As with most of the country, this past week has brought a potpourri of weather. We had warm enough temperatures one day to prompt rain (and a lot of it — the most we’ve had in one day since last July). But the temperature dropped that night, the rain turned to sleet and the puddles turned to ice. At some time it turned over to snow, coating the ice-covered trees and streets. In the morning I ventured to the golf course at Como Park. The precipitation had once again changed over to a stinging sleet that was only sharpened by the brisk winds. It was ironically peaceful being the only person out at that time of the morning. The ice and snow had freshened and renewed our wintry landscape once again, dashing any hopes that spring was imminent. But the beauty and the simplicity of the scenery was abundant. Even this fence that was once upright and surrounding the green took on its own sense of rhythm, pattern, and repetition coated in snow. I wandered and photographed for a while until I could hear the wind starting to break off the ice-coated branches of the trees, and erring on the side of caution it seemed the appropriate time to head home.
Como Park
Blue sky Christmas
Wishing you the best and the brightest of this holiday season. I am ever so thankful for friends and family, near and far, who make this such a special day. Merry Christmas!
The sounds of winter’s arrival
Just when we were resigning ourselves to the prospect of a brown Christmas, the snow moved into the Twin Cities yesterday afternoon. It snowed throughout the evening and into the early morning hours, and when I awoke today our scenery was coated with four inches of white and fluffy snow. I grabbed my camera and headed over to Como Park early. There were few people on the streets but even the sound of the three or four cars was muffled by the snow. After about 15 minutes of walking I could hear a snow shovel scraping the pavement. When I arrived at the park I could see, and eventually hear, the sound of the trail groomer as she laid down the cross-country ski track; we exchanged waves as she drove past. Another five minutes passed before I heard the whish of a skier coming up behind me. And shortly after that the sound of geese flying south filled the air. It was one skein of geese after another, no longer content to be in an area of frozen lakes and ponds and headed to warmer climes. I watched and wondered how far south they would fly today. Another ten minutes passed and I could hear children’s laughter and squeals as they were sledding with abandon down a nearby hill. The time passed quickly and as I headed back home the city had awakened. Traffic was moving carefully on the snow-covered streets and people were either shoveling their walks and drives or using snow blowers to clear the paths. The sounds of winter have arrived once again.
A quiet dusk at Lake Como
One of the constants of the weather in Minnesota is the wind. We seem to attract the winds from all four directions, whether it’s a northern clipper coming down from Canada, a warm tropical surge coming from the Gulf Coast to the south, a wintry mix blowing across the northern Rockies from the west, or a wrap-around wind that skirts Lake Superior to the east. So when the air is calm and still it is most noticeable, and so it was one recent evening. A good friend (and wonderful photography scout) of mine was driving around Lake Como and noticed that the lake surface was as smooth as glass. I packed up my camera and headed over to the lake. The sky was filled with dark gray and blue clouds although there was a thin line of clearing to the south. I headed to a small bay where I knew I could include the pink clearing in my photo. As I walked up to the shoreline I found a flock of wood ducks who were not overly pleased that I was coming to their area. Their swimming out into the lake created a bit of water movement in the bay — just enough to blur the beautiful reflection that I was seeing in the water. It wasn’t until I got home and was looking at the photos on my computer that I saw the effect of their movement, and although subtle, I liked the end-result.
Yellow of spring
The one color that sums up everything about spring is yellow. It’s the color of sunshine, the color of warmth, and the color of daffodils. These bright flowers shine with color and promise and brighten any day. Although we don’t have daffodils blooming outside just yet, I was fortunate to find these lovely blooms at the McNeely Conservatory in Como Park. They speak to me of warmer temperatures, the end of winter, the hope of spring, and the promise of summer.
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