Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Just thinking about Grand Marais, MN and some of the interesting things about it.
We went to the Ben Franklin store, which I love. They have lumberjack clothes, wool shirts and pants a half inch think. Great Pendelton shirts. I remember about 10 years ago buying some 60s pants that were in the original package and had the original price. Well they still have a few pair on the top rack. It still blows my mind that no one has bought them. I understand that they are high up on the shelf, but collector types now to look high and low. I thought about buying them to sell on ebay, but I didn't.
* * * * *
Is it me or do all kids have to make noise/sounds/talk constantly unless they are sleeping/eating/playing nintendo/watching cartoons. My son and I are standing at the shore of the harbor in Grand Marais. I'm listening to and watching the water lapping on the shore and pondering the chunks of ice wallowing in the water, thinking they look like crushed ice in a drink and wondering if they are freezing or thawing, when my son finds some ice of his own--how can someone make such a racket. I calmly asked him if he had to make noise constantly. He stopped for 30 seconds and wandered back to the ice and started thrashing again. I think at that point I wanted to leave my ice/water pondering meditation, but I think I stood and stared for awhile longer, trying to remind myself that, well you know, he is seven. I tried to cut him some slack.
* * * * *
I remember when I was a small kid, walking in the snow and stepping over the phone lines because the snow was so deep. This was up the Gunflint Trail at Devil's Track Lake. I don't know if I actually remember this happening or if it was told to me so many times when I was young that it became part of my memory.
* * * * *
A few years back I was camping on an island in Greenwood Lake in the Superior National Forest. It was very cool having our own island--but a little creepy that we had our own squirrel too. Of course we made a fire for coffee, cooking and atmosphere. Being responsible I put it out at night. In the morning we awoke to find that the embers of the fire had tunneled underground in the peat moss, almost under our tent. Luckily we noticed the extent of the fire because we were leaving that morning. It took a lot of water to put it out. I'm glad that one of my memories of the north shore wasn't about burning down an island.
We went to the Ben Franklin store, which I love. They have lumberjack clothes, wool shirts and pants a half inch think. Great Pendelton shirts. I remember about 10 years ago buying some 60s pants that were in the original package and had the original price. Well they still have a few pair on the top rack. It still blows my mind that no one has bought them. I understand that they are high up on the shelf, but collector types now to look high and low. I thought about buying them to sell on ebay, but I didn't.
* * * * *
Is it me or do all kids have to make noise/sounds/talk constantly unless they are sleeping/eating/playing nintendo/watching cartoons. My son and I are standing at the shore of the harbor in Grand Marais. I'm listening to and watching the water lapping on the shore and pondering the chunks of ice wallowing in the water, thinking they look like crushed ice in a drink and wondering if they are freezing or thawing, when my son finds some ice of his own--how can someone make such a racket. I calmly asked him if he had to make noise constantly. He stopped for 30 seconds and wandered back to the ice and started thrashing again. I think at that point I wanted to leave my ice/water pondering meditation, but I think I stood and stared for awhile longer, trying to remind myself that, well you know, he is seven. I tried to cut him some slack.
* * * * *
I remember when I was a small kid, walking in the snow and stepping over the phone lines because the snow was so deep. This was up the Gunflint Trail at Devil's Track Lake. I don't know if I actually remember this happening or if it was told to me so many times when I was young that it became part of my memory.
* * * * *
A few years back I was camping on an island in Greenwood Lake in the Superior National Forest. It was very cool having our own island--but a little creepy that we had our own squirrel too. Of course we made a fire for coffee, cooking and atmosphere. Being responsible I put it out at night. In the morning we awoke to find that the embers of the fire had tunneled underground in the peat moss, almost under our tent. Luckily we noticed the extent of the fire because we were leaving that morning. It took a lot of water to put it out. I'm glad that one of my memories of the north shore wasn't about burning down an island.
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