Jack of Harts

Minnesota is my home.  It always will be. The hills, the lakes, the birds, even the fraking mosquitoes the size of birds.  The smell of a morning rain coming in on the lake breeze.  That is what I love about Minnesota.  I don’t come back to Earth often, but when I do I always come home to see it again.  The restoration work has gone well.  It looks as good as it did when I lived there.  It is home again, even if I’m not there as often as I’d like.