of loving minnesota

Most of them don’t know where it is. It gives you a small sort of feeling, when you respond to “What part of the United States are you from?” with “Minnesota” and it draws only nonrecognition.

Then people ask, “What is it like?” Sometimes I think of cold winters with the sun splintering off the snow and the crisp air that burns your lungs. Of the jolly sense of solidarity that one feels that time of year, chatting with neighbors about the weather, as if to say, “Hey, we’re all surviving!” (The lifers don’t complain about the winters, though. In fact, they’re quite defensive about it. Yes, you are.) I think of playing in the snow and how my children don’t know the feeling of soggy mittens or being sheltered by a snow fort with icy walls.  Of sledding and skating and games of “Ditch” in frozen creekbeds. Of the astonishing delight of the first warm Spring morning, after waiting for so long.

But usually in my mind it is summer in Minnesota. I see rolling hills of waving grain and feel the still settled calm of a windless evening on the water. (Until sunset, when the windless evening fills with the ruthless buzz of mosquitoes and the frantic slaps of harried fishermen.) We hadn’t always a lake place, my Minnesota kin and I, but my dad had a boat since I was a child. We’d clean it out and soup it up and plunk it in and spend a day of sun and waves and wind. Cruising and fishing and swimming and at last curling up in sweatshirts in the bow for the chilly ride dock-wards, Mom and I sipping hot coffee from a thermos.

Minnesota is farm country, but wooded, I say. And lake country. Our license plates say “Land of 10,000 Lakes” and it’s not hyperbole. It’s insular perhaps, being so landlocked, but it’s neighborly. My family have lived in Minnesota since my great-grandfather’s grandfather and my great-grandmother’s grandmother on both sides of my large–and largely Minnesotan–family.

And I’m Minnesotan too. When I say “bag” and “flag” and “egg” they don’t all rhyme with “plague” anymore, but I’ve held onto my long northern “O.” When I meet people from other places they all seem slightly unfriendly at first, until I realize they just aren’t from Minnesota. And though I’m (sort of) seeing the world, I get suddenly homesick for sights like these . . .


Advertisements
This entry was posted in America. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to of loving minnesota

  1. Juli says:

    You make me feel homesick for Minnesota, and I’ve never even been there 😉

  2. Madeline says:

    To hear praise of Minnesota from someone living in the magical land of England warms my Minnesotan, English-wannabe heart.
    🙂

    • betsy says:

      My dear girl, you gotta love where you are. Soak it in for me, there’s nowhere else like it. (England’s great, though, come and visit me!)

  3. Erin says:

    Uff-da, how could I not love this post??

  4. therigneys says:

    …and Minnesota is homesick for you, my dear.

  5. teamtabb says:

    Your pictures are so lovely! I wish Brian and I had more experience with those parts of Minnesota. I picture only urban landscapes when I think of the state.

    Thanks for giving me a fresh perspective on this place!

  6. Pingback: a bit of winter | part of the main

  7. Pingback: winter and the hereafter | part of the main

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s