Wannaskan Almanac

  The Palmville Globe Volume 2 Number 8 Man Creates Healthy Snack Joe McDonnell, 78 and a resident of Palmville Twp, recently developed a unique snack with all healthy ingredients. "My wife likes nuts, cinnamon and honey on her oatmeal," McDonnell tells the press. "She also likes half a banana. The other morning as I was absentmindedly eating my half of the banana I notice the walnut crumbs on the cutting board and pressed the end of my banana onto the crumbs picking them up. The taste reminded me of a banana split without the ice cream, chocolate syrup and whipped cream. I sprinkled a little cinnamon over the nuts, but skipped the honey." McDonnell was asked if he was going to patent his idea. "No," he replied, "the world needs all the healthy snacks it can get right now." Man Struggles With Air Compressor Joe McDonnell, 78 and a shade tree mechanic, recently inflated a friend's tires to the correct pressure. McDonnell tells reporters, ...

Hello and welcome to a somber Saturday, here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is March 21st. This week, our fellow Wannaskan Almanac writer-in-crime, Catherine Stenzel, aka Jack Pine Savage, passed away. In honor of her life, today's post is an article that Gretchen Mehmel and I wrote about our dear friend, Catherine, in 2016.  Fierce Women of Northwest Minnesota Interview – Part 4 – Catherine Stenzel By Kim Hruba and Gretchen Mehmel               For the last installment of the Fierce Women series, we introduce Catherine Stenzel, the author and inquisitor behind the great question: What is a fierce woman?  “I'm not the last one; there are plenty more out there,” Catherine is quick to point out, “I might even write a book about fierce women in the future.”               With such a rare opportunity to interview the interviewer, the first thing we wan...

  Aerial view of tiny book collection     Teresa was dusting in the library the other day when one of the shelves collapsed. It was the shelf that held our collection of miniature books, so it was surprising that such a light load would collapse. As she put the books back on the shelf, she suggested I write a post about this collection.    I used to be a bibliomaniac. I couldnt go past a bookstore without going in and buying something. I read more catalogues of remaindered books than I read the books themselves. Second-hand bookstores were my skid row.     I didn't collect miniature books on purpose. They were too hard to read.  But as they came in my way, I found a home for them as I would for a stray puppy. I just pulled the collection off the shelf to take a survey. The largest book is Familiar Fossils , followed by The Tale of Benjamin Bunny . I'm not familiar with many fossils but I'm very familiar with Benjamin Bunny.    ...

  wdaeaan, Kathirin وداعاً، كاثرين  

And here is the Wannaskan Almanac with Word-Wednesday for March 18, 2026, the eleventh Wednesday of the year, the thirteenth Wednesday of winter, the third Wednesday of March, and the seventy-seventh day of the year, with two-hundred eighty-eight days remaining. Wannaska Phenology Update for March 18, 2026 Spring Phenology Fever Just two days from now on the spring equinox, Wannaska transforms from a barren, middle-of-nowhere place  into a Nature Party. So much to look forward to as spring unfolds: migrating ed-winged blackbirds, Canada geese, robins, and, of course, hummingbirds; weeping willow buds, flowing tree sap, and the first mushrooms; emerging black bear, chipmunks, skunk, turtles, and peepers. What are your favorite signs of spring? 2026 Ruby-Throated Hummingbird Sightings — It's begun... March 18 Fickle Pickle Wednesday Menu Special : Potato Dumpling March 18 Nordhem Wednesday Lunch : Updated daily, occasionally. Earth/Moon Almanac for March 18, 2026 Sunrise: 7:31am; ...

If you’ve lived in Walnut Bend long enough, you know that the most permanent things we have aren't the buildings—they’re the ghosts of the buildings. We still give directions based on things that haven't existed since a chrome-bumpered ’55 Bel Air was the newest, shiniest dream on the road. "Turn left where the red barn used to be" is a phrase that has guided more people than a GPS ever could, even if there’s nothing left there now but some scorched stones and a memory. The red barn didn’t just burn down in the summer of ’98; it performed a grand exit. In a place where the biggest light at night is usually a bug zapper or the moon hitting a rusted silo, that fire was biblical. It turned the night sky into a bruised orange and made the gravel on the road glow like hot coals. We all stood there—me, my dad, Earl from the store, and about six other families—just watching. There was no fire department to call. Even if there had been, Millersville was 25 miles away. By the ...