From the Editor: Falling Up
Well, that was quick. Fall decided to be deliberate about its entrance this year. Lucky us.
But really, Lucky us. I realize that autumn in Minnesota is the stairway that leads to the thunderdome that is winter—but it’s a magnificent entryway. Seriously, people pay real money to spend real time looking at our autumn. Trips are planned in hopes of landing in “peak” season, all for a glimpse of what we wake up to.
“Arizona Wishes” was almost certainly thrown around when selecting a slogan for our color-rich state. Deciduous, Coniferous, Prairie, and Tallgrass—we’re truly blessed in biomes. To live here can mean completely different things for different people, but it tends to come with a built-in resilience.
Said resilience has been put to the test in 2020; we’re putting some miles on our collective patience. If America were a choir, we would sound awful in our current form. That’s assuming we could agree to sing. We’re out of harmony in this moment, just in time for our November showdown.
With two familiar, polarizing faces vying for choir-director, the band is torn. We need direction, and we need to remember what it means to be team members and neighbors. To each other. Regardless of your political preference or personal policies.
Whatever happens in November, I can promise that December will follow. Regardless of the election’s outcome, time will keep moving forward. At regular speed. Mystery-solving, wound-healing time—will fix everything. We’ll just have to wait it out.
And let’s not be bitter while we’re at it. Let’s enjoy the season that’s unfolding around us. We can focus on the particularly “cozy” winter that COVID is sure to provide—there’s plenty to prepare for. We have a chance at an extra-intimate holiday season, as we curtail our time spent in crowds.
I look out over a sprawling vista of pure Minnesota. Endless trees in a color formation that looks so deliberate, it’s almost too perfect. Stunning beauty that just happens. I may not have everything I’ve ever wanted, and the foreseeable future might be about as clear as a brick wall—but I undeniably have this. And so do you.
We have life in common. We’re granted a window in which to view a corner of the universe, for the blink of an eye. Let’s not walk by that blaze-orange tree, or that red-ripe apple without noticing it. Let’s notice the beautiful things are happening, and will continue to happen, regardless of a president.
Look at squirrels, for example—you think a squirrel cares about the president? They just care about planning for a Spring-blowout, they’re hiding nuts all over the place. And squirrels forget. Their winter sleeping pattern throws them into a funk, and they forget some of their hiding places—planting millions of trees on accident. Perhaps a winter of heads-down-time can provide some nutty-prosperity come springtime.
Stand-by for a squirrely winter.