I always award myself an achievement unlocked if I find a new coffee shop while cycling. My method is to pull over and Google my immediate surroundings. Today, in an industrial area of St. Paul, I came across Port 2050 Coffee hidden inside a large, repurposed industrial building. Some serious art books that I’d normally expect to see in a library were spread out on the community table.
Category: Minnesota
Blasting the past
Almost sculptural, giant plastic shrouds enclose the power transmission towers across the river from where we live. Decades of rust are being blasted off, followed by fresh coats of paint. On the bottom left sits the inlet for the 1908 hydroelectric plant, still taking advantage of the natural drop of St. Anthony Falls.
Short-sleeved sunny cycle
Met a friend at the U, surrounded by sports stadiums. The weather was perfect for a ride to and around St. Paul’s Lake Como, followed by a cuppa from Dock & Paddle beside the lake.
A little under the freeway
Our colds persist. Going a little stir-crazy, I went for a walk, starting with this tunnel under the interstate near our home, dense with metaphors. Later, at a new bookshop, a barista with the snuffles brewed me a welcome Americano.
Malala and a melt
After an ELL session on Malala Yousafzai with an adult learner, I went to the nearby Minneapolis American Indian Center for a bison melt. Lawn signs out front promoted candidates in the upcoming tribal elections.
The ultimate frequent flyers
I finally got around to seeing “Crossing the Line: The Passport Re-Imagined” at Open Book, just three blocks from our home. Here, the artist has produced passports for migratory birds; the painted eggs represent individual birds, while the cloth satchel serves as a “nest” to hold the eggs and passports. On my own travels, I’ve often been in awe of migratory birds, especially at Farewell Spit on New Zealand’s South Island, where we observed bar-tailed godwits that migrate 7,500 miles to Alaska.
Signs of the season
Cycling through the U, I paused for these magnolia blooms. Behind me, a pair of wild turkeys gobbled in precise unison, inching closer to each other with every call. A raptor flew overhead with a twig in its talons, and over at the local eagles’ nest, the mother was shifting her weight, settling in for yet another season.
Destination Battle Creek Park
With a bit of help from light rail and a friend and his truck, we cycled trails east of St. Paul, including a nicely refurbished section leading to Battle Creek Park. We both almost stalled out at a couple of points as we tracked this stream uphill.
The golden age of trespassing
One of the advantages of being a senior is that the consequences of being arrested are far less severe than they were when I was young. I no longer have an employer to fire me, and I can comfortably afford a lawyer or a fine. Besides, I look harmless. With that in mind, I secured my bicycle and clambered up a railroad embankment. I carefully crossed two live tracks to get a closer look at a dozen vintage coaches, including these from the North Pole Express. And nobody stopped me.
Beyond the canon
We had an unusual perch for the nearly sold-out Minnesota Orchestra concert. There wasn’t much dust on the pieces we heard: two 20th-century American composers unfamiliar to me (Antheil and Adams) and Tchaikovsky’s final symphony, written on the cusp of the 20th century. In the foreground there’s a robotic camera; the performance was broadcast live on Minnesota public television and radio.