Mid-winter, and newer images

We have reached mid-winter. We had a string of sub-zero temperatures in mid-January, bottoming out at -32 degrees. Those were the days to hunker down inside, keep warm, and be thankful for modern conveniences and warm clothes.

We’ve also had a string of mild days, some with sunshine and some with gray skies. If the sun is out, the snow will compact or even melt in places. The roads become sloppy, then often freeze overnight as the temperatures drop. And when we have sunshine it seems our spirits lift – there’s the promise of spring and its warming sun. People, including myself, react to the prospect of spring with smiles and hope. Hope – something we’re all looking for this year in particular, in this part of the country (and elsewhere too). To me that hope is found in the setting sun each day, and the promise of its rise the following morning. The clouds and sun can give a symphony of colors, each one different as they sweep across the sky.

I’ve added a new page to my website that has some of my newer images. You can find it as a listing in the top menu of my website, or as a drop-down choice. As I look at this collection I see the hope and light that I just spoke of in the paragraph above. A light that brightens or softens, that reflects or shapes. I hope you’ll enjoy the 16 images on the page and appreciate the hope that abides in each season and day.

Edges

These have been a difficult and tough few weeks in Minnesota and Wisconsin. People are on edge. Some are hiding in fear and some are stepping out and forward. For the 20 years I have lived in Minnesota, I’ve found the people to be welcoming and caring. They’re happy to help push you out of a snow bank, recognizing that everyone has been in that situation before. When the temperatures dip to 20 below zero, you check on your neighbor to be sure they’re warm and safe. It’s what you do for your neighbors. And that’s what Minnesotans are doing now – standing up for their neighbors.

It’s been a challenge to concentrate and center my mind. One of the best ways for me to do that is to be surrounded by nature – whether it’s outside or inside with greenery and flowers. So I took myself to Como Park and spent an hour photographing at the McNeely Conservatory. The sunken garden was filled with spring flowers and colors, all of which were welcome and inviting on a cold winter’s morning. But I walked into another room at the conservatory and found three cactus in a corner. Their spikes were long and looked sharp and menacing. I immediately thought of the environment in the Twin Cities where there are menacing and sharp forces roaming the streets, schools, and businesses. And yet behind the cactus in the corner was a lovely soft kalanchoe plant covered with pink and red blossoms. As I focused my camera and framed the image, the kalanchoe colors seemed to soften the cactus and its sharp edges. Two plants side by side, both surviving in the conservatory room. Neither was better than the other. Each has its place in the environment. It all seemed to represent a difficult time where our edges are being explored and tested.

Turning into winter

Today was a morning to pull out my warm winter coat, hat, and gloves for my daily walk. With a cold start to the dawn at 18 degrees, I was treated to tiny and intricate bits of frost decorating the fallen leaves. I marveled at our passing into yet another season, and couldn’t help but think back to warmer temperatures and a now-distant summer.

At the end of August we set out on a three-week camping trip. We left northwest Wisconsin and traveled through Minnesota, South Dakota, and Wyoming – admiring the landscape changes and the beauty that’s found in every state. We drove through prairies, sunflower fields, and canyons. We enjoyed sunsets and moon rises. We camped with family while in Utah, where I was fortunate to catch my first trout!

We took in the majesty of the relatively-snow-less Teton Mountain Range and we stood in awe of the immensity of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.

We journeyed back through the big-sky state of Montana and finished our trip in the badlands of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park, with the fall colors beginning to appear alongside the Little Missouri River valley.

So on these clear cold days leading further into winter, I especially enjoy the chance to revisit and appreciate the warmth and expansiveness, as well as the beauty and the variety of landscapes that we enjoyed a mere two months ago as we journeyed west.

Awakening from winter

We appear to have turned the proverbial corner from winter to spring. It was not a straight-line trajectory, but it was a snowstorm followed by a warm up and then a cycle of repeat a few times. My attention has been on other things the past few months, and my photography has taken a back seat to those concerns. But it’s never far from my mind, and when I’m “out in the world” and a scene presents itself to me, it sometimes cannot be ignored.

This was the case this past Easter morning. The world was quiet and still before dawn. The air was cold as the temperatures had dropped below freezing overnight. Yet there was the promise of warmth from the sun. I watched as the eastern horizon slowly awakened to the most beautiful shades of blue, rose, and gold. As the light started to glow, there was a cacophony of sounds – turkeys gobbling across the opposite shore, Canada geese honking in the bay to the south, and ducks quacking as they flew towards the shore and then swept back into the air. It was as if a chorus was announcing the arrival of Easter and of spring. And maybe this was the final turning from winter to spring.