In my longing for the colors of spring, I wandered into the McNeely Conservatory at Como Park. My spirits rose as I took in the colors and smells of our long-awaited season of spring – an array of lilies, tulips, ranunculus, and daffodils. Flowers the colors of the sun — the light of spring that we crave so much after the cold and white of winter. From underneath these tulips the light from above made them glow and shimmer – an ephemeral hint at their fragility and short-lived life in the transition between winter and summer.
Author: lindastaatsphoto
Wind and ice
We made a day trip south to Faribault Minnesota yesterday. The day dawned with a dusting of snow, and a front moving through, prompting strong northerly winds up to 45 mph. Not a problem for driving south….As we were following along the southern shore of Cannon Lake, I was amazed at the whitecaps rolling across the water. I have never seen that much wind blowing over the open water. But then my eye caught the southern shoreline where the wind-blown waves were crashing. Because of the cold temperatures, the water was freezing along the trees and bushes. Everything was coated in ice, and even some of the icicles were leaning towards the south because of the incessant winds. As cold and windy as yesterday was, the pendulum of spring swung the other way today and we enjoyed sunshine and 60’s, with no signs of ice.
Spring’s attempt is foiled again
Spring is not known for its consistency. After tulips had broken through the ground, ice has been off the lakes, and everyone’s thoughts were turning to warmer temperatures, we got a slap of snow. The temperatures dropped, the winds picked up, and winter came sweeping back into Minnesota. I headed out before dawn to the Como Golf Course. The white dusting left some wonderful patterns and allowed the shapes of the trees to stand out in the landscape. It was still dark enough that the street lights around the lake were lit and glowed a beautiful golden yellow to contrast with the white landscape. And on the green, the red flag fluttered in defiance of the winter weather. Undettered, spring will try again this week to get its foothold on our landscape.
A house and a home
This has been a week of reflection for me. Those of you that have followed my blog the past few years know that my parents passed away within a few months of each other two years ago. The house that they moved into when I was three years old was the house that they shared until their deaths. The first owners of this house and the first house built on the block, they moved in with the dreams of their life together and the dreams of building a family. The house was the shell that was filled with the shared experiences of my parents, my two brothers, and myself as we all grew up. This home expanded to include grandparents, in-laws, grandchildren, and friends way too numerous to count. As the family grew, so too the house grew with additions designed by my father the architect. And with each addition and change, the new rooms were filled to the brim with more memories and love. The once new “stick-tree” in the front yard has matured and extends over the entire yard and house, its arms having held so many of us as we climbed up its branches. Each person who passed over the threshold knew they were welcomed with the large arms my parents opened. The house has now been passed on to the second owner in its 58 years. But I know that the house is only a structure; the people are the ones that made it a home. The memories and stories of the family and friends that have been a part of the structure will continue in our family throughout the generations that follow.
Spring is a mere 450 miles away
I made a quick trip to the Kansas City area this weekend. A one-way flight on Friday late afternoon took me 450 miles south of Minnesota. The sunset was stunning and the landscape below is always interesting. A pattern of fields and rivers, valleys and hills, and eventually roads with car lights that dot the lines from horizon to horizon. But what was more noticeable to me this time, was the difference in the seasons. Leaving Minnesota, our grass is brown and our lakes still have some ice on them. Snow is still visible in protected areas. But once I was in Kansas City I realized what a difference 450 miles makes in the seasons. The magnolia trees were in bloom, the bright yellow of the forsythia was glowing, and daffodils were showing their golden faces. Even the grass was no longer brown, and fields of winter wheat were a beautiful green. The drive home made the seasonal difference even more noticeable. Throughout northern Iowa and southern Minnesota grasses in the fields were visibly packed down from the weight of the recently melted snow, and there was a demarcation line that the red-winged blackbirds had not crossed yet in their journey to the north. Green grass will take-over in Minnesota, and flowers will bloom, and the blackbirds will be in our neighborhood, but nature hasn’t stretched her warm hands this far north yet.
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