I was working on a series of pictures of Saint Minneapolis in the Autumn. These were pictures from when I wandered with my darling wife in the city on my birthday, and I took a photo of Fox and Skunk everywhere I saw them.
But then, in the midst of working on these, I made a picture that came along effortlessly. It was from down in a fantastical place near St. Anthony Main, in a strange pocket of wild in the beating heart of Saint Minneapolis, nestled beneath old mills and falls that built the city. And though this picture is not very scary or spooky, or even all that fanciful, and even though it takes place in the harmlessness of day, and it has no particular symbols of the holiday, it nevertheless decided to leap off of my screen and cry...
This, this picture below, is exactly what it feels like where I live right now.
So I thought it deserved its own post: