Ellie Johnson

Saturday loop around the lake. Sailboats out, geese everywhere, 55 degrees and perfect.

Jucy Lucy (their spelling). Burned the roof of my mouth, as is tradition.

Pronto Pup, cheese curds, a bucket of Sweet Martha's, the butter heads in the Dairy Building. Six hours, no regrets.

Stars on the wall, a sold-out show, ears still ringing.

Fifty-three feet of waterfall in the middle of the city. The fish tacos line was worth it.

Out along the breakwall to the lighthouse, the whole lake in front of you.

The name is not an exaggeration. Skizzle, then a second one for the drive.

The High Falls, loud with snowmelt, and a swinging bridge right over them.

The calendar lighthouse, in person. Lake Superior looks like the ocean and smells like nothing.

Walked across to St. Anthony Main. The river's high and loud this time of year.

Spoonbridge and Cherry in the first warm sun of the year. Everyone in shorts at 58°F.

The Flour Tower elevator, then the view from the roof. Best museum in the city, not close.

Deep dish with the butter crust. A fork, a knife, a nap.

Nighthawks, American Gothic, and the Thorne Miniature Rooms, where I would like to live now.

The Bean in the rain. Still took the selfie.

Empire Builder, seat 23, coffee in hand. Eight hours to Chicago and I'm not even a little sorry.