The headwaters of the "Mighty Mississippi" begin in Minnesota, and they happen to run widely past the small river retirement community I spent most of my time at last week.  This view struck me as perfect.  A single and simple chair on the end of a dock, perfect place for some reflection or some not-all-that-serious fishing (which is the same thing as thinking).

The bulk of life here though surrounds the gentle buzzing of golf carts around a lushly green 9 hole course, between the fairways the tree canopy filters much of the light which throws small shadows everywhere somehow making everything seem more three-dimensional if you ask me. 

Living here is meant to be quiet and leisurely, but somewhat communal.  Virtually everyone has made a sign announcing their names outside their summer homes, "Halversons", "Stensgaards", "Volkstads"...names you might expect in outstate Minnesota (which refers to everywhere else that is not Minneapolis or St. Paul).

This is my personal favorite Minnesota name, "Petersen" with the S-E-N not the S-O-N you'll find elsewhere.  And you absolutely have to appreciate the charm of the birdhouse on the sign made lovingly of real wood and somehow aged to perfection by the passing seasons.

Just across the way from my parent's place is Dave and Sue Wolff's place, even my kids understood how this all fit together.

I don't know why I liked this one so much, was the idea that the real Don Johnson was hanging out here?  Or was it that this Don Johnson knows a Lil?

Everywhere you look there was a outdoor knickknack of some kind, and all seemed appropriate and added to the regional flare.  There simply HAD to be a Minnesota loon somewhere, and no trip home is complete without hearing their trademark cooing.

Interestingly, our place doesn't have it's "Hovde's" sign.  But we do have this:

The tin man, and we also have plenty of bird feeders, the BBQ grill and everything else you would need to blend right in.