THE CENTER

Posted on February 8, 2012 by snowbirdredux

One night recently we went to the Big Chief convenience store/gas station/truck stop/café just outside of Fergus Falls for their buffalo burgers. They were yum but that’s another story. Although I need to mention how much a fan I have become since I learned that, next to beef, buffalo meat contains up to 90% less fat, 50% less cholesterol, is higher in protein, iron, omega and amino acids, doesn’t require antibiotics and growth hormones while being raised, and tastes “lighter, sweeter and not at all gamey.” Fortunately the locally raised buffalo meat is available at our own Premier Meats here in town.

All of that aside, I was struck by the sign across the parking lot.

What in this prairie world was the reason for a marker alluding to the Continental Divide which I assumed  ran down the Rocky Mountains towards Mexico? Was this a joke? A reinactment? Fast forward to Google!

First of all, a continental divide is better described as a drainage basin. More like a big ditch, or slope, or watery avenue to a sea. And since our continent is made up of a multitude of levels, there is, it would follow, no one single route. There are actually six divides in North America. The “Continental” (which according to more than one geologist should be rightly called the “Great” because it is the longest and has the highest peaks) – running from Alaska across the Rockies south into Mexico. The “Arctic” which runs across Canada to the Labrador Sea. The “St. Lawrence” which skirts the south of the Great Lakes and exits at the Atlantic. The “Eastern” which flows towards the tip of Florida.  The “Great Basin” which circles the western states and eventually seeps into the Pacific. And – our very own here on the prairies – the “Northern or Laurentian” which crosses the top of the states and out to the Labrador Sea. They are all, in fact, continental divides.

And bear with me here, for my point is not to bore with a school girl’s geology lesson, but to exclaim upon the new found idea that I AM LIVING SMACK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NORTH AMERICAN CONTINENT!  Look at the map. It is, in fact, the center point which provides a transition between the eastern woodlands, western prairies, northern coniferous forests, and the grain-growing midlands. And furthermore (I learned on one Google site) a drop of rain falling in Minnesota  might have a chance to flow north to Hudson Bay, east to the Atlantic or south to the gulf of Mexico. A truly pivital point. I find that beguilingly comforting.

And so, the next time I am sitting in my meditation aerie, listening to my brain chatter, feeling antsy and hurried, struggling to find my own inner center, I will remember that I am already there.  And all around, water is rushing back towards the sea.

Posted in faith, introspection, minnesota life | Leave a comment

MARYANNE

Posted on February 6, 2012 by snowbirdredux

My cousin Maryanne and I were born the same year although she preceded me by a few months into this world. The first time we were together she taught me many things. I believe we were about four. My first memory, steeped in deep awe and admiration, came from the fearless abandon with which she clumped up and down the stairs in Aunt Verna’s high heels. Seemingly unafraid and accomplished in a manner I could only hope to replicate. I was astounded. But I tried to follow her lead. I never took a tumble but I never quite mastered her courageous flights of faith.

About the same time she also showed me how best to enjoy a ladies’ luncheon. In honor of our visit from California, Aunt Verna had invited all the aunts and grandmothers and old gal pals of my mom and while the ladies were engaged in luncheon chatting, Maryanne took me into the spare bedroom where the coats and purses were piled upon the bed and showed me how to empty all the purses – makeup, money, grocery lists, keys – all in one splendid heap of playthings. I vowed at that time, I think, to listen and learn.

A few years later her daring took her into the street in the path of a car and my mother, to my great envy, sent her a Nancy Ann Storybook Doll every single week of her convalescence. At that time it was my dearest goal to collect them all, every fairy tale, every nursery rhyme character. I didn’t regret her the gifts and  I knew it was only right given her grave misfortune, but I did feel a twinge at every mailing and scrutinized the selections and counted the numbers carefully. Just last year she showed me those same dolls which she had beautifully kept, and even though they had obviously been “played with” their condition was close enough to what could be dubbed by any antique dealer “mint-in-box.” Seventy years later. Mine were long gone it’s true, over-combed hair-dos and well-worn costumes aside, and I had no idea where they ended up.

In time Maryanne became the sister I never had. Much more than a cousin. The past few years we have talked on the phone every few days – politics (we shared a commonality and passion and I was so proud when she became an official delegate to the convention in Boston a few years ago), gardening (it’s in our gene pool), family history (we made it our personal task and joint effort to sort through the stories and piece together the lineage), and all the fabric of our daily lives. We laughed a lot.

She lost Ron, her first husband, suddenly and way too young. She lost Billy, her last born, in a tragedy that never should have happened. She lost Jim, her husband and best friend, which left a gaping breach impossible to fill. And she suffered the most difficult sort of health problem I can imagine – always gasping for breath. In the end she would not have been faulted if she had fallen into deep depression or embitterment. Not so. Maryanne, on our very last chat just last week, confided to me that she had absolutely nothing to complain about, that she had had a wonderful life and had been so lucky.

On her second go-round of hospice, and with overwhelming impediments to the very basics of everyday life, she found fun and pleasure every day.

Whether it was gallantly conquering the steps in heels, finding the most fun at a ladies lunch, taking spectacular care of her Storybook Dolls, walking straight through the pain of loss, or managing horrendous physical depletion, she is and will ever be my one and greatest role model and dearest cousin/sister/friend.

Early 50's trip - Tijuana

Top Row, left to right: Maryanne, Harriet, Me, Marlene, Margie, Uncle Lawrence. Bottom row: Aunt Verna, Grandma Ingebretson

Harriet, Kim, Noelle, T.M., Maryanne - California

Jim, Harriet, Maryanne, Me - Pebble Beach Lodge, Ca

Maryanne and Jim

Marlene, Me, Margie, T.M. and Maryanne

Posted in faith, Family, favorite things, friendship, In Memorium | 1 Comment

WINTER WONDERLAND

Posted on February 5, 2012 by snowbirdredux

Here we are in the midst of a “non winter”, the snow melting more everyday, not much more in sight, temperatures in the upper 30’s, and it looks out my window as if crystal faerys dusted the world with a frost glace. I never bargained for this enchantment when we moved to the upper prairies. Never dreamed I would be transported smack into the realm of the Snow Queen and her glittering palace, my favorite childhood tale.

It turns out that we are experiencing RIME which derives from the Old Norse word “hrim”, which means frost. And rime is caused when water droplets in fog (which has been ever present the past few days) drift through the air and freeze on objects above the ground. As opposed to hoar frost which occurs when heat losses rise into the air, bump into higher objects and cause ice crystals to form. “Hoar”  is the Old English word for “elderly white hair.” Actually the rime looks like white hair on some of the droopier trees.

But enough to know that it is wondrous and ravishingly beautiful.

 

 

Posted in favorite things, minnesota life | Leave a comment

41 BAGS FULL!

Posted on January 31, 2012 by snowbirdredux

The Barn, Northcroft, Pelican Rapids, MN

Now and then one has a day, start to finish, which is replete and chock-full of the following descriptions:  excitation, novelty, apprenticeship, endeavor, jollity, friendship, enlightenment, insightfulness, and full-filling-fun.   Not very often, but this was mine.  So it was that I spent a recent day by getting up in the dark and hastily dressing in the warmest garb which I had chosen the night before  and driving to meet Meg and Betsy at their parent’s house and then proceeding on to Pelican Rapids and the annual sheep shearing at the home of Joanie and Dave Ellison.

Novice that I am, I just hoped to learn and be helpful.  I’m not all that sure of the later, but I did learn and it opened the door to a hunger for more.  In other words, I am now hooked on fiber.

It all began with Meg, who I recently met at her parent’s house as she was exhibiting a “ponchito” (or shrug) which she had spun and dyed (partially)  and knit for her mother.   Her spinning wheel was on display and the eight or nine yarns she had used to create this art piece were laid out in sequence, blending the loveliest peachy pink hues by contrasting wooly, sparkly, ribbon-y, and fuzzy.  About the same time I was invited to friend, Katy’s house for a fiber/knitting/potluck (see “Sheep, a Pig and a Circle of Women”) and soon thereafter  I began digging through the two large baskets of yarn that moved with us to Minnesota, untouched for two years and now unearthed in a pile of wooly color.

It only seemed natural, then, that I jumped at the chance to participate in the annual shearing day at Northcroft, home to Joanie Ellison, shepherdess.  In her book “Sheep to Shawl” she describes this process which begins each year  when Mel, the shearer shows up early morn and with the help of Joanie’s  husband, Dave, and assorted friends trims hooves, inoculates and shaves each fleece.  They are individually tagged and turned out onto a skirting table where other assorted friends ooh and aah and pick over and ready for eventual washing, carding, dying and  spinning.  Of course, it’s much more complex and a full, hard days work at that, and I felt privileged to be a part of it all.

In Line

Alpaca with the herd

It is awesome to watch the agility and artistry of the actual process.  The sheep is pulled up onto her rear end while Mel, with long, fast fluid strokes shears around her neck, down her belly, the inside of her legs, from the shoulder to the tail, the belly to the backbone, down the hind legs and in moments – whoosh – the sheep scrambles to her feet and a very large pile of luscious  wool lies behind.

Mel at work

Clipping, vacinating, shearing, DONE!

Baa, Baa, Black Sheep —-

I’ll take that coat!

Ready for lambing now

Herd De-frocked

Each shear goes onto the metal skirting table and I stand about with other helpers, picking, picking, learning what to discard, what to celebrate. We pick off the little “second” clumps, the yellow urine stains, the pieces of straw, alfalfa and poop.  I’m introduced to “luster” and “crimp”.

Betsy ready to skirt

Getting a lesson on crimp from Joanie

One LARGE fleece. Pile of bagged fleece, far back right

After a hearty lunch at the Ellison’s dining table, accompanied by yarn talk and other life tales, we return to the barn to shear and skirt until we have 41 bags full.  A lovely day’s work which is not to end until after I have returned with Meg and Betsy to their parent’s house for dinner – Liz, Don, T.M. and friend Mary – and Meg allows me to “ply” yarn on her spinning wheel! Now I’m really hooked.

Joanie Ellison ends her book “From Sheep to Shawl” by saying, “Who would ever believe that one could build or create a thing of beauty from tangles and knots.  As fiber people we do it every time we sit down at our looms, pull up our wheels, or pick up our needles.  As human beings, we do it every day of our lives.”

Clooney and Baby – Cover of “Shepherdess” by Joanie Ellison

Posted in COMMUNITY, favorite things, friendship, introspection, minnesota life | 1 Comment

WINTER LAMENTATIONS

Posted on January 27, 2012 by snowbirdredux

 

Yikes!  My faded, Costco, comfort, Gloria Vanderbilt jeans are cutting into my mid section.  Tight.  And I don’t think it can be  attributed to the new Cuddle Puff under-things for they are huggy and teensy and, if anything, hold in any extra outer rolls.  T.M. and I have both accumulated a few pounds (I won’t assign specifics) since moving to Minnesota.  So this is a dilemma.  Too true that science confirms  when it is cold, very cold, our inner-body voice begins to tell us that we NEED to put on some weight, need that  outer fat to protect and keep us warm. Our animal friends add more calories before the bleak winter so that they may subsist on less for a time.  Could it be that the zero temperatures are sending an invisible signal to the animus within and causing me  to bulk up?

Oh dear.  It’s also true that I have felt like hibernating of late.  Curling up with a good book and a light snooze.   Yesterday the sun was falling upon my cozy chair with such tenderness that I felt embraced by the very arms of Morpheus.  And just last night I plumped myself against the pillows in bed while I waited for T.M. to come upstairs and watch the recorded copy of last week’s “Downton Abbey” and before I knew it I had fallen deeply asleep at 8:30 p.m. and didn’t awaken until 8 hours later!

With the coming of winter we have been more sedentary it is true.  Furthermore, it is only fitting that the charm of the season only comes into full fruition with the scent of baking cookies.  Given just those two facts alone was enough to make me take stock of our Minnesota lifestyle.

An article on the front page of the Twin Cities StarTribune this morning only reinforced our dilemma.  Dr. James Levine of the Mayo Clinic has “-reviewed the statistics: One in three Minnesota adults is either diabetic or pre-diabetic, and one in four is obese.  And he thinks he’s found the underlying ailment: THE SITTING DISEASE.”

Before the  pharmaceutical industry can rush out the latest of  designer drugs to combat S D (“Ask your doctor if the new, improved Dexedrine is right for you”), we made a pledge to take it upon ourselves to fight this dire verdict and make exercise our new improved regimen.

First, we hauled the almost forgotten, half buried, elliptical machine in from the garage.  Second, we made a pledge to check out the gym at the YMCA only blocks away.  Third (and best of all) we bundled up and headed to the Prairie Wetlands, the environmental education center operated by U.S. Fish and Wildlife  which encompasses 330 acres of native prairie, 20 wetlands and two oak savannas.

Last spring we watched the Monarch butterflies flit about the grasses there before their long migration to California and parts south. And marveled at the beauty of the native plants  and trekked the loops around the ponds and marshes.   Today the scene was radiant white and we were able to follow deer prints in the snow.

We’ll beat this S D yet.

Someone lives here!

Frozen pond

The Visionary

Native plants in winter

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in favorite things, food, HEALTH, minnesota life | Leave a comment

HOME SWEET HOME

Posted on January 25, 2012 by snowbirdredux

Curley is home.  What a tale he might tell of his adventures.  We are left to only speculate, but he certainly captured the imagination of untold numbers of his community this past month, as well as  the world beyond.  We fully expect that he will be the star and the marshal of the town parade come spring.

His “captors”, the Loomers, personified the spirit of what in these parts is called “Minnesota Nice” when they decided to donate their $300 reward to a program which helps families in other countries purchase goats for their villages.  So, the spirit of Christmas giving lives on.

We’re feeling the spirit, too, here on Mt. Faith and it has to do with home, sweet home.  Thanks to my friend, Marguerite, who is a member of the local historical society, I was able to unearth a book entitled “How Green was our Hilltop” by Laura Gilloley whose family bought this property for $1500 in the early 1900’s and lived there for over 100 years. Because of Laura I now know where her “Ma” had the pea-patch and how she hoed the garden “her face protected by a wide straw hat with the black cat perched on her shoulders.”  And that “yellow rose bushes grew on the lawn south of the house, and pink wild roses grew all over the east hill, which slopes down to the creek.”  UH OH!

And so much more.  I now know where the water was heated for the Saturday night baths, and how the cupboard against the south wall was “piled to the hilt” and how sister Mary “bossed” the cake baking, and how the old deserted sewing machine behind the wood burning stove was used to spread kernels of corn to dry, and how they had to watch for slivers while scrubbing the old pine floor, and how Ma would dip a long stick into steaming white clothes from the boiler to the washing tub, and also how Ma sewed flour sacks for summer underclothing.  I can envision against the south wall of the sitting room, a large high walnut book case filled with Harpers, Scribners, “World’s Best of Composers” – all “beautifully bound and lettered in gold by Pa.”  I can appreciate that the doors to the parlor were always open and folded back because the piano was in the parlor – “a golden oak Kimball upright, ornately carved with oak leaves and acorns.”  And that the three music racks stood “groaning under their loads.”  “Melody of Love”, “The Low-Backed Car”, “The Rosary”, “The Holy City”.  I now know that a picture of Grandma Meade hung on the west wall of the sitting room and that Grandpa Meade in his Civil War uniform looked at them from the east wall.  I know that the pine floors were painted a terra cotta red “except in the kitchen and Ma’s braided rugs were scattered over much of the floor area.” And eventually after much discussion they bought their first factory rug for the parlor and that it was “a nine by twelve foot bright red flowered rug with a green background…ordered after much discussion of choices for thirteen dollars from Sears Roebuck catalogue.”   (Red and green – so akin to our palate!)

Laura also mentions that the hallway downstairs “led to a stair-well with steep steps and a solid banister.  (My Stair Master!)  And that “the banister withstood many a slidedown with never a quiver.”  And that the upstairs of the house contained two large bedrooms and a storeroom (now the bathroom).  She goes on – “The boy’s bedroom upstairs had a stove pipe going through it from the floor to the ceiling which received some heat from the sitting room stove below, and kept the four occupants warmer than their sisters in the adjacent  south room which was without heat. (Our bedroom now.)  Before going to bed in winter the girls would heat the flat irons, wrap them in cloths, and place them in bed toward the foot of the bed.  By huddling together and by piling on quilts, none of the girls suffered anything worse than profound shivers.  Once in a while when all was quiet someone yelled out in protest if her partner’s cold feet accidentally (?) touched the protester.”   YES!  I can relate.  My partner has cold feet too!

Here we are at Mt. Faith now sensing the reverberations of many lives.  Their spirit resounds.  The intimations of all those years is ever present.  If I’m in the parlor I can almost hear the piano.  If I’m climbing the stairs, I see out of the corner of my eye, Dooly and Budge sliding past me.  In the dining room I know that Pa and Liz sat across from Vin and Mary. Laura, in her history, brought it all alive.  And it’s home, sweet home.

Cosmo at his new home - Mt. Faith

Sweet Home - Winter view from meditation room (above stairwell!)

Posted in faith, Family, favorite things, In Memorium, introspection, minnesota life | Leave a comment

CURLEY’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE

Posted on January 22, 2012 by snowbirdredux

Ever since Christmas Eve, 2011, the headlines of the Fergus Falls Daily Journal have loudly proclaimed and excitedly followed the daily drama and progress of one black angora goat whose adventure kept the whole community on the edge of their seats.  It all began when Curley’s owners took him to participate in a nativity appearance at the Bethlehem Lutheran Church of Fergus Falls.  It couldn’t have been that Curley suffered from stage fright for he was very tame and an old hand at pageants, having previously participated as a member of Noah’s Ark for the Stavanger Lutherans, and was deemed “very well behaved” by his family, Jim and Karen Aakre.

Who knows what visions of sugarplums tempted him this past holiday season, but he was all the talk of the town, and not because he escaped into the night, but because he continued to appear and allude his captors.  Curley was first spotted  in the parking lot of the Service Grocery, next by the museum, then near Roosevelt Park, and outside of town at the Wal-Mart, by the old dairy building, at the lumber yard, on the University of Minnesota campus (where he was chased by 20 students), at the city dump —-

Soon the paper was printing a google map each day, covered with “sightings” with the usual balloon-like markers, and offering a reward of $20- in gift cards to the person who most accurately predicted the date and time of his final capture. As time went on they upped the ante to include a $20- prize for just a photo of the elusive ovine. And not to be outdone, the goat’s owners and the local radio station offered $250 for his capture and then the Best Western got into the act with an offer of one night in a whirlpool suite and dinner for two.

Every day Curley was sighted somewhere.  Or so “they” said. And every day he slipped away.  A local photographer, Jeff Zachmann, spoofed the adventure with photos of Curley (most likely a large puppet)   sitting in a booth at the Viking Café, enjoying a performance at the Center for the Arts, and peeking around the aisle while shopping at the Sun Mart Grocery.

"Your order?" "The Lutefisk!?"

I thought this was "A Christmas Carol!"

"Where's the Hay?"

But the intrigue intensified, as did the weather, leaving the Aakre’s to become increasingly alarmed for their beloved pet.  And finally, after 25 days on the lam, the goat wandered into a goat herd on the Loomer farm outside of town.  Jim and Karen rushed to the scene, loaded Curley into the back seat of their car (the temperature was now well below zero) and celebrated their happy ending.

Koryna and Kyra Loomer meeting Curley in thier barn.

We will never know what inspired Curley to bolt from that Nativity night.  Nor will we be privy to all he experienced on his pilgrimage about town. Or if he ever found his heart’s desire.  More likely (like Dorothy) he discovered that in the end, there’s no place like home.

In a Letter to the Editor, Bernice Hanson related the adventure to Leviticus 16 in the Bible.  She said “As simply as I can say it, one of the things the Jewish high priest was instructed to do was confess the sins of Israel unto a goat, and send it into the desert wilderness.  It was to be a picture to point us to Jesus, who would take the sins of humanity on Himself, and be crucified on a cross outside the city. And I started thinking, maybe this goat, Curley, should be commended for his extraordinary role in this year’s pageant.”

Thank you Bernice.  You can see just how far this goat’s adventure has taken and inspired a community.  In more ways than one.

Whatever the inner tale might reveal, Curley  is now a celebrity of great renown in the town of Fergus Falls and will ever after be in demand for personal appearances.

Posted in COMMUNITY, faith, favorite things, minnesota life, religion | 4 Comments

THE IRONY OF IT ALL

Posted on January 18, 2012 by snowbirdredux

 

If you have been following this saga of the snowbirds in reverse (as we call ourselves) you would be aware that our journey from California to Minnesota began with a dream to retire back where my ancestors arrived when they made that longer passage from Scandinavia  to the northern plains of America.  As a little girl I longed for the family that stayed along the Red River Valley of the North.  I wanted to tromp about the old farmstead with my cousins, explore the woods beside the river, visit the varied households of multiple relatives who had remained and supported a specific and traditional way of life.  It became a romantic and deeply provocative dream, a harkening to ancestral roots, a rite of passage through transmigration.

Therefore, it is with more than some irony that just as we have reached that point of return, just as the dream to redeem a much coveted and lost path has been brought to fruition and the familial heritage and gathering places are finally near and dear – we hear of a plan to divert the Red River of the North and flood it all.

It seems that a massive and exorbitant plan has been hatched by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, a proposal which would cost upwards of $1.8 billion in order to protect the land and population that has spread outwards from the greater Fargo/ Moorhead communities which border the river along the North Dakota and Minnesota divide.  In other words, some 200,000 acres has been designated for “staging and storage” during flood times and approximately 54,000 acres is to be permanently flooded.  And the land which is designated is – you guessed it – right in the midst of my ancestral dreams and heritage.

It isn’t that I am quarreling with just any long-term, permanent flood relief for the Fargo/Moorhead metropolitan area.  I would be the first, perhaps, to stand on the sandbagging lines of duty.  (Or I would have been some twenty years ago when my back was younger and stronger.)  I see the need for a plan.  I sympathize with the victims.  But not at the expense of making my ancestral lands the sacrificial lamb.  Particularly when the staging, storage, and deliberately man-made flooding is proposed to be done in an area where long ago the pioneers wisely chose their land, carefully managed their acreage through hardship and hard work, and have not been troubled by deluge all these years, neither by man nor God.

Fargo/Moorhead, however, has built into a long standing swampland and continued, as urban sprawl ever and blithely demanded, to build into the floodplain and build some more. And paid the consequences.  The Red River, indeed, has had a history of flooding when the snow melts and the territory to the north is still frozen and all the water that slopes into the thruway has nowhere to go but outward.  In a book called “The Challenge of the Prairie” by Hiram M. Drache, the author quotes one of the old pioneers of the area, a Mr. O.A. Olson,  who penned the following words – “You unpredictable Red of the North, you swelling cantankerous stream – .”  But of course, Mr. Olson, it should be noted, was not known for his optimism about much of anything,  for he is also credited with the following dour verses:  “The cut worms chew; the wire worms eat all kinds of plants, including wheat.”  And: “Then hail destroys what hoppers can’t, and yet they plant.” Or finally – “With soil so dry that plants won’t grow – they blindly sow.”

But I digress.  Such a sourpuss needn’t be used to illustrate the truth. The point that rankles and truly bends the facts is the one concocted by some governmental agency that might have needed a project, or by a wily developer who might scoop up cheap swampland for his personal gain, or by the beleaguered homeowner who wearies of bucketing his basement in the city.  It’s only the “little guy” who wins my sympathy.  But the current diversion plan isn’t the one he should choose and stand behind.  There have been other proposals which include widening, straightening, dredging, erecting permanent flood walls  or a ring dike around the city. Are they good or appropriate solutions?  I am not an engineer, but I know that it can not be a good solution to flood out and send to oblivion whole communities (Hickson, N.D. and Comstock Mn. among them) century farms, homesteads, historic sites, 13 CEMETERIES, schools and churches that have long served our history and the rich and endowed past of 3rd and 4th generations of noble immigrants.

While pondering a map, did  someone in the upper echelons of The Corps finally resort to the eeny-meeny technique of closing the eyes and stabbing a random spot?  Why is the upstream designated diversion site at that very juncture, 20 minutes south of Fargo/Moorhead where my father and mother began in the smaller twin towns of Hickson/Comstock?  Or any other lovely historic plot of familial memories and dreams?  If this plan passes there will be tens of thousands of prime agricultural acreage inundated, hundreds of homes under water, historic towns, churches and cemeteries gone for good.

One of my great-grandfathers, Jorgan Johannesen came from Norway in 1870 with just a cart, a cow and two oxen and lived in a dug-out in the ground along the river, skied to Alexandria for supplies, built a house, raised a family and started a legacy, just as all the tough and tenacious pioneers of  Pleasant Township in North Dakota.  My aunt Lil still lives in the family home in Hickson and it is our hub and center.  Grandpa Johan Pederssen came as a boy of eight along with his brother and an uncle from an island called Skarvik near Tromso at the end of the fjord called Sjovegan. He married my darling Grandma Marie and began a family before succumbing to the tuberculosis he had contracted in the crowded hold of the ship. Other great-grandparents,  Jens and Kirsten Jonsson came from Varmland, Sweden  to join the extended family occupying a little log cabin near Comstock, Minnesota.  The cabin still stands and the family farms line that side of the river.  My relatives spanning four generations are buried in four local cemeteries.  The Shepard of the Prairie Church in Hickson and the Comstock Lutheran Church are more than just buildings.

This is my personal tale and history and I am just one of many with similar roots and lineage who find it difficult to believe that there is not a more reasonable, not to mention affordable, and perhaps scientifically satisfying solution to the problem at hand.  In the meantime there is much to be done and specific information and answers can be found at MnDakupstreamcoalition.com and at fmdam.org.  You can be sure that the descendents of the pioneers will not give this plan an easy pass.

MAP OF PROPOSED DIVERSION

Jorgan and Elin Johannesen with handmade skate

First house outside of Hickson, North Dakota

Log Cabin - still there on the Bernhardson/Dahlstrom farm - Comstock, MN

Comstock Cemetery

Grandpa Johan's grave

Hemnes Cemetery

Shepherd of the Prairie

Home Base

Johnson farm - Hickson, North Dakota

Red of the North - "cantankerous stream!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in COMMUNITY, faith, Family, favorite things, Immigration, introspection, minnesota life | 1 Comment

WINTER WHETHER?

Posted on January 11, 2012 by snowbirdredux

What’s wrong with this picture?

Few would believe it to be a picture of Minnesota in January.

Paul, my favorite local weatherman proclaimed today that the typical, seasonal “Snowbird”, who usually closes up the upper-midwest house and heads for Arizona this time of year, is having an identity crisis.  There is more snow in Arizona and New Mexico at the moment than all of the  northern prairies.  And if you want to ski – go south!   If you want to skate, there’s always the indoor arena. Today’s Fergus Journal featured photos of golfers teeing off on the ninth green.  Who needs Phoenix!

The ice fishermen are confounded.  Some have defiantly hauled their houses out upon the lakes, for that is “what they do” this time of year.  Nothing like braving the frigid air to sit in a out-house sized shack and stare at a hole in the ice. Many of them have “broken through” in a bigger way than planned.  Thankfully all, so far, have been rescued.

We have had a few days this past month when the temperature in Atascadero, California was somewhat BELOW the 50 degrees in Fergus Falls, Minnesota.  Paul (who I consult daily in the Star Tribune)  attributes it to a continual gust of powerful Pacific air, streaming from the west coast and continuing all across the upper midwest, which appears to be overpowering and holding back the arctic front from Canada.  He also is writing more and more in terms of “Record Weather Events.”  Worldwide.  And even mentioning that controversial term – Global Warming – with greater frequency.

Personally, I can’t quite understand why the subject isn’t raising shouts of concern.  It is our entire world at stake after all.  Perhaps the matter is just too immense a subject to begin to fathom, as if it’s Advanced Universal Astro-Physics and Cataclysms 101 and we’re just learning our “times 2’s”.  So we close the book and put it aside for another day.  Or another century.

But let’s not.  There might not be one.

Bless our earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in global warming, introspection, minnesota life | Tagged | Leave a comment

SHEEP, A PIG, AND A CIRCLE OF WOMEN

Posted on January 8, 2012 by snowbirdredux

 

I deliberately sat beside my friend, Katy, at a solstice party recently because she was cozingly ensconced at the end of a sofa – knitting.  It’s been, most likely, two years since I knitted and just hearing the click and swish of the needles and watching the teal and green threads weaving into a mini-creation and feeling the hypnotic comfort of the process made me yarn hungry.

Once again in my life, there is so much to be said for synchronicity and spot-on timing, for Katy invited me to a gathering at her place to be held the very next day.  “A pot luck,” she said, “and a few other knitters.  Or maybe it will be just the two of us.”

And so, yesterday, I drove out to Katy and Ron’s place at their 100 acre woods, where I had to park somewhat down the drive because I could see that the cars were filling the spaces closest to the house.  As I struggled up the road, laden with baguettes and pasta salad, balancing my purse and knitting bag, trying not to slip in the slushy snow, I noticed a large, very large brown creature ahead.  Looking directly at me and SNORTING.

It was too big for a dog.  Certainly.  More the size of a large calf.  Perhaps.  But snorting?  There are two wild animals of which I am most afraid.  Bears and wild pigs.  I have never encountered a bear, I am relieved to admit, but the very possibility of their presence on the trails of Yosemite has made our forays there less pleasurable for me.  The wild boar is another story, closer to home, for they were common in the hills of Big Sur where we lived for a time, aggressive and not to be encountered if one could help.

So it was with some trepidation, I must admit, that I determined that the snorting creature who was now looking intently at, and moving directly towards me – was indeed a pig.  This WAS, after all, the hundred acre woods.

I wrestled briefly with the idea of getting back into the car and driving quickly away.  I wondered if the pig would like pasta?  With kalamata olives and salami?  Doubtless.  And then I made the quick decision to press on and we faced each other – “it” snorting all the while as we made our approach as in a dream.  Slowly, appraisingly, in sync.  At the point we passed, the pig made a significant sniff at the swinging baguettes and then I was up the stairs and onto the porch and Katy was at the door asking if I’d met Dakota who was the official greeter that day.

Dakota - the greeter

Assuming her duties -

"This way to your car---"

Inside the house I found a circle of nine women gathered about – three spinning wool, the others knitting.  And so the day went, mirroring I’m certain, what women have ever done, but not so much these days – talking, laughing, learning together.  I had so much fun.  And it seemed archetypal somehow.  I could imagine the pioneer ladies of these prairies and woods, coming together for quilting and churning.  Women everywhere who became charmed by their circle.

 

And if this wasn’t magic enough for one day, I met a real life shepherdess.

Joanie Ellison, one of that circle, lives in nearby Pelican Rapids, Minnesota, and hosts shearing events and is a part of Fiber Days twice a year and has written books – notably “Shepherdess, Notes from the Field” and “From Sheep to Shawl, Stories and Patterns for Fiber Lovers”.

Yes, I’m a fiber lover and I’m now clicking and swishing my needles once again, wondering all the while just how much a spinning wheel will cost?

 

 

Posted in COMMUNITY, favorite things, friendship, minnesota life | 1 Comment