LafondblogGeneral blog about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness

FROM OUR ONE-BEDROOM APARTMENT we peer northwest at a sun moving daily southward. Under a rising invisible new moon the lights of Belgrade (Montana) twinkle like Atlantic City seen from the northern end of the Ocean City boardwalk. Layers of cold air settle in from the mountains, no longer held back by the day. The sky goes from blue to orange and green to jet black. Our windows are open and the chill air infiltrates our living room. I feel it flowing over my left elbow but it is deflected somewhat by what is left of this warm late September day. 

There is no TV so we have the sounds of traffic on 19th Street. It is too late in the day for the usual sounds of children playing seven stories below us. Sounds of joyful childhood intermingled with the more than the occasional wail of injury or slight. Parents responding not too quickly knowing it is unlikely the damage is life threatening. We sit in our giant lifeguard’s chair and confirm that, indeed, it is a minor scrape or a stolen soccer ball. A few minutes pass and the cheerful sounds resume. But not now as dark collects around us, broken only by the picture windows on our same level here in the sky in our building’s twin a volley ball field away from us. 

Now the nightly visit of the train rolls slowly through the north side. Rumbling at my left ear. The cry of the train whistle. Now rumbling at my right ear. It must be traveling at five miles per hour, maybe lingering because it is not eager to leave our mountain oasis. The sad bunnies let the train pass and return to guarding the secure fence that keeps us away.

A train whistle echos through the valley

THE SUN IS SHINING. IT’S WARM (29 degrees). The dog is definitely suffering from cabin fever as she has gotten “very bad” lately. Australian Shepherds are, as you know, very intelligent. If they become bored, Continue reading →

One day I wake up. I walk to the window. Open it and allow the outside air to enter my bedroom. I put on shorts. I walk outside. Birds are chirping more loudly than usual. A pair of cardinals are scouting real estate. We keep our dog out of the front yard in the hope they will choose our giant pine tree. My son starts riding his bicycle. My daughter wants to know where she can find her special electric razor so she can shave her legs. And the city has posted our street no parking. The semi-annual curb-to-curb street cleaning. Oh, yeah, and did I mention Daylight Savings Time? The 15 inches of snow that was on the ground yesterday has disappeared into greening grass. But trees and shrubs. No signs yet. This is Minnesota. They’re expecting snow in International Falls. For sure everyone in the state has removed their ice houses from the lakes. And so I ask. What happened to winter? How can it go away so suddenly. So completely. I’m having trouble adjusting to all of this. I worry that winter is cued up waiting to leap upon us like a hungry tiger. It’s a plot. The City of St. Paul is trying to lull us into believing the worst is over. That tanker in the photo might as well be a Zamboni machine. WINTER WILL RETURN! I can stop it only by moving to Florida or Arizona.

It always takes awhile for these fears to abate. For me to forget what it’s like to be watching the sun set in the southwest instead of the northwest. Spring is here to sucker us in yet again. And we will buy the whole tamale. Summer is coming. Warm days. Swimming pools. Walks in mosquito infested forests. Camping. For awhile I resist the notion of giving into it all. After all, the idea of warm weather. Summer breezes. This is Minnesota! It’s just unnatural.

FROM MY SECOND FLOOR OFFICE on the back of my home in St. Paul I can see most of the sun’s trajectory from shortly after sunrise until the last glow in the west that I can see as I am writing here at 5:54 p.m. on a winter’s day. The green sky yields to shades of tan and red and slowly the shadows beneath the horizon rise up to claim my Sunday afternoon. I have started writing this post forgetting that my most recent contribution had to do with the movements of the sun and the earth as well. But that earlier described sunset was in September. We are at this moment at the height of a Minnesota winter. In this quiet time I have more appreciation for the sunsets. I can see them better because I can see through the trees that crowd around my perch, the view likened to that enjoyed from a very sophisticated tree house.

Here in the city the golden light from an alley streetlight introduces itself as a new focal point. The sky fades in response to an invisible cue from an invisible stage manager. But no drama issues forth. The bell on the Lutheran Church behind me a long block tolls the dinner hour. The green sky turns a deep blue and the tan a dull red on its way to brown and darkness.

There is nothing like a winter sunset. The cold forces open the sky and allows us to see crystal clear. The city has temporarily lowered its usual lumber and din. No sound of jet planes approaching the airport southwest of here. A muffled, tentative, automobile passes below but it is not followed by another. The night falls but leaves a trace of the day that has passed us. Done with us and now on to Montana, California and Hawaii.