Minnewaska Musings

By Paul Gremmels

There are few places in this world that have more obvious seasonal tell-tales than Minnesota. We tend to take them for granted, except in the fall, when the changing of green foliage into oftentimes spectacular colors is impossible to ignore. As Minnesotans, we know what this color spectrum change foretells, but we tend to ignore those thoughts of winter and instead revel in the ocular delight.

When I was away from home, in far away places, my mother would write me letters. Wonderful letters, which would tell of the goings on in her life, our family and community. They would often describe the changing of seasons; when the first robin had arrived, when the cattails had sprouted, when the corn had tasseled and always, when the sumac had turned red. It was a portal of sorts, a passageway back to Minnesota. I could read the letter, close my eyes, and envision the fall colors that surrounded Lake Minnewaska. Even if I was in the most barren, harsh and desolate of landscapes, these letters, if only for a moment, would transport me – home.

As a child, I remember reading a book about a little mouse that wasn’t very proficient in performing his mousely duties of gathering and storing grains and grasses so that the colony could sustain themselves through the long winter. He gathered what he could, but his addition to the collective stores wasn’t up to what the Head Mouse had demanded. The problem was, that when the little mouse was out and about amidst the fall landscape, he was constantly distracted by the beautiful fall colors. He would find himself transfixed and staring at the fall display when he should have been gathering. Well, winter came and it was a harsh and long one. Toward the end, it didn’t look like the mouse colony was going to make it, as their stores were about to run out. They blamed the little mouse for his gathering shortfalls. But then the little mouse projected his memories of the spectacular colors and landscapes that he had committed to memory. It was just enough to help his colony through until springtime.

Sadly, in today’s reality, nobody is really pulling for a colony of mice, and few people write letters anymore. But the other day, when I was out splitting and stacking firewood for the coming winter, I looked out across the landscape which was awash with spectacular colors. I stood there for a good long while, soaking it all in. I ended up leaving my firewood duties and going for a long walk to places which gave me broad vistas in order to take it all in. I suppose I should have been working on filling my woodshed to help heat my house through the long, cold winter. But, I also felt that it was equally important to stock up on memories, in order to warm my soul.

Paul Gremmels is a freelance writer, essayist and a columnist. He lives with his wife, Ann, in rural Pope County.  His column is published in the Pope County Tribune on the last week of each month.  He welcomes and responds to all correspondence. He can be contacted at:
gremmels@runestone.net