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Johnny Ratcliffe, age 11-1/2, and his Dad Steve are surf buddies.


I'm Off To Minneapolis January 27th

I'm doing an author appearance at the American Booksellers Association's Winter Institute on January 29, 2017. It's a reception at 5PM that day, where authors meet booksellers. I'll be talking about our forthcoming book, Small Homes: The Right Size, and handing out copies of Tiny Homes.  http://www.bookweb.org/wi2017/winter-institute

I'm going there a few days early to explore around the Twin Cities. Any advice on things to do there?

And, as of about a half hour ago, it looks like after the event, I'll drive the next day to Grand Marais and visit folks at the North House Folk School, and do some kind of presentation there.

***

I'm gonna get together a state of the state at our publishing company and of what I've been doing lately, now that the book is off to the printers. I've cut down a lot on my posts in the last year, what with now using Instagram, and finishing my 1st book in 3 years, but I have a bit of posting to do soon. Stay tuned.

Chris Thile and Mark O'Connor Play the Blues

#sunset in the #woods #wintersolstice shortest day of year, 4:58 PM



For 40 Years, This Russian Family Was Cut Off From All Human Contact, Unaware of World War II

"The Lykovs lived in this hand-built log cabin, lit by a single window “the size of a backpack pocket” and warmed by a smoky wood-fired stove." 

"As the intruders scrambled up the mountain, heading for the spot pinpointed by their pilots, they began to come across signs of human activity: a rough path, a staff, a log laid across a stream, and finally a small shed filled with birch-bark containers of cut-up dried potatoes. Then, Pismenskaya said:
Beside a stream there was a dwelling. Blackened by time and rain, the hut was piled up on all sides with taiga rubbish—bark, poles, planks. If it hadn’t been for a window the size of my backpack pocket, it would have been hard to believe that people lived there. But they did, no doubt about it…. Our arrival had been noticed, as we could see.
The low door creaked, and the figure of a very old man emerged into the light of day, straight out of a fairy tale. Barefoot. Wearing a patched and repatched shirt made of sacking. He wore trousers of the same material, also in patches, and had an uncombed beard. His hair was disheveled. He looked frightened and was very attentive…. We had to say something, so I began: ‘Greetings, grandfather! We’ve come to visit!’
The old man did not reply immediately…. Finally, we heard a soft, uncertain voice: ‘Well, since you have traveled this far, you might as well come in.’"
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/for-40-years-this-russian-family-was-cut-off-from-all-human-contact-unaware-of-world-war-ii-7354256/?utm_source=keywee-facebook.com&utm_medium=socialmedia&utm_campaign=keywee&kwp_0=277985&kwp_4=1099726&kwp_1=510127
From Rick Gordon