Two weekends ago, I visited St. Paul, Minnesota for the first time. I had a wonderful time seeing the sights, including the stunning St. Paul Cathedral and railroad magnate James Hill’s house on Summit Avenue.
Although my husband and I apparently brought the heat of the South with us when we came, there was still a stubborn remnant of what had been a 60-foot pile of snow that the plows built in the Sears parking lot over the winter. The St. Paul Pioneer Press even covered the story of the snow pile in the paper, which is how I knew what I was looking at when we happened to drive by the Sears parking lot later that day. My southern-girl mind can’t quite wrap itself around the idea of snow surviving a 90-degree day. But then, I’m also used to snow being white, not black from road scrapings and other dirt and debris that made up the remnant of St. Paul’s snow. Continue reading