A different day!

         "What is so rare as a day in June?"  James Russell Lowell. In my farming experience I'd ask "What is so rare as a day of fieldwork without problems."?  Much of the issue is that my equipment, like me, is antique. Yesterday was one of those rare days when everything worked perfectly when I disced both fields in preparation for planting. . It is fun when it happens.

        Today was not like yesterday. There was a flat tire on the planter as I was planting the east cornfield. The field is planted and the tire is back on the planter with a new inner-tube. How old is the planter? Forty years? maybe 50. Who knows? 

Takk for alt,

Al

                      I'm over the hill but am I picking up speed?

Sinai was saved!

        Thank the volunteer fire department! I've often referenced the little pond across the street from The Little House. The pond is on the north fringe of town. North of the pond is a hundred and sixty acre field of grass. With a north wind blowing at 14 mph that grass caught fire this afternoon. Without a quick response from the fire department the northern tier of houses, and perhaps more, may have burned. Yes, the fire danger is high.

      When the fire erupted I was 6+ miles west of town discing my corn ground. Smoke was visible but I didn't think much of it. As I approached town from the west there was a patrol car at the intersection just west of town posted to prevent traffic from going north. The burned hillside told me most of what I needed to know and the fire was out. 

   This morning I disced the east field in preparation for planting. It's about 4 miles east of town. This afternoon I disced the west field which is 6+ miles west of town. Perfect for a lunch break between fields.

Takk for alt,

Al

                             Glacier egg pulled up by the plow.

                                    Discing east of town.

         Discing west of town, with Lake Joanne in the background.

      

He/she is back!

         The egret that patrols the shore of the little pond across the street has returned. This assumes that it is the same bird but I don't know that for a fact. While I'm glad to see him/her back the frogs on which he/she preys may have a different opinion about the egrets return. Every night he/she flies off to roost in trees with other egrets. There's safety in numbers. It would be interesting to know the location of the night habitat. Would there also be nests there at the roosting site?

         On Saturday, May 1, it will be the anniversary of my staying in The Little House. As always, time passes quickly even during the pandemic. It's been a good place to quarantine. Now as spring advances there is more for me to do outside so I will spend much of my time here. 

Takk for alt,

Al

            Reading has been a significant factor in my contentment in The Little House. 

Planting trees and...

         Many years ago, Rollie and I, planted 700 trees in a day. Those days are long past. However, I did plant 20 lilac, 5 choke cherry and 1 grape vine today. The lilac and choke cherry were replacements for trees that had died in existing tree rows. Hardy as cedar are they sometimes die, even after growing several feet tall.  These plantings today were all bareroot plants. One potted grapevine was planted next to a clothes-line post in the backyard of The Little House.  Now some rain would be welcome. 

       Local farmers have been busy planting corn. It's early but if they wait and a rainy period comes then they will wish that they would have planted. It gets me thinking about doing my planting. With soil conditions on the dry side early planting would likely be an advantage.   

Takk for alt,

Al

                    Pelicans on my little pond this morning.

Done....

        Last fall a tractor mounted, three point hitch, came home with me from a farm sale. With expert help today we made the necessary modifications to mount it on a two point hitch. Our search for a power take off pump found one but not the adaptor to connect pump and power take off. The search continues.

      Rollie's '65 Mustang convertible, that's been resting in the shop since autumn, started immediately. It will return to the Cities tomorrow. Only Dinah Shore's '55 Chevy convertible remains.

     Tomorrow is tree planting day. The lilac will be hand-planted i established tree rows where a tree has died. The potted grapevine will go next to the clothesline pole that lives in the back yard. It will be easy to keep it watered.

Takk for alt,

Al

Driving to The Little House today.

 Earl is bathroom cleaner that I admire. 😁

Takk for alt,

Al

Expectations reversed.

       When friends first came to visit us in after we moved into our condo in downtown Mpls, they were often surprised. Perhaps they expected a little box with 90 degree corners. It's actually quite spacious and not all right angles. It's almost three times as large as The Little House, which as it's name implies, is a little house. The condo is much larger than I need but I'm not ambitious enough to hunt for a smaller one. The view from the 15th floor feels my need for a vista. Because it's at the end of a wing of the building I get a variety of views. From one window I can see the falls of the Mississippi, out the sliding glass doors to the balcony I can see North Memorial Hospital on the horizon seven miles to the northwest, and opposite the window that views the falls aare views downtown skyscrapers with the classic Foshay Tower visible between the taller buildings.  Most would expect the house to be larger than the condo but in this case expectations are reversed. 

      Tomorrow I'll head back to The Little House. My next stay at the condo will be the weekend of May 15. How much will downtown change in a month?  It will be interesting to see.

Takk for alt,

Al

    

Prosperity ahead?

      On the drive from The Little House to the Condo there are many huge on-farm grain bins seen. Assuming that these bins hold much corn and soybeans and that those commodities are not contracted out at a low price there is prosperity ahead for many farmers. Chicago Board of Trade today reported corn at $6.55, Soybeans at $15.40 and wheat 7.10, all per bushel. Farmers expenses also rise for fertilizer, seed and herbicides but those commodity prices should still leave room for a hefty profit.   

    Downtown Minneapolis is quite deserted. There are fences, concrete barriers and windows covered with plywood. Many office workers are working remotely. Hopefully with the Chauvin trial over and the ebbing of the pandemic people will return. An article in the Minneapolis paper yesterday reported brisk sales of a luxury downtown condo under construction. The sales of downtown condos are recovering from the decline of some months ago and people are still wanting to move to center city.

DID YOU KNOW "phrases such as "a fool's paradise," "a sorry sight," "dead as a doornail," "Greek to me," "come what may," "eaten out of house and home," "forever and a day," "heart's content," "slept a wink," "love is blind," "night owl," "wild goose chase," and "into thin air."' came from Shakespeare; Writer's Almanac 

Takk for alt,

Al

In Minneapolis

       Being in Minneapolis so totally threw me off my game I forgot to post this afternoon. Are both of you disappointed?  Tomorrow I'll do better.

Takk for alt,

Al

Recommended Reading.

        Until recently the issue of racism and discrimination was focused almost exclusively on the situation confronting African Americans. More recently the plight of Asian Americans has received more attention. This was brutally brought home with the massacre of 8 persons in a massage business in Georgia. Cathy Park Hong in her new book, Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning, gives voice to the reality of anti-Asian prejudice in America. Hong, who is Korean American, shares her own story and experiences interwoven with the prejudice and violence Asians have experienced in America.  The book is a worthy complement to the many stories being published about the experiences of African Americans.

       "The church was the original multicultural project, with Jesus as its only point of identity. It was known, and for this reason seen as both attractive and dangerous, as a worship-based, spiritually renewed, multi-ethnic, poly-chrome, mutually supportive, outward-facing, culturally creative, chastity-celebrating, socially responsive fictive kinship group, gender-blind in leadership, generous to the poor and courageous in speaking up for the voiceless."  Biblical scholar N.T. Wright quoted in April 21, 2021, Christian Century, P. 9.   Also on the same page "The four top-ranking countries for quality of life--Norway, Denmark, Finland, and New Zealand are led by women."   

Takk for alt

Al

Actions have consequences, or, What is a weed?

         When I purchase some land in the early 90s there was a fenced cattle lane from the barnyard to a pasture, about a quarter of a mile long. It allowed the cattle to reach the pasture from the barn without invading the crop land on either side of the lane. Livestock were not in my plans so there was no need for the lane. Not needing the lane for livestock I planted two rows of cedars the entire length of it. These cedars are now 20' to 30' tall. They provide a secure runway for wildlife and a snow barrier for adjoining grassland. 

        One of the consequences of planting these trees is that they foster seedling cedars in the grass. What is a weed? A weed is a plant growing where it is not wanted. These young cedars are weeds in the grass. Left unchecked they destroy the usefulness of the grass for birds that nest there. They provide perches for hawks who then prey on the nesting birds. 

       This is all a long introduction to telling of how I spent the morning, i.e., cutting cedars. Coniferous trees, unlike deciduous, will not regrow from the roots when they are cut below their lowest branch. Therefore, to ensure eliminating the cedar it is necessary to cut it off at ground level.  A morning of such stoop labor was quite enough. The large unanswered question is if I will be able to arise tomorrow. Mark, who raised bison for a number years, told me that bison will not tolerate cedars, they butt them out. Where were the bison when I needed them?  Kaia thought the morning running in the field was great fun.

Takk for alt,

Al

This and that...

    Sometimes weather predictions are accurate. Yesterday the weather app had an alert for serious conditions. It revealed that with low humidity and strong winds beginning at 5pm there was elevated fire danger. Perhaps there was no fire but at 5pm the wind switched from west to north, increased to over 20mph and the temperature quickly dropped 20 degrees. 

     More ducks! The largest flock yet of blue bills were bobbing in the whitecaps on my little pond. They are impervious to waves and were busy diving for whatever it is they dive for. In addition to the numerous blue wing teal and mallards I spotted a bufflehead today. The pie billed grebes are back, too. Still haven't seen any of the wading birds; least bitterns, great blue herons or egrets.

     Returning from Brookings with 160,000, what's your guess of what it is?  If you guessed kernels of corn you win the prize! Two bags, each claiming to contain 80,000 kernels (who did the counting?) boasting a maturity date of 112 days. That should be perfect for this latitude this year. Likely it will be planted mid-May, so ripe Sept. 15?, not that maturity means much to me. Because the corn is left in the field for wildlife it doesn't need to be harvest-dry at any particular date.  Pheasants and deer don't care about moisture content. Ed tells me that the soil (don't call it dirt) should be least 54 degrees at two inches deep before planting. Now that the fields are plowed the black soil will warm more quickly. 

Takk for alt

Al

Bird watching.

        My father had a wide variety of interests which included identifying birds. Perhaps that's where I got my interest. While it is interesting to me I'm not an avid birdwatcher that keeps lists of what I've seen. But I notice birds. While I was plowing yesterday a hawk flew near me, which often happens, so it was time to consult the bird book. I'm quite certain that it was a male northern harrier.  Males and females of that species have distinctive coloring. Red tailed hawks are more common here and the distinctive markings on the one spotted peaked my interest. 

        Bluebills, either lesser or greater scaup they are too far from shore for me to distinguish, continue to cycle through my little pond on their way north to nest. A couple of ruddy ducks, those cute little ones with the bright blue bills and upturned tails, swim in the slough west of town. Great blue herons and egrets have not arrived yet. Perhaps they wait for frogs to emerge.  Kaia loves to flush blackbirds then race them as they fly. The return of the birds is a sure sign that spring is here.

Takk for alt,

Al

Seen in the funnies: "Did you know that taller people sleep longer in bed?"    Which reminds me of my theory of daytime naps. How can you expect to sleep well at night if you don't practice in daytime?

Plow man!

       Field work has always been my favorite part of farming and plowing was always my favorite field work. Plowing is something that makes a difference. It's easy to see what you've done and what you're doing as you do it. Very few farmers plow now because most intitial tillage is done in the fall. Plowing leaves the soil too exposed to erosion over winter.  My wildlife food plots stand undisturbed during winter providing food for deer and pheasants. Spring plowing doesn't cause erosion and the ground is soon replanted. 

      Today I plowed the other field so now my plowing is complete for another year. Ideally there will be enough time before planting to allow weeds to germinate so they can be tilled down in preparation for planting thus eliminating them. Seldom has plowing gone as well as it did yesterday and today. Perhaps there would be no prize in a plowing competition for my work but it satisficed me,   

Takk for alt,

Al

                         That's Lake Joanne in front of the tractor.

Plowing Ahead!

        Tired of waiting for perfect weather I chose today to commence field work thought the temperature was in the 40s and overcast. Mindful of the Norwegian adage that 'there's no bad weather, only bad clothing' I donned my down vest and heaviest Carhart parka and headed to the field. The result? I'm half done with my plowing  and in field conditions that were ideal. Dressed appropriately I was comfortable on my cab-less tractor. 

      The field was a food plot of corn that stood through the winter to feed wildlife. Feed they did! The deer and the pheasants cleaned up the corn so completely I didn't see a kernel.  The ground is adjacent to a multi-tree row and 50 acres of tall grasses. This means that the pheasants and deer would have wind and storm protection as well as good cover to avoid predators. 

    Tomorrow I'll just be another man (farmer?) outstanding in his field...or, maybe driving. 

Takk for alt,

Al

                    Stopped to removed a large rock that was plowed up I took a picture.

Foot Patrol!

        Hiking the grassland and pasture this morning was my first foray into the fields looking for pocket gophers this year. They're called pocket gophers because they have pockets inside their cheeks for storing seeds. They spend almost all of their time below ground making tunnels and pushing up large mounds of dirt. Last year I found nine places where badgers had dug them out. Badgers are great diggers, sometimes digging down through the hard packed surfaces of dirt roads. When badgers dig out pocket gophers they leave a mess of holes but at least that stops the gophers making mounds.

      There was no evidence of badgers finding pocket gophers this year.  But, they had made a mess in the pasture where they dug multitudes of holes, with attendant mounds of dirt, seeking striped gophers...technically, thirteen lined ground squirrels. While I welcome badgers to share the land their mounds are more troublesome than are the gophers. Perhaps I can level them off the mounds before they become permanent. 

      Being on the land again is good for my soul. Kaia thoroughly enjoyed running free. She came home caked with mud from the slough but she was good in the shower. She flushed a couple of pheasants and a large coyote. She enjoys racing birds that fly overhead. There was a large pad (yes that what a group is called) of pelicans on a neighboring slough. Pelicans make me happy!

Takk for alt,

Al

Normal?

         When I went to Minneapolis for Easter, Monday was celebrated by breakfast and lunch with friends and dinner with family members. Once the initial greetings were exchanged the many months of separation simply faded away. It was as if we'd been meeting regularly. To mark the third anniversary of Joanne's death I went to a large super-market for the first time since 2019. The Hy-Vee store in Brookings has a floral shop so I was there to buy flowers for her grave. As long as I was there I did some grocery shopping. At first as I entered the store my reaction was "Wow, this is big!" That reaction quickly faded and it seemed totally normal as it was a store I often shopped before COVID. Last night I entered a restaurant, for the first time in thirteen months, for dinner with family who live near The Little House. Again the experience was normal....very nice, normal...but as if we hadn't been separated for over a year.

        It fascinates me that the intervening months simply seem to fall away when activities that have been suspended are re-engaged. How is this to be understood?  Am I the only one who experiences this? The isolation has not been traumatic for me.  Perhaps that's part of the reason that this is my experience.

Takk for alt,

al 

Norwegian sir names (past).

       My Grandfather, Lars Negstad, took the name of the farm and fjord in Norway, which he left to come to America. When we visited that farm in Norway we saw six mailboxes for various Negstads. Because of  grandpa's decision my last name is Negstad. One of Grandfather's brothers took the name Thompson. That family settled in South Bend, IN. Thompson is more difficult to trace than is Negstad and we've lost touch with them.. A third brother coming to America took the name, Sivertson, as in "son of Sivert" who was his father.

       On my mother's side of the family their name, Bergh, comes from a place in Norway. However, mother's mother, Grandma Minnie Bergh's maiden name was Halvorson. Minnie was the daughter of Halvor Larson, so she took her father's first name for her last...which was often done in Norway at the time.

     This is all leading to a partial solution of the mystery of a stone in the Bergh Cemetery with different sir names on opposite sides. Sister-in-law, Mary, tells me that three brothers took different last names, and, and two of them are buried in the Bergh Cemetery. One took the name, Rogholt, one, Tonsager and perhaps the third, Thorkelson, which is the name on the opposite side from Tonsager. 

     That would explain the different names on the same stone. It raises a new mystery; where is Thorkelson buried?  He's not in the Bergh Cemetery. 

    What important issues occupy my thoughts! 😉

Takk for alt,

Al

                       Perhaps this is why I don't watch TV. 😁

Joanne Elizabeth Negstad, April 1, 1936-April 12, 2018.

      Three years ago today at 6:00 a.m. I asked Joanne "What's special about April 12th?" She shrugged her shoulders. Three and half hours later, surrounded by her family, she died. Until April 11th, she'd kept up with all the cards, letters and emails that came to her. Sent home from the hospital, to home hospice care, we expected to have two or three months with her, based on the doctors guess. She died in twenty two days. Her last meal at the table was on her birthday, April 1, which was also Easter Sunday. Dying is not easy but she didn't suffer a lot. She faced her death with calm confidence. 

    Now it's been three years since her death. That time seems both long and short. Grief weighs heaviest on me when I think about all she's missed. Her style was always full engagement in life. She took exceptional delight in her granddaughters and now they've grown three years beyond her last time with them. Not everything in these three years has been good as for example the pandemic. But she would have weathered that challenge with good courage. I've found a home in the land of grief and the poignancy of the power of the presence of absence ebbs and flows. 

    The grief is so powerful because life with her was a great gift. In the midst of my grief is profound gratitude that we could share so many years together. The grief is manageable because of the constant support of family and friends. Relationship have sustained me through her death and the time after.  

   God bless her memory! Rest in peace, good and faithful servant.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                    Engaged in conversation.

                                                   Today.

 

Unsolvable? mystery!

       One mystery was solved but the other may not be solvable. Let's begin with the one that is solved. Grandpa Bergh, Gramma and their children who died while they still lived, are buried in a plot that is circumscribed by a concrete border. This plot is in the southwest corner of the cemetery. There is one plot of graves west of them and then the west border fence. The plot to the west contains the unsolvable mystery, but, more about that later. The Bergh plot is almost to the south tree line, but, not quite. There's a lone grave for Bertha Mostue, who died in 1918, between the Berghs and the south border. Who is Bertha?  There are no other persons named Mostue buried in the cemetery.

     Last night, in conversation with my cousin, Alvin, another grandson of Grandpa and Gramma, he asked "Have you seen a marker for Bertha Mostue?"  Well, yes, I had.  Alvin is very interested in our family history and was reading from another cousin's, Dorothy who did extensive genealogical work, papers. Dorothy discovered that Bertha was Grandma's unmarried aunt who came to the Berghs to help take care of the children. Bertha was born in Norway on December 16, 1828 and died April 13, 1918.

     My mother was born in 1900 and I have no memory of her ever mentioning Bertha. Alvin's father, Alfred, was born in 1895, and neither has he any memory of his father talking of Bertha. It's time to survey the other grandchildren.

     That solved the mystery of the lone grave, now, the other one. The graves to the west of the Berghs is marked with a huge, beautiful, polished granite marker. On the east face, toward the graves of the parents and several children, is inscribed: TONSAGER. The sexton confirmed that indeed the persons buried there are recorded in the cemetery records as Tonsagers. Walk around the marker and look at the side facing west and there you will see inscribed, in letters as clear and large as on the other side: THORKELSON. The sexton said that there are no recorded burials of anyone named Thorkelson. Why does this stone have different names on the east and the west? Does any living person know? It's doubtful. Does anyone care, but me? 😉 Probably not.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                         Great Aunt, Bertha Mostue's marker.

                                               The east face.

                                             The west face.

Summer must be coming!

       No activity yet from The Little House sump pump. This, even after a multi-million dollar rain that began Tuesday and ended Friday. Perhaps conditions are drier than I realized so the ground can absorb the moisture. It was a gentle rain over three days, slow enough to penetrate the soil, and maybe 2" total. Perfect timing, too, before field work has begun.

     There was flock of bluebills, scaup, on the little pond this morning, stopping for a bit on their trek north. Snow geese passed through a month ago. A slough held a few pelicans back from the south. A mostly submerged log was crowded with painted turtles sunning themselves after their long winter's nap. To me, these are all signs that summer must be coming, though I'm not putting the snow shovels away yet. How easily the winter passed in The Little House is a bit surprising but I'm grateful. 

     Field work next week?  Stay tuned.

Takk for alt,

Al

Hiding in plain sight!

      Do I feel foolish?  Well, yes!  A consultation with the sexton that supervises the cemetery revealed that the "missing" gravestone was in the family plot. Admittedly the sir name was obscured by lichen, but I don't find that a very credible excuse for missing it. Even after calling a couple of my cousins who also didn't have a clue the sexton came to my rescue. 

     So the graves of Oscar Helmer Bergh, who died May 31, 1885, age five weeks, and Marie Cecelia Bergh, who died September 6, 1886, of "summer fever," age three months, have been located. You ask "What is 'summer fever?'" I have no clue but that's what Grandpa wrote in his autobiography as the cause of death.

     Now that little mystery is solved I will make arrangements for resetting the six markers in the family plot. When it's a bit warmer I'll remove the lichen on the infants marker. Not surprisingly it's a different style from the later ones. The next burial after them was Ella's, who died in the flu epidemic in 1918. That's a 42 year span.

     The fact that these grandparents, who were born in the 1850s, still have eight grandchildren surviving is interesting. Of the eight I am the youngest now. There was one younger than I but she died a few years ago.

Takk for alt,

Al

      Infants, Oscar's and Marie's grave marker. (The lost is found.)

                       Earl, of  Pickles, and I went to the same plumber's school. :)

One thing leads...

         In the blog yesterday I wrote about seeking to align the Grandpa/Gandma's grave marker. The big stone has about a 30 degree list. In front of the stone are four foot markers, one for each person buried there. The four are Grandpa, Gramma, daughter, Ella, who died in the flu epidemic in 1918, and, Martin, who died in a place crash in 1920. There the mystery begins.

        Grandpa and Gramma had two children who died as infants; Oscar, 1885, five weeks old, and, Marie Cecelia, 1886, who died of "summer disease", age three months. The mystery...where are they buried?  This is good activity for the youngest of their eight grandchildren still surviving, as the rain continues.

      In the past I'd written that Grandpa founded Bethania congregation south of Volga. Now that I'm rereading his autobiography I see I was mistaken. The congregation preceded him but he built the church building.  He was called to Bethania, south of Volga, Opdahl's Congregation ten miles east and an un-named church in Lake Preston.

Takk for alt,

Al

Small world!

      The beautiful spring rain continued for much of today. If the weather app on my phone is to be believed we've received 1.3" of moisture. With the rainy day some cemetery business was in order.

      When my Grandpa, Olai Bergh, graduated from the Lutheran Seminary in Red Wing, MN., he was sent to S.D, to found a church. He and Grandma settled south of Volga, S.D., in 1884. He was pastor of that congregation, Bethania Lutheran until he retired. Sometime later the church closed but the cemetery remains and that's where they are buried.

      There is a big granite marker by their graves that says, BERGH. That stone has acquired about a 30 degree list. In conversation with a number of my cousins, all grandchildren of Grandpa and Grandma, we agreed that it would be good to get it set straight again. Given today's inclement weather I went to the monument company in Brookings, where I ordered the marker for Joanne's grave.  In conversation with the owner of the monument company she remarked that her great-grandmother, Hillestad, is buried in that cemetery. She called up a picture of  her great-grandmother's grave marker. It showed that she died in 1910, which was while Grandpa was pastor there. So, almost certainly,  Grandpa conducted her funeral. That's today's small world experience.

      Have I written about Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century, Jessica Bruder?  Not being a movie person I don't know anything about the movie version but the book was very good. Reading it certainly reinforces my decision not to buy from Amazon, at least until it's unionized. 

Takk for alt,

Al

                                        The grave stone to be straightened.

What did I know?

      Perhaps I know a tiny bit about a lot. Then there a few things about which I know much. My last read was about something I only knew a little and now I know some more. Likely most of us know that Gutenberg advanced the science of moveable type. The Chinese had figured it out much earlier but given the ca., two thousand Chinese characters it didn't prove to be very practical. Perhaps as significant as Gutenberg's moveable type was his ink formula.

      The Lost Gutenberg: The astounding Story of One Book's Five-Hundred-Year Odyssey, Margret Leslie Davis not only traces the history of  Gutenberg Bible #45, but also tells the story of  the esoteric world of rare book collecting.  Who would think that #45even involves the Teapot Dome Scandal?...but it does.  It is a fascinating story, well written  with it's own pathos. 

     Arriving at The Little House on the Prairie a little while ago I found ice on the lawn. Apparently there was a bit of hail in the thunder shower which was kind enough to finish before our arrival. With the soil on the edge of dry, rain is welcome. 

Takk for alt,

Al

Little by little....

        Little by little some normality returns to life. Yesterday, it was Easter with the family. Today it was breakfast with a friend  and lunch with another. On both occasions we commented that, though it had been a year since we met, once we were back together it was as if we'd never been separated. Dinner tonight is scheduled with family members. For all involved in the todays events there is the good fortune of coming through the year intact. Obviously, many have not been so fortunate.

       Downton Minneapolis, the site of my condo, is radically transformed since I left a year ago in March. The pandemic and working from home means few people in the offices, on the sidewalks or streets. Recently there was an article in the Minneapolis paper about commerce in the Skyway system. The Skyways are 10 miles of second story walkways linking downtown buildings. Prior to the pandemic the Skyways were full of people at noon and there were endless places to eat and shop. Hardly any commercial activity remains. 

     What does the future hold? Who knows? If the office buildings refill commerce will return to the Skyway. What is the timeline? Again, who knows?  As for me and my dog, we'll divided our time between the condo and The Little House. Of all persons, I may be the most blessed!

Takk for alt,

Al

                                             Joanne with her siblings and their spouses.

Easter Sunday

       By careful quarantining our family was able to be together for Christmas. Now we were able to spend Easter Sunday together. The long absence truly made the heart grow fonder.  All the adults are vaccinated now. With a 12th birthday to celebrate I'll be back to Mpls in three weeks. That's a pattern I now anticipate...splitting time between the condo and The Little House.

    There's not much more to report now. More tomorrow.

Takk for alt

Al

Reposting another favorite picture of Joanne....it's at Christmas evidenced by the Christmas pictures posted on the glass door..

HAPPY EASTER!

Yesterday I didn't get a post up so I expected to be inundated by questions from both of my followers. 😉  But, it didn't happen.  No particular reason for not posting...just didn't get to it.

     Something about condo living that mellows Kaia. She seems very content and it's almost as if she knows that this environment requires different behavior. Like Kaia, downtown is also very subdued. The combination of the pandemic and the policeman's trial has emptied downtown. There is little traffic either on foot or in vehicles. So seldom, over the past year, have I had to mask several times now I've forgotten... necessitating, going back to get it. 

    Last Easter we had a significant snowfall but not this year as temperatures are predicted in the 70s. This has certainly been an unusual Holy Week in my experience. It is difficult for me to even track which holy day it is. Sooooo looking forward to being with the family tomorrow.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                     One of my favorite pictures of Joanne,

Joanne Negstad, April 1, 1936-April 12, 2018

    Joanne's birthday was no April Fools joke, though her mother used play tricks on her when she was a child. On the last birthday she celebrated, in 2018, it was Easter Sunday. It was also the last time she ate a meal at the table. Our congregation, Grace University Lutheran Church, sang Happy Birthday to her at the Easter Service. It was when the recording of that birthday song from church was played for her that she said "I never knew dying could be so glorious." That was Joanne!

    She was alert until a couple of hours before she died on April 12. At :6:00 a.m. I asked "What's so special about April 12?" she shrugged her shoulders and three hours late she died. The night before was the only time she lacked the strength to get through all her messages; cards, letters and emails, Two days after her death we had a significant blizzard. 

     Three years I've dwelt in The Land Of Grief. In some ways that seems no time at all and in other ways it seems forever. This morning I made an early visit to her grave. After that visit, I drove to Minneapolis to spend Easter with my family/. In three years she's missed so much and of all she's missed the growth of her granddaughters is the most poignant. With COVID, I too, have missed much time with them but, now with vaccine for all the adults, that will change. 

    I'm so grateful that she chose to be buried in Sinai. That makes it easy for me to stop at the cemetery several times a week. On April 12, I'll put flowers on her grave. Likely it will be roses, she always loved flowers, but roses in particular. 

     Many people have called, emailed, texted and reached out remembering Joanne and buoying me up. Such remembrances certainly help.. Along with deep gratitude for sharing Joanne's life I am also deeply grateful that I've never felt forgotten. 

Takk for alt,

Al

           Joanne with her granddaughters.  Joanne was in hospice when the picture was taken.