As we enter the last third of summer, our lakes in Minnesota and Wisconsin are starting to bloom with water lilies. Looking across the water surface you can see areas of white and yellow. We’ve seen muskrats enjoying a meal of water lilies, and deer will also wade into the water to graze on them. This water lily is not endanger of being eaten as I photographed it at the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory in Como Park. Like its “wild” relatives it was happy to open its petals to the bright sun and soak up the trailing end of summer.
summer
Oars and a paddle
Sometimes photographs present themselves directly — a beautiful sunset reflected in a lake, or a lovely flower that opens its blossoms to reveal its textures and colors. And other times a photograph can be more subtle, calling out for attention many times before it’s actually received. I walked past this shed countless times, looking at it but not really noticing it. And then one morning the sunlight came in from an angle and illuminated the oars and paddle with a lovely glow. That’s when I saw it. The oars with their oar locks are weather beaten and old; they show their wear and tear proudly. The paddle lost its paint many years ago and is actually cracked at the bottom. The collection struck me as a homage to summer days, old boats, old resorts, and probably some big fishing tales.
A colorful flourish to the end of summer
Last week I celebrated what now seems to have been a colorful flourish to the end of summer. I sent some time at the McNeely Conservatory in Como Park. The sunken garden was filled with its summer flowers, scents, and colors. Since that day our weather has been gray, cloudy, rainy, and much cooler — anything but summer-like. How lucky I was to have soaked up the last bright colors of summer!
Summer and stillness
Summer seems to be associated with activities — the longer days give us more time to play and enjoy the sun, warmth, and water. But sometimes we’re reminded that quiet and peacefulness are just as important during the summer. We’d had heavy rains the previous day and the temperatures were moderate. In the morning we woke to a thick fog that initially covered the entire lake and blocked the trees on the opposite shore. As the sun feebly tried to break through the fog, the shoreline became more visible. There was no wind – only stillness. It was a quiet and tranquil time. The fog was in no hurry to burn off, and the morning was taking its own sweet time. It seemed to be a reminder to slow down and enjoy all the moods of summer as it will soon fade into autumn.
Perspective from a road trip
We just returned from a road trip to Salt Lake City and back, something we haven’t done in a long while. And one of the things I loved was watching the change of landscape and scenery as the miles went by. We began in agriculture land with acres of corn and soybeans, and some sunflowers thrown in too. That landscape changed to rolling hills, then to the badlands of South Dakota. Into Wyoming we saw pasture lands with cattle and sheep, along with antelope, deer, and coyote. And then we were in the mountains of Utah, mostly shrouded from the smoke of the nearby forest fires.
During both directions of our trip we got to watch the development of weather fronts. When the landscape stretches out before you, behind you, and around you it gives you a chance to see the blue (or hazy) skies change to white clouds to billowing thunderstorms to darkness and rain, and then back to clearing skies. I’ll gladly take a road trip any day over a plane flight that picks you up from one landscape and drops you into another without the benefit of all the miles and scenery in between.
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