In a highly unusual fashion, summer came blowing in on southerly winds this past week, seeming to pass over spring and jumping straight to 80 degree temperatures. When I awoke yesterday morning to 59 degrees I grabbed my camera and headed out the door. I was hoping to photograph the red-winged blackbirds which have flown back into our area and have been heard with their brilliant singing. At a nearby lake I wandered down near the shore where there were cattails and reeds. The area was anything but peaceful. I could hear the blackbirds (although they were sitting high in the trees) and the distant cardinals and blue jays. And high overhead the geese and ducks were calling back and forth as they searched for open water. Many of our lakes have experienced an early ice-out due to the warm temperatures, but on this lake there was open water near the shore, an area of thin ice towards the center, and then another area of water. A muskrat floated by the shoreline in a lazy enjoyable manner. The morning was alive with activity and was in such stark contrast to our quiet hushed mornings of winter. As I composed this photograph I heard the sound of something or someone walking on the dried leaves across the small inlet. I looked up and found a deer watching me. She didn’t seem upset by my presence but rather curious. We watched each other for a while, and then she was joined by another deer. Perhaps they were also enjoying the morning’s early symphony, the smells of spring, and the promise of the changing seasons.
Minnesota
Dogsledding for a Cause
Way up in the northern-most part of Minnesota is an area known as the Gunflint Trail. This paved, two-lane road travels inland from Grand Marais on the western shore of Lake Superior for 57 miles ending at Seagull and Saganaga Lakes. Bordering on the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, the area is a treasure of hills, cliffs, lakes, forests, and some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Last month when we planned a mid-March trip to the Gunflint we expected to do some snowshoeing and winter exploring, anticipating lots of snow and cold temperatures. Little did we know that last Friday’s 20 degree temps would change into sunshine and near 50 on Saturday. There’s still plenty of snow in the area, and the lakes are still frozen with 20+ inches of ice, but it doesn’t seem like the middle of winter when you’re taking off hats and coats to cool off! We also didn’t know that this was the weekend for the Mush for a Cure, a non-competitive sled dog event to raise funds to help find a cure for breast cancer. With close to 40 mushers and lots of loud and excited dogs, the Mush began on frozen Gunflint Lake. The event is all for fun, with mushers, dogs, and spectators festooned in pink costumes and paraphernalia. The race is led by Captain Mammogram who rides his pink snowmobile enhanced with fake breasts. This was the sixth year for the Mush for a Cure and this year alone they raised over $29,000 (and still counting) to donate to the National Breast Cancer Foundation, bringing their total donations to close to $130,000. But this isn’t just a dog sledding event, it’s a weekend of activities including a pajama party, a king and queen coronation, and head shaving. We received an invite from John of Cross River Lodge to his crossing on Cook County 46. By following his sign that read “Free Beer 11 am to 1pm” we found a crowd of delightful and supportive people. For every free beer and/or beverage he handed out his Lodge donated $5 to the Mush, up to $500. With the warm temps, the cold beverages went quickly, and John made good on his pledge. And I’m proud to say that all the people at John’s crossing were more than ready to help out with an unfortunate accident that took place — our thoughts go out to the musher and his family. The organizers, sponsors, volunteers, and participants — everyone was having fun while raising money for a very serious cause. There was a grand feeling of community, of everyone coming together to celebrate the near-end of winter and to support a great and unique event. What a fun way to spend a winter weekend in northern Minnesota!
Morning snowfall
As with most of the country, this past week has brought a potpourri of weather. We had warm enough temperatures one day to prompt rain (and a lot of it — the most we’ve had in one day since last July). But the temperature dropped that night, the rain turned to sleet and the puddles turned to ice. At some time it turned over to snow, coating the ice-covered trees and streets. In the morning I ventured to the golf course at Como Park. The precipitation had once again changed over to a stinging sleet that was only sharpened by the brisk winds. It was ironically peaceful being the only person out at that time of the morning. The ice and snow had freshened and renewed our wintry landscape once again, dashing any hopes that spring was imminent. But the beauty and the simplicity of the scenery was abundant. Even this fence that was once upright and surrounding the green took on its own sense of rhythm, pattern, and repetition coated in snow. I wandered and photographed for a while until I could hear the wind starting to break off the ice-coated branches of the trees, and erring on the side of caution it seemed the appropriate time to head home.
Late winter reflections
Our winter has been unusual by normal Minnesota standards. The snow drought has continued with warmer temperatures, but just when we thought spring was being ushered in on southerly winds we got a snowfall of three inches. Now that’s not a huge snowfall, but this year it amounts to one of our larger ones. Since the air temperatures are much warmer, any snow that does come is likely to melt rather quickly. And so it was with this snow. As I was driving home the other night I entered our alley and was greeted by this scene. I don’t normally think of alleys are being prime photographic opportunities, but I was caught off guard this day. The power poles created a wonderful repetition in the standing water, and the reflection of the colors of the sky created a meandering curve down the length of the alley.
Button jar
There was a time when I sewed, as did many other women. And even now I will occasionally pick up a needle and thread and do some mending, but it’s not something I’ve done much of lately.
When I was a child my mother and both my grandmothers sewed. I was very fortunate to spend time with those women and learn from them. Their mastery of the craft and their skill made their sewing an art. Each one of those women had a jar or a tin or a box that was filled with extra buttons – the ones that were saved from old shirts that were worn out, the buttons that were extras from the new shirts and/or dresses that were made, and the buttons that were purchased for future projects that just hadn’t been completed yet. It was like a treasure chest of lovely gems — different colors, shapes, and sizes. What a wonderfully tactile experience to run my fingers through the buttons, sifting from one layer to the next, experiencing the varied shapes and materials. And what a treat to enjoy the colors and finishes. Occasionally a button would trigger a memory of a certain dress or blouse that had been sewn and worn and loved.
I’ve just returned from a quick visit with my family in the Kansas City area and I’ve brought home with me a large quilt that I made in 1990 that is showing some wear and tear. I’m now looking forward to the opportunity to pull out my needles and thread and make the repairs to this quilt using the skills and artistry that were lovingly passed on to me so many years ago.
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