We just returned from some R&R in the north woods of Minnesota – a small cabin at Jack the Horse Resort, north of Marcell. When we first arrived, the summer heat and humidity were plainly evident – shorts and T-shirts were required, along with a dip in the lake. The second day there was a thunderstorm that moved through in the afternoon, clearing about an hour before sunset. As the clouds moved off to the east, the late sun splashed them with vivid colors, and the brilliance of the sky was reflected in the still waters of Jack the Horse Lake. The following day marked a cooling trend, and three days later we were wearing our long underwear and jackets as the north wind blew and the temps were down in the 30’s at night. The trip included successful fishing, glorious blue skies, an appreciation of the forests and woods, and even a night where we watched the Northern Lights dance above the lake.
summer
A study of flowers in movement
I was recently out photographing before sunset. What I was hoping would be a calm evening was developing into just the opposite. The heat of the day and the increasing humidity were causing the wind to be quite blustery. My first instinct was to turn around and go home, but instead I decided to go with it. Silhouetting the flowers behind the glow of the western sky, and using a longer shutter speed, I let the flowers “dance” in front of the lens. The more I watched, the more I enjoyed the unpredictable movement of the flowers. The images seemed to take on a life of their own almost as if knowing that summer is fleeting and now’s the time to celebrate it.
The epitome of a Minnesota summer
As the calendar months get closer to turning from summer to fall, I’ve been thinking about the epitome of a Minnesota summer. Although it’s many things to many people, to me it’s characterized by sun, water, and pines. If you live in the urban Twin Cities, a summer highlight is a trip “up north” whether for a weekend or a week. As the car noses northward the landscape changes, the sky gets bluer, the lakes become more numerous, and the smell of pines is evident. It’s here that I relax and breathe deeply – the smells of summer. When the cell phone is out of range and the days are marked by the sunrise and sunset, life becomes simpler and I am more concentrated. Sure, I still try to rush to cram all the “things” I want to do into each day, but it’s a slower sense of urgency. A sense that the day will be delightful no matter what activities take place (or what leisure and quiet is enjoyed). A walk down the path to the lake, some quiet time sitting on the dock watching the sun reflect off the water, and listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees, the fish surfacing, and the loons calling — this, to me, is the epitome of summer in Minnesota.
A weekend up north
As the temperature soared into the 90’s in the Twin Cities last Friday, we did what many Minnesotans do and headed “up north” for the weekend. A small cabin at Whitewood Resort overlooking Spirit Lake was the perfect relief. We spent the time keeping cool either by swimming in the lake or fishing. The first night we were treated to a beautiful glowing sunset with the reflection slicing through the wild rice that is in this lake. As I lay in bed that night I was lulled to sleep by the loons calling back and forth. We caught our share of sunfish and crappies the next day, watched an eagle swoop down and get his fish from the lake, and our second night was highlighted by a view of the Northern Lights as we sat on the dock with our feet in the lake. A few hours later, a storm rolled through with lightning and thunder and dropped the temperatures considerably. This morning we wandered amongst the many lakes in Aitkin County then shared lunch with good friends we haven’t seen in a long time. As we headed back to the cities we found ourselves refreshed and relaxed and thankful for a quick escape up north.
Fishing at the edge of the storm
Yesterday started with a gray cloud cover and comfortable temps. As the day wore on, the sun broke through and the heat started to build. Planning to take advantage of near-perfect fishing weather, we drove north about 50 miles to East Rush Lake. We enjoyed a dinner in the boat between pulling in sunfish and crappies, and I was looking forward to the sunset. Slowly, to the west, we could see storm clouds moving in, leaving a clear demarcation in the sky — blue sky white clouds and sunshine being taken over by dark gray and purple with white clouds developing within. Our timing was perfect; we made our way across the lake to the boat landing, trailered the boat, and then watched the far shore as the lightning and rain moved across the lake.
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