Friday morning we awoke to a fresh snowfall. The dingy remnants of the earlier snow were whitened, the snow that fell overnight lay coating the trees, the wind was still, and the temperature was hovering around freezing – all the elements of a perfect snowfall. As I headed out the door to work, I made a “scheduled” detour to Como Park and the McNeely Conservatory. The lights inside the conservatory gave off a warm glow to the glass in contrast to the blue and white of the snow. And the snow-covered trees were sentinels of the beauty of this winter morning. In the stillness and beauty of the early morning it was just me photographing, and the snowplow driver clearing the roads and paths in the park.
snow
Open water and ice
We’ve fluctuated between winter and warmer seasons (whether fall or seemingly spring), all in the scope of one week. After a lovely snowfall last Monday, our temperatures have risen and stayed above freezing. All ice that had formed is losing its grip. As if reaching its long fingers out to try to hold on, the cracks are evident. The lines between open water and ice are quickly diminishing. Good for the birds, and those people who favor warmer temperatures for winter; bad for those that revel in our winter snow and cold.
Moving to winter
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.
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.
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