Springtime – a season of change, a season of hope, and a season of color. I’ve always looked forward to spring and its warmth and beauty. In Minnesota spring seems to condense and then open up all in a small time period. It’s as if you can literally watch the grass become green and the leaves pop out from the buds on the trees. Everything draws deep into the color palettes as Mother Nature wakes up from winter. One of my favorite flowers are tulips with all their styles and hues, colors and textures. They are the precursor to the abundance of late spring and summer and all the rich colors that follow. On a dreary day they can be the one bright spot in the garden. And on a sunny day they glow as their colors are set off by the warmth and brilliance of the sun.
nature
Pasque flowers for spring
Today is Easter – a day filled with promise, hope, and spring. Yet this year is not like other years. Many of us are celebrating the day without friends and family and without the many traditions that we have come to associate with Easter.
And usually Mother Nature is on board too, but that’s not the case in Minnesota today. I’m looking out the window at snow coming down and collecting on the grass and trees. When the temperature was 60 degrees yesterday I thought the 3-6 inches of predicted snow was wrong, but that just may hold true. Somewhere there are lovely small pasque flowers that are keeping their blossoms closed to protect themselves from the snow. They too know what’s necessary for survival. And yet I know spring will turn the corner, and these flowers will open up again and be thankful for the moisture and the sun. There is promise and hope.
Finding our way
Being home-bound inside, due to not only the directives on COVID-19 but also my broken leg, I have been looking at some of my earlier photos. This image remains one of my all-time favorites and it seems to have much symbolism for our present times. The old weathered barn has stood the ravages of time – peeling and faded paint, a hinge askew, a window missing. What events has it been through? What stories can it tell? The sunlight streams from an angle across its faded front emphasizing it’s age. The sun doesn’t reach the inside of the barn where it is dark and black. And yet on the far side of the barn, through the opposite openings, there is a green field. Grasses are blowing, a fence line and trees are visible. There is renewal beyond the old barn. There is sunshine and green grass ahead.
Stay safe and be well. There are greener pastures and sunnier days ahead. We will weather these times.
The world’s turned upside down
The last few weeks have brought a world of differences to many of us — a new physical view from the inside looking out; a new vocabulary that includes medical terms of pandemics, viruses, curves, ventilators, and COVID-19; an appreciation for things that previously we’d taken for granted; and a feeling that the world’s turned upside down. With the barrage of news and seemingly constant updates it’s hard to look too far forward. Like many, I’m trying to take things one day at a time. Today the sun is shining and there are signs of spring outside my windows. The birds are migrating back into our area and their calling hangs in the air. There are people walking in the neighborhood and soaking up the sun’s warmth. There’s a young girl that’s riding her small bike next to her dad who is running; they’re chatting and singing as they go by. Sometime ahead the tulips will be blooming here in Minnesota. Somewhere ahead, the struggling and the uncertainty we’re dealing with now will be behind us. Somewhere ahead I’m hoping we will have learned lessons from this time; perhaps we’ll appreciate the beauty all around us – in nature, in family, and the people we interact with. And somewhere ahead I’m hoping our world will no longer seem to be upside down, but instead will be more kind.
A snowshoe hike through the prairie
It was a cold day with a temperature of 16 degrees, but the sun was shining brilliantly and beckoned us outside. We packed our snowshoes and went to Hunt Hill Audubon Sanctuary in northwest Wisconsin. The wind was brisk, but if we could snowshoe along the tree line there was a welcome wind break. There was even protection from the wind as we headed across the prairie, and in the valleys of the steep hills we could bask in the sun’s heat. It was late afternoon so the sun threw its shadows across the landscape at a sharp angle. We soaked up the sun and the crisp fresh air of the day and enjoyed the exercise.
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