Tag Archives: Northfield MN
Postcard: February 9, 2015
News Flash!: Nancy Soth Publishes New Book, A FIELD GUIDE TO NORTHFIELD
Perhaps you’ve heard the recent buzz about Northfield in the national media and want to know more? Perhaps life has stranded you far from Minnesota, and you’re homesick for Northfield’s mixed habitat of prairie and academe? Whether you are preparing for an actual visit or just a trip down memory lane, you’ll want to have a trusty travel companion.
Nancy Soth, author and long-time Northfield resident, has packaged all the telling details–historically accurate or not–into a charmingly wry, user-friendly field guide.
Fans of Nancy’s earlier book, Fantasy Northfield, have waited thirteen years for this new compilation.
Like its predecessor, A Field Guide to Northfield includes too-true quirky embellishments. You will find ephemeral gems from such sources as the local Police Log, Carleton Security Blotter, and (in a hat tip to social media) Facebook gleanings on the topic of “I’m so Northfield that….!” The inspired Venn diagram on the cover gives graphic expression to the Northfield motto: “Cows, Colleges, and Contentment.”
The two volumes together make a handsome cornerstone to Northfield history. They have a permanent place on my local history shelf, right between Carleton: The First Century and the cookbook Cows in the Kitchen.
The perfect holiday gift for Northfield lovers everywhere, copies of A Field Guide to Northfield can be purchased locally at Content Book Store on Division Street. Out-of-towners can drop Nancy an email for purchasing suggestions: nancy.soth@gmail.com.
(Nancy Soth at a recent pop-up signing at 114 Winona Street!)
Happy Reading!
Magnificent Maples: October 2014
Wherever I went this week, it felt as though I was in a “Maple Street” state of mind. I keep hearing the opening line of a poem I memorized this year, “The Wild Swans at Coole” by W. B. Yeats. The poem begins, “The trees are in their autumn beauty…” No wonder the line reverberates when there is vivid beauty everywhere I turn.
My neighborhood has been filled with glowing leaves this year. Northfield’s actual Maple Street is just a few blocks from my house, and I took most of these photographs on the same day last week. Within a single block, I found yellow, green, red, and orange trees, and every nuanced shade between.
There was a time when I only knew the names of two trees: maple and pine. Years later, I am familiar with, and admire, dozens of other varieties, but there is something about maples of any color, size, or shape of leaf that calls to my heart. This year I am entranced by their choral presence. En masse, they can function like stained glass between the dark leading of trunks and branches.
We think autumn colors are predictable, but are they? It seems to me that each year is distinct. Some years have next to no arboreal fireworks. This year, there must have been an optimal balance of moisture, temperature, and lack of winds and lashing rains. The colors this year took me by surprise, seeming to explode out of nowhere. Whether the sky is grey or milky or burning blue, all of the deciduous trees — and particularly the maples — are brilliant. As this photograph of a mirror in the heart of my home demonstrates, they even radiate their brilliance indoors.
Although I am especially dazzled this year, autumn has, of course, its distinctly elegiac side. Sometimes these maple leaves seem like hand-shaped silk handkerchiefs waving farewell as the growing season drifts out of sight.
Until another Wednesday, wishing you well, 
Happy Christmas and “Winter Walk” (Poem)
In Northfield, the inauguration of the Christmas season is made official by the annual downtown Chamber-of-Commerce-sponsored event called “Winter Walk”. Every year, it seems, it is better attended. This year, I was able to get a few photographs of the last minute preparations along Division Street and in Bridge Square, before the sun went down and I needed to drive Julia to a Mexican Folklorico performance across the icy Cannon River. On a grey afternoon, I was especially attracted to the lighted star and word sculptures in the windows of The Rare Pair/Clothes for Keeps.
Christmas Tree on Bridge Square (2013)
Just before dusk, dozens of volunteers and merchants were transforming the streets, sidewalks, and shops into an inviting place to stroll, sip warm drinks, window shop, and enjoy a communal and light-hearted response to the dark, icy days ahead. The symbol of this transformation is the luminaria.,Winter Walk’s hallmark: humble brown bags, weighted with a little coarse sand, protecting dozens of tiny votive flames from the chill December gusts. As the dark deepens, these stout-hearted and sturdy lights create a welcome and inviting festival of light.
Maddi Miller, a member of the National Honor Society & Northfield High School Class of 2014, volunteers to light luminaria candles set up along Division Street
It is always fun to see the extra sparkle from the shop windows spill out onto the sidewalks and into Division Street.
This year, there was extra sparkle with the with the art of fire and ice brought by Brett Norgaard with frozen luminaria and sculptures.
April Ripka, owner of The Sketchy Artist, Brett Norgaard (ice candle maestro), and Karin Norgaard at Winter Walk 2013
Winter Walk
Even for bees, winter comes far too soon.
No matter the weight of golden honey
stored, essence of a hundred afternoons,
a million flowers. For us, it’s money.
There is never quite enough, though we keep
making it, saving it, or trying to,
as we watch it drain through need, seep
through pockets faster than it can accrue.
Worried about the utility bill,
mortgage, insurance, we walk to bright displays,
all glitter at the bottom of the hill.
Compelled by the season to spend, we’re dazed
by strings of blinking lights, by crunching snow,
the heat and weight of our scratchy wool coats.
At the square, there are people we know
cheerily shaking hands as though seeking votes,
as though it were possible to elect
a “Merry Christmas” for the whole icy town.
We pause, and smile, and say what is correct.
To our surprise, we have less urge to frown.
A group of carolers draws near: a flock
of turkey-red-faced, singing children. Merchants
fling open doors, forget their gilded stock,
come out to see how spirit switches on.
Glad tidings are infectious.We finally don
gaily appareled hearts, admit this time enchants,
and smell the pines, and marvel at the stars,
rejoicing, holding dear all that is ours.
Leslie Schultz
Swag Gallery Mascot
As we move into that timeless span of days, what I always call “the week between the years”, I hope we can each reflect on what went right last year and the new opportunities that are waiting just around the corner.
Wishing you a “Happy Christmas” and a light heart now and always!
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