Despite a passing downpour and whipping wind on Saturday afternoon, outdoor events topped the agenda for this year’s Angle Days weekend at the Northwest Angle. Continue reading “Angle Days Whips up Some Fun in the Northwoods”
Here’s what’s kept me busy for the last many weeks.
Press Release: Angle Days to be held August 3-5
Northwest Angle residents again invite neighbors from near and far to attend their summer festival Angle Days, August 3-5.
The Angle is small-town Minnesota at its extreme and because of its location and border-crossing commute, the lifestyle is both unique and challenging. Angle Days is comprised of events that celebrate those facets. Continue reading “This Summer Weekend at The Angle”
I feel the need to catalog these and may just go back further to do so. We all need a boost from time to time; I don’t want to forget the kind people who took a few moments to offer encouragement along the way.
From the March 6th, 2018 issue of the Warroad Pioneer
(Published in the July 10th issue of the Warroad Pioneer)
I’m reading the most perfect book for the current events of my life at the moment. It always seems to happen that way.
Timely quote: “You take a giant step toward psychological maturity when you refuse to angrily defend yourself against unjust slander. For one thing, resistance disturbs your own peace of mind.” Continue reading “God’s Perfect Timing”
My previous column, Kindness is Wisdom, published in the June 26th issue of our local newspaper caused “quite a stir,” to quote someone who sent me a scathing email. In my estimation, it was deeply misunderstood and as a result, a few people in the community took it very personally.
I wanted to include here copies of their letters to the editor, both for my own record in this ongoing life saga and because they deserve to be heard. My opinion on what they wrote isn’t important at this point. (Note: the second letter was published in the same issue as my response column.) Continue reading “Letters to the Editor”
Sometimes you have to stop everything and listen to the wisdom of the winds and the wild things and the five-year old’s.
I stood on the top of the kitchen crossbeam, my hands braced on a log rafter, scrubbing the fish-fry grease that had floated, landed, and collected dust for all of last summer’s resort season. The gray water dripped down my wrist and collected in my sweatshirt. With one hand dirty and the other securing my precarious balance, a nose itch or hair in my eye had to be meditated away. “Clean the logs” was my only agenda. With my perch, even thinking wasn’t a wise distraction.
But then my Iris, in her five-year-old exuberance about bird nests and first dandelions and pretty rocks from the gravel road, came running loudly into the cabin. Continue reading “Paying Heed”
I woke to the gentle alarm of wind chimes. The wind had come up, and the sun was well into its morning journey. It had been another rough night. Dreams woke me. My bladder woke me. My very sleep position woke me. Continue reading “N=1”
Awake in the early morning hours, I relish the silence. The steady tick tock of the kitchen clock and the breathy hum of the refrigerator cycling on and off are my ambient noise. The human world is still and silent here at The Angle. Outside, the wolves prowl sometimes near but mostly far, the skunks raid my winter compost, and the owls hunt. The rare yard light hums and sputters, reflecting wide across the ugly April snow. Frozen and waiting, life feels hushed and reverent.
Until 6AM on the dot, when the Angle school bus roars by each weekday like a blaring alarm from the outside world sent to remind us we’re not truly alone and independent. Continue reading ““Copy That””
I want to capture the stories that walk on in people’s minds but won’t live forever. The stories of our place here at The Angle. The land and those hearty enough to survive, tame it, love it.
These songs will sing on without us but someday we won’t know the words. I want to write them down. I want the songs to sing on. The small line of harmony I might add to the greater melody will be dwarfed by what is to be learned by listening and writing down the stories. Continue reading “Bring Me Your Stories”