With all the talk about Small Town America this election season, it sometimes comes as a bit of a surprise to realize that I live in one of those small towns that are invoked so frequently by candidates for higher office. While Grand Forks, North Dakota has its share of strip malls, a Super Wal-Mart, and, of course, the state grain mill and elevator, its streets (whether paved with wood or not) capture a kind of authentic simplicity that develops hoped to capture in their subdivisions of foreclosed mcmansion.
Being on the prairie, most of the trees in Grand Forks (except for those that grow on the banks of the Red River or the various coulies that inscribe the flat bottom of the Red River Valley) are planted. The elm lined streets filter the raking light of the morning sun in the autumn.
That is, until it snows...
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