ah, minnesota. how I’ve missed you. your fresh air and clean lakes. your two-lane highways and smog-less sky. your predictable drivers and endless trees. your late spring, free of mosquitos.
thank you for your memorial day weekend cabin getaways. thank you for your lakes. your booooats, tubes, and waterskis. your docks and views. there are still places where peace and quiet exist.
thank you for your baaagels. your open fields. your sudden downpours. your never-ending construction and top-notch medical care.
thank you for having no sales tax on clothes. thank you for your niceness. your new target field and old homes. thank you for your yoga. in this past week I’ve practiced to justin bieber, bob marley, the beatles, and ludacris. thank you.
thank you for your humid days and starry nights. your porches and bonfires. thank you for your small-town feel next door to big city lights.
minnesotans like to say that the winters here are so brutal to keep the weaklings out. they also know that minnesota is a neatly kept secret. underneath the occasional blizzards and below zero temps is a hidden treasure. I’m biased, of course, having grown up here. but it doesn’t bother me when people call minnesota a fly-over state or think it’s just full of farms and cows. because I know something they don’t.