Our cool nights and warm days earlier this week provided the perfect recipe for bright autumn colors. With a blue sky and a sidelight provided by a rising sun, I knew this tree would be brilliant. The colors were intense and the leaves that were already on the ground provided a subtle crunch as I walked around the grove of trees to frame this image. What you don’t see is that I was right next to a busy street during morning rush hour, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the people passing by were aware of this brilliant display that Mother Nature was providing. I hope they paused for a brief moment to appreciate the colors, to be aware of the smells of fall, and to know that it is all fleeting as winter will soon be on the heels of autumn.
fall
Moonset over the autumn prairie
With delightful autumn weather forecast for the day, we headed out before sunrise this morning to Wild River State Park. This Minnesota park is north of the Twin Cities and is located on the St. Croix River. Although there was the promise of afternoon temps in the upper 70’s, the morning had a cool feel to it. We drove down to the canoe landing on the river and could see the fingers of fog stretching into the air and creating a veil over the fall colors on the Wisconsin shoreline. As we turned the opposite direction facing away from the river, we were greeted by the full moon as it was making its way behind the hillside. The prairie stretched out before us filled with golden grasses; the birdhouses were empty at this early time of the morning. The hillside was brilliant with the colors of fall – golds, oranges, reds – all in a hush before the sunlight brought them out into a blaze of bright color. Silently we watched the moon descend behind the hill and turned our attentions back to the river, accompanied by the geese and the ducks that were flying by.
Mother Nature’s gift
This past week I headed south to the Kansas City area to spend Thanksgiving with my family. I left the Twin Cities with two inches of snow on the ground and a temperature of about 24 degrees. After an hour or so the sun broke through the clouds and I found myself looking repeatedly at the landscape and trying to understand what I was seeing. With the low angle of the sun and some of the distant dark clouds the trees seem to take on a white appearance. I knew it wasn’t snow and yet it seemed that it was too late in the day for frost. After about 30 minutes of craning my neck from side to side I pulled off the interstate to look more closely. As I got out of my car I realized there was a thick layer of hoarfrost coating the trees and other plants. It was beautiful the way the sun was glistening off the frost. I was in the farmlands of southern Minnesota and the browns of the fields and the golden grasses all made a wonderful contrast to the sparkling frost. Within about 30 minutes the sun disappeared, the winds picked up, and the beauty that I had stopped to appreciate was gone. This was my start to a week of thankfulness: for nature’s moments that are given if we only stop to notice, for health that we too often take for granted, for family and for friends, both near and far.
On the wing
The days are shorter. The nights are colder. The first snow of the season has fallen. And our lakes are starting to ice over as we begin to slide into winter. Along with all these changes there is an increase in the activity of the ducks and geese. One of my favorites sights and sounds is a flock of Canada geese flying overhead — the beat of their wings and their honking is music to my ears. Since I live between Lake Como and the agricultural fields of the University of Minnesota I am on the path of the geese flying from the water at the lake to the food at the agricultural crops at the U. So many times I am stopped in my tracks to look up and appreciate their flight overhead. I know that soon enough the majority of geese and ducks will have migrated south to warmer climes and we will return to the hush and quiet of the snow and the cold of winter. In this week of Thanksgiving, the geese and their winged flight are one of the many things I appreciate and am thankful for.
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.
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