The rock I am sitting on is cold against my butt as I contemplate Minnesota blue skies and the dull earth tones of the bare ground around me. The day is sunny but bitter cold.
A trail near Minnesota Veterans Home descends into a ravine where Minnehaha Creek sparkles in the sunshine. The trees lining the streambed are stiff figures of grey, their leafless and gnarly limbs testament to winter's harsh grip. A woodpecker flitters silently amongst the trees. The sun is full against my face, the rhythm of the gurgling stream mesmerizing.
Breathe deep. Exhale. Breathe. Each breath released into the chill becomes a wispy cloud floating ever so lightly above the stream before dissolving into the mist. The fullness of the moment warmed by a flush of relaxation pushes away thoughts of city living. Breathe deep. Exhale. Minnehaha's laughing waters flow to the sea.
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Minnehaha Avenue spills out of the noisy riot that is Lake Street into a quiet boulevard where tall trees now bare of leaves promise a summer canopy of shade. Dusk stirs swarms of black crows whose silhouettes against the orange ball of a setting Minnesota sun are Escher patterns in motion. Brick buildings on Minnehaha glow with the warm colors of day's end as nearby houses snuggle against grain elevators, seeking shelter from the cutting winter wind.
God on a bumper sticker. Two cars pull up next to each other at the intersection of Lake and Minnehaha. One car sports a bumper sticker that beseeches "God Bless our Nation," while its neighbor’s declares "God Bless America." At the other end of Minnehaha, where the avenue flows into the beauty and grace of Minnehaha Park, another driver evokes a different power: a carefully airbrushed Superman shield on his pickup’s tailgate.