeks of the Big and Little Otter persuasion, had at least some patches of open water. The amount of snow cover slowly increased as we headed North, but didn't get very deep. Another sign of a mild Winter for Minnesota.

Duluth Harbor / St. Louis River

Photo by J. Harrington

The Big Lake was a brooding gray adding an icy bite to the wind off the water. The combination served as a reminder that Spring in Duluth was at least ten days to two weeks behind our home territory and hadn't yet fully arrived in either location. Leaf-out is still several states South of Minnesota. No matter. As I've heard said in London, England, "All things come to Thames that wait." I think the equivalent in Duluth is "Chill out."

North Star

by Sheila Packa 

In Hanko, Finland
a young woman boards
the vessel in the Baltic
for a ship across the Atlantic.
The North Star shines in the sky.
She’s carrying in her valise
a change of clothes
a packet of seeds
and the sauna dipper.
Distance pours between constellations
between English words on her tongue
through storms and sun.
In New York City, she buys
a one way ticket
boards the train going
across the continent
arrives on an inland sea.
The winter ground underfoot
is familiar with frost
as she transfers to a northbound
along the Vermilion Trail
in Minnesota.
Ahead of her waits a man
a house to be built
and a fire that burns it down.
Ahead, eleven children
to bear, a few she must bury,
the cows in the barn
needing to be milked.
Unbroken ground only hers to till.
Above her, the North Star
inside the aurora borealis, northern
banners waving welcome —

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Congratulations, Duluth!

If you've been reading My Minnesota more than very sporadically, you may have noticed that Duluth is one of my favorite cities. That seems to be becoming true for more and more people these days, and The Atlantic magazine has a fantastic article about why that makes a lot of sense. Duluth is cited as a leading example of How America Is Putting Itself Back Together, an article that should be, I believe, mandatory reading for every member of the Iron Range Resources and Rehabilitation Board, and would provide helpful insights for every Minnesotan who thinks that a return to the "good old days" of past dependence on extractive industries like mining and industrial agriculture offer hope of a better tomorrow. One of the quotes in the article that caught my eye, and that warrants serious consideration by economic development specialists follow this photo of Duluth harbor:

Duluth harbor

Photo by J. Harrington

"John Dearie, a co-author (with Courtney Geduldig) of Where the Jobs Are, argues that new-business formation is the single most important guide to future employment trends. This is because of the unlikely-sounding but true economic observation that, over the decades, all the net new job growth within the U.S. economy has come from firms in their first five years of existence (and mainly from fast-growing ones in their very first year)."

I've long been enthusiastic about Economic Gardening as an economic and community development strategy, although I have my doubts about the viability of consistently identifying, in advance, which businesses (the gazelles) are going to be "fast-growing ones in their very first year."

Of particular interest to the IRRRB folks might be this description of an area in Mississippi:

"When we first visited early last year, Joe Max Higgins took us to the most modern “mini-mill” for producing steel in North America, in the Golden Triangle industrial zone. This “mini” structure is what most lay observers would consider to be unimaginably vast. Ladles that appeared to be the size of 747s transported burbling loads of molten metal. The cooling line for the endless stream of new sheet metal stretched thousands of feet, under one roof. Mountains of scrap metal, from recycling shops and auto junkyards, sat outside the mill, raw material for the new steel to be made inside. This was the closest I have come in the United States to the experience of major factory life in China—and it was in rural Mississippi, where a racially mixed workforce of almost 700 earned a median wage of more than $80,000. A Russian-owned company invested more than $1.5 billion to build this plant starting in 2005. Steel Dynamics, based in Indiana, bought it two years ago and is expanding production. Now it is only one of several major high-wage manufacturers in the area."

That description reads to me as a hell of a lot better development strategy than hoping for a turnaround based on "350 high-paying mining jobs" and it probably creates less pollution. Back in the days when I was a practicing planner, I learned the dictum that "more of the same never solved a problem." Now that I'm a recovering planner, I wonder why so many of our elected officials in Minnesota continue to believe the contrary? Where in Minnesota has that worked well? Anyhow, it's really encouraging to see some positive media coverage about what's going right in our country and our state, especially when it calls attention to a place I've long admired. You can get a different, but similarly glowing, report on Duluth and northeast Minnesota from this McKnight-commissioned Jay Walljasper report. These reports make it clear to me that there are better ways than mining to keep any Minnesota child from being

The Gatekeeper’s Children

By Philip Levine

This is the house of the very rich.

You can tell because it’s taken all

The colors and left only the spaces

Between colors where the absence

Of rage and hunger survives. If you could

Get close you could touch the embers

Of red, the tiny beaks of yellow,

That jab back, the sacred blue that mimics

The color of heaven. Behind the house

The children digging in the flower beds

Have been out there since dawn waiting

To be called in for hot chocolate or tea

Or the remnants of meals. No one can see

Them, even though children are meant

To be seen, and these are good kids

Who go on working in silence.

They’re called the gatekeeper’s children,

Though there is no gate nor—of course—

Any gatekeeper, but if there were

These would be his, the seven of them,

Heads bowed, knifing the earth. Is that rain,

Snow, or what smearing their vision?

Remember, in the beginning they agreed

To accept a sky that answered nothing,

They agreed to lower their eyes, to accept

The gifts the hard ground hoarded.

Even though they were only children

They agreed to draw no more breath

Than fire requires and yet never to burn.

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No safe port for the storms of climate change?

My Better Half is at a conference in Duluth for a few days. She reports today that the big lake has "visible whitecaps and breaking waves far out on the lake." Her message reminded me that it's getting to be time to dig out my CD of Gordon Lightfoot's songs with The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald on it. (When she gets home, I'll have to thank her for the inspiration for today's posting.)

rain squall, Lake Superior's south shore

Photo by J. Harrington

The current constriction of the international steel markets may be reducing the iron ore being shipped through Duluth. Although much (all?) of that is headed for domestic markets, I keep reading about "foreign steel dumping." Continuing reductions in coal burning, needed to respond to climate change, will also reduce transshipments of that cargo I imagine. On the other hand, increased development of wind power will probably bring more turbine pieces through the port for the foreseeable future. I've seen the blades being hauled up the hill on I-35 just south of Duluth. I've never seen one unloaded though or even seen one on a ship. That's something to keep my eyes open for when I visit in the future.

freighter headed to Duluth Harbor

Photo by J. Harrington

I grew up in a port city, Boston, which is facing a future imperiled by rising sea levels. Follow this link. The Inner Harbor is comparable to Duluth. Scroll down to the Dorchester Section. The beach I swam from as a teenager will be lost. Further south by about forty miles, in Marshfield, the neighborhood in which I lived just before moving to Minnesota will be underwater (literally, not just mortgages) with a four foot rise in sea level. Climate change is really starting to hit home. My past is going to be washed out to sea, just the opposite of what the folks around Lake Superior can expect, according to the folks at Sea Grant.

For Edwin Wilson

By A. R. Ammons 

Did wind and wave design the albatross's wing,

honed compliances: or is it effrontery to

suggest that the wing designed the gales and

seas: are we guests here, then, with all the

gratitude and soft-walking of the guest:

provisions and endurances of riverbeds,

mountain shoulders, windings through of tulip

poplar, grass, and sweet-frosted foxgrape:

are we to come into these and leave them as

they are: are the rivers in us, and the slopes,

ours that the world's imitate, or are we

mirrorments merely of a high designing aloof

and generous as a host to us: what would

become of us if we declined and staked out

a level affirmation of our own: we wind

the brook into our settlement and husband the

wind to our sails and blades: what is to

be grateful when let alone to itself, as for

a holiday in naturalness: the albatross, ah,

fishes the waves with a will beyond the

waves' will, and we, to our own doings, put

down the rising of sea or mountain slope: except

we do not finally put it down: still, till

the host appears, we'll make the masters here.

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Being "there" in September

Except for an occasional specialized class, my formal schooling ended during the last millennium in the century prior to this one. Over time, now that my own children are also out of school, September has lost its relevance for me as "back to school" time. When I was in school, I did notice that the leaves were changing color and starting to fall but I never learned that September is the time when monarch butterflies and ruby-throated hummingbirds begin their southerly migration. Later when I learned about fishing for striped bass and bluefish on the East Coast I also gained knowledge that neither of them were year round inhabitants of the waters near Cape Cod. Depending on the weather and the storm patterns, they headed south sometimes in late September, but usually not until October.

September colors

Photo by J. Harrington

After I'd become a neophyte duck hunter, late September and early October brought terrible conflicts about the amount of time I could devote to catching the Autumn "blitz" of stripers and blues feeding as they headed toward the Chesapeake and Carolinas compared to time spent sitting in a duck blind waiting for fall's first migrant flocks. A surfeit of opportunities can sometimes be almost, but not quite, as bad as having none at all. Remember being a kid trying to decide among 26 (Howard Johnson's) or 31 (Baskin-Robbins) flavors of ice cream? I learned to take my "Summer" vacation in October.

hawk migration

Photo by J. Harrington

Duck hunters may not know that hawks, as well as ducks, migrate south, but naturalists are supposed to, I think. I lived in Minnesota for many years and visited Duluth many, many times before I made it to Hawk Ridge. While I lived in Massachusetts, I never did make it to Wachusett Mountain to observe hawk migration there, but then, until very recently, I never knew that some dragonflies migrate along with hawks. Learning doesn't have to stop when formal schooling ends.

dragonfly on Duluth screen

Photo by J. Harrington

Fishing, and, much later, hunting, became some of the early doors that opened wide to invite me into a love affair with the outdoors. Others involved gathering driftwood with my "family of origin" along a Winter's beach, to later become magical blue and green flames in the fireplace at home, and picking blueberries with my mother and sister at a local conservation area. I don't recall my parents urging me to learn about the natural world around me, but they did make sure I had lots of opportunities to explore it in a no pressure kind of way. I probably never did properly or adequately thank them for that.

Each year when Autumn rolls around, I'm reminded of the wonderful description written by Gene Hill, one of my favorite "outdoor" writers, about the pleasures of Being There. I wish you as much joy from being wherever or whenever your "there" may be as Mr. Hill and I have found. Now I'm going to go see about getting some pictures of what I think are recently come into bloom New England asters I noticed growing along the road nearby. Flowers may be observed at 30 miles per hour but such identifications are chancy.

The Ruby Throated Hummingbirds Are Gone

By Daniela Gioseffi 

They've flown south now

and one Great Egret fishes the pond

as broad-winged hawks begin their migrations,

kenneling on thermal currents of wind

off above yellowing mountains.

Now, snakeweed blooms along the trail choking

white and purple asters. A few bleeding

leaves fall amidst wilting greenery. Poison

Ivy turns red with warning. 

My eighty-three-year-old mother still argues

with my father, twelve years dead. Their hatred

reverberates in a back room

of my head, rattling memories of my lonely childhood.

Their loathing for each other

colors all my days with pain. I loved him

because he loved me best, but I look like her,

my face and spirit tear at each other.

Am I the child of hate? 

A wounded love sprouts like a weed

from watery depths, uncultivated,

flowers, white and purple, bloom,

       even in these days of dying leaves.

Beyond winter,

       no one grieves.

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Bob Dylan's Way

According to a number of recent reports, Bob Dylan, in an interview for AARP magazine, said that "if I had to do it all over again, I'd be a schoolteacher." That quote must be from the extended version of the interview, because I couldn't find anything like that in the online version. But what I'm actually thinking about is what it might have been like to have had Mr. Robert Zimmerman of Hibbing, MN as a teacher in high school or college. What, if any, academic episode might there have been similar to when Dylan first played the electric guitar in England and members of the audience booed him and called him a Judas.

a sign of Dylan in Duluth

Photo by J. Harrington

As I understand it (from afar, of course) in academia a student demonstrates mastery of a topic as a precondition to reinterpreting it. I think that's comparable to what Dylan did with folk music during his early years. Then he insisted he wasn't a topical singer; he explored country music, he's done spirituals and a Christmas album (the latter standard for most garden variety "pop" singers); and now he's interpreting old standards iconized by Frank Sinatra. I don't think even Noam Chomsky has shown that kind of range and versatility.

another sign of Dylan in Duluth

Photo by J. Harrington

If the Iron Range wants to diversify its economy, it could do worse, it seems, than opening a west wing of Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame devoted to Dylan, or expanding the concept to house a North American Folk Music Hall of Fame. I bet the IRRB would help fund it and we could convert an old mine pit into an amphitheater to add additional realism to Girl from the North Country. I claim such a thing would be no more a stretch than Dylan as a school teacher dealing with academic bureaucracies. Why should Duluth have all the fun? Why not more honor for the prophet in his own count(r)y?

Girl From The North Country 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

Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
If it rolls and flows all down her breast.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
That’s the way I remember her best.

I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day

So 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 

Copyright © 1963 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1991 by Special Rider Music

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The story of "North?"

The house Home is redolent with the aroma of Christmas cookies, evoking the spirits of Christmas past and those to be. It's possible I've put on a couple of pounds just by inhaling while my Better Half and the Daughter Person take turns at the oven. The stockings are hung on the stairway with care, and I'm debating with myself whether to laugh or cry about the recent effort to rebrand and/or reposition MSP's, and /or Minnesota's "national identity". The first time we noted some of these efforts, we shared some preliminary thoughts here and then here. MinnPost has recently (re)published Camille LeFevre's article from The Line. The gist of the reasoning seems to be that either the state, or the Twin Cities, or the Cities plus Duluth and Rochester (our major urban areas) needs differentiation from the rest of the Midwest in order to be competitive in the new world order. I suspect that, if we were writing a letter to Santa asking for a new identity other than flyover land, Santa might be mightily confused about our lack of clear geographic identification.

stockings hung with care

Photo by J. Harrington

As most of us (all of us?) know, The Twin Cities are very different than Duluth which is also quite distinctive from Rochester (medical destination center anyone?). And yet, as Ms. LeFevre writes:

"Minnesota, as all East and West Coasters know, is famous for its emotionally minimalist, anti-drama approach to life’s challenges, along with a refusal to boast about our accomplishments. And for being a blank screen in the national consciousness, fly-over country in other words. Haven’t we had enough already? Of being misunderstood, overlooked, flown over and disparaged? And of being lumped in with all of the rest of the amorphous Midwest?"

As I can speak to only too well, knowing what you don't want is often a far cry from knowing what you do want. It isn't enough to want to be distinguished from the rest of the Midwest. What do we (all of us, urban us, if the latter, then what about the Iron Rangers and or the farmers?) want to be know as, what do we want to be known for?

Minneapolis -- Mill City

Photo by J. Harrington

I don't believe I'll ever be able to think of Chicago without also remembering Carl Sandburg's wonderful line: "City of the Big Shoulders:" Read the rest of the poem. Then think of a comparable literary description of all or much of Minnesota. Minnesota has been blessed with being home to a fantastically talented assembly of writers and poets. Do any of their lines capture the state of The Cities or the state as Sandburg does Chicago? If not, why?

Some time ago, My Minnesota wrote about 25 books every Minnesotan should read. We never quite got to 25, but the list is notable. One of the wisest marketing folks I know of, Seth Godin, consistently points out the necessity of story in marketing / branding / change. See if what he writes makes sense and how it might apply to Minnesota's brand. I'm still really partial to "the state that works." That way we can include Mill City (Minneapolis), the Saintly City (St. Paul), Medical Center (Rochester), and the air-conditioned city (Duluth) and all of greater Minnesota. When I think of North, I look for Alaska, Inuit, and igloos. (Do you remember the song North to Alaska?) In Minnesota, I think of up to the lake (north being up on most maps). I believe our identity for the 21st century, to be authentic, will also need to include our past.

Earth Day Story

By Stephen Sandy 

I remember the dusty floorboards of wood in the streetcar

Of the Minneapolis Street Railway Company

And the varnished yellow banquettes of tight-knit rattan

Worn smooth by decades of passengers

The worn gleaming brass grips at the corners of the seats

And the motorman’s little bell

Windows trembling in their casings as we crossed the avenue

Liberty dimes falling softly into the steel-rimmed hour glass

The gnarled hand of the motorman near.

My grandmother arranged herself against the seat

Her back as straight as a soldier’s beside me

Her navy hat with velvet band

And net veil down making her head seem distant,

Her dreaming smile and the patient Roman nose,

A repose so deep; from my place

I watched her when we rode like princes

Rattling past traffic stopped on the granite cobbles

Riding downtown together, my hands in hers;

All that so much

That I love yet but feel no sadness for, that

Time crossed out like the trolley tracks taken up

Or entombed under the pliant blacktop of the modernized. 

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Minnesota's Mercury in retrograde?

A story in today's Star Tribune caught my attention in part because I think it fits with a much bigger issue. Folks up in the North Country are accusing the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency [MPCA] of putting jobs ahead of children's health by not following through on a collaborative mercury reduction study. After reading the article, I can understand why folks are upset. One point in particular made me wonder if the reporter mis-wrote something or if the MPCA is engaging in theoretical science.

“They all say it’s sulfates,’’ Lotthammer [MPCA staff] said. “We know that sulfate is a factor, but it’s not the only factor.’’

She said MPCA researchers are now studying a range of possible factors that could convert mercury into a form that gets into the food chain and builds up in game fish.

Scheduled to continue at least through 2017, those studies relate to factors such as water temperature, water flow, sunlight, carbon and natural organic matter, she said. The research will dissect the complexity of the food chain, down to tiny bugs in the sediment.

Lake Superior,  Duluth Harbor in the background

Photo by J. Harrington

Now, I'm pretty sure we can do something about sulfates and even reduce mercury concentrations. I'm ready to accept that a lot of other factors "such as water temperature, water flow, sunlight, carbon and natural organic matter" may be involved. But, I'm at a loss to envision what MPCA would propose to do to mitigate the impacts of water temperature, water flow, sunlight ... on mercury bioaccumulation. On the other hand, neither do I understand why Minnesotans haven't expressed outrage at the fact that MPCA has established that, for Minnesota water quality to be classified fishable, consumption of fish can be limited to one meal per week. That, it seems to me, may have environmental justice implications for Native Americans and, speaking strictly personally, doesn't fit my definition of fishable. I've been known to eat more than an average of one meal of fish (less than a half pound's worth per meal) for a year. Delays in mercury reduction while the science is improved may raise another kind of equity issue. Western Lake Superior Sanitary District has a nice report on Mercury Reduction Project Guidance for Wastewater Treatment Plants. If the public sector wastewater treatment is doing its share, it seems reasonable to expect others in the private sector to do the same.

Years ago, I encountered the concept "The perfect is the enemy of the good." I don't recall where I came across it, but I took it to heart as a counter to my perfectionist tendencies. I wonder if the MPCA staff and board are aware of that philosophy and how it might fit with their efforts to improve water quality and reduce bioaccumulative mercury. There's a hearing on this in Duluth this evening. I'm looking forward to seeing reports on what is said and done. I also wonder how EPA is going to look on Minnesota's results if they aren't consistent with federal and international water quality standards.

The bigger issue I referred to at the start of this posting is that environmental protection was much more straight forward when our rivers caught fire and were obviously polluted with human waste. Now we're looking at more invisible, longer term and globally sourced pollution that's much more challenging to address. That's progress? At least the Tuckerman poem finds a light after a dark night. We should be able to do the same.

“Roll on, sad world! not Mercury or Mars”

By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman 

from Sonnets, Second Series

                      XVII

Roll on, sad world! not Mercury or Mars

Could swifter speed, or slower, round the sun,

Than in this year of variance thou hast done

For me. Yet pain, fear, heart-break, woes, and wars

Have natural limit; from his dread eclipse

The swift sun hastens, and the night debars

The day, but to bring in the day more bright;

The flowers renew their odorous fellowships;

The moon runs round and round; the slow earth dips,

True to her poise, and lifts; the planet-stars

Roll and return from circle to ellipse;

The day is dull and soft, the eave-trough drips;

And yet I know the splendor of the light

Will break anon: look! where the gray is white! 

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Please be kind to each other while you can.

Superior report

Today's posting will bee s brief one. We've been traveling up the North Shore most of the day and we're kind of worn out. The first picture shows a strange cloud formation that looked like the Lake was smoking. The second is of Split Rock Light House. Tomorrow it's off to Grand Marais and, probably, Grand Portage.

Lake Superior "Smoke"       © harrington

Split Rock Light House        © harrington

We got a few flakes of snow or sleet this afternoon and the roadsides north of Two Harbors were full of Snow Buntings. This poem by Barton Sutter of Duluth fits the region and the upcoming season.

A Little Shiver

By Barton Sutter

After the news, the forecaster crowed

With excitement about his bad tidings:

Eighteen inches of snow! Take cover!

A little shiver ran through the community.

Children abandoned their homework.

Who cared about the hypotenuse now?

The snowplow driver laid out his long johns.

The old couple, who’d barked at each other

At supper, smiled shyly, turned off the TV,

And climbed the stairs to their queen-size bed

Heaped high with blankets and quilts.

And the aging husky they failed to hear

Scratch the back door, turned around twice

In the yard, settled herself in the snow,

And covered her nose with her tail.

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Old snow, new snow

© harrington

Wet, gray, rainy day. Snow in the forecast. I'd be more upset but I saw this year's first red-wing blackbird and remember the year it snowed three inches into my boat at mid-May's walleye opener. Enough weather, let's look at poetry. I've written about Connie Wanek, poet from Duluth, in past postings. Today's extracts are from "On Speaking Terms," which is her third book of poetry. This one published by Copper Canyon Press. We're going to look first at part of

Dog Days

Call it selfishness. Call it self-preservation.
We need ignorance,
a day on the water without the chatter
that pours out of the television,
without the picture that requires a thousand words
to disarm. We need the pines
that have stood through two hundred winters,
and the insects that live only a few hours.

Surely the planet will mend behind us
as water heals behind the canoe.
Cruelties in the fossil record are cruelties no more.
It seems our wrongs spring from our right
to pursue our own happiness,
which is a red fox running before the dogs,
dying in their teeth....

There's an awareness here of the necessity of our connectedness to nature. A speaking to the idea that we don't always know or do what's in our own best interest, or at least, if we do, we don't behave that way enough. Have you ever been in a canoe? It's path over and through water is very different than a motor boat's. Water does indeed heal behind canoes, and sail boats. Happiness is hounded by its pursuit of itself? Now, to help us celebrate our persistently tardy Spring, let's take a look at a little of

Old Snow

Thaws have taken their toll,
and once rain fell across the white hills.
The snow is half ice now,
granulated and industrial, and the men
in the yard have lost their coal teeth
and are hollow-eyed and helpless.
They've been loyal to the picket line
all winter, watching scabs come and go,...

Nature literate and grounded in place? I think there's no doubt. Trickster? What else would you call toothless snow men? Crafty and getting work done? Both, captured in picket lines and scabs. Can you fill in the assessment of Snyder's other points? Will you look for Connie's work the next time you're at your local, independent book store? Thanks for listening. Come again. Rants, raves and reflections served here daily in My Minnesota.

Repair, reuse, recycle

© harrington

A few days ago, I got an email telling me that the restoration of this old fire house in Duluth was just about done, as was the construction of new apartments on the north side of this block. I've been involved in the preservation and reuse of several buildings in Duluth, and Minneapolis, and lived for awhile in the converted historic Nelson School in Stillwater. Since I still consider myself a New Englander, a group noted for hanging on to their historic roots and edifices, I suppose I come by this involvement naturally. If you've read some of my prior postings, you know that I believe that one of the best ways to protect great undeveloped places is by creating great developed places like Minnesota's cities and towns. (Actually, I believe that creating great cities is a wonderful idea all by itself.) It's really hard, as far as I can tell, to create a sense of place where everything's new. Bright and shiny is fine for cell phones and laptops, but where I live I want there to be at least the possibility of growing roots, and roots seem to grow best in old soil. The latest issue of American Poet arrived in my mailbox this week. Much of it focuses on introducing younger poets to a broader audience. I'm all for that but find as much, or perhaps more, pleasure reading an anthology of "old" winter poems interspersed with illustrations that look like old fashioned wood cuts or copper etchings. The latest issue of Yankee magazine also arrived this week. It's all about the power of place and how "our homes and our land define who we are." I wish I had more of a sense that those of us who "live, work and play" in My Minnesota believed that. Instead, too many of us seem hell-bent on making a buck today with little or no regard for tomorrow's consequences. I slip into that mode from time to time myself. But I like myself better, and the results of my decisions are more satisfying, when I remember and act on the words of Chief Seattle “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.” There are many rural centers with historic buildings that offer wonderful reuse opportunities. As long as we have DFLers in both houses and the governor's office, what if we asked them to help create jobs in Minnesota by preserving our heritage and extending the state historic tax credit program for at least a decade. The Preservation Alliance of Minnesota is doing some good work with their Main Street and Sites Worth Saving Programs. Having additional sources of equity funds for rural center redevelopment couldn't hurt. New Englanders are (in)famous for a "use it up, wear it out, repair it" approach to life. Think about whether we could use more of that approach here. Thanks for stopping by. Please come again to see what's old and/or new in our Minnesota.