Microblog

On our cycle ride, the 1845 Old Muskego Church, the first Norwegian Lutheran church built in the United States. Chatted with a worker restoring the exterior using logs rescued from a barn from the same period. He unlocked the door so we could see inside. Click through for photos of the wonderful interior.

Bedtime view of Downtown, the end of a day we got to do things we love.

Walked around roof decks with Dwight giving planters the finger test to verify they’re getting enough water. Plants are thriving, thanks to our building’s gardening club.

Marzipan, cream, sponge, raspberry jam, the magical appearance of my once-a-year cake (thanks Dwight), another year to own my age.

Digs for my new Friday noon gig where I’ll be working with six adult non-native English speakers on GED Reasoning Through Language Arts. It’s energizing being with learners who want to learn.

Tonight: dinner and a show at the Dakota Jazz Club, downtown Minneapolis. Lizz Wright interpreted Jazz, Blues, Gospel, the American Songbook.

Cycled along a lovely rail trail from Hopkins to Wayzata on Lake Minnetonka. Fresh cinnamon rolls powered the ride back.

Cycled past this building. It was falling down until developers rescued the surviving structure. Nearby, apartments are going up on brownfield land. We’d planned to have dinner here with friends, but postponed: both friends have had COVID, one still tests positive.

Built then pulled apart a LEGO mechanism that didn’t pass muster as part of a larger mechanism. Time for more research, a better design, another iteration. Often, there’s more to learn from failure than success.

Admired a modest shrub Dwight had transplanted for our building’s gardening club. We support replacing some lawns and mulch with native grasses and other plantings, but many of our neighbors probably prefer things as they are.

Tied up my bicycle at Carma Coffee. (The owners operate a car repair business across the road, hence the spelling.) There was a line, so I pedaled to Mojo Coffee Gallery where I ordered an Americano.

I have several favorite viewpoints around the Cities. Today I cycled to my favorite railroad perch, the St. Anthony Parkway Bridge, spanning 22 tracks. There was so much activity, it started to feel unreal: I imagined myself towering over a busy model railroad.

Inside, featureless faces stared out from a wall while two men sat at laptops. “How did you find us?” one asked. “I was cycling past and noticed the open door,” I replied. Perhaps anticipating another prosaic response, he didn’t ask for my thoughts about the art. Or, maybe, he’d already asked.

Sometimes we just don’t feel like cooking dinner, so we head across the road to our neighborhood bar, Maxwell’s. ”The usual?” she asks. “The usual,” we agree. Reubens with coleslaw for us, Summit EPA for him, Surly Furious for me.

Cycled the lovely Gateway and Brown’s Creek State Trails to Stillwater. Crossed the St. Croix River on the car-free Stillwater Lift Bridge. Enjoyed a short delay on the way back from the Wisconsin side.

My cycle ride took me to the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Fireplace in St. Paul’s Como Park. Kilmer was a poet (“I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree”) who was killed in the Second Battle of the Marne in World War I. He never visited Minnesota.