Archive - Jan 25, 2006

Spanish Flu

An eighty-four-year-old gentleman named Paul wrote me a nice letter concerning a column I wrote a while back about the 1918 flu. It included the following story:

Feeding finches



A busy morning for the finches. They are attacking the thistle feeder with a vengeance. Those at the top of the food chain go right up to the feeder, while those a ways down in the pecking order feed off the fallen thistle on the ground.

Frowsty morn



Couldn't resist running up the driveway a little this morning to try to catch the orange of the rising sun in the frost on the branches of the trees. It is a very still morning, and the air echoed with birds chirping and woodpeckers knocking on old trees.



I turned on the microphone on the bird feeder at sunrise. On cue, about two dozen finches started to fight over the pegs on the thistle-seed feeder.

Ribbons of grass

Quick trip

Took a trip down to Minneapolis. Drove the parents of high school friend Roger down to the swearing-in ceremony for new Minnesota Chief Justice Russell Anderson. Anderson was judge in Crookston for many years, and Roger's dad Bob was a public defender.