4.9.12 Life, Death, and Everything In Between

Last weekend we set off for a walk, and this fellow was on hand to see us off. The island is literally swarming with robins, and I don't use the word 'literally' idly. I saw one after another along my walk this evening, to which a later photo will attest. But for now, we'll proceed to the place where our walk took us last weekend. It was near the dinner hour and we were both starving, so it's no surprise our feet led us to a restaurant, in this instance Psycho Suzi's Motor Lounge, a sort of tiki bar on the Mississippi about a 25-minute walk north of Nicollet Island. It's a place that is nowhere near as cool as it thinks it is and desperately wants to be, as one can deduce from this humdrum looking photo.

However, I did not take this photo, and maybe it had been taken during an especially dull occasion. At any rate, we found a couple of seats at the counter that ran alongside the river and ordered some grub. After our hike, the beer tasted very good, and we sat gazing out over the river as the sun began making its westward descent.



Here is one view from where I was sitting, in which you can see the tiki flames above and the dinner-date-who's-maybe-trying-too-hard down below. To my left, of course, is the river, and in front of me is my lovely companion who might have done a better job of blocking the fellow behind her. At any rate, we enjoyed our dinner as the sun sank into the river and the night grew just chilly enough to drive us indoors after a while.




Here is a much nicer view from where I was sitting, the sunset illuminating a stretch of river we haven't had much occasion to observe (Psycho Suzi's does not, alas, compel frequent visits).


It was a peaceful evening as we lazily wound our way through the streets of NE Minneapolis in the general direction of home. At one point, the moon appeared and I took this shot--not one of the best moonshots I've ever taken, but it conveys the general impression, I think, that it was a pleasant night. We ended up at a cafe to which we'd been before, and which we liked, called Maeve's.

I proposed a cuppa Joe, and as we entered the establishment found we had stumbled upon a poetry reading in progress. We discreetly entered and grabbed a couple of stools at the back of the room, and sat back to be regaled by the local literati. We enjoyed our coffee, and the reading, and I vowed to return in future with some work of my own to foist upon the unsuspecting public. This was just one of those serendipitous pleasures that makes living on the island, and in the NE Minneapolis area, so delightful. It's an artsy area where one may happen upon any number of interesting events while out for a stroll. We returned to the island over a charming wooden foot bridge in the dark, while catfish and small-mouthed bass frolicked below in the river currents (or at least I fancied they did).

Which brings me back to today. Or rather, yesterday, when another islander had sent out an email saying that he had sighted a coyote slinking into the woods right near where we live (and right near the railroad tracks). I was surprised, since I'd never seen or heard of coyotes on the island. Well, today I went out for a stroll after returning home from work, and took the path that I fancied the coyote would have taken. I came out into the small parking lot on West Island Ave., where I came upon an Animal Care and Control van, into which two workers were placing a carrying case which seem to contain a bit of orangish fur. I accosted them and asked what they had there, and they confided that it was a fox who had met his unfortunate end on the train tracks. I shared what I had read in the email about the coyote, and they said that it had probably been this poor fellow, as he had been large and mangy and had resembled a dog more than a fox.

So I went on my way, somewhat saddened for the loss of one of our vulpine population. How could he have let a train run him down? Perhaps these creatures are not quite as clever as folklore would have us believe. At any rate, I circled the island, and it was really rather chilly so I moved at a brisk pace, pausing only to snap this shot of a jaunty little redbreast who was tugging frantically at a worm that seemed quite determined to stay right in the earth where he was. It was one of those days when I was glad I wasn't a fox, or a worm, or even a robin. But I was perfectly content to be surrounded by them as I too strove to fill my belly while avoiding dangers.

Life flows on, in and around us—round and round it goes, and where and when it will stop, well ... who really knows?

D.E.S.