published by Fran Shea

My kitchen faucet broke (again) and as I crouched on the patio with the garden hose and plastic scrubby, my mind wandered to faraway lands. Specifically, Wanamingo, Minnesota. Oh, Wanamingo! Has anyone written an ode to thee? I was in Wanamingo today and overheard this “conversation” between a mother and child at the 60 Stop Gas Station:

Child: “I  want eggs for breakfast.”

Mother: ” You can’t get everything you want. I wanted flowers for Mother’s Day and I got nuthin’!”

Oh, well. The REAL Wanamingo is full of chickens, barn cats, fictional alpacas and acres of hard-working folks that build chicken coops and excavate pig cemeteries – just for fun. These people walk around with just a hint of a smile, a smile that says, “I chop the logs to heat my house. I know how to grow potatoes. I know the difference between bush beans and pole beans.”

They also spend the Winter trying not to recreate a scene from The Shining.


Okay, so maybe I don’t have what it takes to step off the grid and live like Ma Kettle. Maybe the closest I get to feeling the heartland is living with a broken faucet. Fetching water for cooking makes me feel like a barbarian.

In between all my water fetching I made this :


It’s gonna be BIG people.


0 thoughts on “Wanamingo”

  1. You do have a way with making connections in your posts. Love it. Great posts. I’m only slightly sunburned along my front side. Hope you are not at all. It was good to see you today and really fun to meet your blog.

  2. Try this again! I forgot a l. Which is funny because it was filled in for me. How many times have I left worldpress people dead ends? Thanks for telling me! I bet you would also tell me if I had food on my face. I appreciate that.

  3. Yes, I would tell you if you had food on your face. And toilet paper on your shoe. PS: You have food on your face.

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