Friday morning we awoke to a fresh snowfall. The dingy remnants of the earlier snow were whitened, the snow that fell overnight lay coating the trees, the wind was still, and the temperature was hovering around freezing – all the elements of a perfect snowfall. As I headed out the door to work, I made a “scheduled” detour to Como Park and the McNeely Conservatory. The lights inside the conservatory gave off a warm glow to the glass in contrast to the blue and white of the snow. And the snow-covered trees were sentinels of the beauty of this winter morning. In the stillness and beauty of the early morning it was just me photographing, and the snowplow driver clearing the roads and paths in the park.
landscapes
An approach to this new year
A new year — new ideas, new hopes, new resolutions. Or maybe not. As I look back on last year I realize that sometimes the most memorable times were the ones that were unplanned. They came about, perhaps with a seed of thought, but they developed into something wonderful. One grandson, then a second grandson, a marriage proposal, friends near and far, and family that came to visit. This year I have many things to look forward to: two family weddings (one which is my own!), a honeymoon, a nephew’s college graduation, followed by his brother’s high school graduation. Yesterday we took a drive through the Wisconsin countryside. We had a general idea where we were headed, but the route developed as we wandered. We found undulating hills and valleys in dairy country, fields of fresh snow, a creek where the hoarfrost was still evident in the late morning, and a military veteran who was brought to tears when we thanked him for his service in World War II. All these adventures came about because we were present in the day and 0pen to the discoveries that developed. My wish for the new year is to be open to all that each day offers, and embrace it fully – life, friends, family, adventures, and memories.
A reminder to slow down
Like many people I’ve been caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holidays. So many things to squeeze into the next couple of weeks; we dash from one place to the next, eager to check off all those items that make up our long list. I headed out the door this morning on one of those errands. I did notice that the temperature was in the upper 30’s and it had been raining off and on – roads were wet, no worry of snow or ice. I mentally checked off all the tasks for the morning, and headed down the alley. But something caught my eye and interrupted my trip. A cranberry tree was dripping with the rain. Drops were suspended from the berries, each catching the gray light of the clouds around. There wasn’t any wind to speak of, so the droplets seemed intent to stay in their suspended state. I marveled at the beauty and reminded myself to be more focused on the world around me and be more intentional in appreciating the beauty that surrounds us all, no matter the time of year.
Open water and ice
We’ve fluctuated between winter and warmer seasons (whether fall or seemingly spring), all in the scope of one week. After a lovely snowfall last Monday, our temperatures have risen and stayed above freezing. All ice that had formed is losing its grip. As if reaching its long fingers out to try to hold on, the cracks are evident. The lines between open water and ice are quickly diminishing. Good for the birds, and those people who favor warmer temperatures for winter; bad for those that revel in our winter snow and cold.
Moving to winter
Thanksgiving morning we awoke to steel-gray skies and bare grass – on the late end of autumn. As the morning progressed, the first snow began to fall. In sheets of white, it settled on the grass and the trees, the shrubs and the plants. It’s coating was magical and beautiful, as if saying that autumn was past, and winter was moving in. I realized that I was looking forward to winter’s first snowfall, and I felt like a child — I marveled at the whiteness and how it seemed to make everything clean. As I headed out with my camera, the world seemed new to me. The lines between open water and ice were forming. The outline of trees became more noticeable as they were coated in white and stood stark in the landscape. The geese were high overhead, winging their way to open water, fields for food, or further south. And the gray skies overhead kept the sky close in — the time of winter and quiet, the time to reflect and recharge.
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