Last weekend as I was driving home from Iowa to Minnesota I was reminded of the beauty of the Midwest heartland. No big looming mountains, no expansive oceans, no rugged red rocks. But there’s a vastness of the land that spreads from horizon to horizon. Here’s the area responsible for much of the food that’s delivered to our tables, and this land goes through the temperature extremes of freezing, thawing, flooding, and drought. While I was driving on the interstate I kept one eye to the western sky and the colors that were building up to sunset. As the pinks were glowing I pulled off onto a county road; the smell of soil and cool winds came wafting through the car’s open window. This one field was between seasons with some snow still clinging to the cold earth, the soil that was thawing, and the ribbons of water and puddles that were reflecting the last light of a beautiful day and sunset. So much to be thankful for in this spring season of hope and renewal!
landscapes
Sentinels to winter
Winter made a comeback this week with a snowfall in the early morning hours. Fighting the slow traffic with the other commuters, I decided to get off the highway and visit a small local arboretum in Roseville – Central Park. I waited to park the car as the snow plow operator made his carefully practiced swipes of the lot, clearing the area in short time. I then had the quiet and the stillness of the park to myself. The landscape was white in all directions until I walked past a grouping of paper birch trees. Their peeling bit of color provided a contrast to all the snow. The birches and the small twigs seemed to be sentinels of winter with their watch over the cold and snow. In the distance I heard a single Canada goose honking as he took to the air, and somewhere a cardinal was welcoming the day. I then heard something I couldn’t recognize. Turning around I saw a cyclist winding his way down the path, leaving a single line of tire tracks in the fresh snow.
Coping with winter
Our long winter is continuing with more sub-zero temperatures and more snow. Just when we thought it was safe to put away the heavy coats and boots, another ten inches of white snow comes falling down. As we wake up to -14 degrees this morning, and look at a predicted high of -1 for this afternoon, we are all trying to find our sense of hope and humor. The other day this lovely pink & white scene caught my eye as I rounded a corner. I really loved the snow resting on the backs of the flamingos, and the ones with their hands in the snow (maybe they know something we haven’t picked up on yet?). Eventually spring will come, the snow will melt, and we will see the ground again. Until that time, we’ll look for a warmer forecast and try to keep our optimism and humor.
The quiet of winter
We headed out late one afternoon for some snowshoeing. The Twin Cities are filled with wonderful parks that allow you to get “away” from the city, even though it’s all around. I had been to this park before on my bicycle and knew that it had a paved walking trail through it. I was surprised that the trail had actually been plowed, so we carried our snowshoes for awhile. In the center of the park is a wonderful prairie area, with a grove of trees sitting up on a hill. It was the perfect place to don our snowshoes and head off into the knee-deep snow. There was a wonderful quiet to the afternoon – a stillness that occurs when the snow absorbs all the sounds around it. We were out as the sun travelled low in the horizon, lighting the clouds in the western sky. What a treasure it is to have the beauty (and quiet) of nature so near to enjoy.
A fresh snowfall
We awoke yesterday morning to a fresh coating of snow – about four plus inches. And while it was still snowing, the forecast was for quickly clearing skies. I bundled up and headed over to Como Park. Arriving before dawn, there was already activity all around. The skiers were out on the golf course enjoying the open spaces, and the groomer was methodically going around the course near the ski hill laying the tracks. As the sun made its way above the low-lying clouds, it caused the shadows to pick up the patterns of the track – line after line after line. Just a few minutes after I made this photo, a group of skiers swooshed past me and down the hill, smiling and chatting and commenting how lucky they were to have such a glorious morning to be out and about.
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