Big Wings
A slow disappearance of snow is happening right before our eyes this week, despite the sky being mostly cloudy. Each morning, we find ourselves surprised by the appearance of more exposed ground.
Yesterday morning, we had an eagle soar just above our heads on our walk to feed the horses. The herd was milling around just outside the large paddock, and the arrival of the large wingspan so close overhead unnerved Light and sent her running back inside the wooden fence line.
The eagle looped around and landed on the high point of the hay field, quickly revealing that a field critter was about to be breakfast. Instead of running away, Mia took a few steps toward the regal raptor and stared confidently. It looked to us like she was flaunting her absence of intimidation from the great predator.
Asher was oblivious to it all, keeping his attention to the ground where the residual scent of all the nocturnal wildlife activity that had occurred the night before still lingered.
I have watched eagles soaring so far above our land that they look like a little dot in the sky that becomes invisible if you look away, and then try to find it again. Having them also fly so close that you can almost reach up and touch them is a memorable experience.
The wing pattern in yesterday’s Words on Images post was made by a much smaller wing than that of the eagle in our hay field, but it was in the snow near the top of that same hill.
This theme of wings is a recurring one this week. A couple of days ago, as Asher and I were strolling past the old chicken coop, our arrival flushed an owl out of the branches right over our heads. I had no idea it was there until the whoosh of its departure. It soared straight away from us, and I was granted a clean view of the graceful motion of a grand wingspan propelling the bird through the air.
The bounty of walking among these revered winged creatures leaves me feeling a little small as I plod along the packed snow of our frequently traveled pathways, but it also fills me with an appreciation for being able to share space with them.
It serves as a reminder to look up more often to see what might be perched in the branches overhead.
Rarely are we ever as alone as I sometimes feel on these rural acres.
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Survival Mode
I hardly recognize myself lately. What’s changed? Well, try as I might, my usual fascination with the Olympic Games just isn’t occurring this year. If I were to guess, the main culprit is probably this feeling that our country is at war with itself and is an embarrassment on the global stage.
Being a fan of athletic competition has been a big part of what brings me joy throughout my life. Having that passion fade feels a little too similar to depression. At the same time, I readily admit that the collapse of ethical guidelines we’ve witnessed since a certain sick-minded portion of our country has enacted its selfish dominance over the masses is very depressing.
Having overcome the deadly grip of the dark disease of depression allows me to recognize that there is a difference between being stuck in the affliction and merely feeling depressed about something. I thank the Universe for the lesson of becoming conscious of my self-talk and how it has given me power over the mental dysfunctions of depression.
Instead of thinking about sports last week, I allowed myself to become immersed in the survival exploits of participants in Season 11 of the reality TV series, “Alone.” Originally broadcast on the History Channel, I came across the show on Netflix, where I binged 13 hours in a few days.
I think I was appreciating the escape from current events. The resulting influence on me was a change from walking into my day with a spring in my step after some heroic home-team victory in pro or college football, basketball, or hockey, and mentally reliving some valiant run, kick, or shot in my mind’s eye. Those moments that lead to a call or text to a comrade to share a “Did you see that!?” reliving of the thrill.
No, as I don my “space suit” of winter outerwear and begin the journey along our snow-packed trails through the woods, I now hear myself narrating our survival tactics as if my life is under the same constant camera surveillance as the competitors of the show.
Why else would this series appeal? As viewers place themselves in the role of the survivalists in an attempt to perceive the epic battles for adequate food, shelter, and mental stability being undertaken, it begins to seamlessly parallel each of our daily lives.
Imagine if you had to film every action you take and narrate the hows and whys.
I am going to build a fire in the fireplace in a few moments, and I do not doubt that the activities of the contestants will be on my mind.
And it won’t be in the least way depressive. We will survive!
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Evening Lights
Last night, Cyndie and I ventured out for dinner to Hudson on the eve of their annual hot air balloon festival with the intention of maybe hanging around to take in the torchlight parade. We enjoyed a first visit to the basement restaurant, Black Rooster Bistro, where I dined on an excellent walleye entrée.
Our reservation was early, so we were able to observe the energy rise as tables filled with festival-goers while we ate. After our meal, we browsed a few shops along the main drag and witnessed a dramatic display of noise and flames jetting skyward from the apparatus atop one of the balloon-less balloon baskets.
Even though the day had been above-freezing and sunny, the temperature of the evening was dropping significantly, making our stroll a little more stiff than our moods preferred. We decided to walk down to gawk at the colored lights display in the trees of Lakefront Park on the shore of the St. Croix River.
Then we decided to go home and watch the Olympic opening ceremonies on television in warmth. We didn’t wait for the parade, but I took some pictures before we headed home for you to enjoy.
The lights were fun, but the leftover glow of sunshine from below the horizon is what really makes the photos pop for me. The way the little white lights looked up close against the rough bark of the tree trunks obviously caught my attention. It looked even cooler to the naked eye.
It was a fun night. Now, bring on the Olympic competitions!
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From Tim Grimm
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Broken Truth
Here we go again, thought we’d been down that road
Thought we’d left it all behind us I guess we should have known
It’s fight or flight it’s so far from being great
Can’t believe that laughing fool might lead us to our fate
Don’t it break your heart? Cause it breaks my heart
Damn that man who tears this country apart
He’s got no shame, he’s got no soul
He’s got no poetry inside to make him whole
When I was a kid in Public School
I thought we’d learned a thing or two beyond the Golden rule
Put faith in science, truth in words
Acts of kindness and hope for all the world
Don’t it break your heart? Cause it breaks my heart
Damn that man who tears this country apart
He’s got no shame, he’s got no soul
He’s got no poetry inside to make him whole
Sometimes we walk a thin line with our heads deep in the sand
One man’s sense of justice ties another woman’s hands
And the simple price of freedom to be left alone and dream
Is in the hands of his judges who just bend the laws and scheme
Don’t it break your heart? Cause it breaks my heart
Damn that man who tears this country apart
He’s got no shame, he’s got no soul
He’s got no poetry inside to make him whole
If you follow him, and you can count to seven
If you call yourself a Christian and you believe in Heaven
Greed, Lust, Sloth, Pride, Envy, Gluttony and Wrath
It’s clear as day- they stormed the house,
All the hate inside his little mouth
Damn that man
Nine years we’ve lived with sorrow, nine years we shook our heads
The Times they are a Changin’, Honey in the Lion’s head
It’s time we lift the hammer and ring them bells instead
It’s time we stamp these fires out and let the peace be spread
Don’t it break your heart? Cause it breaks my heart
Damn that man who tears this country apart
He’s got no shame, he’s got no soul
He’s got no poetry inside to make him whole
℗ 2025 Tim Grimm
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Softer Days
Winter has loosened its icy grip by about 35-40° (F) [think about going from 20-below to 20 above], providing the horses with a break from blankets for a little bit. Mia’s regular blanket went back on for a while because overnight temperatures were still dipping into the single digits. I’m guessing she might be able to go “au naturel” again later today.
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The last few mornings have been a lot less stressful without the body’s natural tendency to stiffen in defense against the wicked Arctic cold we were facing last week. The first minutes of sunshine not only painted the horses in a golden glow, but it also made the labyrinth look pretty grand, too.
The low angle of light made for quite a shadow show. The days around the full moon on the 1st were just begging for us to get out and do a moonlight circumnavigation of the labyrinth, but remaining warm beneath the layers of blankets on our bed won out every time.
When Cyndie stepped out to give Asher one last chance to pee before we all turned in, she captured a view of the evening sky and moon-illuminated landscape at 8:00 p.m. on Monday.
It’s hard to know for sure how long this softer version of winter will last, but we will not be taking it for granted. I got my car in for scheduled maintenance yesterday, and it was warm enough that they were able to include their complimentary car wash, which I always perceive as a cherry on top of an otherwise dreary responsibility.
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From Wookiefoot
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Don’t mess with Minnesota
There ain’t nothing here for ya
You can just be on your way
With your fear and hate
’Cause you won’t break our love
Don’t mess with Minnesota
Standing shoulder to shoulder
Got a North Star to guide us
And our neighbors beside us
You won’t break our love
You got guns
And we got phones
You think you’re in charge
But this is our home
We carry flowers
You brandish pistol
But run like cowards
When we come with our whistles
You shoot bullets while we shoot video
Capture the abuse, just to let the whole city know
We stay high while y’all go really low
Never backing down, just know
Don’t mess with Minnesota
There ain’t nothing here for ya
You can just be on your way
With your fear and hate
’Cause you won’t break our love
Don’t mess with Minnesota
Standing shoulder to shoulder
Got a North Star to guide us
And our neighbors beside us
You won’t break our love
Struck ‘em down in broad daylight
Thought you’d break our will to fight
But feel the rise of the rhythm
The stomping of the feet
The sound of boots pounding on the hard concrete
Rolling like thunder under all your deceit
Fifty thousand marching in the street
Don’t mess with Minnesota
There ain’t nothing here for ya
You can just be on your way
With your fear and hate
’Cause you won’t break our love
Don’t mess with Minnesota
Standing shoulder to shoulder
Got a North Star to guide us
And our neighbors beside us
You won’t break our love
With a North Star to guide us
And our neighbors beside us
You won’t break our love
℗ 2026 Wookiefoot
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Lookit These
Three things came across our feeds yesterday in quick succession and resonated deeply with both Cyndie and me. If you haven’t seen them yet, I’m highlighting them here for your convenience because I think they’re worth everyone’s attention. Not all of them are new, but they are definitely current.
Not in any significant order, I present:
NPR’s All Things Considered host Juana Summers interviewed Gov. Tim Walz at the Minnesota State Capitol in St. Paul on January 30, 2026.
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The Nation magazine has nominated Minneapolis for the Nobel Peace Prize. The words of their nomination letter speak volumes and are worth the time to read.
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Lastly, a list of guidelines aimed at opposing the policies of “the wannabe king who shall not be named.” [see Rule #1]
It appears to have been circulating nine years ago when it was endorsed by MLK Jr.’s daughter, Bernice King, via her Facebook page. It has been reposted many times, on multiple platforms, in the ensuing years, probably morphing a little each time along the way. I’m satisfied with the latest version that Cyndie received yesterday, although I tweaked a couple of them to match what I found from a version referencing what Bernice posted.
- Don’t use his name; EVER (47 will do, emojis also work [I’m partial to tRumpsterfire]).
- Remember this is a regime, and he’s not acting alone.
- Refrain from arguing with his supporters; it is unproductive.
- Concentrate on his policies, not his appearance or mental state.
- Keep your message positive; they want the country to be angry and fearful because this is the soil from which their darkest policies will grow.
- Eliminate helpless or hopeless rhetoric.
- Support artists and the arts.
- Be vigilant against spreading fake news; verify information.
- Prioritize self-care.
- Resist!
Addendum: Don’t assign actions to him; assign them to “The Republican Administration,” or “The Republicans.” This will have multiple effects: the Republican legislators will either have to take responsibility for their association with him or stand up for what some of them don’t like, and he will not get the focus of attention he craves.
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Gosh, I hope the Nobel Foundation gives serious consideration to the nomination of the people of Minneapolis.
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Silent Communication
The morning started out like most every other with a walk through the woods with Asher that brought us to the barn to feed the horses. Cyndie put out feed buckets, and I wandered around cleaning up manure. Then Mia walked away from her bucket and made her way over to where I was working.
The fact that she walked away before eating everything in the bucket wasn’t something new for her. Neither was the fact that she approached me, really, even though she is the least social most of the time. Mia lives in her own world to a degree, and we are getting used to her acting on a unique agenda.
Something about her behavior yesterday morning struck me differently. I paused what I was doing and stood waiting to see what she would do next. Mia moved her body so close to mine that I could touch my forehead to her side with barely a lean.
The sound of her digestive process was rumbling beneath her blanket. She was completely calm. I quieted my mind and longed to perceive something she might be telling me.
I got nothing.
When I tried putting a hand under her blanket to check her warmth, she let me know that wasn’t welcome with a turn of her head and her characteristic nip at the air. When she moved again to leave me standing squarely behind her, I opted to go back to what I was doing.
I wasn’t able to shake the feeling that she was silently communicating something to me, so when I finished all my tasks, I returned to where she was standing, leaving enough space to show respect. Mia looked my way, noticed I was without any tools, and returned her head to look forward.
She was definitely operating on her own terms. Eventually, while I stood silently nearby, she slowly moved her body so that she was right up against me again. I willed myself to sense something physically in my body or a thought or vision in my mind.
I got nothing.
Whatever Mia might have been telling me, I wasn’t picking it up. When I finally wandered away toward the house for breakfast, I was left with a feeling that we had shared something, even though I had no idea what.
Maybe she was merely giving me credit for trying.
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Unexpected Fun
Forgetting for a moment that citizens of our country are under attack from our own government was more fun than we expected yesterday. While the bowling by the unpracticed novices of our family qualified as comical, it takes a measurable level of personal strength to laugh at one’s own foibles displayed so openly among strangers. I’m pretty sure I accomplished rolling a gutter ball following a previous frame strike. D’oh!
After surviving the sensory overload of overly rambunctious youngsters, a pop music soundtrack, clanging and banging arcade machines, and plenty of crazy lighting effects, we made our way to the Namaste India Grill & Brewhouse for laughter around the table. With a menu of enough delectable choices to make my head spin, I don’t think there was a duplicate order among any of the six of us.
I treasured hearing an impassioned conversation from a booth nearby in a language I didn’t recognize. We arrived before the dinner rush and were able to witness the gradual increase of customers from a variety of nationalities filling the tables, which bolstered the atmosphere of fun.
Alone with Cyndie on the drive home after precious time with our kids, we discovered the best surprise of the day. Turning her attention to her phone for messages, Cyndie discovered calls from a friend from graduate school in San Diego, some 46 years ago.
Cyndie and her two best friends from that time in graduate school had lost touch over the years and miles, but Susan and Lupe were moved to search for Cyndie’s information to offer their support for the ongoing conflict in Minneapolis.
Apparently, I have written enough times about our life adventures that this blog, along with the details of our labyrinth location that we have submitted to the Labyrinth Society, provides enough clues to reach us. For the record, that is by design.
Cyndie was moved to tears to hear Susan’s voice on the message in the car and could hardly wait to call her back when we got home. I could see years melting away from Cyndie’s aura as she flipped through old photographs from such a long time ago.
I recognize that feeling of a bond with friends who shared such a significant time of life, the challenges of higher education, and the unknown places it might lead to for all of them.
The reconnection was an unexpected bonus of fun on our day. I picked up the excitement vicariously through how vividly it reinvigorated Cyndie. Finding out that this blog helped the three of them rediscover their friendship connection again warms my heart.
Thanks for your keen sleuthing efforts to find us, Susan and Lupe! LOVE!
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Relative Something 