The Cannon River spills over the dam by the historic Ames Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
WE COME TO THE RIVER. The Cannon River, spilling over the dam by the Ames Mill. Roaring. Churning. Then flowing under the bridge and between the walls of the Riverwalk in downtown Northfield.
Enjoying beverages and time together beside the Cannon River in Bridge Square. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
We come here on a Sunday afternoon, on an April day of temps pushing into the sixties, the sun beaming warmth upon us, upon the land, upon the river. To sit. To walk. To lean toward the river. To simply be outdoors on an exceptionally lovely spring day in southern Minnesota.
The mood feels anticipatory, joyful, as we walk ourselves, and some their dogs, along the riverside path.
Historic buildings hug the Cannon River (and Division Street) in Northfield’s quaint downtown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
I come with my Canon camera in hand. An observer. An appreciator of the sun, the sky, the warmth, the river, the historic buildings, the people and activities happening around me. In some ways, the scene seems Norman Rockwell-ish, Busy, yet tranquil. A slice of small town Americana. Everyday people enjoying each other, nature, the outdoors. Life.
Fishing by the Ames Mill dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Many carry fishing poles, tackle boxes, containers of bait. Anglers press against the riverside railing, dropping lines into the water far below.
Caught in the Cannon, a sucker fish. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
I watch as a young man pulls in an unidentifiable-to-me fish (later identified as a white sucker by my husband). His friend snaps a photo of the proud angler and his first catch of the day.
The top section of the Riverwalk Poetry Steps. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
After hanging around the river by Bridge Square for a bit, I descend the colorful Riverwalk Poetry Steps, a river poem crafted by a collaboration of 17 poets. We come to the river starry-eyed/across bridges reaching out to neighbors/over the river’s rushing waters…
Following the Riverwalk to find a fishing spot along the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
I trail behind a couple, a family, a dog, another family, all of us connected by the water, by this place, on this spring day. I’m the only one to pause and read the poetry.
A family fishes the Cannon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Atop the river wall, young women sit, sans shoes, while they fish. We all watch the river flow. Bobbers bob. A pair of ducks—one pure white—flies low, skimming the water before landing upon the surface of the Cannon.
“Lady Cannon,” a riverside mural by Maya Kenney and Raquel Santamaria. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Across the river, Lady Cannon watches. Fish swim in her tangled waves of locks, flowing like water down steps toward the river. She is the art of the Cannon.
On the pedestrian bridge looking toward the Cannon and the Ames Mill, right in the distance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
I see art, too, in a railing shadowed upon the pedestrian bridge. I linger, mesmerized by the moving water, the riverside historic flour mill a block away.
There’s so much to take in here. So much that connects us. The sun, the sky, the land. And the river that flows beside and below us.
Looking down on the Cannon River from the pedestrian bridge, historic Ames Mill (and dam) in the distance, Riverwalk on each side of the river, where a man fishes, lower left. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
TO WALK ALONGSIDE a river, to watch a river, to hear a river is to experience the arts. A river, with its movement, is like a poetic dance. A river, when roaring over rocks or a dam, is like music. A river, too, is like watercolor flowing fluid and free.
Part of the “Creatures & Features of the Cannon River” art project by Kate Woodstrup and Kathy Larson Ness. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
In Northfield, the Cannon River and art flow one into the other along the Riverwalk in the heart of an historic downtown. This southern Minnesota community, in 2023, highlighted the river and the arts through the Artists on Main Street program. Eight art projects were chosen for these latest public art installments.
Part of the “Meet Me at the River” art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Recently I followed the Riverwalk to see the work of several creative placemaking artists. A $25,000 grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board and $10,000 from the City of Northfield 1% for the Arts Program funded last year’s “Meet Me at the River” artwork.
The popcorn wagon, operated by volunteers from FiftyNorth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
I started at Bridge Square, a community gathering spot along the Cannon. The park centers the downtown business district. It’s a place to picnick, to meet, to buy popcorn from the popcorn wagon, to listen to music or to simply enjoy the outdoors next to the river.
Fishing the Cannon River at the Ames Mill Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Here water rushes over a dam next to the historic Ames Mill. Anglers dangle lines in the water from the Riverwalk. It’s a popular fishing spot. Definitely a “Meet Me at the River” site.
Blue heron art for “Creatures & Features.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Butterflies and plants native to the Cannon River area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Among fish found in the Cannon, striped bass. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Artists Kate Woodstrup and Kathy Larson Ness added their art to Bridge Square via “Creatures & Features of the Cannon River” painted onto 11 plastic barriers that block traffic, keeping the square safe for pedestrians. A striped bass, blue heron, turtle, beavers, deer, frogs, butterflies, a dragonfly, native flowers and grasses, and more showcase life in and along the river. It’s a visual, nature-themed delight appealing to all ages. Part science. Part ecology. Part environmental awareness. Part art.
These “Poem Steps” lead up to Bridge Square, down to the Riverwalk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
From Bridge Square, I aimed north, down the “Poem Steps,” a river poem collaboratively crafted by 17 Northfield poets during a past public arts project. Northfield has a strong community of poets. The city also stamps poetry into concrete as part of the Sidewalk Poetry initiative. The literary arts thrive in this college city.
“Lady Cannon” mural on the west side of the river along the Riverwalk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
The goddess’ hair, like water, spills down steps. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Next up, I spotted a colorful mural across the river. Maya Kenney and Raquel Santamaria created “Lady Cannon,” a water goddess whose flowing blue hair depicts the river. Fish weave into her locks and a heron stands riverside. This personification of the river connects people to the Cannon on a personal level. I crossed the pedestrian bridge for a closer look.
Fishermen line the Riverwalk on a May afternoon to fish the Cannon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
A short distance from “Lady Cannon,” anglers stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder fishing the river.
Fishing next to “River Light,” a mural by Andrew Wykes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Farther down, under the Second Street bridge, a trio of young men dropped lines in the water against backdrop art created by Andrew Wykes. His simplistic abstract mural, “River Light,” captures the movement, color and beauty of the Cannon River.
A sign spotted along the Riverwalk recognizes the Dakota’s homeland. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
The relationship between the river and people stretches back to a time long before these artists added their creative interpretations of the river and river life. A bold sign posted on a second story balcony high above the Cannon reads: WE STAND ON DAKOTA HOMELAND. Long before we became “Meet Me at the River,” the Dakota found, followed, fished this river. I appreciate the reminder that Indigenous Peoples were the original inhabitants of this land along the Cannon. They wrote the poetry, heard the music, watched the water dance, experienced the art of the river long before me, long before “Meet Me at the River.”
Fishing at the dam by Father Slevin Park in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
RIVERS REEL US IN, like fish to bait. There’s something about water, especially a river. It’s mesmerizing, soothing, poetic and, right now, rather dangerous.
The rushing Straight River, photographed just off the Straight River Trail near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Recent days found me watching the two rivers—the Cannon and the Straight—which flow through Faribault. They are full to overflowing, muddied and rushing after significant rainfall dropped an unofficial 3.5 inches into my rain gauge over the weekend. That followed weeks of heavy rain.
On the day I photographed this dock at Two Rivers Park, it was nearly submerged by the Straight and Cannon Rivers, which meet here. The dock typically sits high above the water. In retrospect, I should have stayed off this dock, which doesn’t seem all that safe. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024.
The City of Faribault has closed a section of a recreational trail running under the Second Avenue bridge due to flooding from the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
River levels are high, replenished after a near snow-less winter and the drought of 2023. But enough is enough. We need consistent sunshine and for the rain to stop. And for people to take extra care around fast-moving rivers.
Muddy marks on this plant show how high the roiling Straight River rose, just off the Straight River Trail near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The Rice County Sheriff’s Department has advised people to be cautious on local waterways and to stay off the Cannon River. Six young people and three adults were recently rescued from the Cannon after their canoes and kayaks overturned. I saw drone footage of rescuers plucking people from the river. They were wearing life jackets, clinging to fallen trees. They got out alive. They were fortunate.
Fallen trees and limbs like these in the Straight River near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park present a hazard to anyone on the water. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Local rivers are snagged with obstacles, especially trees downed by a 2018 tornado. The current is fast, the water swift-moving, dangers hidden below the surface. Watercraft can easily capsize, turning an outing into tragedy or near tragedy.
Fishing the muddy Cannon River at Two Rivers Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I observed anglers safely fishing along the river bank at Two Rivers Park, above the dam by North Alexander Park and by the Woolen Mill Dam. These have always been popular fishing spots in town, although at Two Rivers most people fish from the dock. That was nearly under water when I stopped by. I didn’t visit the King Mill Dam, but I anticipate anglers were lining the shoreline there also.
The Cannon River is high and swift-moving at Two Rivers Park. The park was the staging scene for a recent water rescue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
An abandoned bobber tossed into the water where the Cannon and Straight rivers converge showed just how swift the current. I have no doubt the river could quickly pull a person under who’d fallen from a canoe or kayak.
Relaxing along the Cannon River in North Alexander Park, the Faribault Woolen Mill on the opposite shoreline. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
The iconic, historic Faribault Mill sits aside the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
This photo taken several days ago shows the minimal drop over the Woolen Mill dam, with raging river below.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
It’s easy enough to get misled by the water. Sit aside the wide stretch of the Cannon before it spills over two dams and the scene looks tranquil. The water’s surface is smooth, reflecting sky and trees and the historic woolen mill. But when the water spills over the dams, it transforms into something muddy and menacing, not to be messed with.
The scenic Cannon River and dam near the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Respect the rivers, I say, even if it is tempting to launch a canoe or ease into a kayak. River levels will drop in due time as summer unfolds. There will be ample opportunity to get on the water, to enjoy the river scenery, to delight in the natural beauty of Mni Sóta, Dakota for “land of sky tinted waters.”
Ice fishing themed neon art advertises Grain Belt beer, made by August Schell Brewing Co. in New Ulm, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2024)
IN THE UPSTAIRS ROOM of a small town southern Minnesota bar, I found myself drawn to the neon beer signs decorating the dark walls underscored by corrugated tin. The signs add an element of kitschy art to this space at The R Bar in Randolph where a group gathered for a holiday work party, Randy and I among them.
Ice anglers on Union Lake, rural Faribault, fish in the open on a sunny winter afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Next to the slim cooler holding an assortment of mass-produced beers and a few other drinks, I spotted neon signage that is about as Minnesotan as it gets—a bundled up ice fisherman pulling a fish through a hole in the ice, beer beside him.
Ice fishing on the Cannon River near the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2023)
Winter in Minnesota, if this would be a typical winter, finds anglers pulling fish houses onto lakes or sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets to fish through holes drilled in the ice. But this has not been a usual winter here with temps (before this week) above normal and many lakes remaining open rather than frozen over. Several weeks ago, 122 anglers had to be rescued after ice broke away from the shore on Upper Red Lake in northern Minnesota. Following that, law enforcement officials restricted motorized vehicles from driving onto the lake until the ice consistently thickens to support motor vehicle traffic.
Ice fishing shacks are set up like a mini village on Lake Mazaska west of Faribault in Shieldsville. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I recognize this all sounds a bit odd to anyone unfamiliar with ice fishing. Vehicles, and we’re not talking just recreational vehicles, we’re talking mostly pick-up trucks, are driven onto the ice as anglers head for the hot fishing spots on our frozen lakes.
I myself engaged in the sport of ice fishing some 40 years ago, pre-children. Randy and I would sit inside his friend Jerry’s small ice shack warmed by a portable heater, play cards, drink beer and drop our lines into holes drilled through the ice. As the hours passed, we watched for our bobbers to tip in the frigid lake water, indicating a bite. I don’t remember catching many fish. But I recall the unsettling noise of cracking ice as Randy drove his Chevy pick-up truck across the icy lake and as we huddled inside the tight ice fishing hut.
The interior of an ice fishing house/camper, photographed several years ago at a sports show in Owatonna. Remove the lids and drop your line into the water on a frozen lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Much has changed through the decades. Fish houses have grown in size to almost mini cabins complete with kitchens and bunks to sleep overnight. This is a serious sport, big business in Minnesota. Of course, for those with more limited resources, tent-like pop-up portable fish houses remain an affordable option as does sitting on a cooler or a bucket under the winter sky.
A pop-up portable fish house at Pawn MN in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I doubt I will ever return to ice fishing. It doesn’t appeal to me like it did those winters, oh, so long ago. And I don’t trust the ice like I did back in the day when I was younger, less prone to considering ice thickness and safety. I’ve lived enough Minnesota winters to believe the warning, “No ice is ever completely safe.”
Drilling a hole in the frozen Cannon River to fish near the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
But I still celebrate ice fishing and its importance in Minnesota. It’s a favorite winter pastime/sport, especially for guys who seem intent on bonding over beers. It’s an important part of tradition and of our economy.
And, on this January evening, ice fishing is also an art form. I found it, here in The R Bar, the neon image of an ice fisherman glowing in this space of pool tables, tabletop shuffleboard, dart boards, high-top tables, a shiny wood-grain bar top, and a slim cooler holding Minnesota-made Grain Belt and other beer. This is winter in Minnesota, defined not by the light snow falling outside the bar, but by a neon symbol of fishing through a hole drilled in a frozen lake.
Carting ice fishing gear across the snow-covered Cannon River by the Faribault Mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
ICE FISHING RATES AS A SPORT that must seem absurd to anyone living in a warm weather climate.
The second portable fish house the anglers set up on the Cannon River near the mill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
I mean, if you aren’t from a place like Minnesota or Wisconsin, how would you react to anglers driving their vehicles onto a frozen lake, fish houses in tow? That seems reckless and unsafe and dangerous, and it can be. No ice is ever considered 100 percent safe. But, take precautions like knowing your lake (or river) and its ice thickness, driving with windows rolled down and carrying safety equipment, and the sport can be relatively safe.
A view of the dam and frozen Cannon River from the recreational trail in North Alexander Park. There are two dams in this location, one next to the woolen mill and then this one. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
Still, this time of year and with the particularly snowy winter we’ve had in Minnesota, ice fishing right now doesn’t seem all that safe to me. Snow acts like a blanket, insulating the ice, resulting in thinner, inconsistent and weaker ice. Decades have passed since I engaged in the sport so I am not writing from current day experience, only from basic knowledge.
Drilling a hole in the frozen river near the top of the Woolen Mill Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
Sunday afternoon while out and about in Faribault, I came upon three guys with ice fishing equipment on the frozen Cannon River Reservoir by the Woolen Mill Dam. As I watched, I hoped they knew what they were doing because I didn’t feel all that confident in the strength of the river ice with water flowing below.
I can almost hear the discussion about where to drill holes in the ice. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
But I appreciated that they were out enjoying the 30-degree sunny afternoon, warm enough even to shed their gloves and heavy coats. They’d already set up two portable fish houses by the time I arrived at North Alexander Park. I stood there and observed as the trio carried ice auger, ice saw, and scoop shovel and towed a sled with fishing gear across the snow-covered river. I was uncertain whether they were spearing for or simply angling for fish. Turns out neither.
Local avid outdoorsman and columnist Larry Gavin clarified: Those guys were actually netting carp. The net is stretched from one tent to the other using a hook and a series of holes. They were checking to see if the location was a good one. Every year they net Wells Lake and get a semi tanker full of carp that are shipped overnight to Chicago. There is a high demand for carp as a food source in some ethnic dining.
Turning the ice auger into the ice to create a hole. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
It was such an iconic Minnesota winter scene, the fishermen in their camouflage attire, a visual clue that they are year-round sportsmen. I can only imagine the camaraderie, the BS, the anticipation of these friends as they searched for fish.
A sled trail across the river to the portable fish house. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
I loved the way their sled left a snaking trail across the Cannon, almost like a line of poetry winding through the snow, writing of winter outdoors, of fish tales, of ice fishing in Minnesota.
Animal tracks through the snow below the Cannon River dam nearest the recreational trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2023)
FYI:The ice fishing season is winding down in Minnesota. All dark houses, fish houses and portables must be off inland lakes by the end of the day beginning on March 6 in the southern two-thirds of the state and by March 20 in the northern third. You can still ice fish, just can’t leave houses unattended. Local officials can set different restrictions if unsafe conditions call for such action.
Fishing at the base of the Lake Zumbro Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
WATER RUSHES IN A SHEET over the dam, a powerful wall of water spilling from the 600-acre Lake Zumbro reservoir into the river below by Mac’s Park Place & Campground in rural Mazeppa.
An overview of the dam and fishing area next to Mac’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Mac’s Park Place by the Zumbro River and dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
The 100-plus year-old powerhouse. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Until several months ago, I was unaware of this hydroelectric generating plant along the Zumbro River in southeastern Minnesota. But Randy and I discovered the Rochester Public Utilities facility after turning off Wabasha County Road 21 onto a gravel road that led us to Mac’s at the base of the dam.
The Lake Zumbro hydroelectric dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
I stood in awe of this structure with a spillway spanning 440 feet and a height of 55 feet. Constructed beginning in 1917 and operating since 1919 under ownership of the RPU, this hydroelectric generating plant is on the National Register of Historic Places. It’s truly an amazing feat of engineering and construction. Renowned engineer Hugh L. Cooper led the project.
A hillside of trees hugs the bank of the Zumbro River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Not only are the dam and powerhouse impressive, but so is the natural setting in the backwoods of the river valley. Here trees fill the hillside across the Zumbro from Mac’s. In the greening of spring, when we visited, the scene was wild, scenic, beautiful. I expect autumn would yield a hillside flaming in color.
Fishing below the Lake Zumbro Dam on a Saturday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
An angler’s gear, beverages, etc. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Fishing along the grassy river bank. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
On a Saturday afternoon in May, anglers angled for fish in the placid river, the roaring dam nearby, dwarfing their size. Access to this seemingly popular fishing spot comes via Mac’s, which charges a fee for non-campers.
Fishing near that powerful wall of rushing water. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Angling in the Zumbro River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
There’s power here, in this wall of water. I heard it, saw it, felt it.
This rock formation in the Zumbro River caught my eye. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
But then I experienced the power, too, that comes with this natural setting. The power to quiet the spirit in the placid river, the rock formations, the tree-filled hillside… The Zumbro River can be harnessed, but not tamed. There’s an undeniable wildness in this place that yields peace.
A quick snapshot I took of Mac’s Park Place roadside sign through the passenger side window of our van. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
BACK COUNTRY ROADS often lead to interesting discoveries. Places that reveal America at its grassroots basic. Such is the road leading to Mac’s Park Place. And such is Mac’s.
It was the homemade sign posted along Wabasha County Road 21, which winds through the Zumbro River Valley, that caught the attention of Randy during a day trip in southeastern Minnesota. I missed the sign sporting an angler and a fish along with a list of all Mac’s offers:
BEER
BURGERS
RV CAMPING
FISHING
PULL TABS
That roadside signage was enough to make Randy reverse course and aim down a gravel road to Mac’s Park Place along 406th Avenue, rural Mazeppa. The restaurant/bar/campground is located between Mazeppa and Oronoco along the Zumbro River.
This is an area lovely in natural beauty. Winding river. A bit of backwoods wild. The ideal setting for a place like Mac’s, perhaps not widely-known to those without connections to the area.
Check back to see what I saw along the route to Mac’s, and then at Mac’s. I wondered at some point if we should continue on, not quite knowing what we were driving into…
A wide view of the frozen Cannon River and dam adjacent to the Rice County Fairgrounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
THE SHIFT IN SEASONS seems subtle. But it’s there. In the lengthening of days. In brilliant sunshine that cuts through snowbanks, streams of water flowing and puddling. Iced rivers, too, are beginning to thaw.
Signage marks this park just off Second Avenue on Faribault’s north side. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Fishing where the Cannon and Straight Rivers meet in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
At the convergence of the Straight and Cannon Rivers, an angler fishes in the open water. His orange stocking cap covered by his hooded sweatshirt layered beneath black coveralls jolt color into an otherwise muted landscape. Randy and I watch as he reels in a large fish, then unhooks and plops it onto the snow. A northern, Randy guesses. We watch for awhile, content to see the river flow, sun glinting upon the surface.
The beautiful open Cannon River at Two Rivers Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
We make our way back to the parking lot, after I pause to photograph the mostly open river sweeping between snowy woods. There’s sometime serene about such a scene. Peaceful, even as traffic drones by on nearby Second Avenue.
Pedestrian bridge over the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
On the trail, we cross bridges constructed of uneven angled boards that always trip me. I pause to peer into the river.
Ice rings a pedestrian bridge support post in the otherwise open river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Birdsong, a sure auditory sign of spring’s approach, resounds as I lean over the bridge railing to see the open water below. Both hint of winter’s retreat.
Animal tracks remind me of tic-tac-toe. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Far below I observe animal tracks crossing the snow in a tic-tac-toe pattern leading to water’s icy edge.
Following the Straight River Trailalongside the former vegetable canning company. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Curving along the path near the former Faribault Foods canning company, stationary boxcars sidle against the building.
Boxcar graffiti. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Graffiti colors the boxcar canvases.
Biking the Straight River Trail in March. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
We walk for awhile, then retrace our steps. Randy warns of an approaching cyclist and we step to the right of the trail in single file. “Hi, Randy,” the guy on the fat tire bike shouts as he zooms past. We look at each other. His identity remains a mystery.
The scenic Cannon River snakes toward the Straight River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Back on the bridges, I pause again to view the Cannon River snaking across the landscape like a pencil path following a maze. More photographs.
Randy follows the tunnel under Second Avenue toward North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Before heading home, we divert briefly toward North Alexander Park, taking the tunnel under the Second Avenue bridge where, on the other side, the scene opens wide to the frozen, snow-layered river. In warm weather, anglers fish here, below the dam in open water.
Picnic shelter at Father Slevin Park by the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
Now the place is mostly vacant, just like the riverside picnic shelter.
Shadowing of the trailside fence outside the tunnel. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2022)
By now we are cold, ready to conclude our afternoon jaunt. As I stride downhill toward the tunnel, I notice shadows of fence slats spaced upon the concrete. Art to my eyes. I stop, photograph the fence and fence shadows as they arc. Even in this moment, I see signs of spring along the river, beneath the blue sky.
AHEAD OF US while entering Morristown, orange flashed as three boys dashed across a county road to the side of a bridge.
Their presence here impressed me on a late November Sunday afternoon of temps hovering around 35 degrees. I wouldn’t be out in these brutal elements angling for fish in the Cannon River. But I suppose when you’re dressed in insulated pants and snow pants and warm coats and boots and other cold weather gear, the temp is tolerable.
And I suppose there’s something to be said, too, for the endurance and exuberance of youth. While I thought the boys a bit too dedicated to fish on a frigid day like this in southern Minnesota, I respected their decision. Here they were, outdoors, and not sitting in front of a screen. In today’s tech-focused age, that’s something.
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