The cold of winter has swept south from the Canadian prairie into Minnesota. The lakes are icing over, but the rivers take a bit longer because of the current. We were north of the Twin Cities along the banks of the Mississippi River yesterday. The early morning light cast a beautiful glow on the barren trees along the banks, and the water was flowing but it contained numerous chunks of ice headed southward. Eventually the river will freeze in some sections, but the sections that remain open will attract birds and wildlife, and will teem with activity throughout the cold winter months.
Author: lindastaatsphoto
Frost and ice in the morning
Our temperatures have been dropping at night causing the sloughs and lakes to begin their ice-over. It isn’t thick by any means, but it is the start of our shift from fall to winter. I’ve always enjoyed the reflections of trees and horizons in water, and the change over to ice gives these same reflections a much different look. The lines are softer and more muted, and until our lakes are snow-covered the reflections can sometimes be almost mirror-like. On this morning two days ago, the sun was burning through the cold temperatures and the heavy frost causing the landscape to glow in the early light.
A final look at autumn
November is a transition month in Minnesota; our weather can be anywhere from warm and sunny to gray and cold, rain or snow to wind or calm. It seems like we’ve covered all these bases in the past few days. Early in the week I took this image of the brilliant colors of a cotoneaster in our yard. As the morning sun lit the leaves they came alive with a beautiful glow; perhaps it was their swan song. By Wednesday morning we awoke to two inches of wet snow gracing the golds and reds in the remaining leaves. Thursday night our temperatures plummeted below freezing, followed by strong winds on Friday. The leaf colors were killed off by the cold, and the leaves themselves were blown off the trees and bushes to the ground. Within a few days the colors and leaves of autumn had given way to the skeletal trees of winter.
The quieter side of fall
With my previous posts of fall I’ve shared some brilliant colors, and we continue to see those in our landscape now. But there’s a quieter side to this season too. This is the side that speaks of the upcoming change to winter, the coolness that is evident in the air, and the slow turn into the dark of winter. We were at Wild River State Park early one morning recently. The park sits along the St. Croix River which divides the states of Minnesota and Wisconsin. It’s a lovely, and quiet area, especially in the morning. The air was cool and yet the river temperature was still a bit warmer causing the fog to hang low in the river valley. This layer of fog seemed to soften the sunrise, to quiet any sound on the river or land, and to soften the golds and browns that were evident from the seasonal change. Eventually the sun rose high enough over the bluff to burn away the fog, and the light became much brighter and sharper, as did the sounds of the day too.
A life of grace between the lines
After my father passed away last week we found that he had already written his obituary. It was a factual listing of his life, his work, his groups and associations, and his family members. But I’m choosing to look at his life by reading between those lines – to remember and cherish his true character. My dad was brave and courageous; not only did he answer the call to serve his country during the Korean war, but he also faced (and won) a battle with inoperable lung cancer 15 years ago. He was a teacher by words and example, whether it be math story problems or fishing and hunting. He was supportive of all the things we were involved in – football or baseball games, piano or choir concerts. My dad had a wonderful sense of curiosity and adventure; he was always wondering what was “down that road,” what is “around the bend,” and “where does this path lead.” When I was 10 years old Dad and I floated a river in a bright yellow canoe, to see what was along the way (and I think he was prodding my sense of adventure and trust). He was an immensely talented man in his chosen career of architecture, and he left a profound mark on the people he worked with in that profession. He had a fierce streak of independence and determination; his way was what he was going to follow. But most of all he was a proud man, of his family, his children, and his grandchildren. A lover and best friend of 62+ years to my mother, and a loving and committed father and grandfather. These are some of the traits that my father did not include in his obituary, but the people who knew him will recognize them all. As I was en route to see my father for the last time I heard a quote by Don Snyder: “There is grace in an ordinary life.” Dad – you exuded grace (and adventure) in your “ordinary” life. Thank you.
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