Like many people I’ve been caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holidays. So many things to squeeze into the next couple of weeks; we dash from one place to the next, eager to check off all those items that make up our long list. I headed out the door this morning on one of those errands. I did notice that the temperature was in the upper 30’s and it had been raining off and on – roads were wet, no worry of snow or ice. I mentally checked off all the tasks for the morning, and headed down the alley. But something caught my eye and interrupted my trip. A cranberry tree was dripping with the rain. Drops were suspended from the berries, each catching the gray light of the clouds around. There wasn’t any wind to speak of, so the droplets seemed intent to stay in their suspended state. I marveled at the beauty and reminded myself to be more focused on the world around me and be more intentional in appreciating the beauty that surrounds us all, no matter the time of year.
winter
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.
Early spring daybreak
Spring has been fickle here in Minnesota. From cold to snow to rain to warm – we’ve had a bit of everything this week. I’ve already heard the welcome return of the red-winged blackbirds singing, and the lake ice has started to diminish. I was at Lake Johanna yesterday before sunrise. The winter air was crisp and cold at 19 degrees when it hit my face and hands as I got out of the car, but my ears could hear the geese and the ducks that were splashing in the open water near the shoreline, and in the distance a woodpecker’s repetitive hammering was contributing to the song. With all this cacophony the sun was illuminating the eastern sky in pinks and orange. It seems that everything is in anxious anticipation of the season of spring.
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