Thanksgiving morning we awoke to steel-gray skies and bare grass – on the late end of autumn. As the morning progressed, the first snow began to fall. In sheets of white, it settled on the grass and the trees, the shrubs and the plants. It’s coating was magical and beautiful, as if saying that autumn was past, and winter was moving in. I realized that I was looking forward to winter’s first snowfall, and I felt like a child — I marveled at the whiteness and how it seemed to make everything clean. As I headed out with my camera, the world seemed new to me. The lines between open water and ice were forming. The outline of trees became more noticeable as they were coated in white and stood stark in the landscape. The geese were high overhead, winging their way to open water, fields for food, or further south. And the gray skies overhead kept the sky close in — the time of winter and quiet, the time to reflect and recharge.
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Morning hoarfrost
I’ve just returned from a weekend with a collection of girlfriends – time spent relaxing, sharing, and getting caught up. We were outside of Alexandria, Minnesota in the central part of the state. The seasons are changing quickly and while we have no snow in the Twin Cities, there is snow on the landscape in Alexandria where the temperatures have remained below freezing. Gravel roads that once gave up dust are becoming hard and frozen. Lakes are forming ice from the shorelines inward, and the progress is noticeable from day-to-day. I awoke early this morning to photograph, and stepped out into a wonderland of hoarfrost. The trees and vegetation were covered with frost – all outlined in white, and the colors of the sunrise shone on the eastern horizon as day was breaking. A boat had been hauled out of the lake and was in its winter’s resting place, far from the shoreline. In the distance I could hear geese as they were headed south in search of open waters. The change of seasons was clearly noticeable this morning as we are moving closer to the heart of winter.
Winter lines
Yesterday was a blue-sky winter day with mild temps but a strong wind. With plenty of sunshine I wanted to get out to enjoy the weather before the temperatures plummeted to below zero. A little before sunset I went to one of the area golf courses to get some exercise. As the sun was sinking in the western sky, the shadow lines grew long and longer across the unbroken snow. They seemed to stretch much further than the height of the trees, reaching as far to the east as possible. Winter is the prime season of beautiful, low-in-the-sky light, accentuated even more at daybreak and sunset.
Sometimes it’s the light
The weather was cold yesterday – barely up to zero with a biting north wind of 20+ mph. With those conditions I chose to work inside for the day. I walked past the south window several times, looking at the patterns in the snow as they changed throughout the day. Eventually they called me outside to photograph. The sun is still relatively low in the sky, making for some wonderful lines as it slid through the fence and threw its light on our meager snow. There were bits of leaves and tree debris that danced across the pattern, and a rabbit had made its way across the yard and its footprints slashed through the light and the dark. Sometimes it’s the light that pulls the scene together and tells the story.
A walk on a mild winter’s day
Our unusually mild winter continued this past week. Although we had one snowfall of two inches, our landscape is only dotted with snow – many fields and open spaces are devoid of white. We took advantage of the mild temperatures to go for a hike at Long Lake Regional Park, a lovely oasis in the heart of the cities. The sky was gray and the park was quiet, but it was good to be outside in the fresh air. We followed a number of trails, some that were inland and some that were close to the lakes. This footbridge went over a passage between two of the lakes and had much thinner ice underneath it as the water flowed between the two bodies of water. On many sections of trails we could see the tracks of fat winter tires left by bicyclists. Our return trip back to the truck was made easier by walking over the frozen water of Rush Lake.
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