As fall starts its arrival in Minnesota the days grow shorter, the nights are cooler, and the harvests begin. For the past few years we’ve helped some friends in the Wabasha area with their grape harvest. On a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, they have a beautiful vineyard that’s expanded every year. Last weekend we spent a day with friends and family picking grapes for this year’s harvest. Our work began under an overcast sky. After a couple of hours we stopped for a lunch break, only to look outside and see it raining. We continued harvesting in the rain for a few hours (not a problem except for the rain drops that ran down our arms when we’d reach up to cut the grape clusters), and then the clouds cleared and the sun came out leaving the grapes glistening with the rain. These are Frontenac grapes, a variety bred by the University of Minnesota and known for its cold-hardiness. As the sun started its descent to the horizon we left the vineyard feeling good about a full-day’s work outside. We shared a wonderful meal with our fellow grape-harvesters and then headed home with gallons of fresh-squeezed grape juice to enjoy in the upcoming months.
Minnesota
Minnesota north woods
Last weekend we ventured to north central Minnesota, an area filled with woods and lakes. Although the anticipated fall colors were not at peak color yet, the area was beautiful in the cool of the early mornings and the sun dappled afternoons. Our trip was for R&R, and we spent the weekend exploring and wandering the landscape. We hiked on both forest and park trails, smelling the change of the seasons and listening to the rustling of the leaves. We journeyed down forest roads, stopping to admire lakes sparkling in the sunshine and listening for the birds – Canada geese, ducks, and loons. We put our canoe in a small lake and marveled at the clarity of the water down to almost 10 feet. Pulling out our fishing poles, we found the “sweet spot” on the lake and caught a couple of meals worth of sunfish. Our home base was a cabin at a small family run resort with our own dock overlooking the lake. The cabin was built in 1941 and had the charm and simplicity of only the necessities. Surrounded by trees and providing a view of the lake, it was the perfect place for us to appreciate and marvel in the beauty of the area.
Minnesota State Capitol Building at night
We recently took a special starlight tour of the Minnesota State Capitol Building, one of the most majestic and beautiful buildings in Saint Paul. Designed in the late 1890’s by Cass Gilbert and opened to the public in January, 1905, the building towers over the city. The exterior is made of white marble and granite, and the unsupported marble dome is the second largest in the world. At the center of the first floor, under the massive dome, is a brass and glass star representing the North Star State. We toured the chambers of the Senate, the House of Representatives, and the Supreme Court, and we climbed to the roof and the base of the capitol dome to see the golden sculpture that’s called the Quadriga. Titled “The Progress of the State” it is a chariot drawn by four horses representing the powers of nature: earth, wind, fire, and water. At night the statues, which are covered with gold leaf, glow with the warmth of the lights illuminating them. From this high vantage point we could see the Cathedral of St. Paul which is down the boulevard from the Capitol, we could see the lights of the High Bridge spanning the Mississippi River, and we could look across the western sky to the downtown skyline of Minneapolis. It was the perfect late summer night to take in the beauty of this wonderful building and its surroundings.
Beginnings and endings
I write this entry with a heavy heart. Last weekend we journeyed south to the Kansas City area to celebrate the wedding of my brother and his new bride. A second marriage for both of them, they had found happiness and joy and the excitement of their shared future. Their honeymoon was planned to be a motorcycle ride along the North Shore of Minnesota – an area of pines, and water, and beautiful scenery. They headed out from our house Tuesday morning and had the time of their lives as they traveled along the shore of Lake Superior. But the joy turned to sadness in an instant when the bride had a massive stroke on Wednesday morning. Emergency responders were there quickly and she was airlifted to a trauma center in Duluth. My brother and I spent the next 36 hours finding our way amongst doctors, surgeons, phone calls and text messages with family out-of-state, and organ donation procedures. In the end, the damage to my sister-in-law’s brain was too extensive and she passed away on Thursday. We are all struggling with this untimely change of fate and the sudden slide from the joy of a wedding to the pain of a death. I mourn the loss of my sister-in-law; a delightful woman who was up to any challenge, who loved her sons and her new extended family, who enjoyed fishing, and who was so very much in love with my brother. And I mourn the loss to my brother who was so happy with his new bride and looking forward to their future life and adventures together. I know that the pain will diminish with time, but the hurt is still fresh from these contracted few days.
Daybreak
I woke up in the dark the other morning, crawled out of bed, slipped on my shorts, T-shirt, and hiking boots and headed out the door with my camera. I’ve replayed this scenario so many times over the years. About 10 years ago I was living in Washington and would drive to Mount Rainier to see the sun rise over the mountains. Now I’m in Minnesota and I drive a few blocks and I’m walking through fields of tasseled corn, the temperature already at 80 degrees. In both instances I’m aware of so much more than the view in front of me. There are smells (whether of towering firs and cedars or agriculture fields) and there are sounds (of the creeks and streams that flow from the melting snow or the wind blowing through the corn and giving the geese thermals to float on). No matter where, there is so much that comes to life as the sun crests the horizon and the day breaks. The smoke from the wildfires in the west has drifted our way, giving our sunrises and sunsets a deeper shade of red and orange. This early-morning-time is ripe with the promise of the day (and the adventures) ahead.
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