Settling In

or, Niigaanii Asemaa

Here at the cedar-shake country house I’m living in, I’m surrounded, whenever I go out, by the changing season. I arrived here after most of the snow was already gone, but along the road there were still patches, which have melted now. On my way up here from Minneapolis, I could hear, toward the beginning of the ride, spring peepers even over the clattering of the grain car that I rode to Superior, Wisconsin, but when I got to Ashland no one had heard them yet. Now two weeks later, when I arrive back home from the eight-mile bike ride to town, I can find the right driveway by echolocating, thanks to the raucous crowd of peepers in the marshy spot next to it.
Read the whole post

Heading Home

Here in Minnesota, a long, punishing Winter has been followed by a lovely Spring, which has been followed by a spirited Second Winter. The morning of the 11th, before I started writing this, snow fell with a brown tinge from dust that blew in from Texas. (Meteorologists call this “snirt”.) Later that day while unlocking my bike to travel down slushy roads that two days prior were clear and surrounded by green lawn, I saw a flash, looked up into the pelting hail, and heard thunder.

Read the whole post

Long Cold Book

If I tell you that I traveled clear to the other side of the Midwest for the opportunity to trudge six miles across a snow-covered, frozen bay in the dark of night, you might be inclined to ask why. Well, I can’t tell you that. There are certain things in life that we just have to do. Maybe it’s something to do with thrillseeking or spending time with friends, or maybe it’s just a more primal urge that we all have: There’s something missing in my life, and it’s a six-mile trudge through the night across a snow-covered, frozen bay. Don’t just look at me. Over four thousand other people did it too. Many of them paid good money for the privilege.

Read the whole post

Out Now

I’ve been away from the blog for a while, I know. I don’t have much to say just at this moment, but I’ll be back with more words and stuff. But what I do have to say is this:

Read the whole post

I Did It

Second of two posts today. The first, which is the main one, is here.

There’s an announcement I have to make. Every so often, I write a short story. Earlier this year I finished one, and I thought it turned out well enough that I’d see if I could get it published. So I sent it off to Joel Caris at Into the Ruins and, to skip to the exciting part, it’s going to be in the fall issue!

Read the whole post

Camp Turtle Island

or, Perhaps the Future's on the Rez

About twelve miles east of Waubun, Highway 4 comes off of Highway 113 and heads up toward Nay-Tah-Waush. There at the corner, there’s something unusual going on. Down in the grass there’s a scattering of tipis, two huge army tents, and a trailer, spread among a selection of cars ranging from serviceable to dead and an uneven layer of debris like chainsaws, old doors, and cinder blocks. Come down off the road and go down the hill toward the nearby banks of Gull Lake, and the theme holds and intensifies, with a half-dozen wigwams lining the trail, some covered with layers of tarps, some no more than a dome-shaped frame of bent saplings, flanking a yard full of old boards, scrap wire, insulation, a blue ’60s flatbed dually. Facing toward the road is a big banner that says

MikinaakMinis
Camp Turtle Island

What’s going on here?

Read the whole post