WannaskaWriter

   This last Tuesday, October 1st, in Reed River, Sven saw Mac Furlong hurrying down Main Street on his way to sign up for the Big Buck Contest at Normies On Main . Mac was wearing his Reed River Bank clothes so Sven didn’t recognize him right off, Mac walking so serious like, but Sven ought to have known that about this time of year all the local deer hunters are getting real anxious. Beginning soon after the Roseau County Fair in July, hunter types begin walking about the outdoors sports departments in their local hardware stores and sporting goods shops salivating over the latest hunting gear, wearing at least one parcel of florescent orange on their person as if to let the ordinary public know that, they, in fact, are real hunters of a serious nature, although temperatures are yet in the eighties. “See here, my florescent orange insulated cap with earflaps?” “Lo and behold, my florescent-orange camo jacket with elbow padding and several important pockets?” “Check o...

     Standing by an open fire, its smoke swayed by a cooling breeze, I look at the tall hybrid poplar trees along the farm lane. Across the Mikinaak Creek basin, the Red Wing blackbirds twitter from its partial cover of cattail reeds. A far distant jet rumbles by unseen, overhead. Leaves rustle noisily in the oaks behind me.; evening songs of robins, the crackling of the fire; the fragrance of burning wood, its embers glowing gy gusts of wind. Perhaps the coals will last until morning and we can drink our coffee here beside a renewed campfire.      I wonder of our impact here for there is no grand mansion nor log house of character, no machine sheds, no legions of steel grain bins nor acres of concrete padding, underground aeration pipes, no overhead wires or moats around fuel tanks stands against possible fuel spills, no oil-packed driveways, nor depths of seasonal implements hidden by over-grown forests of sweet clover and Canadian thistle, bu...

An unexpected rainstorm after tepid temperatures and windless conditions. Radar indicated the the system to go north of us, but we are in its southern reaches, thunder a way off heralded its approach. The sky began filling with dark clouds; temperatures dropping slightly providing a welcome coolness on the skin. Treetops fluttered. I carried in our plastic picnic table, partially folding it to fit off the aisle in our little porch. Grandson wanted to wait out the rain on his bicycle but as it began to fall more rapidly, Grandma told him to come indoors and bring the bike with him, and so the rain fell straight down, harder, hard enough to fill the gutter over the door and cascade out its open end and plunge splattering into the grass below, its cadence wavering as the rain slowed, then fell hard again. Mists arose in the corral. The drips spattered from the roof edge one by one. The leaves hissed. Cars out on the county road could be heard faraway as the storm quietly moved eastward .....

 I haven't taken many walks on the land this year, although my wife would argue with that statement. It probably seems to her that I'm forever leaving for a walk, going west across the corral, heading out across the tree rows out there, putting up with pesky flies and mosquitoes, doing who knows what.  If I walk out with my camera and a beer in my pocket, then it's just one of these sentimental strolls through the places I've put so much of my energies into over the past 48-some years. Sometimes, I just stand in one spot for several minutes, listening to the sounds around me, just looking at the landscape, the clouds and their play above the contours of the varying heights of trees, or how stages of light affect the scene.  Tree rows in July are still distinct although grown up in grass. I will mow the rows out in late August or  September according to my CRP requirements. I might pull weeds from around a struggling small tree, pull spring debris away so...

Yeah, today is my birthday. I’ve never been this old before, well, that I know of anyway for I’m ignorant of such things. Yes, yes, yes, you read it here; I don’t know it all, and it’s never bothered me.   Well there’s so much importance made about ‘knowing it all’. On the other hand, i.e., oppositely, people who act like they ‘know it all’ are very often despised. So what’s a person to do? I don’t like to be ignorant of things, in most cases; but equally don’t care to know it all because it involves so much of your life; I’m just not ambitious that way. Never have been. I like what I like and that’s it. Interests come to me from experiences with other people, through books, and through stories on the radio.   I have an ear and eye for details and subconsciously remember excerpts of conversation in which either I or others are participating. It seems a natural ability. Maybe I was a prey animal in a previous life and listening, remembering--and skepticism--of what I hear was...

                                                                   An Evening Rain     An unexpected rainstorm after tepid daytime temperatures and windless conditions. Forecast indicated the system was to go north of us, but radar looked like we were in its southern reaches. Thunder a long way off heralded its approach, the sky filling with dark ominous clouds. A welcome coolness came across the skin as temperatures dropped and leaves at the top of trees began to flutter.     I carried in our plastic picnic table, partially folding it to fit just off the aisle in our entry. Our seven year old grandson wanted to wait out the rain ...