This past January, in the middle of freezing temperatures and feet of snow, we were planning a spring trip to a Minnesota state park. We decided that mid-April would be a perfect time to go to the prairie lands of western Minnesota and enjoy a warm sunny weekend with the opportunity to photograph early wildflowers. Of course, this past winter has been harder and longer than usual, and the snow has only recently melted. So it wasn’t altogether a major surprise when we drove to Lac qui Parle State Park on Friday night and arrived in the middle of a snow squall. The snow continued throughout the night and into the morning, with the winds howling around our little camper cabin. As “frightful” as it was outside, we were warm and snug on the bluff overlooking Lac qui Parle Lake, which is a broadening of the Minnesota River. The winds continued throughout the day Saturday, blowing the clouds across the prairie sky. Eventually the front passed us by early Sunday morning and we awoke to blue skies and warmer temperatures. Lac qui Parle was named by French explorers who lived with the Dakota Indians and means the “lake that speaks.” This weekend the area was “speaking” with a plethora of pelicans, geese, ducks, and cormorants. We were even treated to the sighting of a coyote and the olfactory “sighting” of a skunk. With the recent spring snowmelt the lake has flooded the lowlands and even closed some of the roads in the area. However, we were still able to explore this part of the state that borders South Dakota, meet some fascinating people who shared their knowledge and history of the prairie and the area, and brush up on the history of the fur-traders and missionaries that settled here with the Dakotas in the early 1800’s. We will certainly return to this wonderful state park and prairie land again, perhaps in the fall when over 150,000 Canada geese migrate through the area. Although our original plans and expectations did not come to fruition, we had a truly wonderful and enjoyable weekend.
landscapes
The quiet of a Sunday morning
There’s a special stillness and quiet of a Sunday morning that doesn’t exist on other days. Perhaps most people are slowly easing into the day. The sound of commuter traffic is not to be heard, the air is still as the wind hasn’t picked up yet, and the landscape becomes peaceful and meditative. I headed over to Como Park early this morning. After a light snowfall yesterday and another dusting during the night, the snow was once again white and clean. The footsteps of walkers and the tracks of snowshoes had been covered. There was a bird that had awakened on the other side of the park, and his call was soft but not disturbing, as if he too had only just awakened. This bench had been decorated with the fresh snow, and it seemed to invite anyone who was willing to climb up and over the piles of snow by the side of the road to come sit for a while and enjoy the quiet and the beauty of this early morning time.
Brief winter’s thaw at Lake Como
The past week offered up a short respite from winter with a brief thaw. Some of our snow piles diminished and we were able to see open water on some of the lakes. I headed over to Lake Como on Thursday night and was treated to a vibrant sunset that was reflected in the pooling water standing in areas of the lake. It was all looking so much like the beginning of the end of our winter. I was even treated to a small flock of geese that flew overhead, honking as they made their way from one end of the lake to the other. But this was all a tease by Mother Nature. Even after photographing this image, the wind picked up and the temperature began to drop. And today we’ve had snow falling for over 12 hours, accompanied by strong winds creating white-out conditions and drifting. Winter is not done with us yet, as our landscape is now covered with close to a foot of fresh white snow, and any water is now frozen once again.
In the middle of the lake
The past week was all about winter here in the Twin Cities. It was the St. Paul Winter Carnival with its ice and snow sculptures along with all the outdoor activities associated with the event. I was fortunate to have a dear friend from the Seattle area here visiting (yes, people really do come to Minnesota for vacations!). I wanted to show her something that’s unique to our area in the winter time besides all the piles of snow that are gracing our urban landscape. So we headed north to the second largest lake in the state, Mille Lacs. We got our road pass for the day and drove four plus miles out into the lake on the ice road. How bizarre to look at my GPS and see the car symbol surrounded by blue water! Just a reminder that there really is a lake underneath this layer of ice. The lake is filled with fish houses now, as far as the eye can see. Some are sitting out all by themselves, and others are close together forming their own little villages. Although we didn’t see any large piles of fish sitting nearby, I’m sure the fishing must have been good on this blue-sky day.
The simplicity of winter
There is a wondrous simplicity that seems to take hold of the landscape in winter. With all the snow that has fallen, our world has become very black and white. Color is hard to find in the surroundings. With a fresh few inches of snow this past week, I headed out of the house with my camera before dawn. I didn’t have to venture very far — just over to a nearby golf course. The world was quiet on this winter’s day; there were no birds, animals, or other people when I got to my destination. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of my snowshoes. Quickly the sun moved over the horizon and into the sky adding some color to the scene. Doing so it lent its warm light to the cold landscape, with long shadows over the clean snow. As if on cue, the rest of the world began to stir and wake. I heard a cross-country skier out on the groomed tracks, and I heard cars moving by with their tires scrunching the compact snow on the roads. The quiet and stillness had changed, but the simplicity of snow and trees and sunlight was still there.
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