Grandma's been busy...

...and here's a sneak peek at the project that has consumed my time and creative energy for the past couple of weeks.

We took the project out for a test run yesterday, but it's making its real debut as I write this. I'll post pictures of the completed creation in a couple of days. Can you guess what it is?

Meanwhile, I'll just say that between this and the World Series, Grandma's been putting in some late nights!

What's the deal with the monkey?

September is a great time to get back to walking. The scenery is beautiful, and I am motivated to get in some walking now, before winter makes it nearly impossible.

I've been walking around the lake at Como Park about three times a week. The scenery has been so wonderful I had to take my camera one day, so I'm sharing.

Geese, ducks, cormorants, herons, and other birds make good use of the lake during migration. I miss most of the birds-in-residence because I don't walk at dawn.

People-watching is great; folks of every description run, walk, bicycle, or skate the paths around the lake. There are babies in strollers, dogs of every size. and one dignified-looking monkey. I don't know the monkey's story. How does one ask? "Hey, mister, what's the deal with the monkey?" I think I'll just mind my own business.

October adventures

A stretch of Mississippi River that divides Minneapolis and St. Paul residential areas is breath-taking in its autumn colors this year. With Vi and Augie, we drove along St. Paul's East River Road and stopped at this overlook.

The kids enjoyed the color, but they were disappointed that we couldn't climb down the bluffs to the water.

But...we visited another part of the river, where it curves around downtown St. Paul (or vice versa). We took a picnic lunch to Harriet Island, played at the playground, and walked along the river to look at buildings, boats, ducks, and minnows.

The playground includes this impressionistic sternwheeler meant for kids to climb.   

Under the plastic slides and bridges of today's playground equipment are cozy spaces where Augie "opens a restaurant" and serves me lunch. Today's pretend menu was potstickers and lo mein.

A highlight of the day came during our picnic, when Augie pointed to the sky and shouted, "Look! An eagle!" Sure enough, he'd spotted a bald eagle soaring above the Mississippi. It circled slowly above us, and in the noonday sun its white head gleamed against the deep blue sky. Alas, it returned downstream before I managed to get my camera out.

Peter and I have scouted a few Twin Cities bird-watching spots, hoping to find a place that the kids can enjoy. At Harriet Island yesterday, we learned that it only takes one really good bird to make an outing a success. Extra points for playgrounds and colored leaves.

Ode to a friend

Our friend Herb had a soft, deep voice and a deadpan delivery that made him seem perpetually glum.

When our efforts to rescue the historic State Fair Carousel hit the media 23 years ago, he was among the first to call. We weren’t sure what to make of him, but he became a hard-working volunteer and fiercely loyal board member during some unexpected struggles. He also became a friend.

One hot July day in 1990, Herb introduced us to his twin passions: eight or ten vintage Cadillacs and a roomful of jukeboxes. There was real joy in his eyes as he powered up the music, and from then on we knew him as a romantic at heart. We weren't too surprised when, four years ago, he married a second time, to a woman from his high school graduating class.

A year later Herb tripped and fell, and his leg shattered. His doctor never questioned why the injury was so severe. When it didn’t heal, Herb sought a second opinion and learned that he had sarcoma, a devilishly aggressive cancer. With chemo and radiation he managed to live three years, instead of the six months he’d been told to expect.

Yesterday Herb was buried. The parking lot was full of old Caddies as his car-club friends said goodbye. His daughter played haunting English horn and violin solos. A carousel pin graced his lapel. Herb was a traveling salesman, a humble man, a sometime curmudgeon, a valued friend, and a dedicated volunteer who found satisfaction in service to the carousel and his automobile clubs. He will be missed.

My September began with melancholy thoughts of my late parents, and in mid-month I was mindful of the loss of my brother five years ago. As we attended services for Herb on the last day of the month, it dawned on me that I’ve reached an age where funerals and loss are no longer rare. But if Anyone is listening, I’ve had quite enough for now, thank you.