March 2022 Newsletter
I was laying face down in about ten inches of water. Thank goodness no one was around as they would have assumed me dead or a lunatic.
It was sometime in August, about 15 years ago. The water I was laying face down in was just below a pool of Spunk Creek. I had picked this spot because it was directly below a low field stone spillway. It seems odd that we call it field stone when it is in a creek? Maybe it’s actually “creek stone”? I digress.
“Why”, you ask, “was I face down in a shallow creek? “
Having grown up along the banks of Spunk Creek and spent many hours and days “in” the creek I had always wanted to explore it below the water with a scuba mask. So this is what I found myself doing on this hot day in August.
As I floated just above the rock, gravel and sand I marveled at the micro-environment that existed just below the water. The bubbles created by the water spilling over and down the rocks as it poured out of the pond filtered the sunlight in a way I had never experienced. In fact everything that I saw that day I saw for the first time, from a perspective never before seen.
While I cast about appreciating every little minute and mundane detail my eye caught something that didn’t belong? It was neither mineral, vegetable or animal? It was too fine, too perfect, too linear - too … unnatural. I reached over and plucked it from the sand with the index and middle finger of my right hand and stood up.
Even through the green, brown, rusty coating I recognized it immediately as a State of Minnesota drivers license. But due to all the hardened slime I could not make out any details. Reaching down for a handful of sand from the creek bottom I used that to rub clean the drivers license.
By now I was fascinated to find out whose it was? What name would appear as applying vinegar to a paper with “invisible” ink on it. It read:
B-622-429-xxx-xxx 1-5-68 Expires
JOHN ALBERT B………….
AVON
MINN 56310
XX-XX-48 BRN GRN 5-10 155
Until age 16 must be accompanied by Driver Education Instructor or Parent or Guardian
(I’ve purposely left out some key personal information)
My mind raced and did some quick math … this drivers license had not “just” been lost! This had been in Spunk Creek for at least 40 years!
And looking at it closer I realized it wasn’t a drivers license but a driver's permit .. given his age and the restriction about being accompanied while driving. I imagined a 15 or 16 year old John running through the creek in the spring after fish. And I bet that is when he lost it! I wonder if he even was after Northerns (illegally) and was being chased by the game warden?
Studying the name and information some more I realized that John B was of the age where he very likely could have been sent to Vietnam? I wondered aloud if he did go, did he make it back?
I tucked the driver's permit in my pocket and headed home.
It was about a week later before I finally tried to track down this John B., thinking maybe he still lived in the area? Nowhere in the phone book could I find a John B. There was however a Jack A. B., so I called him. Figured some John’s end up going by Jack.
On the second ring a voice answered, “This is Jack.”
“Hello, I’m looking for a John B.”, I said.
“Well, my name is John, but everyone calls me Jack”, said Jack.
“Jack, I found something that I think belongs to you”, I replied. And told him about the driver's permit I found, where I found it and when I found it. I did not share with him my hypothesis of how he may have lost it or whether or not he had gone to Vietnam.
“Yer shittin’ me!”, says Jack. And as Jack continued to speak, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up … and it still does everytime I tell this story.
“I lost that right before I was drafted into Vietnam. When I returned I had a hell of a time getting my driver’s license because I had lost that permit. And just last week I was driving down Kreigle Lake Road heading one way and here comes Jimmy Hoffarth the other way. We stopped alongside each other directly over the culvert with Spunk Creek running through it and beneath us. We talked about the old times, when we were young. I asked him if he remembered that time we were spearing Northerns out of season and got chased by the Game Warden. And I lost my driver's permit! Remember that?”, I said to Jimmy.
This time it was my turn, “Yer shittin me!”, I said to Jack.
“Nope. Say, I’d kinda like to get that back.”, Jack asked.
It took several years for a host of reasons, none of them very good, but I did finally get Jack his driver’s permit back … nearly 50 years later. He is a delightful bachelor, living life completely on his own terms with two black labs, a grin on his face and a devilish twinkle in his eye.
I’m glad he made it back from Vietnam, especially when so many did not. And I told him that.
Jack was drawn to the creek as a young person in exactly the same way and for many of the same reasons I was, though I did not actually spear Northerns out of season. Though it was tempting and I did think about it.
Our experiences of being drawn to the creek in our youth were separated by two decades, but we are only recent visitors to this special place. Native peoples have been visiting this landscape, this specific and special place within the Avon Hills for thousands of years.
The season when the Northerns, walleye, suckers, carp and other species run up the creek is nearly upon us. Spunk Creek is unique in this part of the country in that it is a fast moving creek, it bends, shoots and curves as it finds its way among the hills as it has for thousands of years. Fish runs and their spawning season often coincides with Maple Syruping, so if you’re fortunate you’ll experience both.
We hope that you will find the time to also come and see for yourself what is so special and what has spoken to so many for so long as they walk along the banks of Spunk Creek, and maybe in it too.
Hope to see you at the Folk School.
Garden Hod Class Reflections
February 20
As the eager woodworkers gathered at Art in Motion for the Avon Hills Folk School Garden Hod Class, there was a heightened enthusiasm to get started and try something for the first time! Of course they had all had some experience with tools but this was going to be a project that they would own, from start to finish, using power tools and hand tools that they had only observed others using.
The beginning of this project involved choosing the pieces of wood that they would use to construct their own Garden Hod. Each woodworker carefully chose pieces to compose their hod. Some looked for interesting knots in the lumber, others focused on grain patterns to make their hod a unique piece of art. It was more than just assembly of pieces of wood, they were designing a finished piece. The woodworkers knew it would be uniquely theirs.
What next? Mark your pieces of wood and begin cutting them. Oh! There was a serious sense of precision that the woodworkers knew was all on them at this point. Most had never used a power jigsaw and were eager to try. First, take the jig saw in hand and pull the trigger to get a feel for it. Surprise on how it felt evolved into a confidence that “I can do this”. Trying something, step after step for the first time, grew to a confidence that this is actually going to work.
Cheers from the group encouraged each woodworker as they successfully cut out the end pieces of their garden hod. The pieces weren’t exactly as smooth and precise as they had expected. On to the power sanders to remove the high spots and get it smooth as can be. Each discovered on their own during the sanding process how to sculpt a piece of lumber into exactly what you wanted. They just had to remove all of the wood, a little at a time, that was not meant to be part of their finished piece. Slow but sure.
I was very impressed as the process continued how woodworkers would advise each other with tips on how they found success for themselves. The learners were becoming teachers. The process wasn’t without disappointment. Occasionally a glued and nailed on piece was not where it was intended to be. The glue is not dried! We can fix this. This was all part of the learning process. Beginning to understand what wood “working” is all about.
Measuring. Checking it twice. Cutting. Sanding. Gluing. Nailing. Jig saws, random orbit sanders, belt sanders, drill press and cordless drills were buzzing together. The garden hods were taking shape. I can do this and it is uniquely mine was certainly the feeling in the shop.
I did it am I am so proud. I tried something new for the first time. Let’s get together for a group picture. The picture says it all.
Don’t take it from us - listen to what Sarah has to say about this class!
“My experience with the Avon Hills Folk School and the garden hod class was fantastic. Tom was a patient teacher, always happy to help when needed and fix my mistakes when I didn’t know what to do. I felt empowered to take control of my own project, knowing he was there if I needed anything. It was evident he thought of all the little details, from the coffee and treats were waiting for us when we arrived to our very own carpentry pencils with our names on it. I am very proud of the garden hod I made and really appreciated the chance to take the class!”
Upcoming Classes and Experiences
Maple Syrup Experiences at the Avon Hills Folk School
Beginner Beekeeping Course with Jamie Jensen - March 26
Making a Traditional Frame Style Drum with Gary Barrett - April 1 & 2
Creating a Memory Shade Garden with Karen Schellinger, May, date tbd
Being in the Woods: Practices to Help you Ground and Grow with Betsy Johnson
Upcoming Classes with Dates to Be Determined
Introduction to Timber Framing with Clark Bremer
2nd Annual Youth Hand Camp
Mushroom Foraging in the Avon Hills
Meet Our Instructors!
Meet Betsy Johnson, our instructor for the upcoming Being in the Woods: Practices to Help you Ground and Grow with Betsy Johnson Workshop on June 4
Betsy Johnson taught her first yoga class at the edge of an indoor track. As she tried to get her Zen on, ROTC recruits were doing their morning calisthenics (very energetically and loudly) just a stone's throw away. But that didn't matter. From that moment on, Betsy knew she was hooked. Since then, she has taught yoga in studios, in basements, and even in her dentist's office.
Betsy has her 500-hour yoga teacher training certificate, and she teaches over 350 yoga classes a year. She also records meditations for the Insight Timer app, and her meditations have been downloaded over 100,000 times. She has a new book out, A Hit of Hope (for when it gets really bad), based on those meditations, and her writing has appeared in numerous national publications.
One of the things that Betsy loves most about yoga is how it allows us to practice opposites--like grounding down to rise up, or working on being strong and supple at the same time. And what better place to practice those things than in the midst of a forest that stays rooted and bends with the breeze, or beside a creek that spends its days going with the flow?
