Fifty Degrees Of Separation
Soon, in just a few weeks, springtime will come to Minneapolis in a rush of growth, pushing back the stark outlines of the leafless woods. There will come the explosion of green and residents will recall that poem by Frost.
Then it will be one of the best places, all warmth and color, but not today.
Sunrise this morning reveals a white landscape and the wind whines past my hotel window. The snow doesn't drift, it streams by horizontally, like it's late for some important meeting.
Exhibitors at Top Shop are bundled up and shivering. Skaters stand around in hooded knots, blowing into their hands. Inside it's packed and warmer, bearable. It's a successful event with stoked kids and a good vibe.
Six hours later, in one of those moments when I'm floored by the miracle of air travel, I step out into an 80-degree San Diego twilight. Less than an hour later I'm eating a burger at Moonlight beach surrounded by bonfires, my daughters running around in their swimsuits, my shoes still wet from the morning snow.
The white and cold sunrise. Temp: 32 degrees, wind 25 mph with blowing snow.
Top Shop action.
Tumyeto President Tod Swank with 3rd Lair Co-Owner Mark Muller.
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