My dad sent me these pictures he took a couple weeks ago at the edge of the Red River in Fargo. This “ice artistry” was sculpted by freezing temperatures at the waters crest and and then carefully installed in a gallery of trees as the water slowly receded. Wish I could have been there while the show was up.
Before leaving Fargo, I pick the last raspberries from my parents patch along the side of the house. It brings back memories of my grandparents farm south of Fargo where the supply seemed unlimited. As kids we would pound down raspberries until we were sick, tear around the shelterbelt with our bb guns, and then come back for more. Today I’ll just enjoy the last handfull and savor the lingering tartness as we head east to the Twin Cities.
This week I’m at home visiting my parents in Fargo, ND. This picture is of their house which was built in 1917 and was where my mother grew up. My parents moved there just after I moved away for college. Because I often visiting my grandparents here and because it’s only 6 blocks away from the house I grewup in, this feels like as much, if not more, than our other house.
A wheat field west of Fargo, ND