Published April 11, 2004 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
It’s springtime in Hibbing and Molly Dog’s backyard resembles the muddy field where the hippies frolicked in that Woodstock documentary. Only one problem: That’s not mud. Even the rankest hippie would rather obey “The Man” than do a belly flop in our yard.
Spring is the time when the joy of winter’s end mixes with the realization that many tasks were put off during the cold months, among them backyard dog clean-up duty. Below-zero temperatures and foot-deep snow have a nice way of neutralizing doggie deposits. Thus far, I’ve successfully convinced myself that “it’s just fertilizer – it will help the grass.” When the weather gets warmer, I think I’ll change my tune.
It’s easy to be lazy in the springtime. That’s my problem. As soon as it’s warm enough to put away the thick jackets, my commitment to work and chores drops to MTV levels. Is it like this everywhere? It’s autumn in the southern hemisphere. If Bolivia ever wanted to take over the world, now would be the time.
I took my bike out for my inaugural ride of the season. A lot of bikers keep in shape by riding a stationary bike over the winter (or at least tell people that’s what they do). One reminder to others: Real bike rides involve actual movement and a dramatic increase in the likelihood of bonehead accidents. I didn’t fall down during my first ride this year, but I did spend way too much time looking for the TV screen featuring “The A-Team” that I had become accustomed to during my stationary pedaling.
One of my other favorite things about spring is the return of the baseball season. Many people don’t know that I wear Minnesota Twins t-shirts most of the time, in the winter they just happen to be concealed by sweatshirts, dress shirts and the occasional druid uniform (That’s right, I moonlight as a druid). In the springtime, my Twins garb sees sunlight. I’m excited that Doug Mientkiewicz is still playing for the club so I can keep wearing my lucky “Mientkiewicz” jersey, confounding tourists from other countries.
Ice fishers don’t like spring as much as I do. Over the past few weeks, I’ve driven by the O’Brien Reservoir between Nashwauk and Keewatin a few times. Each time, the ice fishermen stretched just one more day out of the season. The first day, I saw a guy sitting on a bucket next to his four-wheeler. The second day, I saw the same guy just sitting on a bucket. Perhaps after that he sent small children or robots out to fish his ice hole. For the next week, he could hover above the ice in some kind of homemade helicopter. Yes, ice fishing enthusiasts will always find a way – we just hope it doesn’t involve a lost truck or dangerous cold water emersion.
Spring ushers in a state of temporary insanity among most of the population. School kids go bonkers. Adults holler things in the street for no reason. Loud music blurts from the speakers of cars with windows down for the first time since Nelly left the rap charts. (Note to rap-consuming public: This means you can stop playing “Hot in Herrrre.”)
Above all else, spring reminds us that we’re not nuts for living in Northern Minnesota. This place can be pretty nice when you can no longer freeze hydrogen on your porch. Enjoy the season – and if you downwind of my backyard, don’t worry; the problem will be addressed any day now.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.