Just when we were resigning ourselves to the prospect of a brown Christmas, the snow moved into the Twin Cities yesterday afternoon. It snowed throughout the evening and into the early morning hours, and when I awoke today our scenery was coated with four inches of white and fluffy snow. I grabbed my camera and headed over to Como Park early. There were few people on the streets but even the sound of the three or four cars was muffled by the snow. After about 15 minutes of walking I could hear a snow shovel scraping the pavement. When I arrived at the park I could see, and eventually hear, the sound of the trail groomer as she laid down the cross-country ski track; we exchanged waves as she drove past. Another five minutes passed before I heard the whish of a skier coming up behind me. And shortly after that the sound of geese flying south filled the air. It was one skein of geese after another, no longer content to be in an area of frozen lakes and ponds and headed to warmer climes. I watched and wondered how far south they would fly today. Another ten minutes passed and I could hear children’s laughter and squeals as they were sledding with abandon down a nearby hill. The time passed quickly and as I headed back home the city had awakened. Traffic was moving carefully on the snow-covered streets and people were either shoveling their walks and drives or using snow blowers to clear the paths. The sounds of winter have arrived once again.
snow
On the wing
The days are shorter. The nights are colder. The first snow of the season has fallen. And our lakes are starting to ice over as we begin to slide into winter. Along with all these changes there is an increase in the activity of the ducks and geese. One of my favorites sights and sounds is a flock of Canada geese flying overhead — the beat of their wings and their honking is music to my ears. Since I live between Lake Como and the agricultural fields of the University of Minnesota I am on the path of the geese flying from the water at the lake to the food at the agricultural crops at the U. So many times I am stopped in my tracks to look up and appreciate their flight overhead. I know that soon enough the majority of geese and ducks will have migrated south to warmer climes and we will return to the hush and quiet of the snow and the cold of winter. In this week of Thanksgiving, the geese and their winged flight are one of the many things I appreciate and am thankful for.
Little cabin on the prairie
This past January, in the middle of freezing temperatures and feet of snow, we were planning a spring trip to a Minnesota state park. We decided that mid-April would be a perfect time to go to the prairie lands of western Minnesota and enjoy a warm sunny weekend with the opportunity to photograph early wildflowers. Of course, this past winter has been harder and longer than usual, and the snow has only recently melted. So it wasn’t altogether a major surprise when we drove to Lac qui Parle State Park on Friday night and arrived in the middle of a snow squall. The snow continued throughout the night and into the morning, with the winds howling around our little camper cabin. As “frightful” as it was outside, we were warm and snug on the bluff overlooking Lac qui Parle Lake, which is a broadening of the Minnesota River. The winds continued throughout the day Saturday, blowing the clouds across the prairie sky. Eventually the front passed us by early Sunday morning and we awoke to blue skies and warmer temperatures. Lac qui Parle was named by French explorers who lived with the Dakota Indians and means the “lake that speaks.” This weekend the area was “speaking” with a plethora of pelicans, geese, ducks, and cormorants. We were even treated to the sighting of a coyote and the olfactory “sighting” of a skunk. With the recent spring snowmelt the lake has flooded the lowlands and even closed some of the roads in the area. However, we were still able to explore this part of the state that borders South Dakota, meet some fascinating people who shared their knowledge and history of the prairie and the area, and brush up on the history of the fur-traders and missionaries that settled here with the Dakotas in the early 1800’s. We will certainly return to this wonderful state park and prairie land again, perhaps in the fall when over 150,000 Canada geese migrate through the area. Although our original plans and expectations did not come to fruition, we had a truly wonderful and enjoyable weekend.
Brief winter’s thaw at Lake Como
The past week offered up a short respite from winter with a brief thaw. Some of our snow piles diminished and we were able to see open water on some of the lakes. I headed over to Lake Como on Thursday night and was treated to a vibrant sunset that was reflected in the pooling water standing in areas of the lake. It was all looking so much like the beginning of the end of our winter. I was even treated to a small flock of geese that flew overhead, honking as they made their way from one end of the lake to the other. But this was all a tease by Mother Nature. Even after photographing this image, the wind picked up and the temperature began to drop. And today we’ve had snow falling for over 12 hours, accompanied by strong winds creating white-out conditions and drifting. Winter is not done with us yet, as our landscape is now covered with close to a foot of fresh white snow, and any water is now frozen once again.
The simplicity of winter
There is a wondrous simplicity that seems to take hold of the landscape in winter. With all the snow that has fallen, our world has become very black and white. Color is hard to find in the surroundings. With a fresh few inches of snow this past week, I headed out of the house with my camera before dawn. I didn’t have to venture very far — just over to a nearby golf course. The world was quiet on this winter’s day; there were no birds, animals, or other people when I got to my destination. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of my snowshoes. Quickly the sun moved over the horizon and into the sky adding some color to the scene. Doing so it lent its warm light to the cold landscape, with long shadows over the clean snow. As if on cue, the rest of the world began to stir and wake. I heard a cross-country skier out on the groomed tracks, and I heard cars moving by with their tires scrunching the compact snow on the roads. The quiet and stillness had changed, but the simplicity of snow and trees and sunlight was still there.
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