Wannaskan Almanac

And here is the Wannaskan Almanac with Word-Wednesday for November 20, 2024, the forty-seventh Wednesday of the year, the ninth Wednesday of fall, the third Wednesday of November, and the three-hundred-twenty-fourth day of the year, with forty-one days remaining.   Wannaska Phenology Update for November 20, 2024 Wild turkey Meleagris gallopavo is a Minnesota DNR success story, with rising populations over the last 25 years, and now a common sight along Thompson and other forest roads of Beltrami Island State Forest. The males, gobblers, are black or gray with tiny head, red neck, and wattle [/WÄ-tᵊl/ n., a fleshy pendulous process usually about the head or neck (as of a bird)], and the females, hens, are brownish-gray. Turkeys eat almost anything they can catch, including ferns, grasses, grain, buds, berries, insects, acorns, and even frogs and snakes. Wild turkeys form flocks of six to forty birds that roost in trees each evening. In 1782, the turkey lost by a single vote to the bal

578 Butz' Chan [Smoke Snake] aged 15 becomes the 11th ruler of the Maya city of Copán.  He will go on to rule for 49 years.  Whenever challenged he would attack people, much like his brother Jackie, and kick their butz! 1367 League of Cologne goes against Danish king Waldemar IV.  I am pretty sure that the victory was secured using Axe cologne.   The body spray for medieval knights! 1493 Christopher Columbus first reaches Puerto Rico, inhabited by the Taíno on his 2nd voyage to the Caribbean.  Wannaskan Almanac archivists uncovered the following poem written about this event: In fourteen hundred and ninety three Columbus crossed an ocean of pee This poem never did catch on, for obvious reasons.   1873 William Magear Tweed "Boss Tweed", of Tammany Hall (NYC) convicted of defrauding city of $6M, sentenced to 12 years' imprisonment.  Of course he would have been considered innocent if he had just run for Congress first. Timing is all that separates a criminal from a cong

  Weltschmerz - oooh, that hard stop T sound, followed by the scary, schmeery z at the end, captures the world-weariness I’ve been feeling these days, and I’m grateful for the rough, pointed edge of a word that expresses disappointment. Unsurprisingly, the stuff of life often wields the sword of getting what we don’t want and raises the question of how we care for our hearts and minds when hopes come crashing down. Some rant and rave; I tend to shut down. I think I’m fine but slowly realize I don’t feel much of anything, and float behind a sheer yet steely wall. Safe there for a while, I gradually absorb the shock of what overwhelms me. I shift, shed tears of disappointment, and I might even slide into rage before I come to long enough to wonder how I will walk the shadows of a losing streak, how I might pick my way through the rubble of hopes dashed without tripping, breaking my neck, or falling into a black hole. After the smoke clears a bit, I take refuge in the wisdom of poetry. Po

  We study a foreign language in school, but are bashful speaking it to a native. Even with a child it’s like playing tennis against a pro, though the child will not mock us for our bad accent.  Heart in mouth I cling to the cliff face, inching along the same mountain path the sherpa trots down every day to milk the yaks.  When I contemplate the universe I feel like a child in a great museum: astronomy this way, geology that, biology over there...and all this just in the gift shop. When we love too much at the start A retreat is often required  Better let time do its work  To each other be slow tastes acquired  We’re advised to examine our worries to realize they’re not as bad as we thought.  But how do you examine a thick fog? Perhaps from a jet on its way to the Caribbean. Old age is like the beater I rented on a tourist island. The clutch slipped, it lacked power, and my exhaust grossed out the passengers.  The young leave Facebook because it’s not cool and move to social sites adul

Hello and welcome to a Twin Cities-sunny Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is November 16th.  I'm hosting a writing retreat with a group of incredible writers gearing up for the publication leg of their writing journey.  Poet Craig Arnold was born on this day and in 2009 went missing in Japan. You can read his bio here . Here's an Arnold poem I find both playful and poignant. Uncouplings Play Audio By  Craig Arnold There is no I in  teamwork but there is a  two maker there is no I in  together but there is a  got three a  get to her the I in  relationship is the  heart I slip on a lithe prison in all  communication we  count on a mimic ( I am not uncomic ) our  listening skills are  silent killings there is no we in  marriage but a  grim area there is an I in  family also  my fail Source:  Poetry  (October 2008)