Skip to main content

Regained March Evenings in 2022: Beautiful

    

Mikinaak Creek

   For over 20 years I worked an evening shift, typically 3 pm-11 pm, in a local 'toy factory. During all this time, I missed the hours of sundown when the countryside of northwestern Minnesota quieted down and the through-traffic ceased; the ravens gave their last 'croak,' and with their noisy cousins, the crows, would fly off to bed, leaving the Mikinaak Creek basin to the owls, deer, and other animals that preferred night to day.

    So it is, this evening, March 18th, 2022 as the sun slowly descends toward the horizon, I stand outdoors along the creek and listen to the hoo-hoots of owls and the quieter 'uh-uh' response they make, somewhere back in the spruce and popple woods. I think fondly of my late Uncle Martin Davidson and what he would say of this scene he helped provide me since 1971, when he was 71, my age now. I think he would be pleased at the growth of the 1500 white spruce seedlings he watched my friend Jeff Barker and I take across the creek by canoe, and plant by hand there in 1974.

    On the morning of March 24th, 2022, we awoke to this similar appearance of the Mikinaak as back in 1974, minus the present snow and the then-present hordes of mosquitoes.



      


Comments

Congratulations on finding time for mindfulness!

More interesting background about 71 here.
Moments like these are rare for most people, but for us fortunate ones, we have access 24/7.

Popular posts from this blog

A Memorial to Jerry Solom August 24, 1945 -- July 23, 2019 No. 2

               Jerry Solom, August 24, 1945 -- July 23, 2019 This is a random image memorial post about my late friend, who died a year ago. I wrote a memoir/tribute to him in the Wannaskan Almanac on July 23, 2020. Here's the link to that: http://wannaskanalmanac.blogspot.com/2020/07/thursday-july-23-2020.html Me and Jerry with Marion in background in Stonington, Maine in 2015 prior to setting sail to Hull, MA. This is an excerpt from the story  "A Louisiana Ruse" by Steven G. Reynolds Published in 2000 in THE RAVEN: Northwest Minnesota's Original Art, History & Humor Journal      This describes the end of a 43-hour bus ride we took from Fargo, North Dakota to Slidell, Louisiana, where Jerry's boat was in dock prior to his voyage to Norway in 2000. I was there as part of the maintenance crew, accompanying Jerry, his son Terry Solom of Minneapolis, and their fr...

April 5, 2025 Sven is Dead

     "OH MY GOD! SVEN IS DEAD!" the new neighbor Jack Krag said, running from his car to the swing set in Sven's yard where Sven Guyson laid prone on the ground, one foot still afloat in the seat of the swing, his face against the sod, his cap ajar.      "SVEN! SVEN!" Krag repeated plaintively, gently turning Sven over onto his back; the imprint of grass and dirt stuck to Sven's open-eye slobbery face.      " HE'S JUST A'FOOLIN' YOU, bon ami! " shouted Monique, Sven's wife of two years and some months from the porch. "He's just workin' up to his expiration date and wants his death to be just a part of our normal routine. He doesn't want to surprise anyone by dyin' unexpectedly. You know what a shock a death can be. He's just tryin' to ease us all into it, one act at a time.       "WHAT??" Krag fairly hollered in disbelief, looking at Monique, then back st Sven, and back to Monique...

Adventures in Parenting 1990-1993

    Two True Stories 1990-1993 " We didn’t make her fearful, we made her brave."     Bag O' Bonny           Turning in at Bemis Hill, in Roseau County, Minnesota, I snapped a few images of the nicely maintained CCC-era log cabin and its immediate sledding hill. Leaving, I turned west on the road I came in on, then a half mile or so, took the Bemis Hill Forest Road north along the bottom of the Hill when my daughter Bonny called from Ankeny, Iowa, where she lived then, several hundreds of miles away.     I always thought how amazing it was to be in the middle of nowhere and get a phone call. I was  leaning against my car along a remote northwest Minnesota forest road in Beltrami Island State Forest with the steep legendary sledding hill behind me and a 700,000 acre forest around me, possibly making me its sole human occupant for five square miles, conservatively speaking, the thought of which is just aw...