Last weekend’s snow disappeared with the rain that followed for a few days. Once again our ground was visible, and winter seemed far away. But the snow started falling again last night, and by this morning we had six inches of fluffy white snow on the ground and the trees. There was no wind, so the snow stayed where it fell, gracing the branches and trees. This delicate hydrangea bloom was a recipient of the dusting, and it seemed to sparkle with the flakes scattered over its blossoms. The temperatures have been below freezing the last few days and the lakes are icing over. This afternoon I saw a large skein of Canada geese heading southward. They were much higher in the air today as they continued past their usual stops in our area, knowing that they must continue further south to find open water. And there was a noticeable stillness in the air tonight; a nearly full moon shone down as the snow glistened in its light absorbing the sounds as we quickly move into the winter season.
Minnesota
Fresh blanket of snow
We woke up this morning to a fresh blanket of snow — on the ground and on the trees. It was a wet snow, and with little wind it was clinging to the trees and piling up on the branches. Everything was fresh and white. As the morning wore on and the temperature stayed near 30 degrees, people were out enjoying the winter landscape. I saw a family building a snow fort, numerous snowmen in various shapes and stages of development, people walking and running, dogs playing in the snow, and even some sleds were brought out for the first time this winter.
The peacefulness of a winter’s morning
The snow began after dark and continued through the night. It was a wet and heavy snow that blanketed the ground and outlined the branches and trees. In the morning the landscape had been transformed to winter. It was stillness and quiet this morning before Thanksgiving. I was at the golf course at Como Park where the oak trees on the far side of the pond still had their burgundy leaves. The entire landscape before me was quietly reflected in the open water. No ripple, no movement. Only the peacefulness of a winter’s morning.
Winter’s arrival
We knew it was coming; it was even later than usual this year. But winter’s arrival is always a shock, especially when the temperature drops 30 degrees in one day, the wind blows and gusts, and the rain turns to snow. For less than 48 hours we have been below freezing. The snow fell Friday afternoon and evening, and here in the Twin Cities we have less than an inch on the ground. But the white was evident on the plants and grass, and the cold was enough to put a layer of ice on the water in the Ordway Japanese Garden at Como Park. One tree bravely held on to its bright red leaves – the only real spark of color in the now-winter landscape. In this beautiful quiet this morning, the only sound was the waterfall that was continuing to gurgle and the geese whose flight south to open water took on a new sense of urgency.
R and R at the lake
This was a weekend of rest and relaxation at the lake. I’m fortunate to have a group of friends that find camaraderie and restoration together at one woman’s cabin near Alexandria. The beer was cold, the food was great, and the conversation flowed easily. It was a time for all of us to unwind, share the events of our lives, and reconnect since our last time together. Even better was the fact that our weather was warm and clear – unusual for this time in November. Friday evening I found myself drawn to the lake. There was no wind, the sun was slowly sinking into the western sky, and a beautiful wisp of clouds was reflected in the glass-like surface of the lake. The water was so clear I could see the rocks below the surface at my feet. All was silent, and all was right with this natural world. As I marveled at the beauty and gave thanks for my friends and my life right now, a loon gave out its characteristic cry in the middle of the lake. It seemed to be a reminder that nature can always be a place for us to recharge, refresh, and find a restorative place amidst all the outside influences that work to distract us and try to wear us down.
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