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Trading mosquitoes for the snowflakes
|By LYNDA JENSEN|
Remember the quarter-sized snowflakes we had briefly last week?
A customer burst into the Herald office during that storm, and exclaimed "THE MOSQUITOES ARE GONE!"
Yes, 'tis true. We've traded mosquitoes for the Minnesota winter. Time to "look within" and question ourselves on the wisdom of living here (again).
I formally abandoned my flower garden in August, ceremoniously handing it over to the mosquitoes long ago.
It was too hard. I would spray myself with bug spray every 20 minutes, sweat it off and then spray again.
That's when I gave up. I thought "are weeds that bad? What have I got against the little devils anyway?"
Y'know, you're not truly a Minnesotan unless you complain about the weather, according to Garrison Kiellor.
I've lived all my life in Minnesota, except for four years in South Dakota, and actually enjoy complaining about the weather.
My kids captured an unlucky salamander in our back yard recently (believe it or not . . . I thought the cold weather would have done them in by now).
His name is Sardene. He was subjected to molecular scrutiny, petted (I'm throwing up as I write this), and then set free, back into the wild, whence he came.
I now live with the uncomfortable knowledge that Sardene is under our porch . . .or somewhere in the garden . . . being blissfully unaware of his presence before.
If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning.
The hardest years in life are those between 10 and 70.
-Helen Hayes (at 73)
Whoever thought up the word "mammogram"? Every time I hear it, I think I'm supposed to put my breast in an envelope and send it to someone.
Old age ain't no place for sissies.
Every time I close the door on reality it comes in through the windows.
Howard Lake-Waverly Herald & Winsted-Lester Prairie