Middlemoon Creek Walk

Just south and west of us is a creek that runs through a neighborhood from Lake Harriet. It's a part of the chain of lakes and is maintained by the city. But for one magical weekend in the winter, the neighbors take over.

Residents in this area began decorating the path along the creek with ice sculptures. It started out small — balloons that are filled with water, frozen and the balloon popped. Ice in a bucket that is turned upside down. Then it got a bit more elaborate.

Now it is a magical walk of all kinds of sculptures, lit with candles from the inside, protected from the snow and wind that would extinguish them. So my camera and I went for a stroll.

There were elaborate altars of ice, decorated with candles and lit from inside. There was an incredible miniature castle, about the height of a four-year-old who stared at it in amazement.  The path was lit with little balls of icy light. Snow was falling steadily, making streetlamps in the area hazy with an otherworldly glow.

The path was busy with many families out to see the sights. People were polite in making way for others along the path. Dogs were petted, children smiled at, and strangers struck up conversations. A group of adults chatted about whose house they were heading back to for a warm toddy after their walk.

Yes, the sculptures were beautiful to see, and the ducks on the open water, huddling together with snow gathering on their backs. But the most beautiful experience of all was that of community in this special little creek.

The Genders Go Camping

Say what you want, there are some inherent ways that boys and girls are different, whether a person identifies as one or the other.

While chaperoning at Marissa's 6th grade retreat, the girls in my cabin got about an hour of free time before lights out. During this time, they took showers, got ready for bed, then often spent the rest of their time braiding each other's hair, telling stories or joking around. One girl, a budding artist, sketched quietly in her bunk, the "scritch scritch" of her pencil heard throughout the conversation. Marissa worked on word searches with a friend and engaged in the room's banter.

How many braided heads can you count?

I took this picture on the last morning of camp -- clearly braiding each other's hair was a popular activity in many cabins for the girls.

In the meantime, I compared notes with a parent who was chaperoning in a boys cabin.

When it was free time, none of the boys took a shower. Instead, they took all the thin mattresses on all the beds and spread them across the floor to make a huge wrestling pit.  The chaperones drafted brackets and they had themselves a wrestling match. The loser of the previous match was the announcer for the next match, while someone else would flicker the lights on and off as the boy trumpeted, "And now...in this corner, we have the ever amazing, ever strong...Evan!!" And they were off.

This chaperone is the dad to two girls and was looking forward to chaperoning a boys cabin because he never gets "boy time," as he put it. I suspect he was the biggest kid in the room.

They had very different ideas of fun, both pursued with enthusiasm.

The 6th Grade Retreat, subtitled "Apparently I Camp"

Marissa and her favorite chaperone.

Each year the 6th grade class does a two-day camping retreat to Camp St. Croix in Hudson, WI. When Lindsey was in 6th grade she didn't want me anywhere near the camp, but Marissa asked me to chaperone.

"You know I don't really camp, right?" I reminded her. I don't do well with bugs, or sleeping bags, or walks in the woods to get to the bathroom. Plus, I was guaranteed to embarrass her at some point over the 3 days, intentionally or not.

It didn't matter, she wanted me along, and so I signed up.

I and a friend were assigned co-chaperones in a cabin with 8 6th grade girls, most of whom were Marissa's requested friends. During the day I was in Marissa's activity group, which was a different set of kids besides those in the cabin, so I got to know more of the kids in her class.

What a time!


Marissa and her cabin mates: Berit, Allison, Marissa, Carolyn, Eleni, Anjali, Erika and Hattie

Girl power at the archery range.

The first day was all sunshine and warmth. (Warmth in April=55 degrees). The group played games in the "Enchanted Forest," where they had to use teamwork to cross a path or balance a board with all teammates on it. The evening activity was a townhall where kids voted to preserve St. Croix or sell it to a developer who spoke an awful lot like Donald Trump.

Day two promised rain, and it started just after breakfast. It poured, then lightened up enough for Marissa's group to go to the pond for an aqua ecology lesson. The other chaperones and I quietly took bets on the side on which kid was going to fall in; I won. I know, not very chaperone-like, we can't be perfect role models all the time.

The second night's activity was the campfire. I told Marissa that the counselors had asked me to sing "Kum Bya" to the entire grade and that I had agreed to do it. The reaction I got when I finally told her I was kidding was priceless.


Marissa turned a new shade of red when she found out I wouldn't be singing.

The last day was the best activity ever, Predator and Prey. All the kids are split into animal groups; wolverines, skunks, rabbits and others roamed the property looking for food, water and shelter. Those at the top of the food chain could hunt those down the food chain, while others, like Marissa in the rabbit group, spent their time running and hiding. We all roamed fields, woods and water playing this game -- the places to hide were immeasurable, and with 150 kids playing, it was an absolute blast.

For me the biggest downfall was the lack of sleep. A hard and small mattress meant my shoulder was shoved into my ear for most of the night, and by the last day I awoke with the start of a migraine and tight shoulders. Not to mention the two bathroom requests in the middle of the night which required a chaperone to walk with a child to the bathrooms.

This was far outweighed by watching my daughter enjoy the outdoors and play with her friends, and by getting to know the other students and parents in her class. I'm so glad I was able to be a part of her memories of this trip.

Marissa's cabin which sleeps 12 people.

Ice Booms

My sister and I took a walk on Lake Harriet at dusk recently. And yes, I mean ON Lake Harriet. Despite the recent warming spell, the ice was still over a foot thick and safe to walk on.

We walked toward the Minneapolis skyline and bandshell. Icefishers were on the ice and in shanties, their boots crunching on the snow, voices echoing over the expanse of ice.

Sunset.

Downtown Minneapolis catching the sunset.

We stood in the middle of the lake and listened to the silence. It was peaceful and beautiful, and broken by a strange sound. It was a pinging sound that started on one side of the lake and made its way around the shore, a high-pitched twinge. We heard it again in a few minutes, and then again. Finally we realized that it was the ice shifting, as it was dusk and the ice was re-freezing after a sunny day.

It was eerie and amazing at the same time. We both thought of my dad, and of how he loved Lake Superior with its alternating strength and stillness. Kristi recounted going to the shore of Lake Superior with my dad after my grandfather passed away 20 years previous, to see and hear the ice shivering between solid ice and open water.

We began to walk off the ice, and stopped for one last look around, hoping for one last ice boom. The final one came from under our feet. It sounded like a glass breaking in slow motion, following by the pinging sound that reverberated around the lake.

It was wonderful to take in the sights and sounds of the lake in the heart of the city.

Sunrise

I walked to the lake and to the fishing dock to see the sunrise.

By the time I arrived the sun was up but clouds were obscuring it. I decided to wait to see if it would eventually break through the clouds.

My watch said the time was 5:56 a.m. I decided to absorb the morning until 6:00, then would walk home.

I watched the sun in an epic battle with the clouds. It looked brighter, then darker. Rays of sunlight escaped and colored the entire sky, then were obscured again.

Puffy clouds floated close to me, occasionally lit from beneath by the rising pink light, other times dark with the remains of night.

Fish jumped. Seagulls dove. Ducks fluffed their feathers, and geese chased each other across the lake.

It was beautiful, peaceful and quiet. I filled my lungs with air and my heart with gratitude, then looked at my watch to see if it was yet 6:00.

It had just turned to 5:57.

I was in awe at all I had seen in one small, little minute.

How much more slowly life would go by if we only took the time to enjoy it.

Ice Cave Adventure

This winter has been a doozy. And I can still say "this winter" in late March because it still looks and feels like winter out. Highs of 20 degrees, snow in the forecast, no sign of greenery. The birds have returned, but they seem confused. ("What the hell, where's the grass?!")

The one bonus of all this cold weather is that Lake Superior was 97% frozen for the first time since 2009. This means that all the areas of the lakes that are only accessible by kayak or canoe are now accessible by walking, including the ice caves near the Apostle Islands in Bayfield, WI.

I had to go. This felt like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, even though I know the lake will freeze over again. There was just something about it that felt like I needed to take this chance.

For me, this was a chance. I have a great fear of walking on ice over a large body of water. The stories my dad told me as a child of people going through the ice on Lake Superior, and the times he was out hunting with our dog and broke through ice on a marsh must've scared me to the depth of my being. I consider being on lake ice a very risky venture, something I usually avoid.

And yet, to see those amazing caves! Even if I drove up there and then chickened out, I had to try.

On one particular Monday I floated my idea by Wayne, and by Friday I had plans solidified. I would drive as far as Duluth and stay at my friend Junal's house, then Saturday she and I and her boyfriend would head out to the ice caves, another hour and a half east of Duluth.

And so I went.

It was breath taking. I am so glad I took this chance and made the impromptu trip.

The weather was perfect -- about 20 degrees (a far cry from the weeks of below zero and single-digit temps we'd been having), not much wind, and mostly blue sky. We drove to the area, found parking and took a shuttle to Meyers Beach National Park. The caves were about 1.5 miles down from where we first got on the lake, and then they stretched along for over a mile. We could explore as much or as little as we wanted.

The ice was so incredibly thick that my fears dissipated. Most of the paths were packed down snow, but near the caves it was bare ice which was quite treacherous. There had been several falls, and later I heard that the weekend before a woman broke a vertebrae after taking a spill on the ice. (Glad I didn't know that before-hand).

The ice took on incredible shapes, from round globules of amber to spikes of stalagtites that looked sharp enough to impale a person. We explored a small crevice, also a challenge for me, since I get anxious in tight spaces. But it got larger once I got through the opening, and the ice formations inside were spell-binding.

From inside the crevice, looking upwards at the opening I'd just squeezed through.

The pictures do not do it justice.

One of the caves during summer.

That same cave the day I visited. 

After we explored for a couple hours, we shuttled back to the car and drove to a small place in Cornucopia, population 500, where we could get a burger and a beer. To our surprise they had black bean burger on the menu for the vegetarian among us, and they had locally made "Sassy Nanny" goat cheese that you could add to any burger. Clearly not your everyday small town fare; I assume they are accustomed to catering to people from all over. The goat cheese was fantastic, so tangy and creamy. Cost all of $.50 to add it to my burger, and they slathered so much on I think they were grateful to have someone order it before it went bad.

A burger, a beer and a warm place to rest with good company. Perfect.

We drove back to Duluth and I took off from there back home. It is amazing what adventures a person can have in just 24 hours.

The following weekend was the last weekend of the season -- they closed the access to caves after that. I learned that even though the ice by the caves is still thick enough, ice elsewhere on the lake has melted significantly. This means that you could be standing on the ice by the caves, have a strong wind come along, and suddenly find yourself 3 feet from shore. Or 10 feet, or in the middle of the lake if you weren't paying attention!

In 2009 the ice caves had a total of 8,400 visitors over the entire winter. The day I was there they had more than 14,000 visitors, and over the course of the entire season they had nearly 100,000 visitors to the caves. They chalked up the interest to the fact that it had been 5 years since a good freeze, and many visitors shared their photos via social media, which prompted others to want to make the trek. The biggest challenge was finding parking, so they worked with the local community to plow fields and other areas to create the shuttle areas. The shuttle drivers were all very nice and talked about what a boon to the local economy the caves were. They did such a great job of accommodating the crowds. I hope to see them again another year.

Would You Risk Ruining Lake Superior Forever...for a Job?

I welcome to my blog my good friend and writer, Janey Palmer. She is a Twin Cities-based communications consultant who owns a home on Lake Superior. Janey isn't typically a politial activist. But there's an issue going on right now in our own backyard that has her hackles raised, and I offered to give her this platform to spread the word. 

Read on and get involved. Our environment's future for generations to come is at stake.

Submerged rocks at Split Rock State Park. Photo credit Steven Gaertner

My hair’s on fire.

No, not literally. But if it were, I’d go to the tap and douse it in water. But what if that water were polluted with sulfuric acid?

The reason my hair is on proverbial fire is because our beloved Lake Superior, the world’s third-largest freshwater lake and home to one of the biggest sources of drinking and hair-extinguishing water, is under threat by mining companies—in the guise of “job creators”— looking to extract copper, nickel and other metals in the very heart of the north woods and at the convergence of streams that carry fresh water into the big lake.

The Lake Superior watershed is one of the most special places in the world.

Poly-Met, a Canadian company, wants to set up the first of what will likely be many copper/nickel mines right outside the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. The byproduct of this mining is the aforementioned sulfuric acid – and the possibility of this leaching into the streams and into Lake Superior is great, despite what the mining companies say (and there is no real contingency plan to mitigate this built into their proposal).

WestVirginians can tell you why clean, fresh water is important. They can also tell you why regulation is important. And they can also probably tell you why regulation doesn’t always stop bad things from happening. 

The offending polluter in that case? Yep, declared bankruptcy.

As a former public relations pro, my hat is off to Poly-Met. They’ve done a great job plying the hearts and minds of the good people of the Hoyt Lakes area as well as labor unions with promises of jobs. Yes, the mine says it will provide 350 jobs for 20 years, but shouldn’t careers be longer than that? And is mining the only way to make a living up there? It can’t possibly be the only choice. I know there are a lot of very smart people who live up there, and I know if given a chance, together we could find a way to bring economic opportunity to northern Minnesota that doesn’t extract such a high price from all of us.

An environmental impact statement said the best case scenario is that this type of mining will require at least 500 years of water treatment. 500 years! Who in their right mind believes anyone would be willing to keep that up for even 50 years? And there is not enough “assurancemoney” in the world to ensure clean drinking water long after the mines close or declare bankruptcy, the latter of which seems to be de rigueur.

So, 350 questionable local jobs x 20 years = 500+ years of pollution. That’s the equation. Does it add up for you?

If not, I urge you to join me in telling the DNR to deny permits for Poly-Met and any other mining operation like it from now on. The time for public commentary is here. We have a short window of opportunity to get our voice heard. Comments will be accepted until 4:30 PM CT on Thursday, March 13, 2014.

To learn more, click here – and be sure to personalize your message. There’s a lot more at stake than my head of curly locks.

Colorado: The Country

I love the mountains. Or I should say, I love the idea of the mountains. I love what mountains represent, the triumph of nature over man, the sheer power of the earth itself, the  rock layers and colors proving her ancient being. Inspiring.

So I was really excited to go to Colorado with our girls, who have never seen mountains before, and share in the wonder.

We were not disappointed.

The mountains were ever-present, as a landscape off to our west, no matter where we drove. And then the day after the wedding we drove to Estes Park, and were amazed by the drive itself.

On the drive to Estes Park

How is this now awe-inspiring? Look at how tiny we humans are in comparison. And we think we're in charge. Ha!

We stopped in Estes Park and had lunch. We happened to stop at the ONLY Packer bar this side of the Colorado River.

Are you kidding me?

The best part was that the family in the booth next to us was all wearing Vikings jerseys. I don't think anyone in the place outside of ourselves saw the irony in that.

We then drove further up to Rocky Mountain National Park. Wayne and I are both nervous mountain drivers, as we've experienced in previous travels to Napa Valley and Colorado Springs. We both feel like we're going to fall off the edge of the road and down the side of the mountain. I found myself leaning to the left away from the edge, even though there was no point to that. Later on we encountered more recently repaved roads which had been widened to create a very small shoulder. It's amazing the difference 1.5 feet makes in feeling more secure on the road.

We drove as far as Sprague Lake and walked around the lake, about a 1.5 mile walk, the perfect length for the kids. The sky had become overcast and it started spitting rain a little bit, but we didn't care.

We kept watching the big peaks across the lake from us, observing how they changed as we went along. We discovered that the snow we were seeing on the one large peak was actually Tyndall glacier, and at one of the stops there were photos of the glacier from the 1910s. It was sad to see how small the glacier was today in comparison. (Granted it is summer, but I bet it was the smallest summertime glacier ever.)

Looking at Tyndall Glacier from Sprague Lake. Can you see it?
Look now, it won't last forever, sadly.

Later during our travels, we had an opportunity to go horseback riding in the foothills of the Rockies. I love the way the locals call them "foothills" but we would call them "mountains." Perspective is everything.

"Foothills."

We had made reservations for all 4 of us to go horseback riding for an hour. God bless Marissa, she said she wanted to go, but when she wouldn't get near or pet the horses I could tell that it might not work out. We got her on a horse but 2 minutes later she was crying and asking to get off. Instead of traumatizing our child by making her go, we let her get off and Wayne and Lindsey went out while Marissa and I hung back. Since we had paid for 4 trail rides I was able to arrange to have Lindsey and I go again the next day. So Lindsey -- lucky horse-loving girl that she is -- got to go twice, while both Wayne and I accompanied her once, and Marissa happily got to go shopping with Daddy on the second day of riding.

On the second day when Lindsey and I arrived a ranch hand came up to her, gave her a hug and said, "I recognize this little girl! She's the one with the big smile." She clearly made an impression on her first day by her love of horses.

Our guide, Slim,  was well-suited to the job of trail guide. He was so comfortable with the horses, easy to talk...and hilarious. At one point we came over a ridge and he called back, "Now there are two ways you can go here, the left or the right. I recommend you stay to the right." Once we came over the ridge we could see that the way "left" was actually straight down the ravine while the right was the only way you could go without hurting yourself. What a joker.

Photo by Slim, expert trail guide and bullshitter.

He told a story of coming across and killing a rattlesnake while leading a trail ride, only to have the truth be that he came across a dead rattlesnake in the road. He had Lindsey, the only child in our group, stay right behind him for both of the riding days, and they got along splendidly.

The horses were masterful at picking their way among a more advanced trail than the trail taken the day before (according to Slim). The trails looked no wider than ones humans would walk, yet these large animals took them with finesse. I simply sat back and let the horse pick the way as we descended the mountainside. We came back up through another trail and rose higher than the trail taken by Lindsey the day before (the guide pointed down to the trail they had previously taken).

The sky was immense. An intense blue in every direction, dotted with puffy cotton ball clouds. A realization of being of no consequence to the universe came upon me; our lives are little in the history of the earth. Not to say that what we do doesn't matter, but why not enjoy as much of it as we can?

I asked Slim, "Do you ever get accustomed to how beautiful this country is?" His answer: "Never."

I rode Trail Baron, Lindsey rode Valley Girl.
We had to take a picture with "Slim," whose real name is David. Super nice guy.

On our last day we visited Horsetooth Reservoir just outside of Fort Collins, which nephew Ryan had recommended to us. We didn't get to see as much of it due to Wayne's and my intense anxiety over the steepness of the hills, but we did get to see the "foothills" one more time.

Go if you haven't been. And go again if you have. I know for sure we will be back.

63 Degrees

The first 63 degree day after a long, snowy winter sounds like sheets of ice gliding across the lake, clinking softly and bubbling as they bump into each other.  It sounds like bikes whirring and feet slapping against the trails around the lakes.

It looks like ducks on water, squirrels scampering hurriedly from place to place, uncovering stashes of nuts. It looks like bare, pasty-white legs exposed for the first time in months, in constant movement under summer dresses and shorts.

It smells like outdoor grills wafting delicious smells down the street, like fresh air whispering through open windows.

It tastes like hamburgers, broccoli salad, a glass of crisp pinot grigio on the patio.

It feels like a warm breeze, like the earth shaking off the cold and embracing the sun.

Welcome spring. Finally.

Goodnight, Moon

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider

A new neighbor moved into our flower box last week.

We've decided that she's a girl - she was pretty big as far as spiders go. We were fascinated watching her make her home. It was incredible watching how she used her back legs to put the silk where she needed it as she threaded her way around and around the web. Once it was done, she planted herself right in the middle, waiting for her prey.

She was there several days, but it rained one night and she moved out. It was fun having her while it lasted.

Loving the Lakes

I will continue to get up and hit the skating trails before work every now and then, even though my "big event" is done. And here are some reasons why.

Ducks.

Boats.

Stillness.

Colors.

Peace.

Summer Thunderstorm

We've been promised some significant thunderstorms over the last couple of days, but nothing's really come through, at least to our house. But last night we did get to see quite a storm brewing on the horizon. It was far enough away that you couldn't hear the thunder, it never rained here, but the lightning in the clouds was unbelievable. The lightning was so constant that I took a few pictures with my camera, I was guaranteed to catch some kind of light of some kind, no matter when the shutter flew.

So here are a few pics of that thundercloud, taken at 10:30 pm at night. Normally it's pitch black out.