September brings to my heart a great, slightly ridiculous yearning for a true Yooper Autumn. There, September can be felt as the air abruptly chills and the river runs more wildly. Here, in the city, September is business as usual. Labor Day weekend, in the mitten, at least, is the final weekend of summer. Only after one last summer trip to the Cherry Capital or to the end of summer sidewalk festivals will the yellow busses be seen.
This is the season I am most proud to recognize that, even though I will always be a wanderer, I do have roots planted deeply in the rich, dark soils near the Superior Lake.
This weekend, although many hours away, had the feeling of September that I have been craving.
I saw a lot of this:
I stalked some of these:
And I ate a lot of this: