Ninety

For the topic of this week’s blog entry, I have two options. I could write about the dead fox in my garage, or I could write about my mom’s birthday party. On the off chance that someone from my family might actually look at my website, I thought it better to write...

Sense of Place

Every October I Skype with a class of graduate students from Western Carolina University. My book Rediscovering Dewey is required reading for their course, and the instructor welcomes the chance for his students to have a conversation with the author. Before our...

Maple Syrup in Bourbon Casks

Manyu’s friend Shu is back in China to visit her elderly parents, so her husband Stefan is on his own for a couple of months. On Wednesday we had him over for dinner. Manyu fried up fresh bluegill fillets and made a beef stew in her multipurpose rice cooker.  After...

Below the Surface II

The Upper Mississippi River is not as muddy as some people think. If the surface of the water is calm, I can usually see down four or five feet. Even then, any lack of clarity is due more to organic matter than to mud. I assume that downstream of its confluence with...

Below the Surface

I have written in various essays that I don’t have to catch fish to enjoy fishing. That is a true statement. I have fun on fishing trips where I never find the fish. I have places on the river I call my secret fishing spots, secret not because they guarantee fish, but...

Rivertown

In July and August I did not get on the Mississippi River even once. I walked along the river almost every day, but never put a boat in the water. Last Wednesday I finally went fishing from my canoe and, with the first cast, wondered why I’d waited so long.  I...
Steven Simpson