WannaskaWriter

 “Just  of Scientific Mind: The Chicken Coop Revisited.” by Steven G. Reynolds Gramma Eff was not deaf, not dumb, nor was she blind. She was not daft this Gramma Eff, just of scientific mind. She wore knee boots, a long white coat, goggles, special gloves, and entered in, a study of, chickens, and their loves. “Chickens, and their loves?” you ask, incredulously, with one raised brow, as if of what she studied hence made a mockery of you now. Gramma kept her chickens clean and altho you might think it mean she washed their feet, their beak, their bod --the neighbors thought it very odd. That no one out should enter in Gramma’s little chicken pen For Gramma too, removed her clothes her boots, her coat, her goggles--those gloves, that Gramma always wore whenever she opened that very door of all her chicken coops there we’ve learned strangers there, their presence spurned Gramma found these chickens smart, they liked color, music, art. Gramma learned their innate needs went far b...

Excerpt from 2010 trip to Maine and the L.L. Bean Adventure      In 2010, I flew to Boston with friend Joe,for a family reunion to be held in Stonington, Maine. Joe’s wife was unable to attend and he invites me along as I know the family well. Although our trip ends very dramatically, all is well in the end. This is a short excerpt from our trip.       As we leave Hull and surrounding communities, Joe and his mother, Mary, offer play-by-plays of various neighborhoods, families, businesses. “There’s a lovely hibiscus up in that ugly place,” Mary remarks, as we pass a walled-in fortress-like residence among signs reading:‘SwordMaster Martial Arts: Unleash Your inner Tiger,’ 'Jolienne McDonnell Square,’ ‘Neponset Bridge,’ 'Quincy Bay.’      Looking at me through the rear view mirror, Joe says, “There’s the Long Island Bridge we passed under yesterday.”   I recognize it, sort of.   ...

December 7, 2018  Dear Pen Pal,            You were always the daring sort of guy. Not exactly the most intelligent, but always ready to prove me wrong when I said you shouldn’t do something because you might get hurt--and then fervently deny it did.         “So what?? What’s one finger joint when you have ten of them?” you said cockily, holding your hand up to me and displaying the loss to the middle finger of your left hand.       “Shit, it was nothing!”        Yeah, I’ll bet that’s what your dad said after vaulting the 12 steps to your upstairs bedroom, in one leap, on Des Moines Street where you sat with your ears ringing, the room filled with acrid blue smoke, and your left hand minus a fingertip. I remember you calling me from the hospital and saying,       “Guess where I am, or You’ll never guess where I am,” someth...

Back in November, Joe and my wife Jackie and I attended a painting workshop at the Greenbush, Minnesota Library offered through an activity that "... is funded, in part, by a grant from the Northwest Minnesota Arts Council and the Minnesota Arts & Cultural Heritage Fund as appropriated by the Minnesota legislature with money from the vote of the people of Minnesota on November 4, 2008,” and facilitated by Northwest Minnesota area artist Trey Everett. Held in a variety of locations throughout the region, we were provided a 12×12 canvas, supplies and instruction to create a piece of art around the theme "WE ARE WATER." Water can be a source of recreation; it keeps us alive; it is used for daily life. Participants were encouraged to bring snippets or photographs or anything else they might want to use as material, medium, or inspiration.  Forty-four completed artwork have been on display in the NWMAC Gallery, in East Grand Forks, since November and will run thr...

10W-30 motor oil pours like sludge at thirty below zero .

Lily pads accent a bend on Mikinaak Creek.

Mists arise from Mikinaak Creek at sunrise  as a deer walks the bank.