Ticks are most active from mid-May through mid-July.
- Walk in the center of trails.
- Conduct frequent strip searches.
- Tweeze ’em and torch ’em.
Hello! My name is Kahla Statema, and if you can’t pronounce my name, it’s Kayla Stat-uh-mah. I’m the new intern at Perfect Duluth Day and also the face behind the PDD Instagram.
I am a journalism major with a minor in photography at UMD, and what some would call a “fourth-year sophomore.” I’ve always been a writer and used mediums such as poems and short stories to express myself when I was a kid. I enjoy writing stories on just about anything, but my number one dream is to become a freelance travel writer. If you would like to take a look at my personal work, check out my online portfolio.
Follow PDD on Instagram at @perfectduluthday and get ready for a great summer in Duluth!
I’ll be moving to Duluth this summer to take a job at UMD, and I’m seeking advice about finding apartments to rent. I’m looking for a nice and well-kept one- or two-bedroom place, pet friendly. Any tips about which rental companies to avoid, which are reliable, average prices and what you get for it, neighborhoods, how to avoid bad apartments that look good online, or tips about good places coming available? Thanks!
In an age of dire news the term “permaculture” may seem optimistic. Still, what might have been the province of raving hair-shirts not long ago now looks to be among our sanest alternatives to hegemony. Permaculture is an organizing principle of practices that assert systemic, creative approaches to the reuse of natural resources to sustain both people and native animals on a local scale. The Arrowhead is fortunate to have a concentration of people at the forefront of this movement, and the attached links are well-worth following.
MPR News is running a series this week featuring photos by St. Paul native John Vachon, who worked for the Farm Service Administration and Office of War Information. From 1938 to 1943 he documented American life and how relief programs were helping those struggling through the Great Depression.
The image above is the only Duluth photo, but there are a few Iron Range and Beltrami County gems.
A look at Bunyan territory in 1939
Minneapolis’ milling history through John Vachon’s lens
Twin Cities streets at the end of the Depression
John Vachon captures Minnesota at work, 1939-1941
John Vachon captures Minnesota farm life at Depression’s end
Hey! A little late here with the news, but The Duluth Grill Cookbook has been picked up by Barnes & Noble in all Minnesota and Wisconsin stores. This is fun. My favorite news appearance was in Madison, not the least because they told me right at the last minute they’d love to see a cooking demo. I was not prepared for a cooking demo.
I recently saw the the work of Duluthian Shannon Hickok Cousino, including this piece.
My first thought is that I am drawn to it because it reminds me of other, iconic imagery — like the paintings of Ophelia (paintings by Millais and Waterhouse, below). These are the “tragic woman” of literature rendered as a beautiful tragedy. Almost so beautiful they are hard to imagine as tragic. Without a doubt, we have aestheticized the suffering of Ophelia, of women, repeatedly.
“Now we Float” makes no attempt to aestheticize the tragedy (at least, if by that, we mean erase suffering and replace it with flowers and outstretched hands).
Even as she floats, the figure in “Now we Float” does not break the surface. The surface weighs upon her. A friend of mine called it “weight of insurmountable pressure” — the kinds of pressures that crush someone, inside or out. I am remembering here the Pipher books about Ophelia that were so powerful in the 1990s.
But is the woman in Cousino’s work tragic? “Now we Float,” as a title, speaks to a kind of agency, even in death. As opposed to the scene captured on film (perhaps a scene of floundering, struggling, drowning, beneath those pressures), now, we float. Now, we simply rise to the surface. There is a simple clarity in that title, one that both underscores and undermines the tragedy, I think. No longer struggling, she floats. No longer struggling, though, she fails, still, to break the surface.