all of these things now - gigantic condos brought the rich back, as did the old stock of brownstones. Singles live in the sturdy apartments. Veterans live in a nearby tower. Every year the geese come back and every fall they leave; every year the small fragile lake shrinks and freezes, but comes to life again in spring. It's still in the heart of the city, but now it's a noisy place - traffic from Hennepin and Lyndale, a freeway underground,. It's less a place to stay than a place to pass by, a green oasis glimpsed from your car, a dark circle of water you drive past at night on the way to the Guthrie or a restaurant. I'm not sure it's entirely safe at night anymore. But on a fall afternoon, no place in Minneapolis captures the spirit and intentions of the early years of the 20th century. The old statue of a Norwegian fiddler, the ceremonial plaques wedded to ancient stones, the church spires rising above old oaks - this was what they thought a city should look like in 1904. And a walk around the neighborhood makes it hard to argue they weren't right.

This site contains views of Loring in its glory, as well as a look at some of the landmarks in the neighborhood. It doesn't capture the charm and elegance of the neighborhood; as of today, the Internet is inadequate to that task.