Folks up here call it “heart attack snow.” You might have heard the term before, or muttered it yourself halfway through a too-long driveway with a too-small shovel. It’s the kind of snow that’s heavy

The Trees We Chose The first thing to know is this wasn’t inevitable. The emerald ash borer didn’t choose Lincoln Park. We did. Not deliberately—not with malice—but through the usual compound habits of

A few months back, a neighbor told me that Duluth always has two false springs. He said it with a kind of worn certainty, like it was something you just come to accept after a couple decades on the hillside.