At first I thought a logging truck engine was gearing down.
The sun had not yet risen in the early pre-dawn morning. Stars still shone in the still dark sky, glittering above the tall spruce spires.
Magoo tugged at the leash, eager to go in and eat breakfast— pugs are not interested in wilderness—but I stopped and really listened.
The sound repeated. This time I knew what it was; a chorus of eerie, beautiful howls, a wolf pack “singing” at the end of the South Shore Drive.
Dick was bringing Goldie, the lab out. As soon as she finished her business, she wanted back in. Goldie knew the sound and didn’t like it.
Although the moment was special, I was glad the wolves were at the end of the road and not in my back yard.
The sun rose higher. The day continued.
I am always struck by the grandeur of Lake Superior while driving down the Gunflint Trail but on this special morning, the view was breathtaking. Calm, mirrorlike, the Big Lake shimmered in the early morning. A fishing boat churned through the breakwater, heading out for the morning’s catch, a white cloud of seagulls following its wake.
Feeling blessed with these gifts of nature, I contentedly drove to Duluth, happy to be alive on this beautiful morning.
It wasn’t until I reached the city that the first little irritant of the day occurred. Parked on a two way street, I hopped out of the car and clicked the car door remote to lock it. Nothing….another click… nothing.
Perfect timing for the remote battery to wear out, I muttered. Seeing a fast moving car approach, I quit complaining, turned the car key into the door lock and hastily twostepped out of harm’s way.
Locking a car manually seemed so archaic, so old fashioned. How did we ever live without remote controls?
I soon learned. You walk more…from the car front to the car rear….and back to the front again. Each time I wanted to place a package in the trunk, first I was forced to walk all the way to the driver’s door and unlock the rest of the doors. Back and forth. Forth and back.
It was exhausting especially since Duluth’s temperature was a balmy 80-degrees.
I maintained my good nature by reminding myself that the car’s automatic windows and air conditioner still worked. Thank goodness for small favors.
The day was drawing to an end as well as my shopping when I pulled into Sam’s parking lot. Uh oh. It was half its normal size due to resurfacing, and traffic backed up several blocks—a rare Duluth occurrence.
I admit, this situation was irritating. I began circling the rows of cars, searching for a parking spot. Now here’s where my story could end in road rage in other parts of the world.
Not the Northland. Calmly, politely, car drivers drove up and down the rows, finding parking spots. No yelling. No rude gestures, just simple etiquette. I managed to find a spot and as I maneuvered into it, I noticed the car behind me, waiting, giving me space to park.
That September day will linger in my memory, a golden warm day that began with the singing of wolves.
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