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.
Category: Place
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.
Decolonizing the menu
Shared notes about our day over a dinner of indigenous ingredients at the bar at Owamni. While reservations for this James Beard Award-winning restaurant can be hard to snag, we’ve found that unreserved bar seats are usually available if we arrive early. Signs reminded us where we were, featuring tags like #landback, #86colonialism (86 is a nod to the restaurant lingo for removing an item from the menu), and the acknowledgment that we were dining on native land.
Quiet corners
Walked through Northrop, a performing arts building, on my U walk, admiring the little niches like this one. It’s such a great place to stop for a quiet cuppa, so I did.
Closed on Mondays
On Mondays, I sometimes get the urge to look at art. At the start of my walk today, I popped into Open Book for “Crossing the Line: The Passport Re-Imagined.” Bad idea: like many galleries, it’s closed on Mondays. Since the cafe was open, an Americano and a donut replaced examining “themes of immigration, power, limitation, and belonging.”
Glasgow gear swap
Over the years, we’ve learned to travel light with just carry-on backpacks, even for month-long trips. For our Scotland hike, we’re bringing hiking poles, which must be checked. Dwight found a sturdy, 3-ply box in our building’s recycling area, which turned out to be just the right size despite my doubts. In Glasgow, we’ll swap the poles for our noise-canceling headphones and other items we won’t need on the trail, then mail the box to a post office to collect at the end of our hike.
Mapping the real Rob Roy MacGregor
Later this month, we’ll hike the Rob Roy Way in Scotland. I abandoned Sir Walter Scott’s Rob Roy, irritated by the convoluted prose and historical inventions. Instead, I found a solid history book and used it, along with Wikipedia, to map out some actual locations (as blue pins) from Rob Roy’s life. Red pins mark our hotels. The Clachan Inn, once owned by his sister, is the only Rob Roy pin on our trail, so we will have to sample it.