When Thumper explained to Bambi about the forest folk who were “twitterpatted,” he wasn’t just expounding on the thrill of new love. He was referencing the joy and excitement of new life in the Spring.

In Spring worms emerge from the earth, green buds appear, birds chirp, flowers begin to bloom. And all of humankind feels a skip in the step and a lightness in the heart.

It happens every year. Or does it?

Today was officially the first day of Spring. But not in Minnesota. Take a look.

The Picnic Table?








I’m thinking it might just be the fault of Tjasse, the storm god. He certainly raged this past weekend, blizzarding across our skies from the west, wailing through the firs and pines. Dumping untold drifts of white and holding us hostage to his bitter cold.

Tjasse was the Norse giant who one fine day captured Idunn, wife of Braggi, the god of poetry. Beauteous Idunn happened to be the keeper of the Apples of Youth and all of the Aesir depended on their magical power. When Tjasse, disguised as an eagle, swept down and captured this lovely prize, it only figured that the Gods would then begin to fade, turn weary and dull, age and grow dim.


The story proceeds with much mischief making from the trickster, Loki and tragedy ahead for our storm god, Tjasse, who was finally lured aloft, racing in pursuit through the heavens until he flew right into the flames of a mighty fire set by the gods of Asgard.

But mythmakers know that the old tales never die. They continue to circle round and round in our collective consciousness, slightly askance and just out of sight.

The weathermen are puzzled. I think I know who is to blame.


This entry was posted in global warming, minnesota life, mythology, Norwegian, SNOW, storm, WEATHER. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to THE AVENGER

  1. Beth says:

    Yes, sigh. Sick of snow here! I have a picture of guys walking on the snowbanks with electrical wires along side of them…that’s how much it had snowed and drifted that year. People knew better than to touch the live wires, I guess. My dad tells about the year when it snowed and drifted so badly they had to dig a tunnel to the outhouse. And get this…last Friday I passed Rush lake on Highway 78 and there were a bunch of guys out there fishing! Eighty yards from open water! Now that’s crazy!

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