For the most part, I like living in Loonfoot Falls. The air is clean, the people are friendly, and mosquitoes aren't a problem after the first few killing frosts.
I suppose this exposes my rural naïveté, but it hadn't occurred to me until this week that Loonfoot Falls lacks one vital facet of contemporary culture.
We have not one single gated community.
Unless you count places like Fisk Implement. They've had a sturdy fence and a mildly paranoid alarm system ever since someone stole a harrow, back in 1996. Nobody lives there, apart from the occasional gopher: so it's not really a "community."
We don't have all that many fences of any sort in town. Much less walled-off neighborhoods where everybody inside is glad that they're not outside. I'm not sure if that says more for our values: or our desire to avoid having to mow near a fence.
It's not like we're some homogenized classless utopia. Houses around West 9th and Waterview Lane, or around Milldam Park, tend to be bigger than the ones on Siding Street. More expensive, anyway.
Some of the Waterview Lane places put on a nice show around Christmas time. The rest of the year, though, their yards are pretty plain. Nicely mowed, of course. Very trim.
Some of the folks who live on Siding Street don't wait for some holiday to embellish their lawns. Artificial deer are fairly popular. So is that sort of wind sculpture that looks like a duck flapping its wings.
Showing posts with label neighbors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label neighbors. Show all posts
Friday, November 5, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Drying the House: Thanks, Everyone!
A week ago I heard my washing machine's rinse cycle in the small hours of the morning.
And later realized that I hadn't turned the washing machine on.
It's an old house, with uneven floors. That kept the water mostly in the kitchen and laundry room.
And the wall between them.
And the basement on that side of the house.
By the time I'd closed the main valve and was watching the fountain subside into a mere leak, it was about two in the morning. I called a plumber I've worked with before.
I didn't expect Jim Engelbrecht to answer the phone. I was leaving a message on his machine when he cut in. He was at my place about 20 minutes later.
Good news: the pipes were in generally good shape. But I should have replaced the flexible bit that connects to the washing machine a few years ago.
Live an learn.
Jim Engelbrecht told me about a place in Foggton that does cleanup work. They had a crew out here before dawn, pumped about an inch of water out of the basement and set up heavy-duty fans and dehumidifiers that sucked water out of the air. And, over several roaring days and nights, out of the floors and walls.
This could have been a lot worse.
I'd rather not have the bills for the cleanup: But that's better than having mold and rotting wood. And my hat's off to everybody who showed up that night, to help out.
And later realized that I hadn't turned the washing machine on.
It's an old house, with uneven floors. That kept the water mostly in the kitchen and laundry room.
And the wall between them.
And the basement on that side of the house.
By the time I'd closed the main valve and was watching the fountain subside into a mere leak, it was about two in the morning. I called a plumber I've worked with before.
I didn't expect Jim Engelbrecht to answer the phone. I was leaving a message on his machine when he cut in. He was at my place about 20 minutes later.
Good news: the pipes were in generally good shape. But I should have replaced the flexible bit that connects to the washing machine a few years ago.
Live an learn.
Jim Engelbrecht told me about a place in Foggton that does cleanup work. They had a crew out here before dawn, pumped about an inch of water out of the basement and set up heavy-duty fans and dehumidifiers that sucked water out of the air. And, over several roaring days and nights, out of the floors and walls.
This could have been a lot worse.
I'd rather not have the bills for the cleanup: But that's better than having mold and rotting wood. And my hat's off to everybody who showed up that night, to help out.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Crime Wave! Well, It Could be Worse
Several computers, television sets, and a video game set were stolen from three homes on the north side of Loonfoot Lake this week. You've probably read about it already, on the front page.
It's cold comfort to the folks whose property was stolen: but that sort of thing isn't all that common around here.
Loonfoot Falls isn't a crime-free zone. Each week the "Police Blotter" column records some number of traffic stops, loud parties, or other disturbances of the peace. But the theft of property totaling well into four figures is unusual.
What's really embarrassing is that the victims were folks who live in Loonfoot Falls on weekends, but have places in the Cities for weekday living. Which helps explains why it took a while for someone to notice the thefts. The weekend retreats being secluded didn't help either, I think. Still, I feel like we let neighbors down.
That crime cluster reminded me of something I ran across, about five years ago, about crime in rural America. The article made it sound like folks who took vacations in rural America were visiting a hotbed of crime. After a little checking, it turns out that the (comparatively) high-crime areas were around ski resorts.
A little more digging, and I found out that rural areas have less crime because we've got fewer people. No surprise there. Then, there's the per capita crime rate. Back in the mid-nineties, it was lower out here: less than half what it was in metropolitan areas.
It's cold comfort to the folks whose property was stolen: but that sort of thing isn't all that common around here.
Loonfoot Falls isn't a crime-free zone. Each week the "Police Blotter" column records some number of traffic stops, loud parties, or other disturbances of the peace. But the theft of property totaling well into four figures is unusual.
What's really embarrassing is that the victims were folks who live in Loonfoot Falls on weekends, but have places in the Cities for weekday living. Which helps explains why it took a while for someone to notice the thefts. The weekend retreats being secluded didn't help either, I think. Still, I feel like we let neighbors down.
That crime cluster reminded me of something I ran across, about five years ago, about crime in rural America. The article made it sound like folks who took vacations in rural America were visiting a hotbed of crime. After a little checking, it turns out that the (comparatively) high-crime areas were around ski resorts.
A little more digging, and I found out that rural areas have less crime because we've got fewer people. No surprise there. Then, there's the per capita crime rate. Back in the mid-nineties, it was lower out here: less than half what it was in metropolitan areas.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Today It Warmed Up
With bright sun and temperatures in the high 20s today, I decided to give my car a long-overdue wash during my lunch break.
Quite a few other people had the same idea. I was third in line at the Mighty Minn Mart's drive-through wash. No problem: I'd budgeted time for a delay like this.
My turn came, I drove up and punched my code into the keypad, and drove forward.
No: I planned to drive forward. What actually happened was that after going about six inches forward, I heard the tires spin and felt my car slide to the left.
There was a sort of reverse rut where dozens, maybe hundreds, of people had driven into the wash. Mighty Minn Mart's plowed and shoveled, but compacted snow and ice are as stubborn as some of our older Norwegians.
So, my front-wheel-drive car started rolling up a narrow ridge that had been periodically washed with warm, moist air from the car wash all morning. And lost traction, sliding off the ridge.
Good news: I didn't damage the keypad's box, and my car wasn't more than dented.
Bad news: I wasn't going anywhere until I got my car and that box away from each other.
More good news: Jake Nordstrom and Stan Parks were there, and the three of us were able to shove my car over to where I could drive forward. Around here, meeting people you know at a convenience store isn't much of a coincidence. Thanks, guys!
Quite a few other people had the same idea. I was third in line at the Mighty Minn Mart's drive-through wash. No problem: I'd budgeted time for a delay like this.
My turn came, I drove up and punched my code into the keypad, and drove forward.
No: I planned to drive forward. What actually happened was that after going about six inches forward, I heard the tires spin and felt my car slide to the left.
There was a sort of reverse rut where dozens, maybe hundreds, of people had driven into the wash. Mighty Minn Mart's plowed and shoveled, but compacted snow and ice are as stubborn as some of our older Norwegians.
So, my front-wheel-drive car started rolling up a narrow ridge that had been periodically washed with warm, moist air from the car wash all morning. And lost traction, sliding off the ridge.
Good news: I didn't damage the keypad's box, and my car wasn't more than dented.
Bad news: I wasn't going anywhere until I got my car and that box away from each other.
More good news: Jake Nordstrom and Stan Parks were there, and the three of us were able to shove my car over to where I could drive forward. Around here, meeting people you know at a convenience store isn't much of a coincidence. Thanks, guys!
Friday, February 12, 2010
Snow, Neighbors, and Jake's Snow Blower
You've heard the joke: 'It's a town so small, they don't have a town drunk, so they take turns.' Sometimes it's 'town idiot.'
We don't take turns being the town idiot, here in Loonfoot Falls. We have full-time colorful characters. But there's a little truth to the story: we do help each other out.
Along with everybody else in this part of the country, we got hit by a winter storm over the weekend. I dug through about two feet of snow Tuesday morning, just getting the garage door open. Jake Nordstrom, my neighbor up the street, had his sidewalk cleared by then and was working his way toward my place.
There's an ordinance about keeping you sidewalk clear, and some folks in the neighborhood aren't as young as Jake and I are. Besides, I think Jake likes using his snow blower.
I've read about the trouble folks in eastern cities, like Washington, are having with their snow. That's one reason I like living here in central Minnesota. With weather swinging back and forth between tropical and arctic, we expect to have trouble with snow, floods, drought, and the occasional tornado.
And have the equipment, crews, and budget to deal with what passes for “normal” in our part of the world.
Jake called me this afternoon: The plows were by again, leaving a rampart at the end of my driveway. He left his snow blower where I can get it: He'd do the job himself, except he's going ice fishing.
We don't take turns being the town idiot, here in Loonfoot Falls. We have full-time colorful characters. But there's a little truth to the story: we do help each other out.
Along with everybody else in this part of the country, we got hit by a winter storm over the weekend. I dug through about two feet of snow Tuesday morning, just getting the garage door open. Jake Nordstrom, my neighbor up the street, had his sidewalk cleared by then and was working his way toward my place.
There's an ordinance about keeping you sidewalk clear, and some folks in the neighborhood aren't as young as Jake and I are. Besides, I think Jake likes using his snow blower.
I've read about the trouble folks in eastern cities, like Washington, are having with their snow. That's one reason I like living here in central Minnesota. With weather swinging back and forth between tropical and arctic, we expect to have trouble with snow, floods, drought, and the occasional tornado.
And have the equipment, crews, and budget to deal with what passes for “normal” in our part of the world.
Jake called me this afternoon: The plows were by again, leaving a rampart at the end of my driveway. He left his snow blower where I can get it: He'd do the job himself, except he's going ice fishing.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Save the Ants!
Howard Leland, listening to All Things Considered last Wednesday, was appalled at what he heard. It was, in part, an account of how a respected scholar displayed blatant disregard for the safety of an ant.
Back in the fifties, I gather, a researcher named E. O. Wilson swabbed an innocent ant with oleic acid. That didn't hurt the ant directly. However, since oleic acid is what dead ants give off after a couple of days, other ants in the colony reacted to the very much living ant as though it were a little formican corpse.
For two hours, the swabbed ant endured the indignity, Mr. Leland explained to me, of being picked up, carried to the colony's 'graveyard' pile, and dumped there.
Howard Leland was never one to ignore a vital issue. In 2005, he was among the first in Loonfoot Falls to make his back yard a butterfly preserve. More recently, his stand against noise pollution led to a neighborhood discussion of noise: and a resolution to the leaf blower issue.
This week, Howard Leland has a new cause. He is determined to save the ants from uncaring researchers. He tells me that his letter to the Asclepias Society has not yet been answered.
"It's a long shot, anyway," Mr. Leland said, "the society's charter specifically limits its interests to monarch butterflies: but I felt I had to ask."
If you live in Loonfoot Falls, Howard Leland will probably ask you to join his cause. Just letting you know.
Back in the fifties, I gather, a researcher named E. O. Wilson swabbed an innocent ant with oleic acid. That didn't hurt the ant directly. However, since oleic acid is what dead ants give off after a couple of days, other ants in the colony reacted to the very much living ant as though it were a little formican corpse.
For two hours, the swabbed ant endured the indignity, Mr. Leland explained to me, of being picked up, carried to the colony's 'graveyard' pile, and dumped there.
Howard Leland was never one to ignore a vital issue. In 2005, he was among the first in Loonfoot Falls to make his back yard a butterfly preserve. More recently, his stand against noise pollution led to a neighborhood discussion of noise: and a resolution to the leaf blower issue.
This week, Howard Leland has a new cause. He is determined to save the ants from uncaring researchers. He tells me that his letter to the Asclepias Society has not yet been answered.
"It's a long shot, anyway," Mr. Leland said, "the society's charter specifically limits its interests to monarch butterflies: but I felt I had to ask."
If you live in Loonfoot Falls, Howard Leland will probably ask you to join his cause. Just letting you know.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
About Leaf Blowers, Wild Flowers, and Raking
I've never minded leaf blowers myself. That whining roar is as much a part of what I grew up with, as the sound of lawnmowers. But, some people don't like the sound. At all.
Howard Leland, who converted his back yard into a butterfly preserve back in 2005, met with the city council to ban leaf blowers twice: Once, in 2003, because they were too loud; again in 2006, because exhaust fumes from the leaf blowers were making his milkweeds and wild flowers sick. He put it a little more scientifically than that, but that's the gist of it.
A week after that 2006 meeting, Glenn Severtson, a neighbor of Mr. Leland's, invited Howard and the other homeowners on that block to the Whistle Stop Cafe. They spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon there, talking about Mr. Leland's yard-full of milkweed, fireweed, columbine, goldenrod, and so forth; and their leaf blowers.
When it was over, they'd agreed that Mr. Leland wouldn't try to get leaf blowers banned in Loonfoot Falls, if they'd stop using leaf blowers. Mr. Leland said that he'd make sure their yards got raked.
In the autumn of 2007, Howard Leland was out daily for well over a week, getting one yard after another raked. He told me that it was great exercise: better than jogging.
He also told me that he was getting a leaf blower for the job this year. He's not giving up his principles, he explained. The blower's motor is electric.
Howard Leland, who converted his back yard into a butterfly preserve back in 2005, met with the city council to ban leaf blowers twice: Once, in 2003, because they were too loud; again in 2006, because exhaust fumes from the leaf blowers were making his milkweeds and wild flowers sick. He put it a little more scientifically than that, but that's the gist of it.
A week after that 2006 meeting, Glenn Severtson, a neighbor of Mr. Leland's, invited Howard and the other homeowners on that block to the Whistle Stop Cafe. They spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon there, talking about Mr. Leland's yard-full of milkweed, fireweed, columbine, goldenrod, and so forth; and their leaf blowers.
When it was over, they'd agreed that Mr. Leland wouldn't try to get leaf blowers banned in Loonfoot Falls, if they'd stop using leaf blowers. Mr. Leland said that he'd make sure their yards got raked.
In the autumn of 2007, Howard Leland was out daily for well over a week, getting one yard after another raked. He told me that it was great exercise: better than jogging.
He also told me that he was getting a leaf blower for the job this year. He's not giving up his principles, he explained. The blower's motor is electric.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
The Case of the Maligned Mallard
My neighbor, Lena Odegaard, is quite fond of her sunflower patch. I rather like the splash of color myself. She explained once that she lets the stalks stand through winter, as a sort of reminder of the summer that was, and the spring that will be.
That's why I was surprised to see her at my door Tuesday evening, brandishing a sunflower. Not just that dinner-plate-size seed head: the whole sunflower, stalk and all.
All she wanted to know was, "have you seen that duck?" That's Jake Nordstrom's duck, Bill. The bird has earned a reputation as a nuisance in the neighborhood. Still, Jake is at least as fond of his pet duck as Lena is of her sunflowers.
Bill may have fine inner qualities, but what most people notice about him is his foul look. Most ducks have all the expressiveness of a paperweight, but Bill manages to project a look of suspicious antagonism.
Be honest: Would you trust this duck?
Circumstantial evidence weighed against Bill. Quite a few of the seeds were missing, and Bill likes sunflower seed.
After calming down a bit, Lena asked me if I could keep an eye on her sunflower patch on Wednesday. It's not as crazy as it seems. She knew I was taking that day off to caulk my windows.
Okay. So, I spent Wednesday morning caulking on that side of the house, ate on the back steps, and went back to caulking.
About an hour later, I saw the sunflower vandal. Not Bill, thank goodness. Lena's got gophers.
That's why I was surprised to see her at my door Tuesday evening, brandishing a sunflower. Not just that dinner-plate-size seed head: the whole sunflower, stalk and all.
All she wanted to know was, "have you seen that duck?" That's Jake Nordstrom's duck, Bill. The bird has earned a reputation as a nuisance in the neighborhood. Still, Jake is at least as fond of his pet duck as Lena is of her sunflowers.
Bill may have fine inner qualities, but what most people notice about him is his foul look. Most ducks have all the expressiveness of a paperweight, but Bill manages to project a look of suspicious antagonism.
Be honest: Would you trust this duck?
Circumstantial evidence weighed against Bill. Quite a few of the seeds were missing, and Bill likes sunflower seed.
After calming down a bit, Lena asked me if I could keep an eye on her sunflower patch on Wednesday. It's not as crazy as it seems. She knew I was taking that day off to caulk my windows.
Okay. So, I spent Wednesday morning caulking on that side of the house, ate on the back steps, and went back to caulking.
About an hour later, I saw the sunflower vandal. Not Bill, thank goodness. Lena's got gophers.
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