Sam Cook column: I slipped into bed the other night, sliding between cool sheets, waiting for body heat to warm my little cocoon of space. It wouldn’t take long, I knew, but in that brief interlude between cold and comfort, something occurred to me.RELATED CONTENT
Sam Cook column: It was a cold February night. I was following my headlights up the North Shore to Grand Marais. As my missile of steel hissed along the two-lane, I realized that I was rolling past half a lifetime’s worth of memories.RELATED CONTENT
Sam Cook column: A man approached me at the boat show the other night. I could tell he was my kind of guy by the wool he wore and the weathered look of his face. “I owe you an apology,” he said.RELATED CONTENT
SAM COOK: Each form of communication has its strengths. A video posted on social media. A conversation over a beer. A phone call from the back woods.RELATED CONTENT
SAM COOK: The yipping and yowling of 300 huskies will echo at East High School on Sunday afternoon. The resurrected John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon, a celebration of winter in the North, is on.RELATED CONTENT
We are in the hanging-on time now, just trying to ride through, endure. This is December in the North, with the winter solstice upon us. The final, dark dwindling to the low ebb of our year.
Sam Cook column: I came across the deer carcass in the usual place again this year. Just down the bank along Vermilion Road, well within the city of Duluth.RELATED CONTENT
SAM COOK: The other night, when the moon was full, a couple I know looked out their picture window and saw the moon shining down on Lake Superior. They are the kind of people who know how to seize a moment, to really immerse themselves in an experience.RELATED CONTENT
Every year, the pheasant hunter and his yellow Lab go west in early November. Alone.