Ashland, WI is resplendent, with just the right amount of decay scarfing it. Chapple Avenue. There's a co-op manned by women with thick dreads. And the Ashland Baking Company, across the street, has the best bread that's ever been baked.
All streets cast off to the north, into Lake Superior. Even as the days gather lumbering speed toward spring, people in pick-up trucks drive onto the ice (you can see this from the cuff of the massive factory that sits out in the water or from the parking lot of the Bay Area Pawn Shop, which has more military paraphernalia than the Army/Navy store a few blocks away) to use up the last of the fishing-through-a-hole for the year. A few yards away, the water has lost its iciness. The fishers don't seem to notice or care.
It's great.
All streets cast off to the north, into Lake Superior. Even as the days gather lumbering speed toward spring, people in pick-up trucks drive onto the ice (you can see this from the cuff of the massive factory that sits out in the water or from the parking lot of the Bay Area Pawn Shop, which has more military paraphernalia than the Army/Navy store a few blocks away) to use up the last of the fishing-through-a-hole for the year. A few yards away, the water has lost its iciness. The fishers don't seem to notice or care.
It's great.
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