Articles by Colleen

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Taste Time

There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time look like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theater, 100 billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight-Tomas shoved a hand into the wind outside the truck-tonight you could almost taste time.

Ray Bradbury

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For all of my fellow Little House on the Prairie fans, greetings from Walnut Grove, Minnesota. Oh my goodness, Laura Ingalls Wilder lived here! I wouldn’t say there is a whole lot in the looking department at the early hour we visited, as the museum opens at ten, and especially since we only noticed Plum Creek on our drive out of town and didn’t want to stop, but still.

I spent so much of my childhood (and a summer as an adult!) deep in the books, reading them a couple of times, then watching the show, it was impossible for my heart not to overflow a bit. We also ate at Nellie’s Cafe, which is a cute little place with kindly service, the biggest sausage on a breakfast sandwich, and an amazing sticky roll, which was HOT from the oven.

A little blurry, I know, but look at my smile. The excitement of being in Walnut Grove!

At the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. I have always wanted to stop here! The corn cob murals are pretty spectacular, with such a variation in shades, and certainly worth the trip.

The downside of my 51 year old body is having eyes going farsighted and that the tiny little preview of photos on my camera look pretty great until I get home and see they are blurry as heck. Wah!

So, you won’t be able to see the wall to wall motorcycles coming and going from Sturgis lining the road in front of Wall Drug. The Wall Drug, with signs for hundreds of miles. I have even heard they have a sign in the London Underground. Fancy!

It was a mob of people with every kind of accent and shade of sun burn and tan, all gobsmacked at the masses of choices of goods on offer. You will not be surprised to learn I bought fudge, in my favorite amaretto flavor. If it isn’t illicit, you can probably find it here before finding solace in Jesus (or whomever) in the sweet little chapel. Welcome traveler!

South Dakota melting into Wyoming, beauty for mile upon mile! The old timey Frontier gas pump is located at the finest public restroom on our journey. Located on East 21st Avenue, just east of Main, in Torrington, Wyoming. It is clean and bright and filled with vintage charm!

Hey there, hi there! It’s Minneapolis-St. Paul. Hilly and lovely and friendly filled, but what a nightmare to the novice driver, as many a street turns into a highway without much warning. We did a lot of cussing and driving in circles!

The Patric Richardson recommended bridge in all its glory! How cool to wander amongst remnants of the old mills. Since we are early to bed and early to rise types these days, we did not get out after dark to witness the neon. I’ll bet it puts on a stellar show!

Running up that hill, with a serious nod to Kate Bush, of course. How cool is it that her ages old song is making all the hit lists this summer. YAY! The Sensual World, which I owned on cassette (!!) got some serious mileage in my Celica.

September Room – Mark Manders

The Claes Oldenburg Cherry is even more cheerful in person. I never knew it sprayed mist on passersby. Eeek!

Also, to the right, is LOVE – Robert Indiana

Woodrow – Deborah Butterfield

Hey, Portlanders! He looks like the sculptures as you leave PDX, right? A little trip down memory lane.

After Dream – Pierre Huyge

A tree full of chimes that together play every note of a score by John Cage. Very clever.

Spoonbridge and Cherry – Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen

X with Columns – Sol LeWitt

Black Vessel for a Saint – Theaster Gates

This fella is the saint safely nestled inside the Black Vessel for a Saint on the right, with no actual access, only slots for peering eyes and camera lenses. Damn, so good!

For Whom…

Kris Martin

Cock – Katharina Fritsch

The Minneapolis Sculpture Garden was probably highest on our list of activities in the Twin Cities. Nestled pretty much in the heart of Minneapolis and full of fellow wanderers, it is a joyful and energetic space.

Lunch break! The best Banh-Mi we’ve had in a very long while at Trung Nam. They also have amazing croissants that are next level delicious. The lightest, airiest, crispiest I have ever tasted. PLUS, apricot filled?! I didn’t know this was a thing, but oh! Yes, it IS.

Cathedral of St. Paul

Hockey!

What look like rabies tags looking cheerful on a tree. Guessing some sort of inoculant against a devastating disease?

Every photo from the beautiful sandwich onward is in lovely St. Paul. There is probably some sort of secret way to really know the difference between the Twins, but, as outsiders, we found them equally delightful!

Historical homes lining Summit Avenue. Good golly, it goes on for miles and has beauty after beauty!

Not my monkey, not my circus…

Banners

To spin the web and not be caught in it, to create the world, to create your own life, to rule your fate, to name the grandmothers as well as the fathers, to draw nets and not straight lines, to be a maker as well as a cleaner, to be able to sing and not be silenced, to take down the veil and appear: all these are the banners on the laundry line I hang out.

Rebecca Solnit

Misty morning on the winding road to Marquette, Michigan. One of the biggest surprises for us on this journey was how frequently we were reminded of our Pacific Northwest days: the rain, of course, but also the heady scent of damp earth, masses of ferns and their slow loll on an imperceptible breeze, and tiny stream after tiny stream, joining forces in one great fall after another. Oh, and the hills and dales! I had only ever conceived of this place as a flat wood, dense with mystery and trees. How I love to be proven wrong and revel in the beauty of it.

Marquette Harbor and the Old Ore Dock on Lake Superior. Prior to our trip research, I had not a single inkling of the huge role mines played in the history of the Upper Peninsula.

Also in Marquette, and a must have on our foods to try list, a Pasty (pah-stee). It’s the English version of a calzone, made with a savory pie dough and stuffed with all manner of things. The predominant and probably most traditional seems to be ground beef, potato, rutabaga, and onion. We enjoyed a huge version, though technically the small size on the menu at Lawry’s, a family tradition since 1946! It was hot from the oven and absolutely fabulous, a tender crust and perfectly seasoned, though we probably committed some U.P. sin by giving it a nice splash of Tabasco and not ketchup.

The first of many of the little streams…

that joined with another…

…and became Canyon Falls. I read somewhere, though now I can’t locate the information, that the water has that root beer tint from the tannins in the trees. And now, how many of us, by virtue of suggestion, are craving a soda?

Isn’t geology wonderful?!

There were a couple of these fabulous murals honoring miners. Such heart warmers, with great detail.

In Ironwood, the nearest town to our second cabin in the woods and on the border with Wisconsin. There’s a distinct artistic vibe here, with live theater and galleries. Oh, and the very fine North Wind Co-Op, with super friendly service.

Lake Superior – very rough and ready at the time of our visit!

From our cabin, we were able to walk, rather carefully, a mile down the Black River Scenic Byway to Lake Superior. The suspension pedestrian bridge was originally built by the Civilian Conservation Corps and completed in 1939. It was rebuilt, retaining the original look and character in 1968. It’s an absolute stunner and sways with the slightest movement.

Potawatomi and Gorge Falls, also just down the Black River Road from our cabin. Waterfalls galore!

Ironwood is also home to two very distinct statues. The first we visited was this giant Stormy Kromer hat, located, rather appropriately, just outside the Stormy Kromer Factory, where they crank out nearly 100,000 caps every year. If, like me, you didn’t know that a Stormy Kromer is an ear flap baseball cap, well, now you do! It was invented by the wife of its namesake when he asked her to fashion his hat to stay on and keep his ears warm. Done and done! Of course we both bought one, mine in a beloved teal and turquoise wool combination.

The second monument is in honor of Hiawatha. How little I am in comparison to its 52 feet gazing toward Lake Superior.

Hayward, Wisconsin was another early morning stop, where we had about a million other wonderful choices, but landed on fudge (maple walnut and peanut butter) before breakfast at Tremblay’s Sweet Shop and shall make no apologies for it!

LEGO Transformer at the Mall of America in Minneapolis! Oh, my goodness, this place really earns the moniker. Never have I ever visited a mall so, well, HUGE. There are four floors, an amusement park, and so very many people. Everywhere people! People from everywhere! Including us and our dog resting peacefully in the car park.

I was on a mission to visit Patric Richardson, also known as The Laundry Evangelist, king of fabric and stain knowledge. Greg and I have Discovery Plus and stumbled upon his show, The Laundry Guy this past Spring. I was so awed by his ability to remove stains that I rushed out and bought his book and a fancy fabric brush. With his guidance, I have never had such confidence or success in the laundry department. Yippee!

After much wandering and buying chocolate, even though we already had fudge in the car (vacation logic?) we found him at his shop. First, his hair is amazing, this perfect silver tousled wave. Second, he is as warm and wonderful in person as he is on the show! We chatted about laundry, of course, his stain removing bar, my homemade soap, and fabric brushes. Of course, I bought more supplies. Then we dished on the musts of Minneapolis. With his guidance, we ate a Juicy Lucy, one of the best burgers of our lives, and walked across the Mississippi on an old stone bridge. Kindness and generosity rules the day.

In the Lake Nokomis neighborhood, home of this adorable home and matching Little Free Library.

Another Upper Peninsula must try, Trenary Toast! Made in Trenary, Michigan since 1928. We bought our first batch, in Cardamom flavor, while visiting the first cabin in the woods. How to describe? Like cinnamon toast but the crispiest, crunchiest ever. Apparently there are three types of Trenary toast eaters: dippers, crunchers, and spreaders. Greg falls solidly in the dipper camp, in tea or coffee, enjoying each equally well. I am a definite cruncher; give me a slice, and I’ll eat it up. The spreaders are the lily gilders, for they slather it with butter before partaking. Try it and see where you lie!

At Patric’s favorite Juicy Lucy spot, The 5-8 Club. Greg is enjoying a cheeseburger style, while I loved the Buffalo chicken version. And seriously, these are so juicy and delicious!!

Now, to our best ever dog, Juniper Beulah! She is such an exceptional traveler, never getting car sick, mostly either window gazing or napping, sometimes resting her chin on the car hammock to say, HI!

Forgive me for the out of sequence story, but I forgot I had this picture on my phone and not my camera.

In the above photo, she nervously prepares for her inaugural row boat ride at the first cabin in the woods. We had this romantic notion of a family row around the lake. Since we are also occasionally paranoid pet owners and she is impulsive, the life jacket seemed a good idea.

Our afternoon unfolds in the least romantic fashion. Juniper hobbles in her life jacket to the boat, refusing to get in. As we keep encouraging her, she becomes more and more resolute. Greg resorts to picking her up and putting her in. The boat runs aground. We maneuver it far enough out, and Greg gets in. The paddles are so long that they hit the bottom with each stroke. Juniper, like glue on my side, is causing us to list in that direction. We nudge her over, inch by inch, until we are righted.

The oars continue to hit the bottom. Greg and I, in hysterical laughter, imagine an anonymous cabin owner watching us via binoculars: “Look at these jackasses! They’re rowing their dog in circles, and wearing life jackets, for chrissakes!” Because, it is at this moment, we realize, after bludgeoning the oars, stroke after stroke to the center, it is only three feet deep at the maximum. We could have walked to this point, and a hell of a lot quicker. Though, not with Juniper, and not that she’d care. She still hates water.

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