Ice off of Minnesota Point in Duluth. Each of those slabs in the foreground is the size of a person lying down. The ridge behind it is about fifteen feet tall.(I popped a squat to obtain this viewpoint.)
On the Dunes By Sara Teasdale
If there is any life when death is over, These tawny beaches will know much of me, I shall come back, as constant and changeful As the unchanging, many-colored sea.
If life was small, if it has made me scornful, Forgive me; I shall straighten like a flame In the great calm of death, and if you want me Stand on the sea-ward dunes and call my name.
I recently stumbled upon this poem while leafing through a stack of old, yellowed pages—poems I had once painstakingly typed on a clattering Underwood typewriter during my high school days. Back then, before the convenience of photocopiers, I’d wander the library aisles, selecting poetry books that called to me. I would borrow them, then sit for hours, as I copied lines that stirred my soul. I imagined that I’d refer to these pages often, though, they have gathered more dust than fingerprints. Now, rereading them, I’m flooded with nostalgia, peering through a window into what once moved my younger heart.
Poet Sara Teasdale lived from 1884 to 1933. She is characterized as “neurotically intense,” and it’s said she moved in the company of poets like a “recessive flame.” She had a tempestuous affair with poet Vachel Lindsay. Later, she married a businessman but then divorced him, retired to seclusion, and in the end, died from an overdose of sleeping pills.
Her poem struck me because I’d just meandered to the beach in Duluth with Russ. If you’re not familiar, we are blessed with a long sandbar at the mouth of Lake Superior. Of course, the beach was snow-covered. The lake’s power was on full display in the form of huge piles of ice piled high about ten yards offshore. I had my phone with me and was tempted to brave the ice to take some photos, but I hesitated, not knowing if the ice was safe. I am well acquainted with the vagaries and dangers of this Great Lake.
However, two other people walked out to an ice ridge in front of me. They survived, so I figured I’d be okay if I followed in their footsteps. I ventured out, and these photos are the result. I was glad I braved the ice to share them with you! Russ wisely remained onshore. I’m also glad that the little adventure didn’t hasten my death so that Russ would need to stand on the dunes and call my name when he wants me. 😊
My fair city of Duluth, Minnesota, has donned a silvery veil these past few days—a haunting fog that drapes the world in mystery. I don’t know about you, but I adore the hush and wonder of fog; here, I am home. Each morning, the temperatures bite, and the fog cloaks every branch and rooftop in crystalline frost and shimmering ice.
Restless for movement, I ventured out, camera in hand, into my transformed neighborhood. The roads glittered treacherously beneath a thin armor of ice, so I strapped on my boot’s iron claws. Each step crunched with possibility. The world was both dazzling and dangerous.
As the sun coaxed the temperature upward, ice shards crashed from trembling trees and sagging power lines. Splintered branches, felled by the weight of winter, littered yards and tangled themselves in lines above. Once, a cascade of ice from a power line narrowly missed me, which sent my heart pounding. But I pressed on, determined to witness the spectacle to its end.
Who knew a simple walk around the neighborhood could be so exciting?
I spent a memorable afternoon with Superior, Wisconsin, short story writer Anthony Bukoski last summer. We discussed his book, The Thief of Words, which was published in 2025 by the University of Wisconsin Press. Tony’s stories feature white collar-blue collar tensions that belie his time spent in both worlds. The Thief of Words focuses on such themes as loneliness, longing, dislocation, assimilation, and generational conflict.
Thanks to the kickboxing workouts I’ve been doing for the past four years, our interview ends in a surprising way! You can read about it in Hypertext, a digital literary magazine published in Chicago.
I thank Tony for this opportunity and Hypertext for publishing it. If you’re looking for something to read, please check out Tony’s book.
Yet another project to fill my time in retirement was to explore the art of gluten-free sourdough baking. Some people think that regular sourdough bread is gluten-free, but it’s not. You need to have a special sourdough starter that contains some kind of gluten-free flour, like brown rice.
A few months before I retired, I happened upon just such a starter at a local mercantile. It was made by the Cultures for Health company (but you can get it via mail, also). Not long after my retirement last spring, I began to experiment with it.
Buckwheat sourdough blueberry pancakes. These are fluffier and milder than regular buckwheat pancakes. A win!
So far, I’ve made two kinds of gluten-free sourdough pancakes (one was buckwheat blueberry, the other whole grain), bread, and a chocolate-coffee cake with chocolate-coffee frosting.
Of those, the pancakes and the cake were delectable winners! I’m still perfecting the bread recipe. I have a hard time getting the dough to rise enough before baking. I suspect the cold climate I live in is one reason for this. Sourdough bacteria like a nice, warm environment. I’ve begun adding some regular yeast to the bread dough, but I think I need to add even more. We’re not huge bread eaters in our household, so this could be a long process.
Whole grain gluten-free sourdough pancakes. Another win!
I’ve also learned how to refrigerate the starter and how to revive it from a frozen state. I freeze it when we’re gone on long trips, otherwise it wouldn’t survive not being fed with new brown rice flour and spring water every 3-4 days.
That’s another thing about sourdough starter, you can’t just use water from the tap. It has chlorine in it, so you need to use spring water, which can be found in most grocery stores. Another secret is to heat the water before adding it to the starter. I’ve had good luck heating it to 80-90 degrees F in the microwave, which makes the starter activate more quickly. You can tell your starter is activated when it gets a lot of bubbles and it almost doubles in size.
Gluten-free sourdough bread. Still needs work. It’s like eating a brick.
I got the pancake and bread recipes from the Cultures for Health website. The cake recipe came from the gluten-free cookbook, Cannelle et Vanille Bakes Simple by Aran Goyoaga that I bought at The Lost Kitchen store in Maine.
Learning a new cooking technique has been fun! Are you stretching your culinary skills in some way?
The chocolate-coffee sourdough cake, with sprinkles. Another winner!
I have two writing things to impart. The first is a review of my new poetry book, High Fire Danger by Rebecca Swanson, a fellow member of the Wisconsin Writers Association. She kindly says they are “some of the finest nature poems” you will ever read, and that every page is filled with “warmth, wit, vigor, and beautifully crafted poetry.” My book costs $15 and is available from Amazon.
The other is my new Facebook author/photography page. I used to have pages for each of my novels. Even though my first novel’s page (Eye of the Wolf) had 2,500 followers, it was so out of date that, after notifying my followers to switch to my new page, I held my breath and sacrificed it. If you follow my new page, you’ll get notifications of my writing events, see my favorite new photos, and get links to my latest blog posts. My page is slowly growing with 77 followers; I could use a few more.
Image by Sharon Moen
I also have an Instagram account, but am less active there. My profile photo shows my arms hugging a tree. Because, you know, that’s what I do.
Inside our mailbox was an invitation on a slim, hand-cut piece of paper: Luminary Walk. It contained a date, time, and location, which was a short woodland trail in our neighborhood. On the bottom were the words: light, warmth, hope, welcome, neighbors.
How could we resist? We waited until dark and ventured out into the calm night. An almost-full moon watched our progress, casting shadows on the snow. That was all the light we needed. We didn’t even consider bringing a flashlight.
When we arrived at the trailhead, an alternating path of ice luminaries glowed softly down the length of the trail. As we walked, we noticed some were lit with candles and some with LED lights. Most glimmered with soft, natural light. Others swirled with a riot of color. There were round and rectangular clear ice luminaries, colored square ones, and huge raindrop-shaped ones.
We weren’t sure who was responsible for creating this magic, but it must have been several families, given all the work involved. Halfway down the trail, we met other neighbors enjoying the scene with their dogs. We greeted each other and marveled over the view.
One display looked like a snowy rose: a raindrop luminary in the middle, surrounded with icy petals and lit with a string of white lights. Orange slices, cranberries, and pine needles were embedded in another. Most lay on the snow. One was perched on a log.
We left the trail and walked back home with these words echoing in our heads: light, warmth, hope, welcome, neighbors.
The Duluth, Minnesota, All Hands sea shanty group. Image courtesy of the Duluth Folk School.
At the end of 2025, a Duluthian named Paul Webster revived a sea shanty singing group in town. The group originally began during COVID when a bunch of friends (around 10) would gather outside in parking lots and sing together (to allow for social distancing, etc.) As conditions improved, the group disbanded, but Paul wanted to breathe life back into it.
In a story in Northern Wilds magazine, Paul said, “We realized there are not enough places around Duluth where adults can make music together in a casual, informal way.” He and the other founders of the group partnered with the Duluth Folk School to hold singing sessions every first and third Sunday afternoon (3 – 4 p.m.), where people can explore the stories behind the music as well as sing.
Before the first session, the local newspaper did a story about the gathering. That, and perhaps the maritime history of our area, led to a turnout of over one hundred people! I was one of those people. Besides, it just sounded like a stupidly fun thing to do on a Sunday afternoon, I am familiar with many shanties from my time on the Audubon Expedition Institute. While we were traveling around North America on a yellow school bus learning about environmental issues, we often sang shanties to pass the time. I missed that and welcomed this opportunity to revisit my past. It’s also a nod to my Maine privateer ancestors.
Paul seemed a bit overwhelmed by the large turnout, which has not diminished as the sessions continued. Jumping from 10 to 100 people is a big leap! I think it indicates he found the right audience through the folk school and is meeting a pent-up demand for socialization.
At the first meeting, Paul asked for ideas for a group name. We ended up voting in “All Hands,” which I love because it’s inclusive and is the same name we used to call our staff meetings at Wisconsin Sea Grant, where I used to work.
As the name implies, all are welcome to the sessions. There’s no cost, although a donation basket is passed during the sessions. Singing is optional, but I don’t know how a person could resist joining these catchy working and drinking songs. The school’s café is open during the sessions, so people can have refreshments while they sing. I recommend their hard cider.
Sea shanties (American) or chanties (British) are a genre of traditional folk songs that aided in the timing of various tasks on sea-faring vessels. Many reference a task at hand or life at sea, including missing loved ones or dangers of the job. Some of my favorites are “Barrett’s Privateers,” “Leave Her Johnny,” and “Rolling Down to Old Maui.” People take turns leading the shanties, but Paul leads most. People can suggest their favorite shanties, as well. I’m hoping we get nimble enough as a group to sing “Hoist up the Thing,” someday (a comical modern shanty about a know-nothing captain).
I haven’t missed a session since they began. Ironically, I’m missing one today because Russ and I are going to a concert. But I’ll be at the next session, fate willing. I feel good after singing and it’s something fun to do during the bleak midwinter. The songs offer a good perspective on hardships, both historical and present.
Reflecting on my experience with this group, I am struck by how music can transform a simple gathering into a source of strength and belonging. Singing together, whether with friends or strangers, reminds me that even in challenging times, we can find joy, solidarity, and shared purpose. As our voices blend in harmony, the tradition of sea shanties continues to connect us not just to the past, but to each other.
Just a few of the grocery bags we filled with food for victims of an apartment fire.
Background
I haven’t mentioned this, but one of the first things I did when I retired last spring was to sign up as a Red Cross volunteer. I’d long been familiar with the organization, ever since my first job as a lifeguard. (We had to take Red Cross classes for certification.)
Once Hurricane Katrina struck Louisiana in 2005, I felt the call to help, but I didn’t know how. I was working for the University of Minnesota at the time and ended up joining an emergency response group to help with communication. But it seemed the only type of communication assistance they required was telecommunications, not public/media communications. Sitting around when people were in dire need was frustrating.
In the years since, I noticed how the Red Cross helped local people who experienced house fires, and towns that were struck by wildfires, floods, and hurricanes. I also became acquainted with the director of the local Red Cross chapter and learned that the organization actively seeks volunteers.
So, I put volunteering for the Red Cross at the top of my “Things to do When I Retire” list. Immediately after I retired, I visited their website and signed up to help during a crisis. There are two volunteer categories for that: Disaster Services and Disaster Action Team.
Disaster Services helps with mass feeding and sheltering of people impacted by major disasters (fires, floods, hurricanes). Disaster Action Team members help with single-family disasters like housefires. I submitted my information online, and it wasn’t long before I was contacted. Eventually, I had a short phone interview with someone from the Twin Cities, and I was in!
The interviewer wanted to add me to the Red Cross’s public information team, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. I wanted to help more directly, and also to get a feel for the organization before I began representing it to the news media. It also felt too much like the work I just retired from, and I wanted a break. So, I put that opportunity on hold, but I can revisit it once I gain more experience.
I took a series of online courses, which required about a month to complete. I also attended an in-person (virtual) class that took up one afternoon. As of now, I’m certified in Disaster Services, but I still have a few more classes to take for the Disaster Action Team.
Calls to Action!
My first opportunity came the day we returned from our retirement celebration trip to Grand Cayman Island. A fire was burning north of Duluth (very near our cabin!), and the Red Cross was setting up a drinking water and info station in a community center.
Saying “no” frustrated me because I really wanted to help, but we had a small “disaster” on our hands ourselves with no food in the house and piles of laundry to do!
I missed that opportunity, but the next one came about a week before Thanksgiving. A fire at the end of October in a large apartment building in St. Paul displaced 1,200-1,500 people, many who were immigrants. Most were housed in hotels across the city. The Red Cross was feeding them lunches and dinners (breakfasts were provided by the hotels).
Due to the long timeline of the operation and the impending holiday, there was an urgent need for new volunteers. I raised my hand, so to speak, and was soon set up with a Red Cross credit card for my food and a hotel room. I expected to be gone from home for two weeks. We weren’t planning anything special for Thanksgiving, so this was okay by me.
The first day of my deployment, I fed people “virtually.” I was assigned to the Minneapolis Red Cross Office with several other volunteers to help fill hundreds of grocery bags with food for the disaster victims who had kitchenettes in their hotel rooms. We were instructed how many of each item to put into the bags (2 cans of peas, 3 granola bars, etc.) and formed an assembly line, each of us filling one bag at a time. Then we placed the bags on tables and the floor for other volunteers to cart out to trucks for transport.
We rocked that assembly line! The leader said we were the best group ever. But I bet she says that to all the groups. 😊
The next two days, I fed people in a hotel in a suburb about a half-hour away. I worked in a room off the lobby with another volunteer who was from the Twin Cities area. The Red Cross usually has people work in pairs for safety and to help with information exchange. My partner showed me the ropes. We arrived before lunch and got the room ready for the meal distribution by putting out supplies stored there (like fruit, water, granola bars). When the hot meals were delivered (in to-go containers), we’d set them out and open the room doors so that residents knew meals were available.
Many of the residents had found other food sources, so we only gave out about twenty meals each time. This was far fewer than I was expecting, but I suppose that’s a good thing. Between meals, we hung out in the room, read books, and chatted. I had my evenings free and was able to enjoy dinners with Twin Cities friends and relatives.
Some of the dinners we offered.
The next day was the last day feeding was scheduled. Many of the victims were able to move back into their apartments, or they were given food vouchers by the apartment managers. I worked at a different hotel with a different partner. As we served their last meals, many victims expressed their thanks. Most were Somali or Asian. I should mention that the Red Cross went to special lengths to provide culturally acceptable food (Halal dishes). I did not hear one complaint!
Wrap-Up
Because things were wrapping up by the time I arrived, my deployment only lasted five days instead of fourteen. I was able to spend Thanksgiving at home, which was good because my stepdaughter and our grand dogs came for an impromptu visit.
Overall, I felt the assignment was cushy. I was in a city that was intact and functional (versus a community ravaged by a hurricane or fire). I had my own hotel room versus sleeping on a cot in a shelter. The people we helped seemed comfortable with their surroundings. The volunteers I worked with were similar to me (retired do-gooders who like to read), and I had time to visit friends I wouldn’t have seen otherwise.
On the day I left, there were rumors of ICE agents present in the city. I was glad I was departing for Duluth. We all know how that turned out. ☹ The Red Cross has since issued guidance on how to react if agents arrive at a Red Cross operation.
It was a good introduction to how the Red Cross works. I’m looking forward to my next experience!
For the first nine months of 2025, my chapter alone (Northern and Central MN) helped 267 families affected by disaster. They trained 10,700 people in lifesaving skills, and were supported by 464 volunteers who gave over 32,000 hours of service. If you’re feeling the need to do something positive, consider volunteering.
I came upon this scene at our cabin. The grouse must have hit the window on our garage, even though it’s on the second story. I’ll have to do something about that — close the curtain, perhaps? At least the bird had a soft landing in new snow. It looked so peaceful, I was moved to take a photo. We left it where it fell. Some fox has probably already made quick work of it — returning its energy to the world.
I was interviewed this week by the MN Reads radio show, which features Minnesota-related authors. The show airs on Duluth’s community station and is hosted by Luke Moravec, who is a new author himself (and also a talented actor, musician, and probably some other things I don’t know about). The interview was about my latest book, High Fire Danger: Poems of Love and Nature. I feel fortunate that Duluth has this media outlet that supports local authors.
You can listen to the eight-minute interview here.
Marie's Meanderings 