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News and information, interviews, weather, upcoming events, music, school news, and many special features. North Shore Morning includes our popular trivia question - Pop Quiz! The North Shore Morning program is the place to connect with the people, culture and events of our region!

 


What's On:

Great Expectations School News - May 25, 2018

Great Expectations School News with Addie and Emma.
May 25, 2018

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June Sky

Northern Sky: May 26 - June 8

Northern Sky  –  May 26 – June 8, 2018
 
May closes out--almost--with another full moon, the full flower moon. The moment of fullness arrives at 9:19 a.m. on Tuesday, the 29th. But by then the moon will already have set, so if you want to see it, go outside at sunrise. It'll be over in the west, looking pretty against a pale sky.
 
If you're up even earlier that day, say, 90 minutes before sunrise, you'll have a great view of stars and planets. Like Jupiter getting ready to set in the west. Or the moon right above the crown of Scorpius, a more or less vertical curved line of three stars very low in the southwest. Just southeast of the moon you'll see the scorpion’s red heart, Antares, the rival of Mars. East of the moon are two bright objects. One is Saturn. It's just above the Teapot of Sagittarius, a lovely star pattern that actually looks like a teapot. These mornings it tips its spout as if to pour tea on the stinger of the scorpion. Earth is catching up to Saturn in the orbital race, and on June 27, we lap the ringed planet, and it'll be at its brightest.
 
The other bright object is farther east, and that's Mars. Mars is already starting to dazzle us with its growing brilliance. That's because, as I've been saying, it, too, is going to get lapped by Earth soon. At the end of July, in fact--just a month after Saturn. Above Mars, the Summer Triangle of bright stars twinkles away. And, wouldn't you know it, gaining altitude in the east is the Great Square of Pegasus, an autumn constellation.
 
After full moon, the moon continues its way eastward. On June 1, it'll be between Saturn and the Teaspoon, a curved line of stars hanging down over the handle of the Teapot. On the 2nd it'll be between Saturn and Mars, and on the morning of the 3rd it hovers over Mars; these two objects will look like a big pearl above a small ruby. After passing Mars, the moon glides through a relatively dim starfield on its way to becoming new.
 
In the evening sky, we have Jupiter again. It's up in the southeast by nightfall, very bright but no match for Venus. The planets I mentioned earlier follow Jupiter into the sky, but not all of them make it during the evening—that is, pre-midnight—hours. As for Venus, it continues to blaze away in the west. During the first week of June the Gemini twins Pollux and Castor drop toward the planet. The brighter twin, Pollux, is the one closer to Venus. During the last several days of May and into June, the twins and Venus form a triangle that starts out long and thin but then shortens and flattens as these three objects shift positions. By Friday, June 8, they'll have formed one of the flattest triangles in history. The twins are among the last of the winter stars to head into the sunset, but they'll all reappear in the morning sky by late summer.
 
Turning a little to the north from Venus, you may see Capella, a gorgeous multicolored winter star. It's the brightest in Auriga, the charioteer, but with so many bright stars up in the winter, it may get kind of lost in the shuffle.
 
Also after nightfall, we have Spica, in Virgo, the next bright object west of Jupiter. If skies are dark, you might want to grab a star chart and try to trace the form of Virgo. Spica is the constellation's only bright star, so it can be a challenge to find Virgo the first time.
 

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Maple Hill Church by Bryan Hansel

Magnetic North - May 23, 2018

Magnetic North 5/14/18
 
Cemetery Competition 
 
Welcome back to Magnetic North, where winter’s grip is but a memory, albeit one leaving a few bruises. Just when green grass and the melody of spring peeper frogs at dusk enters our world, so too does the annual search for the stuff we put away last fall - or did we throw it away or donate it? You know, the rakes, gardening tools, bug hats and so forth. 

Living for years with a fastidious man of Norwegian descent only made my seasonal treasure hunt more torturous… Mr. Take-and-Put was my nickname for Paul. He relished packing up gear to a fare thee well, with yards of duct tape encircling boxed items in the style of Egyptian mummies. The parcel would then be labeled with black magic marker in big uppercase letters. “GARDEN TOOLS: TROWEL, HAND RAKE, DANDELION ROOT GRABBER...” and so on. But then came the fatal flaw in his otherwise brilliant moves.

He stowed the boxes and promptly forgot where they were. The barn, the garage rafters, the back forty cabin, any one of five sheds? One year we replaced 75 feet of garden hose before finding the neatly coiled, taped and labeled sections in the old outhouse next to the chicken coop. Why there?  Why not there, he asked, adding that his Norwegian grandmother always said that “When you come to where a thing is, you find it.” Clearly, something had been lost in the translation.

And, even though it has been five years, this past week since Paul’s passing, I still have not “come to where” certain things he stowed away are on the farm. .So when I visited his grave last week, I hoped for some insight or clues as to where certain missing items might be tucked away. Paul’s and my parents' graves at Maple Hill Cemetery are in a lovely spot tucked under the sloping branches of a thirty-foot red pine and overlooking the picture postcard old white clapboard church.

Every big day, like birthdays, holidays and such, I visit and leave a box of DOTS candies, his favorites on the marker stone. The stone is nothing fancy. Flush with the ground, as is required for grass cutting, with Paul’s name and dates of birth and death and the inscription, “A life well loved”. It’s a place of peace and memories for me. And sometimes answers. Both large and small.

This year, as in years past, I wondered aloud about the location of such farm items as the fence tightening tool. But before I even got out of my car on the steep little hill running by the gravesite, I was struck by two things that irked me. First, the shepherds crook plant hanger was gone and second, Paul’s plot looked positively naked in comparison to the plots to the left and right of his. Both of these had been planted with daffodil bulbs, now in full bloom. All Paul’s and my parents’ monuments had for adornments were dead pinecones and a box of candy. And just like that, my sweet nostalgia morphed into the green-eyed monster of envy, accompanied by her faithful sidekick, resentment.

Bad enough that someone swiped the plant hanger, I stewed. But what really got my nanny were those oh-so-perky and delightful daffodils. It was all I could do to refocus on the reason I’d come to the place, even as I slurped down Paul’s favorite, strawberry malted began reciting Shakespeare’s sonnet, one hundred sixteen - now an annual ritual for birthday visits. You know, the one that begins, 
“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove”

But not even the bard could restrain my thoughts from fastening on the stolen plant hanger. “What kind of person would rob a plant hangar from a grave?” I fumed mid-stanza. “The kind who had never heard of karma, obviously!” 

But back to Shakespeare…
“O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.”
“Oh Yeah,” my resentful little mind butted in. “TAKEN is the word, alright. Maybe I should install one of those remote cameras.  On the red pine and catch the miscreant in the act.”
And then, back to the sonnet,
“Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.”

And with that, I blew my nose, finished the strawberry malt and said my farewells. Three days later, though, I was back, with a lavish basket of shade tolerant indigo blue flowers that I know will bloom their little hearts out all summer long.
I chuckled as I place the basket on the headstone-the shepherd’s crook hanger is on order. “I’ll see your daffodils,” and raise you one cascading extra-large lobelia basket.”

Then, I watered the ridiculously lavish basket, just the kind Paul would have splurged on, and finished Shakespeare’s lines about what love is and is not. 

If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”

Driving out of the little cemetery this time, I was smiling with pleasure, even as I wondered aloud where my Mr. Take-and-Put stowed that fence tightener.  Ah, well, when I come to where the thing is, I’ll find it. Right?
 
For WTIP, this is Vicki Biggs-Anderson with Magnetic North.
 

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White crown

North Woods Naturalist: White-crowned sparrows

They are harbingers of spring, but they don’t stay around long.. WTIP’s Jay Andersen talks with North Woods Naturalist Chel Anderson about white-crowned sparrows.
 

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Humming-bear

Wildersmith on the Gunflint - May 18, 2018

Wildersmith on the Gunflint     by     Fred Smith     May 18, 2018
    

May is rapidly moving along, surpassing the half-way point heading into this weekend. Warm season rituals continue occurring with each fleeting day.                                                               

Out this way, the most exciting tradition of late has been the final days of hard water on the larger lakes. Gunflint Lake is one of the last to bid ice farewell out. Sure enough, Sunday afternoon (May 13), somewhere between one and two o’clock, the big ice cube took a dip, not to return.   
                                                                                                                                                                                        
The prelude to final crystal disbursement is music to our ears. Gnashing of the honeycombed chards always plays a remarkable chiming tune of northern lakes delight. 
                                                                                                                                                             
On another delightful note, the happening couldn’t have come at a better time for yours truly. The Smiths’, and perhaps other north woods residents have been fretting powerful ice flows for several days as it can play havoc with our lake water systems, shoreline, and some permanent docks.                                                                                                                                                    
Unless one has proficiency in ancient glacial activity, this is an annual contemporary thing of which most folks from “Urbania” have no concept in regard to the “might” of an ice shield, being propelled by even the slightest of breezes. But we are breathing easier now as the ice chunk only moved the heavy steel piping about six feet and did not tear out the system yielding us life’s liquid sustenance. The whole scene makes one feel pretty helpless knowing the solidarity of “Mother Earth” and the power of “old Sol” are the only ice stoppers.                                                                                                                                            
Approaching the end of springs’ month two, our re-birth is not ready for “prime time” just yet. However, the impeccable ability of “Mother Nature” to start anew has the deciduous “green-up” at the point of explosion. Buds are bulging with enthusiasm as verdant hues are serving up a blur of lush haze on Sawtooth Mountain sides. Leaf out should be completed on schedule by the time we get to June. While our timber flora is unfolding, at ground level, green shoots are piercing the recently frozen earth along the Trail with new energy.                                                                                                                                               
In spite of the happy days at hand, the last character of our long winter has not disappeared entirely. At the time of this scribing, man-made piles of snow and mini-back woods glaciers, hidden deep in the shade along the Mile O Pine and other backcountry roads remain as memories of the season past.                                                                                                                                                                
Although the 2017-18 snow accumulation out this way was not severe in-depth numbers, it nevertheless has displayed staying power. Around Wildersmith, we’ve had snow of some consequence on the ground since October 27th, a total of two hundred four days so far!  Be assured, I will notify when all sign of winter is gone.                                                                                                                         
Taking this brief bit of cold season trivia further, bitter cold was not really severe by past North Country measures. But a sampling of what its’ been like, the day our Gunflint Lake ice went out,( last Sunday), the night before still saw a skimming of ice on the quiet open water strip along our shoreline. So however people define cold, include “persistent” with the descriptors.                                                                                                                                                            
Getting back to warmer spring thoughts, “skeeters” are back in the picture. Both Smiths’ have recorded the first itching nip of 2018. Meanwhile with snowmelt in many places still running lakeward, such is harboring habitat for black fly hatching so we can expect those torturous beings sooner rather than later. One can also add ticks to the list of our disgusting annoyances.                                                                                                                                                                      
And, speaking of other creeping, crawling critters, members of the arachnid family are spinning their nighttime web of intrigue as noted in the fiber network glistening through the early morning forest sunshine. Verifying the intricate phenomena, unfortunately, I seem to interrupt the networking every day on my first outdoors trek, by walking headfirst into the invisible filaments.   
                                                                                                                                                               
While a few bear sightings have been reported, we at Wildersmith can now confirm a first sighting too. Happily, it was not in the yard or up on the deck, but along the Trail.    
                              
Our recent fox visitor made another stop during the past few days. I find it interesting, but not surprising the hungry fellow takes a while to consider consumption of left-over seasoned, cooked meat. It’ll eat it grudgingly, but much prefers its protein raw, like a chicken part. Seems beggars shouldn’t be so choosy.   
                                                                                                                                   
On another foxy note, I see where one of this guy’s cousins was not spared by a vehicle in the mid-Trail area. Trail travelers need to give our “wild neighborhood” critters a “brake” particularly as inexperienced babies start exploring the warm blacktop.         
                                                                                                                               
In closing, the territory remains moisture depraved. With all ice out, I can’t say enough about getting those wildfire sprinkler systems ready. Seeing increased visitor traffic due to early paddlers and the opening of walleye season, more human’s mean chances for an accidental fire being set are increased substantially. Since there is no burning ban, residents and businesses have to be ready on their own. Yours truly can attest the water is very cold, but my systems stand ready.                                                                                                                                                                      
For WTIP, this is Wildersmith, on the Gunflint Trail, where every day is great, in every season.
 

Listen: 

 
Humming-bear

Wildersmith on the Gunflint - May 18, 2018

Wildersmith on the Gunflint     by     Fred Smith     May 18, 2018
    

May is rapidly moving along, surpassing the half-way point heading into this weekend. Warm season rituals continue occurring with each fleeting day.  
                                                             

Out this way, the most exciting tradition of late has been the final days of hard water on the larger lakes. Gunflint Lake is one of the last to bid ice farewell out. Sure enough, Sunday afternoon (May 13), somewhere between one and two o’clock, the big ice cube took a dip, not to return.   

                                                                                                                                                                                        
The prelude to final crystal disbursement is music to our ears. Gnashing of the honeycombed chards always plays a remarkable chiming tune of northern lakes delight. 

                                                                                                                                                             
On another delightful note, the happening couldn’t have come at a better time for yours truly. The Smiths’, and perhaps other north woods residents have been fretting powerful ice flows for several days as it can play havoc with our lake water systems, shoreline, and some permanent docks.  

                                                                                                                                                  
Unless one has proficiency in ancient glacial activity, this is an annual contemporary thing of which most folks from “Urbania” have no concept in regard to the “might” of an ice shield, being propelled by even the slightest of breezes. But we are breathing easier now as the ice chunk only moved the heavy steel piping about six feet and did not tear out the system yielding us life’s liquid sustenance. The whole scene makes one feel pretty helpless knowing the solidarity of “Mother Earth” and the power of “old Sol” are the only ice stoppers.    

                                                                                                                                        
Approaching the end of springs’ month two, our re-birth is not ready for “prime time” just yet. However, the impeccable ability of “Mother Nature” to start anew has the deciduous “green-up” at the point of explosion. Buds are bulging with enthusiasm as verdant hues are serving up a blur of lush haze on Sawtooth Mountain sides. Leaf out should be completed on schedule by the time we get to June. While our timber flora is unfolding, at ground level, green shoots are piercing the recently frozen earth along the Trail with new energy.  

                                                                                                                                             
In spite of the happy days at hand, the last character of our long winter has not disappeared entirely. At the time of this scribing, man-made piles of snow and mini-back woods glaciers, hidden deep in the shade along the Mile O Pine and other backcountry roads remain as memories of the season past.                                                                                                                                                                
Although the 2017-18 snow accumulation out this way was not severe in-depth numbers, it nevertheless has displayed staying power. Around Wildersmith, we’ve had snow of some consequence on the ground since October 27th, a total of two hundred four days so far!  Be assured, I will notify when all sign of winter is gone.     

                                                                                                                    
Taking this brief bit of cold season trivia further, bitter cold was not really severe by past North Country measures. But a sampling of what its’ been like, the day our Gunflint Lake ice went out,( last Sunday), the night before still saw a skimming of ice on the quiet open water strip along our shoreline. So however people define cold, include “persistent” with the descriptors.     

                                                                                                                                                       
Getting back to warmer spring thoughts, “skeeters” are back in the picture. Both Smiths’ have recorded the first itching nip of 2018. Meanwhile with snowmelt in many places still running lakeward, such is harboring habitat for black fly hatching so we can expect those torturous beings sooner rather than later. One can also add ticks to the list of our disgusting annoyances.   
                                                                                                                                                                   
And, speaking of other creeping, crawling critters, members of the arachnid family are spinning their nighttime web of intrigue as noted in the fiber network glistening through the early morning forest sunshine. Verifying the intricate phenomena, unfortunately, I seem to interrupt the networking every day on my first outdoors trek, by walking headfirst into the invisible filaments. 
  
                                                                                                                                                               
While a few bear sightings have been reported, we at Wildersmith can now confirm a first sighting too. Happily, it was not in the yard or up on the deck, but along the Trail.    

                              
Our recent fox visitor made another stop during the past few days. I find it interesting, but not surprising the hungry fellow takes a while to consider consumption of left-over seasoned, cooked meat. It’ll eat it grudgingly, but much prefers its protein raw, like a chicken part. Seems beggars shouldn’t be so choosy.   

                                                                                                                                   
On another foxy note, I see where one of this guy’s cousins was not spared by a vehicle in the mid-Trail area. Trail travelers need to give our “wild neighborhood” critters a “brake” particularly as inexperienced babies start exploring the warm blacktop.  
       
                                                                                                                               
In closing, the territory remains moisture depraved. With all ice out, I can’t say enough about getting those wildfire sprinkler systems ready. Seeing increased visitor traffic due to early paddlers and the opening of walleye season, more human’s mean chances for an accidental fire being set are increased substantially. Since there is no burning ban, residents and businesses have to be ready on their own. Yours truly can attest the water is very cold, but my systems stand ready.    

                                                                                                                                                                  
For WTIP, this is Wildersmith, on the Gunflint Trail, where every day is great, in every season.
 

Listen: 

 

Superior National Forest Update - May 18, 2018

  Superior National Forest Update – May 17, 2018.
 
Hi.  I’m Renee Frahm, Supervisory Administrative Support Assistant, with this week’s edition of the National Forest Update - information on conditions affecting travel and recreation on the Tofte and Gunflint Districts of the Forest. For the week of May 18th, here’s what’s going on in the Forest.

The old saying of “In Minnesota, if you don’t like the weather, wait an hour” has been very true this week.  Rain, 80 degree days, frozen bird baths at night, sun, calm, and wind:  we’ve had all but snow, and cross your fingers, we won’t be having any of that.  Winter, spring, and summer seem to be shifting as smoothly as a sixteen-year-old learning to drive a stick shift, but the progress, just like the young driver, is still always forward.  We had a lesson in how close winter still is when we dug into a gravel pit on the Forest and found the frost only 2 and a half inches below the surface.  Despite the frost in the ground, hummingbirds returned to the Forest in time for Mother’s Day.  It is always incredible that such a tiny animal can navigate across the entire country, fueled by nothing but tiny insects and flower nectar… and a lot of bird feeders.  If you are feeding hummers, make sure to use straight sugar water with no colors added.  The color of the feeder itself is good enough and dyes can be bad for the birds.  Change the liquid frequently, if it is getting cloudy before you change it, you need to change it more often.  Put the sugar water out when it is at outside temperature, not hot off the stove, or cold from the fridge, and the birds will love you for giving them some extra easy to find energy.

On the opposite end of the animal size scale from hummingbirds, moose are starting to calve.  Mom and baby moose have been spotted in several places on the Forest.  Be careful though, cow moose will not appreciate your getting close for a photo of their baby.  Stay well away, and stay on mom’s good side.

Outside of the animal world, we’ve been making progress on doing some spring prescribed burning.  Specifics of burns are posted on our website and on Boreal.com, so if you smell smoke, you can check to see if we are doing a burn.  If you end up near a burn, please respect all signage and don’t interfere with the fire crews.  It has been very dry the past week, so be very careful with fire, and keep an eye out for possible burn restrictions in the coming week. 

The dry conditions have also put us in the odd position of both having weight limits on roads due to soft areas, and also having the roads to hard and dry to grade in other areas.  The two together mean the roads are still in pretty poor condition, though they are a lot better than they were a week ago.  The weight restrictions mean that there is still limited logging traffic. On Tofte, logging traffic can be expected on the Trapper’s Lake Road and DMIR Grade (FR380).  On the Gunflint side, there are operations off of Greenwood Road and Firebox Road, but no hauling until road restrictions are lifted.

Going fishing?  You’ll be happy to hear that our docks are now all in at boat accesses!  Campgrounds will be entering fee status soon, possibly this weekend, but we are waiting for some water systems to come online.  Be prepared though to pay a fee for overnight camping in the fee campgrounds.

It’s a great time to get out in the woods this next week.  You can hunt for warblers with binoculars, or fish with a hook.  It’s just nice to get outside and watch as the trees change from bare to buds to leaves.  Spring in the north:  Don’t miss it!  Until next week, this has been Renee Frahm with the National Forest Update.
 

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Grand Marais Aikikai.jpg

Aikido in Grand Marais - 25th Anniversary

WTIP's CJ Heithoff talks with Craig Waver, Sensei, about the 25th Anniversary Celebration of Aikido in Grand Marais.
Honored Guest Instructors, Rev. Zenko N. Okimura and Clyde Takeguchi, as well as many other Senseis and students from around the country, will help Craig celebrate.
 

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Program: 

 
Lindsey & Regina Yoder

Bike for Freedom - Lindsey Yoder

WTIP volunteer, Mark Abrahamson talks with Lindsey Yoder and her mother, Regina as they prepare to complete the Bike for Freedom ride at the Canadian border near Grand Portage, MN.
Lindsey; her brother, Kyle; her sister, Krista; and cousin, Jackson; rode bicycles from the Mexican border to raise awareness of human trafficking and funds for Hope for Justice.
More information about Lindsey's journey can be found on Facebook - Bike for Freedom, Mexico to Canada.

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Program: 

 

Lady and the Scamp - Part 5

Travels with Sarah
From Grand Marais to Ontario, Canada

 
 
Sarah-the-dog and I drove all day with the 13-foot fiberglass trailer on tow, and only managed to travel half-an-inch of the Trans-Canada Highway on the big map. We made it from Nipigon to Marathon. Progress was slow partly due to the 90 kph speed limit  -- 56 mph -- which I decided to follow since it’s easier on the gas when towing the Scamp, and gas costs more here. 
 
Marathon is the sort of “I could live here” picturesque town,  but after I shopped in the grocery store I changed my mind about that. I couldn’t see myself making friends with the low-key couples staring at the drab rows of food. I left feeling depressed. Another potential home off the list. Where was my home? Which continent? Where did I belong? Sarah was home to me but aged fifteen, she didn’t have a lot of time left. I watched her constantly, trying to second guess how happy she was about still being alive. Deciding when to euthanize a beloved dog is agonizing. Sarah’s vet had spoken of “the rule of thumb” and “quality of life” guidelines before we left on this trip. Sarah no longer enjoyed walks, she was deaf and carried a large benign cyst on her chest. On the other hand, she enjoyed her food, and sniffing smells as she pottered around. Anti-arthritis pills seemed to help with her agility, and she seemed to like traveling on her bed on the front seat.  And her bladder and bowels were functioning well. Dogs are such stoic beings, sometimes it’s hard to tell if they are suffering. Always a quiet girl when she wasn’t on a walk, skipping ahead, her tail a-wagging, she slept much of the time now she was old. I stroked her silky curls as we drove to the next campground. We would share charcoal grilled steak for supper.
 
In the morning we set off from our campsite in Pukaskwa National Park (fantastic place; five stars for nature and beauty, where I climbed flat slabs of rocks and ate wild blueberries high above the lake hoping I wouldn’t fall and die out there as Sarah was shut in the car). Later back on the highway, I picked up a couple of Goth hitchhikers. We drove for an hour or two listening to  Fleet Foxes and Trampled by Turtles, and the girl, Mary, said I was “totally rad”. I was prepared to take them all the way to Toronto, but suddenly at a gas station outside Wawa, we joined a line of stopped cars. 
 
Turned out there was a paint truck on fire on the highway and traffic was stopped on both sides, so there was nothing to do but sit on the dusty ground in the sun while Dave and Mary took it in turns to play their banjolino and sing. They’d been busking their way from Vancouver. I wandered around chatting to fellow strandees, which was the only way to find out what was going on as there was no Internet service. The owner of the gas station said I could camp there if I wanted as the last road blockage had been for ten hours. So five hours later, although the road had newly reopened, I pulled the Scamp into what I thought would be a quiet corner of the lot about a football field away from the gas station. Mary came to tell me they were heading off and confided that she wanted to break up with Dave. “Are you OK?” I asked. “You can leave him now and travel on with me” but she assured me she was safe and would leave him when they arrived back home in Toronto. And so my Goths set off.
 
Sarah was tired and I was tired and I had no desire to join the nose-to-tail traffic. We went to bed. Then the rain began. First, a gentle pattering of random drops on the Scamp’s roof, followed by an insistent drumming which made patterns over our heads. This was home, I thought, lying safe and warm in bed with rain pounding on the roof. It reminded me of the sound of monsoon rain crashing onto the corrugated tin roof of my childhood home in Africa. I curled up with Sarah and fell asleep to the rain’s music. 
 
The rain fell all night and container trucks arrived all night and hummed and snorted around us and the dawn light revealed that we were surrounded by a sea of semis who had kindly left us just enough space to sneak out.
 
So it rained from then on.  I drove by the burned-out hulk of the paint truck that had caused all the trouble but missed the photo-op as the traffic cop impatiently waved me on.
 
A few hours later my phone rang: “This is a courtesy call from CVS pharmacy” and I thought, wow! I have phone service! Maybe I am close to the American border. So I called my best girlfriend in Minneapolis and we managed to chat for a few minutes before my phone went dead again. Home can be a good friend on the other end of a phone. 
 
Heigh ho, the wind and the rain/A foolish thing is but a toy/And the rain it raineth every day.
 
Feste’s song from William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night: sung by countertenor Alfred Deller
 
Feste's Song[]
When that I was but a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain, it raineth every day.
 

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