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…south from Northome on Highway 71 about six miles, turn right on a gravel road, every year feeling a tingle of anticipation, another mile and a half and there it is, lane up to the house grown over, house collapsing into the earth, young spruce growing out of and into the old log kitchen. The Old Place. The time when it was everything recedes further and further in the distance. My mind’s… Read More
The Old Place is the 80 acres of woods and swamp and fields where I was born: actually I was born ten miles down the road in Blackduck but Robert was born on this very land. It is, for reasons I cannot exactly explain, the most important place in my life. I was a very happy young child there, free to roam the woods with book in hand, or walk up and… Read More
The house I grew up in and I are disintegrating at about the same rate. Actually the old house may be even more wrecked than me but its dilapidation is far more interesting to behold.
To me it is beautiful here, where I grew up, just as it is: overgrown, collapsing, old timber and stucco buildings reverting to woods. The welcome wagon meets us on the road and then we just walk around and listen to our young voices echoing through the treetops.
Ah yes, time for another round of sentimental musings about my old home. And many photos. For this round of visits, instead of waxing lyrical over mom’s apple pies and the cries of loons on the lakeshore, and rehashing which of my introverted traits can be attributed to north woods isolation, I’ll talk about our land. My grandfather, Torgus Neset, purchased 160 acres of timber, swamp and small meadows sometime between 1910… Read More
Sunday, May 31, 2015. It’s been two years since I’ve been out to the old place; today Robert, Marsha and me are dropping by. I’ll return later this week for some quality time. Wonder what I’ll see today? How much further fallen? Still standing walls? Is the end of the old brown couch still visible? The cellar wasn’t that deep so the abandoned furniture can just come to rest there with me… Read More
Down the snowy road to the “Old Place.” Minnesota has weather drama. A resident of Minnesota is always anticipating, dreading, reveling in, huddled against, praying for protection from, practicing ice driving for and/or talking about…always talking about…the weather. Most of us don’t have a lot of drama in our lives; we go to work and come home and go back to work and come home and watch TV. So to live in… Read More