Well, along with the camaraderie of friendship they experience, sometimes they're coming across opportunities to help other people, whether it's holding a door for someone, giving a hand to someone trying to lift something heavy, or finding my keys lying in the snow and delivering them to my door.

On Wednesday night around 9 p.m., I was cleaning my kitchen when I heard the telltale blare of a car alarm going off.

"At least I know it's not mine," I thought to myself.

First of all, I hadn't done anything that could have tripped the alarm.

But more convincingly, I had no idea where the keys with the door opener and alarm were.

I hadn't seen those keys for three weeks, since co-workers Bethany and Anne and I went to the Minneapolis production of "Rent" together and stayed at my friend Ben's house. I misplaced the keys at some point and used my spare set for the remainder of our stay.

So it couldn't be my car.

But a few seconds later, there was a knock at my door.

There stood three teenagers -- two boys and a girl -- with my keys. They had been clever enough to hit the alarm button and then go to the door that was closest to the honking car.

"We found your keys," one of the boys said, and handed them to me.

They said the keys were in the alley, which made no sense to me, so I figured they meant the parking lot, which has a drive-through. So I figure the key chain had slid into some crevice that weekend only to get dislodged sometime over the past few weeks and hit the ground.

I was so thrilled to get my keys back! I lost my official spare set (with the other original key and door opener) a couple of years ago, so I only had one door opener, so for the last few weeks, I've had to open my car the old-fashioned way.

"Thank you so much," I gushed to the teens. "You are so sweet."

After I shut the door, I thought I should give them a little something, so I quickly scrounged up five bucks, but they were out of view by the time I went outside. For all I know, they live next door or in the neighborhood.

I just wanted them to know how much I appreciated their efforts. They could have just as easily walked past the keys. They not only picked them up, they figured a way to learn which car the keys went with and found the owner of that car. I think that's more than a lot of people would have done -- teens or otherwise.

And maybe they don't think about it as that big of a deal, because it only took a couple of minutes of their time, but it was a big deal to me.

For all you folks who went home at normal times last night, you missed traveling in a quiet wonder of shimmering frosty trees and bushes. I still feel a little warm and fuzzy looking at these exquisitely beautiful branches on the tree near my home.

I am not a fan of winter with its bitter cold, endless snow and treacherous ice, but even I can admire its beauty sometimes, especially in those times when, for a short while, everything glistens, and nothing matters except that. It's the equivalent of a gorgeous sunset, I guess, except bigger, because the sun only sets in the West. Frost settles everywhere.

It takes me about five minutes to drive from the Pioneer to my place near downtown Bemidji. It was a really pretty drive, from the Industrial Park, down Paul Bunyan Drive, along Lake Bemidji, and through downtown, and finally to my parking lot, where I took a bunch of photos. (I hope the neighbors didn't notice flashing lights in their windows!)

I suppose the shimmer was still there this morning when some early risers got ready to meet the day. As a night owl, I don't get to see that very often. I have often said I'd like to be able to sleep four hours a night, from 4 a.m. to 8 a.m. Enjoying both the wee hours and the break of day would be a great combination!

My little point-and-shoot doesn't do this sunset justice, but I got out of the car to take this photo looking west on Highway 2 just outside of Crookston early Sunday evening. (As you can probably tell, my attempt to leave Crookston in time to get home before dark failed. It was dark by the time I hit Erskine.)

-- Laurie

Natural is rarely orderly. In fact, it's often cluttered, like this butterfly garden at Bemidji State University that features native perennials.

BSU sustainability coordinator Erika Bailey-Johnson, who was part of a group that planted the garden two years ago while she was a graduate student at the university, makes a great case for planting perennials rather than annual flowers. I spoke with Erika for a recent Pioneer article on the planting of 800 square feet of native perennials near the A.C. Clark Library at BSU.

In a year or two, once those plots are established, they will be on their own. They won't require weeding or fertilizer, and they'll be beneficial to the environment and provide habitat for wildlife. And new plants won't have to be purchased and planted each year. It sounds like a win-win to me.

I'm not denying the beauty of annual flowers. They have vibrant colors that provide beauty as soon as they're planted. But they're orderly, and I'm more casual than orderly. I prefer the disorderly look of perennial flowers mixed with grasses and green plants; an English cottage garden style is really appealing to me. It feels real, honest, inviting.

I don't have much of a green thumb, but if I had some garden space I'd probably try to plan a little perennial garden and see how it worked out. On the other hand, I guess even a tiny space could be utilized in some way -- a few flowers, some herbs, a hosta plant, whatever.

-- Laurie

The common phrase "10 items or less" is grammatically incorrect. "Less" refers to volume, while "fewer" refers to numbers. Therefore, it should be "10 items or fewer."

We're both well aware of this, but I brought up the movie to point out how the people discussing it on IMDB (Internet Movie Database - imdb.com) were ridiculously bent out of shape over it. The way I figure it, the movie title would have sounded silly as "10 Items or Fewer" since no one seems to put up signs like that.

As it turns out, she's in the camp I found ridiculous. :)

We all have our different pet peeves when it comes to grammar. I've pretty much given up on less/fewer because pretty much everyone I encounter says "less."

My pet peeve is composed/comprised. The Beatles were not comprised of John, Paul, George and Ringo. They were *composed* of John, Paul, George and Ringo.

"Composed" means "made up," "constituted."

"Comprise" means "include."

The Beatles comprise John, Paul, George and Ringo. The United States comprises 50 states.

I edited the "Cat" Wikipedia article a few years ago, back when I used to do that a bit, and I changed "comprised of" to "composed of," and someone changed it back, giving the reason, "That change, while technically correct, is less idiomatic English."

Um, so? I wasn't going for idiomatic English. I was going for *English*. Plus, if I'm writing or editing something straightforward, I don't generally use idioms. I use things that are "technically correct"!

The definitions of compose and comprise are readily available in the dictionary (dictionary.com does list the grammatically incorrect usage of "comprised of" as an idiom). The differences are highlighted in the Associated Press Book of Style.

I may not like it that people write "comprised of" instead of "composed of," but what I really find strange is that people have come to question "composed of" as if THAT is the wrong phrase. Not only is a gramatically incorrect phrase making its way into the language (certainly not the first time; we probably would be surprised at some of the phrases that once were considered wrong or questionable), but people are questioning the *correct* version, like that guy on Wikipedia.

That explains why I really don't edit Wikipedia articles. That was my very first contribution (of a total of 20), and I basically threw up my hands and said something along the lines of "I make a change this innocuous, and get reverted???" Wikipedia can be a battleground that is only slightly less volatile than Usenet newsgroups. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk:Skanderbeg for an example of how testy and lengthy the arguments can be.

The Wikipedia guy ended up coming back with a comprise of sorts: "made up of." Which makes perfect sense. But so did "composed of."

It's not like I'm innocent of occasional bad grammar. I don't think I'll ever be able to stop myself from saying "borrow" when I mean "lend."

But I won't write it.

Here's a snapshot from Lake Bemidji State Park a couple of weeks ago. I love finding little pockets of flowers in the wildnerness.

I started this blog four months ago just to try it out, and it never got any further than that. I always meant to get back to it, and then Bethany and I started blogging about our daily fitness walk (www.areavoices.com/trailmix) and this one fell by the wayside.

But I kept thinking of things I'd write about if I was actively doing a blog on my own. I could have written about my impressions of the Food Shelf Garden at Gary Vanyo's farm, which I wrote about in the Pioneer a while back. I could have said something last Friday about the First Friday Art Walk, which I normally can't get to but was able to go because we had the day off work.

So I decided to commit myself and write a post about the Fourth of July weekend to kick off this thing. I'll try to post at least a couple of times a week and see how it goes.

Spectators (including kids waiting for candy!) line Beltrami Avenue Northwest as the Bemidji Jaycees Water Carnival Grand Parade begins Sunday afternoon.

The Fourth of July weekend, as always, was a busy one for Bemidji, with the Bemidji Jaycees Water Carnival brightening up the waterfront and downtown for five days.

I was a little bored amidst all the excitement, so I borrowed my 7-year-old granddaughter, Jada, for the weekend. She went to the Bemidji carnival Friday night, then drove to Walker Saturday for their Fourth of July parade and family games (it's been years since I've seen things like sack races and egg toss for both kids and adults).

They weren't selling armbands at the carnival Saturday, so we skipped it and went swimming at Diamond Point Park instead until fireworks time, when we headed over to the waterfront park. I couldn't resist buying a couple of Star Wars-themed light-up swords (she chose Luke Skywalker blue and Darth Vader red), after noting how many other kids had them. It was a beautiful night for fireworks, and as always, I was happy I could just walk four blocks home afterward.

We made three trips to Big Al's Frybread during the carnival, getting cinnamon sugar frybread for Jada and plain for me with a touch of salt. We ended up making some of our own at home with some frozen bread dough I had. Over the whole weekend, I never ended up having a corn dog, which is unheard of for me. I had a chance Sunday but opted for a burger instead.

On Sunday, we went to the Grand Parade with Bethany from work and her almost-1-year-old daughter, Lola, who didn't like much of anything. Jada, of course, was mainly concerned with the candy.

Frankly, I find the candy thing a little annoying. I don't mind that it exists, but the kids are obsessed with it to the point that they barely notice the floats. I suggested that maybe they should hold the candy to the end and then just have a dump truck ready in a parking lot drop a yard of candy and let the kids go nuts. :)

After the Bemidji parade, we picked up my mom in Erskine and hurried over to Fertile for the Polk County Fair, which I grew up on when I was a kid in Erskine. We got there around 4:30 and rode until our second fireworks of the weekend, which were pretty awesome.

"Awesome!!!" (Jada's favorite word for carnival rides or anything that combines fun with a bit of fear)

Jada definitely got her (er, MY) money's worth of carnival rides, as she went on 35 rides Friday in Bemidji and 32 rides Sunday in Fertile. She went on pretty much everything there was except the Kamikaze; she went on rides that made me nervous to watch. The only ride I went on with her was the ferris wheel, which is basically the only ride I ever go on. Jada isn't big on heights, so she was a little nervous, but in a fun, giddy way.

The ferris wheel is so cool; you can see the whole carnival from above, all the tiny people, and even look over the trees past the city. And we got to stop at the very top for a while while they were unloading. That's the best part, just sitting there at the highest point for miles around. (You sure can tell it's a small town!)

Matt Goinz as Tommy is shown at the start of his final monlogue in "Terminal."

I don't usually like to know too much about a production once I've decided to see it, so I really had no idea what to expect when I went to see "Terminal: The Play" at the Paul Bunyan Playhouse. I knew it was scary and that there was at least one gun, but that was about it. I also knew that it was co-written by Bemidji's Roy C. Booth and Philadelphia writer Brian Keene, who wrote the book on which the play is based. I liked the local involvement, plus I enjoy suspense thrillers.

Aside from a children's version, I'd never seen readers theater in action. The last play I attended, "Ruby's Lips Above the Water," featured an elaborate set with great attention to details. But on Friday, the actors delivered their lines mostly from podiums. Most action was suggested rather than physically performed. But it didn't take long before the characters and the situation felt as real to me as any play. I guess it's like a book; your mind creates the imagery and the actions for you, which is part of the beauty of reading.

The story and the performances were compelling. Matthew Goinz's Tommy drew sympathy as a bad guy, while Caleb Frikke was delightfully creepy as his partner, Sherm. Riordan Booth did a great job as little Benjy, and his mom, Cynthia, was awesomely annoying.