Lake Winona

I made it out on Lake Winona skiing late this afternoon. In order to actually ski I had to hug the shore where the wind has blown the snow to a depth that would be generously measured in millimeters. Further out from shore it's clear ice and impossible to push off with your skis.

Lake Winona, despite it's water quality reputation, is a scenic lake. Bluffs rise out from the southeast by the airport, northeast towards the court house, and also along the west side. Mature trees cluster and lean out along the west shore with yellow-green moss in the bark fissures. You'll find the occasional cedar, too.

I ski from the lake access north. I love the view east towards the Marion Building and also Bethany Home. Both properties have sloping grassy lawns dotted with 40 foot oak trees. Large, older homes on the west side of Cedar Street back up to the Lake from 5th avenue up to 8th avenue. It's a quiet, peaceful to ski.

Today was my great-grandmother's funeral. It was a beautiful and comforting service. It's hard to find words that do her justice. She was always kind to me and interested in what I was doing. She lived almost 97 years. We have a picture of her when Jack was born of 5 generations (Great-grandma, Grandma, Dad, me, and Jack).

Carver County Drive

Driving to Aidan's doctor appointment in Norwood Young America reminds me a lot of driving in rural Alexandria. There's plenty of fields and woodlots. But like Alexandria, few of the farm places actually are full-time farm sites. I'd say the majority of farm places are the homes of retired farmers where they raise some heifers or rent out their crop land.

Some of the farm places have been fixed up very nicely. We passed one place that has new windows and decorative siding. What made it really stand out was the old round-style barn to the west of the house. Having worked in a traditional gable-style barn, I think the round barns are fascinating. Of couse to have a place like that and keep it looking good takes piles of money and this particular place has the obligatory steel shed out back where the pile is kept.

The farm places that get my attention are operating dairy farms. Not the bright and shiny mortgaged-the-farm-for-the-500 -cow-milking-parlor kind. But the small scale family farm that reminds me of how we milked cows.

There is a place on Cty Rd 153. They have a old, red barn running east-west and tempory paddocks outside with woven wire fencing where calves are kept. and some calf hutches, too. The ground is low so you can see where snow melt has made puddles that tractors drove through and froze making treacherous ruts to navigate.

Not only is it low ground, but flat, too. Which makes me wonder about the place in spring when the snow melts and all the frozen manure melts with it and the ground. Spring was my least favorite time on the farm. You had to wear waders all the time and lift your legs up as you walked to pull them from the sucking ground.

The worst was letting cows out to check for heat in that muck. They'd go out and not want to come back in, so we'd have to slop through that knee-deep sludge to get them back in. Then that evening their undersides would be coated in plaster-of-poop when it was time to milk.

Back to that farm place. They had two houses on the property. One is facing the road, the other is behind and perpindicular to it. I can't easily tell which one the orginal because they both have newer siding, although if I had to guess the one out back. The second story seems short like older homes.

On the home farm place we had two houses for a few years. The original house "Sandvik," was were my great-great grandparents and great-grandparents lived. Before them it belonged to the original owners and I believe served as a boarding house.

We lived there for awhile when my grandparents built their current house. I remember the front porch and having breakfast in the kitchen. There was a box in the hallway we kept toys in which was probably the old wood box. There were bats in the walls my mom says, I don't remember that.

The most peculiar thing I remember was the main floor bedrooms. Threre were green-glass partions between our beds. At least that's the way I recall it. I was only 4 or 5 years old.

Anyway, that's the drive to the doctor. Aidan's fine. Funny how eastern Carver County (Chanhassen/Chaska) is so different from the west side.

Wheezy Kid and the Gopher Cousin?

Charley Water's Pioneer Press column had an interesting mention of a relative. My dad's cousin expressed interested in the Gopher football coaching position and is in contact with the U of M. He's probably a long-shot right now, but I think it's only a matter of time before he gets his chance.

Just when you think the kids are finally healthy and done with illness for awhile, Aidan gets sick. After two whole days at daycare he's wheezy, short of breath, and irritable. Only Jack seems to handle illness among the O'Brien Boys. Jodi stayed home today and it's my turn tomorrow. Hopefully he'll feel better. It's hard for him to understand that he should rest when he's ill. He feels like he has to go-go-go and keep up with Jack which tires him out and makes him feel worse.

New Post, Old Story

The following is from a college class I took in 1997? It's about a neighbor farmer of ours that we knew well.

I had never seen a dead body before, unless you count funerals or television. But what I mean is I’ve never seen a dead body outside and undiscovered before.
David was a neighbor farmer in his late fifties. He was a real character who was always quick with joke or a bit of advice. He was also a bit strange. More than once he brought breakfast to morning chores. This usually consisted of cold pancakes, warm milk, and some spicy cheese on crackers. I tried to avoid him on these mornings.

Once, he showed his faith in the purity of our cows by squirting milk directly into his mouth. But in recent months David hadn’t been the same. He didn’t talk as much and wasn’t as animated and peppy. The tattered, old clothes he wore seemed to weigh him down.

The last day I saw him alive was the day after his auction. He sold all of his machinery and livestock. He seemed depressed; broken. David’s dad, whom he farmed with for years, had died in the spring and now my family was running their land. Now that his dad was gone he was left to care for his elderly mother. That afternoon I was at his place with one of my brothers to pick up some hay. We talked briefly and went our separate ways to work.

The next day I recieved a phone call from his sister. David hadn’t come home last night. In fact, he hadn’t been seen since I talked to him. I questioned her about it and went to the pasture across the road where he had set off to work. My dad and two of my brothers came with me and split up to look.

As we searched the pasture that afternoon, the heat and humidity wore us down. Sweat gathered on my forehead, drawing the mosquitoes. As I stepped, frogs jumped in the tall grass and thistles scratched my bare legs causing them to itch. The silence was broken only by an occasional call to David. As we continued, the heifers looked up from their lunch with passing curiosity. Their mouths full of grass, their tails swatting the flies on their backs.

We met near the buildings behind his house. My brothers searched the sheds for signs of David. I stood and thought about where he could be. I knew he would never leave his family, he had to be here somewhere and he was probably in trouble.
An old, rotting round bale caught my attention. It as at the end of a grove of tall Lombardy trees. Surrounding the bale was tall grass and an old one-bottom plow that didn’t sell at the auction. As I walked towards the bale I remember last seeing David walk over in this direction the day before.

Closing in, my attention focused on the foreground of the bale. At first I thought I was seeing an old canvas tarp. But the flies signaled a different story. Before the bale lay David. Flies circled and landed like Vultures on his face and nose. His body was bale and limp. I remember his legs were pulled in like they had failed him.

I turned away. I felt numb. The rest all approached and quickly turned away, heading toward the house to tell his sister and mother. The truly shocking event I witnessed that day was not the discovery of David’s body, but of his sister's cold indifference to his death.

Her matter-of-factness about it angered my Dad and sickened me. We told her we were sorry about David and walked back home. On the silent walk back I didn’t notice the mosquitoes, the thistles, or the heat. The heifers were nowhere to be seen.
Rather, on the walk back I remembered David. Working with him in all seasons on the farm, choking down the cold pancakes, and stifling a laugh at his clothes. A gentle and good man.

Digging up Pictures of the Past

I found this picture at the Minnesota Historical Society website. They have thousands of old pictures with Minnesota connections. I was hoping to find something familiar to the farm, but the sheer quantity of photos is overwhelming.

I typed in Douglas County and over 600 matches came up. Everything from pictures of old downtown building to postcards of early 20th century resorts. I'm hoping to find something interesting to purchase. All the photos are available to buy as jpegs, or you can get them sent developed in varying sizes. It would be nice to have a few for the house or my desk area at school.

I got started on this because Jodi wants a picture of the Minneapolis skyline to hang up downstairs. I'm determined not to buy some tired out, standard skyline picture. I'd like to find something a little more unique.

I read a couple items on Iraq from the Washington Post via Slate.

1. Over 22,000 Iraqi civilians and policeman died violently last year. Two-thirds during the last 6 months.

2. Wesley Clark wrote that in Kosovo (a successful military intervention) there were 40,000 troops for a population of 2 million people. To equal that for Iraq we would need 500,000 troops.

Weather and Hockey

The weather is finally beginning to resemble a Minnesota winter. A few more days of mild temps before we go back to where we belong in January, single digits. It's hard to complain about the temperatures immediate effects. I mean, it's easy getting around town, it's not painful to go get the mail or buy groceries, and you can go outside with a sweatshirt and get by for a few minutes. I imagine our gas bill will be reasonable again this month.

However, the news you read and hear tells you that gloabl warming has to be happening. Maybe not dramatically in Minnesota, we see warmer temps but the lakes are frozen around here and there is snow on the ground. But other places like the Artic show more obvious signs. I got our Minnesota Volunteer magazine from the DNR on Friday and it has an article about Will Steger and his mission to spread the word on climate change it was interesting. There are photos of starved polar bears that cannot get out on the sea ice to hunt seals and stories of Inuit people falling through ice that has been safe for decades. It's interesting learning about this, but don't hold your breath for our elected officials to do anything soon.

Jack's hockey game means we spend time indoors where it's colder than outside. He played his second game today. No goals or assists, but a good effort. He chased after the puck, banged into a few kids, and held his ground when he was goalie and a bigger kids was coming at him. One of the best parts of watching him is when his team scores. If he's on the bench he's pumping his fists and screaming through his mouth guard, and if he's on the ice he is shaking his stick up in the air. It's good to see him as part of a team.

Finally...
Today was one of those days when everything is great. The family is healthy, the house is clean, we're well fed and rested, and we've got plans for the future. In short, everyone is content.