First BIG(ish) Snow

As I write this, we wait at the beginning of a major system that may bring up to a foot of snow over the next two days. It comes on top of a few minor snows (less than half an inch) on the 23rd and Christmas night. If we get more than ten inches, it will be Minnesota's largest snowfall in 22 months.

Earlier this month, though, we had our first big snow -- somewhere around four to six inches. It was quite a beauty, but also kept Suzanne overnight in the Cities (thanks to her awesome coworker for giving her a place to stay both then and now).

I am increasingly convinced that I actually work at the American version of Hogwarts. I mean, just look at that architecture and that tower! And our Advent wreath is suspended in the sanctuary -- that's right, actual floating candles.

It's not a bad view from my office. Though, it was more serene before the nursery school students left their mark...

Even a few inches really piles up when you clear a parking lot. Some of these deposits lasted the entire month.

And even a 70s parsonage looks quite lovely when you add a wreath and blanket of snow.

The temperature jumped back up after about a week, so the snow melted before the next systems came in. Apparently, in a non-El Niño, the snow would hang around until a warm spell in late January or early February, leaving behind only a bit of grime. This year, we're starting over with a fresh blanket.

I'll wander out after the storm is over to get new pictures -- and hopefully capture a bit of blue sky or sun as well.

Minnehaha, Frozen

One of the great things about Minnesota is how drastically different everything looks even with just a bit of snow on the ground. Just a thin layer, less than half an inch, adds a rich texture to the landscape. The stark, now-bare farmland looks completely different after a dusting of snow.

Or Minnehaha Falls, for instance, is in a ravine, which means that snow hangs around for much longer than it does on level ground.

On our last trip, we (carefully) made our way along the river and enjoyed the new landscape.

As the falls plummet over the edge of the bowl, the mist coats the surroundings in ice. Even the trees up at the rim were reflecting the sunlight, and the frost is readily apparent on the rocks below.

Along the trail up to the falls, the little bit of snow the Cities had received on Thanksgiving Day was still hanging around. Even thought it was less than an inch and the temperature was above freezing, the snow was protected by the ravine's wall.

And as we went back to the car, a guy stopped us and pointed up to this eagle -- one of many I've seen over the past month or so.

First Snow

The first snow has arrived, with a few hours of light snowfall. But much to our surprise, it has hung around for a few days.

The parsonage looks great with a fresh coat of snow.

The roads are mostly clear now -- apparently Minnesota didn't even find the flurries worthy of bringing out the plows. There are still a few pockets hanging around, though, and we have barely pushed past freezing the past two days.

Cold, but very clear. Our Saturday routine changed when the farmers' market closed for the season at the end of October, and so we took advantage of the sunny day and the fresh snowfall to explore our local state park with its new decorations.

We had ice forming on some of the smaller bodies of water on Friday, but after two days below the freeze point, even some of the lakes have ice starting to creep across. It's not enough to hold weight yet, but it's still surprising to see so much so early. (By comparison, if this much ice formed on any lake in Georgia, it would be after an especially miserable January.)

 The park winds back and forth through woods, prairie grass, and next to now-vacant corn fields.

 

After an hour or so wandering through the park, we made it back to the car -- just as we had hit the point where we were uncomfortably cold. And good news: we survived without having to break out our heaviest gear yet. We'll see how we do when we get into the negative digits, but it's a successful first outing.

Sunday, with an afternoon off, we decided to take a walk through our favorite spot in the city, along a small and shallow river. We didn't dress quite as well this time and had to turn around, but not before capturing a picture of the frozen river:

It's not much to the Minnesotans, but I'm pretty sure this weather would send Atlanta into a frenzy.

Winter is Coming

Next morning I awoke, looked out the window and nearly died of fright. My screams brought Atticus from his bathroom half-shaven.
"The world's endin', Atticus! Please do something--!" I dragged him to the windo and pointed.
"No it's not," he said. "It's snowing." -- To Kill a Mockingbird

Winter is just around the corner. We were inundated with rain this past week, and then the temperature dropped into the thirties.

I went for a walk this afternoon and noticed that the puddles had sheets of ice over them -- and some were completely turned to ice.

Some of the streams branching off of our local river had layers of ice over them, and I could hear the thin, frosty sheets cracking as the geese landed on the iced-over sections.

The occasional snow flake landed on my jacket, but by the time I turned around and headed home, we were experiencing full-on flurries.

I went out to run some errands, only to find that the snow was now sticking to the roads.

Which, compared to three weeks ago, makes this our first real snow, I guess.

And Suzanne successfully drove home in it! Huzzah!

Now, this is supposed to be a light winter because of El Niño, which means milder temperatures and less snowfall. But...less snowfall in these parts still means 30-40 inches.

- - -

In unrelated news, I purchased our first turkey and all of the stuff to make our first Thanksgiving dinner! Now to figure out how to cook the darn thing. Our roasting pan doesn't fit in our teeny-tiny oven.

 

 

 

What's This? There's White Things In the Air!

On Wednesday, October 28th, it snowed.

Let me say that again: It snowed. In October.

It melted almost as soon as it hit the ground, but the snow fell. A Southerner might even say that it snowed heavily. For hours.

One of Suzanne's coworkers said we had about another week until the snow starts sticking. I'm worried she's not joking.

We now go live to Jack Skellington for a reaction:

Lutefisk

Lutefisk: n., lit. lye-fish, or the gelatinous, fish-like substance preserved in lye popular among Scandinavian populations of the upper Midwest; originally a cheap, heavily-preserved food used among Norwegian peasants, many Norwegians now wonder why American Lutherans still eat, and even enjoy, this disgusting "delicacy."

I'd been warned that this would happen: the annual lutefisk dinner fundraiser. You can't intern at a Lutheran church in this area without being expected to eat the fish of affliction.

Garrison Keilor once remarked that lutefisk is the Lutheran version of matzoh. Nobody actually likes it, but they eat it as a way of remembering the suffering of their ancestors. (Which, surprisingly, is untrue. There were many people who thoroughly enjoyed their dinners and went back for seconds.)

And of course, I tried it. If my mom can eat blood sausage in Germany and silkworm larva in South Korea, than I can suffer through lutefisk.

Or so I thought. My mistake, apparently, was chewing. I should have just swallowed, like the jello shot of lye-preserved fish.

Pictures later, but first, a video of my reaction:

For those wondering, it was less the taste than the consistency. You know those powdered "scrambled eggs" they serve in cafeterias, the dehydrated-then-reconstituted variety you've probably had at IKEA or in cheap restaurants? It's sort of like that, but with less flavor. It sort of falls apart when chewed and then refuses to be swallowed.

The rest of the dinner was great. Lefse (potato-based flat bread), Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, almond cake. Almost enough to make you forget you had eaten lutefisk.

Lutefisk: In All of Its Glory

Yum...?

Take Some Home, Dare Your Friends

Norwegian Pride

Lefse (with Butter and Brown Sugar)
Almond Cake
Wonderful

So, if you ever find yourself on internship in the Midwest and are faced with a plateful of lutefisk, here's some advice: you only need to eat two bites to satisfy everybody. And, when asked how you like it, here's your go-to response: "The lefse and the meatballs were great. And, as I understand it, if you're the type of person to enjoy lutefisk, this is about as good as it gets."

Where was Suzanne for all of this, you may ask? Conveniently absent.

State and City Parks

Minnesota has a lot of state parks.

A. Lot.

And even better, while daily admission is $5, an annual pass is only $25 (less than half the cost in Georgia).

Even better than even better? We live about ten minutes from one of these parks (and within forty-five minutes of several more).

You might know that Minnesota is the "land of 10,000 lakes" -- which is actually closer to 12,000. One of these lakes is a park just down the road -- and they rent out canoes.

Nearby Lake

Suzanne on our outing

 Just a word of reminder: canoeing is difficult if you're not used to it, and winds make it even more so.

Up near Suzanne's office, there is yet another park -- Fort Snelling. It sits at the confluence of the Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers.

Hawk Feather at Fort Snelling SP

Minnesota River from Fort Snelling SP

Panoramic of Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers at Fort Snelling SP

Confluence of Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers at Fort Snelling SP

Fort Snelling connects via paved walking path to Minnehaha Falls, part of a long chain of city parks. One Saturday, Suzanne and I took full advantage of our annual park pass and free time to make the quick jaunt from the state park over to the city, down some stairs to the banks of the Mississippi, through some surprisingly rugged terrain (considering that it rests between the major cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul), to the falls itself. There were moments when the walking path rivaled parts of the Appalachian Trail -- not quite the paved, broad way that connects Minnehaha to Snelling.

Minnehaha Falls -- Paved walkways up top, rugged hiking path down below

The same park system that connects Fort Snelling to Minnehaha Falls permeates the Twin Cities. It's a metropolitan area which places high value on green space. (And, much like Germany, the paths are divided into pedestrian and bike lanes.) We met some of Suzanne's friends at a pub on Lake Street, but before dinner, we took the opportunity to explore some of the walkways and dip down from the hilltop to the lowlands on the edge of the Mississippi.

Panoramic of the Mississippi River

 Of course, as wonderful as the Cities are, we've come to enjoy our small town. Below, the mountain bike/trail running course just down the road from our house:

Around Town

Our fair town has its share of natural beauty -- which is apparently par for the course in Minnesota.

Near us, there is one of Minnesota's 12,000 lakes. The town has seen fit to develop both paved and unpaved running/biking trails in the vicinity, which makes for great fun outdoors.

Sunset at the local lake

Sunset at the local lake

Sunset at the local lake

Sunset at the local lake

 Minnesota is also along a migratory route for various birds, which means our local waterways have been overrun with ducks and geese for the past month. At one point, I (Andrew) saw what must have been 150 or more geese all flying south(ish) for the winter. Each one was honking, which made for quite a sound.

Ducks along the local river

 Fall here means lots of color. We just exited peak color season, and so most of our trees our now bare. But for two weeks, the entire town looked like this:

A Word On Signs

Dear Minnesota,

We've liked you so far. The countryside is beautiful, the lakes are gorgeous, and even if it is unseasonably warm, you still have Georgia beat for fall weather.

But seriously, are you allergic to putting up detailed signs? Finding the airport -- an international, two-terminal airport in a major metropolitan area -- should not be nearly so difficult.

And why do you have unmarked lanes? The road is certainly wide enough for there to be two lanes, but am I going to get a ticket? I want - no, need - to know!

The zoo was easy to find, though. Kudos.

State Fair

If we've learned one thing about Minnesota, it's that they are a people who love their fairs. The county fair was in-progress when we arrived. We had been warned that it's nearly impossible to schedule anything during "Fair Week," that everybody would ask us if we had a chance to make it over to the fair, and that traffic would be a nightmare (well, by the standards of a town of 26,000). And indeed, we've constantly been asked about the fair, attendance numbers at the parish took a dramatic dive during that weekend, and cars lined both sides of the street from the fairground to our house several blocks away.

And then the State Fair came. The State Fair, on a low day, draws 100,000 visitors. On its peak day, it tops out around 250,000. And it runs for a week and a half. Imagine Athens, GA during the UGA/Tech Game. Then smash all of those people on to North Campus. And fill it with lots of cows, pigs, and deep fryers.

The Fair is everything you would expect from a still-largely agricultural state. There are pigs, cows, dairy goats, poultry, horses, and virtually every type of animal you could ever expect. There's even a "Miracle of Birth" exhibit full of newborn animals. I don't mean a few months old. I mean, "Oh, look. That lamb is covered in placenta."

It's a great reminder that we're city folks through and through.

And, being an agricultural state, there was farm equipment everywhere. Need a new combine? Go check them out. Want to know what the Elk Breeder's Association is up to? Here's there booth. Just go ask.

We're apparently so far north that the US and Canadian colors are presented, and the anthem from both nations sung, at events:

Of course, since we're from Georgia, we didn't know any of the words past "O Canada, our home and native land." Something about a "true patriot's dream," I think.

Then there's the food. I ate an elk burger! I'd never had elk before!

There was an all-you-can-drink milk station, cheese samples, and something called "cheese curds," which are usually served deep fried. In short, not a great place for the lactose-intolerant.

Most importantly of all, though, is a little program that broadcasts from the State Fair every year: A Prairie Home Companion. For a kid who grew up listening to Garrison Keillor on AFN after chapel on Sundays, this was a dream come true.

The show was outstanding, there was a sing-along, and the Steep Canyon Rangers were among the guests. After just two weeks in Minnesota, the jokes made a lot more sense -- though Suzanne's mom didn't find the jokes about bears and wolves roaming the frozen city streets to be quite so funny. (And, to be honest, I've heard the joke isn't so far removed from reality.)

After two and a half hours of humor, music, and story-telling came the fireworks. It was a slice of Americana served alongside rhubarb pie.

Just as we were leaving the Grandstand, we heard it: the most Minnesotan thing ever said. "There must have been a show in there before the fireworks, then, eh?"

We've Arrived

Well, folks, we made it. We pulled in to town about ten days ago and were greeted by a large group from the parish. They made quick work of unloading: what took Suzanne and I two days to finish, the ten of us unpacked in thirty minutes.

The church was kind enough to provide us with gift cards to a local restaurant for our first meal in town -- great news given that we had no clue where our pots and pans were.

Exhausted, we went to bed pretty early that first night, lulled to sleep by the gentle sounds of the county fair's tractor pull (what even is that?) throughout the night. We did think ahead and were able to get our bed set up right away.

Saturday and Sunday were church days -- a lot of meeting news faces (about four hundred, to be more precise -- only a tenth of the parish's total membership) and being installed (on three separate occasions).

We knew we would be arriving in town during the county fair -- one of the largest in the nation. We also knew that our house is close to the fair grounds. We did not, however, know exactly how close. Come Friday evening, exhausted from driving, meeting, unloading, and finally eating, we got ready for bed -- just as the cacophonous roar of the tractor pull started up. And continued for three hours.

Saturday and Sunday meant meeting people at the parish, shaking hands, and finally, free time. Given that the fair was in town, that meant one thing: a crash course in Minnesota culture. We walked over to join in the festivities and were immediately confronted with the fact that we are both Southern city slickers. Tractors and snowmobiles were both on display -- and are both, apparently, staples of life in this part of the northern Midwest. (In fact, I've begun noticing all of the signs specifically forbidding snowmobiles in certain areas. That's not an issue anywhere in Georgia.) The other strange new custom we'd never seen before: fried cheese curds.

And then we heard it: the announcement for the most marvelous sport ever invented. The culminating achievement of rugged individualism. The most flannel-tastic competition ever invented. A lumberjack competition. Yes, there is an entire field of athletics devoted to cutting down trees, throwing axes, balancing on thin boards while operating chainsaws, and sprinting across bucking logs floating in a pool of water. To give you a sense of who competes in these sports, the two competitors we watched were from Minnesota and Wisconsin. And to give you a sense of how popular the activity is, the bleachers were packed. Then, two weeks later, we saw another company operating a similar competition at the State Fair. With larger bleachers. And overflow seating. All of which were full. For two different competitions. But what can you expect from a state where two different towns have statues of Paul Bunyan and have a friendly rivalry over which place gave rise to the legend?

We've been here a while and met a few people. We get asked two questions, constantly. First, "How long have you been in town?" Second, and close proximity to the first, "Did you have time to make it to the fair, then?"

Things We Learned On Our Road Trip

It took two days, covered nearly a thousand miles, and included both a car and a rental truck. It was exhausting, but hey, we learned some things along the way:

• Once you cross the Ohio River, the bodies of water get exponentially larger. Seriously, I don't think we crossed anything smaller than the Chattahoochee River.
• August is "Road Work Season" in the Midwest. On every single Interstate we used, we got stuck in some sort of traffic.
• Iowa Public Radio really stinks. For the love of Robert Siegel and all of us stuck in our cars, play something other than classical music!
• There is way too much corn in this country. Once you leave Kentucky, it's corn as far as the elephant's eye can see.
• Cruise control (and fuel efficiency and CD players) are undervalued commodities in the rental truck industry.
• You only have to travel three miles into Minnesota before you find your first Lutheran church.
• County fair week is not the time to move into a small town.

And so, of course, Suzanne loved the trip so much that after she unpacked, she flew back to Atlanta just to do the drive all over again.

About the South

For our new neighbors, there are a few things you should know about the South:

• Much like the stereotypical Minnesotan, the typical Southerner values manners over being straightforward.
• We even try to be polite when we're being rude. Any critical comment is immediately softened by the clause "bless his/her/their heart(s)." E.g. "He just has no class at all, bless his heart."
• Yes, we put sugar and ice in our tea -- in that order. Putting sugar in after the ice defeats the purpose.
• A word on grits: grits are made from ground corn. They are served savory, never sweet. They go with pretty much everything, especially bacon and eggs or, for lunch/dinner, shrimp.
• We do get occasional cold weather and snow, but we are rarely prepared for it. Please be patient with us as we prepare for your frigid winters.
• Not all of us wave the Confederate flag.
• If I'm "fixin' to," I am preparing to do something at an indeterminate point in the near future.
• On that note, the letter "G" is optional when it comes at the end of a word.
• "Y'all" is the informal plural second person. It comes in quite handy.
• "Ain't" is technically a contraction of "are not," but is often used as a more general negative regardless of person or number.
• I ain't
• You ain't
• He/she/it ain't
• We ain't
• Y'all ain't
• They ain't
• "Yonder" is a general location, not a specific place.
• If something is "over yonder," it's "just over there." 
• If it's "down yonder," it's a medium distance away. 
• If it's "up over yonder," get ready 'cause it's gonna be a haul.
• While much of the South is rural, we also have our large metropolitan areas -- namely Atlanta and Nashville.
• While some of our schools our falling behind, we also have some great colleges and research universities -- Emory, Georgia Tech, Vanderbilt, UNC, UVA, Duke, Wake Forrest.
• Related: there is more to the SEC than athletics.
• While the Redneck stereotype exists for a reason, the South is also a hotbed for musical innovation, birthplace of the Civil Rights Movement, and the former home of great authors including William Faulkner, Harper Lee, and Flannery O'Connor.
• Lutherans are far and few between, but we have plenty of Baptists, Methodists, and Presbyterians (with a descent compliment of Episcopalians as well).

What do we need to know about life on the edge of the prairie?

Up, Up, and Away

The truck is reserved, the boxes are (mostly) packed, and life is chaotic. By the end of the week, we will be in our new home, an hour south of the Twin Cities.

So many questions! Do people really top their hotdish casseroles with tater tots? Will we have to eat lutefisk? How do you survive in -30F weather? And will people understand us when we address a group as "y'all" and tell them we were just over "yonder"?

And later:

The truck is loaded. We're off tomorrow to pass through Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois (with a stop in Lincoln's childhood home), Iowa, and finally to Minnesota.