It broke 50 degrees, and for the first time since November 13th we can see our lawn. If I felt like doing the math, I could tell you how many days of snow cover that was, but suffice to say it was too many.
Now Winter’s back is surely broken, and it’s rotting corpse lies melting in the gutter. Take that Tolstoy!
Even though we were only spending 4 days up on the North Shore, I decided to take a whole week off from work. It was a good call. Sometimes my dark corporate overlords need to be reminded that they don’t own me. They’re just leasing my soul.
Ten more years and the kids will be in college, and I can kiss Corporate America goodbye, and focus on something more rewarding. Like digging graves perhaps.
I cannot begin to tell you how intoxicated the weather is making me feel. Who needs Guinness when you have 50 degrees? The cardinals were singing their hearts out in the trees, while the Indomitable Moxie and Maggie the Wonderdog lay on the deck, sunning themselves. I spent the day collecting 4 garbage bags full of dog crap from the yard. Ahh… the joys of spring.
Our week up North was wonderful. A very welcome break from the grind of winter, and it has got me looking ahead to a spring and summer of outdoor activity. The “Paddling Minnesota” guidebook is out on the coffee table, and I am dreaming of kayak and canoe trips on lazy rivers, and sparkling lakes. And then there is Colorado. COLORADO! We are planning a week in the mountains this summer. The place I gave up to move to Minnesota and marry Mrs. 20 Prospect. It’s been 15 years since I last spent any time in the mountains and I can’t wait to share it with the kids.
Then in August is our annual sojourn to the Upper Peninsula for a week of playing in the lake, and the deep, dark woods. Honestly, I know I sound crazy but I would love to move further north, and live somewhere within lake effect range of Lake Superior. It’s a place that has fit like a glove since the first time I visited in 1992. I fit in there so much better than I do in the Twin Cities. Maybe it’s the big ethnicky noses of the Croats, Italians, Slavs, Poles, and Germans, or their extemporaneous body hair, but these are my people. If my ancestors had just had enough money to stay on the train and steamships past Pittsburgh and Syracuse, I might have even been born in a town somewhere in the Mesabi range singing Gordon Lightfoot.
It really is a little boys dream to live in a place with great big mining trucks, steam shovels, railroads, and big ships. I may be a soft white collar corporate leech, but I love big machines.
Anyway, this post was supposed to have a point but has now devolved into pointless ramblings, so I’ll leave you with a song. Enjoy
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald – Gordon Lightfoot
And could a Minnesota tribute to a Canadian legend be complete without “Bullwinkle Sings Gordon Lightfoot”