Yuen: Need a dog toy, tampon or poem? Check out these 9 Little Free Library spinoffs.

Minnesotans love their Little Free Libraries.

Sixteen years after co-founder Todd Bol planted his first book-sharing box in nearby Hudson, Wis., the miniature libraries continue to delight and connect communities. But in some of the latest iterations, no books are circulated.

Puzzles, seeds, VHS tapes, secondhand clothing, rocks, dog biscuits, canned food, menstrual products, Hot Wheels, fishing lures and winter sleds fill some of the curbside boxes seen in and around Minnesota.

While most of these neighborhood stands aren’t associated with the Little Free Library nonprofit based in St. Paul, they are a tribute to the spirit of the worldwide movement, said Margret Aldrich, the organization’s director of communications. About 200,000 libraries have been officially registered with the group; countless others are not.

“We’re proud that the Little Free Libraries have inspired more sharing in the world,” Aldrich said. “We’re proud that they’ve inspired more neighborliness. I feel like we could use more of that, more than ever.”

Hear, hear. Feeling generous? Here are some of the more distinctive sharing boxes spotted around the Twin Cities. May this list inspire you to stock them with donations — or create your own twist on the lending library.

A self-described “poetry freak,” Minneapolis writer Alison McGhee has collected poems since she was a little kid. Now she prints off hundreds of her favorites and rolls them into tiny scrolls that she places for strangers in her “poetry hut” in Uptown. There are poems from Langston Hughes, Gary Soto, Rumi, Andrea Gibson, Shel Silverstein and more.

McGhee remembers when a group of boys, enthralled by the stanzas they discovered, informed her that their families’ homeland, Somalia, is known as a nation of poets. Another person in her neighborhood stops by twice a day with his dog and a boombox to take a poem. “You connect with people that you wouldn’t necessarily be talking to in your ordinary life,” McGhee said.

The “stick library” at Edgcumbe Road and Randolph Avenue in St. Paul received a makeover earlier this summer when Rachel Mars expanded the stand to also carry tennis balls and dog treats. Scrumptious sticks rest on little hooks.

She dedicated the new and improved dog library to Deb Mortoglou, who along with Mars, turned an unsightly patch of dirt and dead grass on the property of their apartment building into a thriving community garden filled with plants donated from the entire neighborhood. Mortoglou passed away a few months ago, but her love for dogs and gardening lives on.

“I love the fact that I’m connected with my neighbors,” Mars says. “I can see through my window if someone stops by and gives their dogs a treat. It’s very cute.”

In Golden Valley, Susan Eder Cunningham boasts that she has the best patrons. She often spots her neighbor’s one-eyed Australian shepherd, Carmen, placing a toy in Cunningham’s dog library near Wildwood Park before selecting a different one. “She understands the assignment,” Cunningham says.

AJ Jahnig and his wife, Laura, of St. Paul knew they wanted to offer a food and toiletries pantry for unhoused people and others in need in their Midway neighborhood. So they made sure to head off any opposition from the start by canvassing the block and letting them know of their intentions.

Up it went, a beautiful wooden locker built and stained by Jahnig, featuring a floral design and the words, “Take what you need. Leave what you can.” The pantry offers everything from Narcan (a medication used to treat opioid overdoses) and pregnancy tests to ramen cups, diapers and dog food. Inside the pantry, a white board marker asks people to list what else they need, and a map reveals other resources in the neighborhood.

The Jahnigs stock the shelves roughly twice a day to keep up with demand and see their library as a way to fill a gap in the social safety net.

“If you’re in need of Narcan at 9 p.m. on a Friday, come to us,” he said.

As for any blowback? “We haven’t heard a peep except positivity from our neighbors,” he said.

Tracie Anderson (1668 Englewood Av. in St. Paul) is not an artist, but she loves curating handmade dishcloths, small paintings and other pieces of art — and putting them out into the world. Neighbors have donated colored pencils and construction paper as well as crafts around the house that they’re ready to let go of. “Things that people make with their hands are some of the best treasures,” Anderson said. “It’s like pushing out love.”

It doesn’t get more south Minneapolis than this. Near Folwell Community School sits the “Free Fastener Exchange,” the brainchild of Garrett Fitzgerald. Clear plastic jars that used to contain gelato or nuts now house screws and bolts of various sizes for fellow DIYers and owners of old houses.

“Everyone has an uncle with a whole bunch of coffee cans filled with fasteners in their basement, and they spend too often sifting through cans or running to the hardware store for one bolt or one screw,” Fitzgerald said. “It’s a nice way to share and collaborate.”

The Free Blockbuster kiosks, many of them refashioned out of old newspaper racks, started cropping up around the country in 2019. (You can search for one near you at freeblockbuster.org.) The first Minnesota franchisees were Jimi and Alison Nguyen of St. Louis Park. The couple have a soft spot for physical media and own a vast movie collection. (“We don’t believe in streaming,” Alison said.) Jimi’s parents used to run a video rental shop when he was growing up in Fresno, Calif.

While you’re borrowing a film from the Nguyens’ front yard at 2901 Yosemite Av. S., make sure to check out the couple’s free fingerboard skate park, a table where you can do all sorts of tricks and flips off tiny ramps and rails using your miniature skateboard. The couple initially thought the park would attract stoners, but it’s also been a huge draw for moms and their kids.

Hereid enjoys seeing families on their evening walk stumble across the makeshift kiosk — carrying classic sleds, saucers, snowboards and foam sliders. They’ll borrow the sleds, zip down the hill for five minutes, put away the sleds and carry on with their walks. “That’s what it’s there for,” he said.