Thursday April 28: Rain, mainly between 10am and 4pm

    Saturday April 23rd'’s forecast was for rain with possible thunderstorms. We weren’t surprised. It hadn’t been a typically pleasant April in northwest Minnesota anyway; more like January, February, March and April all rolled into one with “Chances of rain and snow; then snow mixed with rain; a chance of rain and snow before 7pm, then a chance of snow between 7pm and 10pm. Mostly cloudy, with a low around 20. Blustery, with a north northwest wind 18 to 24 mph, with gusts as high as 37 mph. Chance of precipitation is 50%.”

    Joe, Pete, and I still went to the 2022 Gud-rudge smelt fry to see just different field ponds and seas of mud. We weren't disappointed because we knew exactly what to expect: a few unidentifiable people around muddy pickups with wet rusty-looking articles in them like small outboard motors, riding lawnmowers, and stovepipe sections. 

    They didn't disappoint; there was just a handful of people in elevator caps and tuques walking around muddy vehicles looking at their cellphones. They were all wearing dark-colored chore jackets, hoodies, and knee boots, (strangely not an article of bright colored clothing in the bunch). Granted, there was no 'action' happening like in previous years when the sun would come out all weekend, and hundreds of people of all ages gamboled about the merchandise answering the call of the auctioneers. 

    In fact, we didn't see one auctioneer at all -- except a Gud-drudge Lion's member, and his apron-wearing cohort, heading into the Gud-rudge Municipal Liquore Store to hawk a huge slab of smoked side pork he had slung over his shoulder. The Muni was where most of the people were gathered, waiting for the Lions quonset doors to open and the smelt fry to begin.

    We drove around and around the auction area, mainly because Joe didn't want to get his car stuck in the mud. Stopping for any length of time in the brown/black ooze would've been disastrous in his low clearance Corolla. The best place to park was on the street across from the Muni -- a short walk for us old guys when the time came. 

   "Well, we might as well go in for a refreshment," I suggested, and all agreed. It was a good time of day to go into a bar for three old men. No one pays any attention to you and barmaids call us 'Honey' and smile kindly at us. Best of all, Joe bought the round. Thanks Joe.

    After a few minutes, Joe looked at his phone, and pointed to it indicating it was time to go. He gulped the last of his Coca Cola; and hurriedly headed out the door to the smelt fry, carefully choosing his way  between parked cars and around ice-fringed mini-lakes of pond water encircled with yellow crime-scene caution tape. "Hooyah! Let's get this party started ..."

    But probably not. Crowd levels were 'way below from before Covid restrictions wiped out all these community events across the region. There were empty chairs at the many empty tables and the noise level hadn't reached 'din'. People across the tables spoke normal volume; there was room to squeeze between chairs.

    We were 'full' before we knew it, and had decided to leave with no argument from anyone, when we were pleasantly surprised to be visited by our friend Putsy (Pootsy) from Hazel, the former proprietress of Johnny's Cafe in Thief River Falls, where Joe and I go to eat breakfast on our infamous Bott'l Runs, to recycle glass. She recognized us and stopped by our table to visit. We had a lot of good laughs and shared news of our lives. Seeing Pootsy, was the best part of our trip; and brought a little sunshine to the otherwise cold cloudy day.