I’ve neglected the tail end of my recent trip north to see the solar eclipse and the Badlands. My last stop was the Twin Cities area in Minnesota to see one of my oldest friends. I was only there for a day, enough time to see two very different sides of the twins.
First up is the Mall of America in Minneapolis, a four-story, multimillion-square-foot monument to American capitalism. It holds about every store I can think of, sometimes more than once. The place is mostly a cacophony of thousands of visitors and a few roller coasters, but it’s also home to “Hot Lunch,” an installation of thousands of yarn strings by an artist who goes by HOTTEA. It’s meant to honor the people who serve us lunches and their unseen, inner lives. I liked it.
We went over to St. Paul for something very different: bonsai trees, exotic plants and quiet at the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory.
I hope I’ll get back someday and see a little more of the home of more than 3 million people.
Thanks for looking.
Thousands upon thousands of motorcyclists rolled into town this past week for Bikes, Blues and BBQ, but for the first time since I moved here, I mostly skipped it. The rally has an oversupply of photographable characters, not least one fellow in a Viking helmet who buzzed around on a scooter waving around a plastic hammer. But I wasn’t really feeling the earsplitting roars and smattering of white supremacist symbols that also tend to come with it. I hiked this morning instead.
The first time I walked around Lake Wedington, back in April, the lake and the waterfall draining it were overflowing with rainwater. I had to turn around about halfway down the trail because of it. Now we’ve gotten hardly any rain weeks, so I wanted to try again.
The water was mostly still, steaming in the early morning and disturbed only occasionally by a solitary circle of ripples. The trees have begun losing their green. A motorcycle occasionally drove by on the lake’s other side.
When I got to the end of the lake’s dam, suddenly there were a lot more of those ripples. Little black shapes hopped out of a quiet cove every few feet, one after the other. They disappeared so quickly that I’m still not sure if they were frogs or little fish, fleeing from a bigger fish or pouncing on prey. They popped up silently and constantly for at least the 20 minutes I sat watching.
The waterfall was a trickle, but I still couldn’t go any further. Spiderwebs more than a foot wide slung across the path. I knocked one down, made lots of noise when I walked into another, and saw yet another further along. You win.
Thanks for looking, and happy fall.
Happy Hispanic Heritage Month from here in Fayetteville. The city’s Chamber of Commerce marked the occasion with a two-parter festival. The first part yesterday brought sunshine and Argentinian dance. The second part today was cut off by blustery winds and a strong afternoon downpour, but not before its parade had a chance to circle Fayetteville’s square.
The event was officially apolitical, but celebrating Hispanic heritage almost seems like a political statement in itself these days, given the intense focus on immigration and policy and our president. I wrote up an article for today’s paper about how deferred action for childhood arrivals, the Obama-era protection from deportation given to hundreds of thousands young immigrants, stands a decent chance of becoming a law in Congress now. We’ll see what comes of it.
Thanks, as always, for looking.