Saturday: Wind and Snow in the Red River Valley

I slept about eleven hours last night: more evidence that I should pay better attention to my wake/sleep schedule. I picked up #2 daughter and a friend of hers from college in Moorhead. The friend wanted (needed?) a break from the college routines, and got it.

So far, the trip has gone well. The three of us went into town to talk with my father in the morning, and again in the afternoon. The second time, #2 daughter brought her violin along, and played a few pieces: using an easel for a music stand. I offered to hold the music for her, but apparently she thought it would be safer, and steadier, with the easel.

As usual on these trips, we (#2 daughter for the most part) have been going through stuff up here, putting together a load to move down to Sauk Centre. The process is going more smoothly than I had feared.

However, it's an odd feeling, going through the material of the family I grew up in, deciding what to do with it. I've been taken on quite a few trips down memory lane recently. Happily, the memories are mostly good ones.

#2 daughter brought my attention to a book of Fontaine Fox's "Toonerville Trolly" cartoons. I'd glanced through the book, several years ago, but hadn't 'gotten' most of the cartoons. This time, I read the introduction first: and that helped. The "Toonerville Trolly" cartoons are getting to be a century old now, and describe a culture that I'm not all that familiar with. The bit of understanding I got from that introduction helped me appreciate the cartoons much more.

I got through about half the book last night, and will probably finish it tonight.

It was zero when we went into town this morning, -3 when we went back in the afternoon, and -4 as we left. It's going to be a cold night.

I'm glad we can get in these visits with my father. He has trouble getting oxygen in through his lungs, even with an oxygen supply running under his nose: and this limits conversations to about 40 minutes. We have good talks, though. And, #2 daughter has been helping things along. I think she may be a better conversationalist than I am.

I didn't mention the wind. There's an old joke from the Red River Valley of the North: "Does the wind always blow this way?" "No, sometimes it blows the other way."

Okay: I hear that another load is coming down from the second floor. This is as good a spot to stop as any.