Driving back from the reservation, I cross a small bridge into Saint Paul. I feel the troubled waters. I think of my grandfather’s people,the Dakota. I think of how they lived by the water, how they made fire by the water.

Dancing at the Crossroads


Saint Paul is my chosen home, the place where I feel most deeply that I belong. Now. It has not always been so.

Our Lady of Guadalupe


Our Lady of Guadalupe,
leaning in the mercado window,
make intercession for the West Side.
Mystical rose of yellow, red, and blue,
protect those who journey through the corners of George, State, and Chavez streets — New Tepeyac, District del Sol.

Art by Leann E. Johnson

Old Rondo

By Donte Collins ● 2015

we were Ferris wheel watchers firefly fighters dollar store cap gun robbers cops and Sunday creased collars private school scholars giving the church basket the dollars our mothers slipped into our pockets seconds before.

Walks with the Chowhound


Selby is a chowhound. an inveterate, unrelenting, willfully indiscriminate gastronome of Saint Paul street food. naturally he is named after the street where he lives, Selby avenue, and naturally, when I come to dog sit him, we commence our journeys from that haunt of celebrated eateries, dine-ins, and dessert stops.

Five Things to Love about Saint Paul from Someone Who Moved Here from Somewhere Else


I know this sounds ridiculous: to love the speed by which one can get across town. Big deal, right? Yes. It is. You have no idea. Prior to moving to Saint Paul in 2008, I lived in Seattle, a city with an enormous and ever-worsening traffic problem.

Why We Love Our City


New York? It’s nothing. Saint Paul is more stunning. No other city can compete.

Park Two


What’s this park named?” Owen asked as he clambered up wooden steps. My wife and I glanced at each other and shrugged.

A Misty Dream of Glacial Saint Paul


For the past few summers, I have led geology tours around the Twin Cities for community education courses. The tours usually involve features such as caves, springs, and waterfalls.

The Spot


We called it “The Spot.” You could sit and look at the sunset, watch trains crossing the Mississippi, rounding the eastern shore of Pickerel Lake.

From Somalia to Kenya, to Somalia to Minnesota


I am Hamda Ahmed Essa. I am twenty-two years old, I am single, and I live in the Twin Cities. In 1991 when I was a little girl in Somalia my family and relatives had to run away from the war.

Fabel’s Shoe Store


On Saturdays when I was a kid, my friends and I took the streetcar—later the bus—to downtown Saint Paul. Sometimes we went to the library, where the wise librarians knew how to help active boys find books that would hold their interest and keep them coming back for more.