It was still early in the morning. The red sun had risen and managed to shine its light through the smoke and haze that has blanketed our area. There were swallows sweeping above and over the lake, gathering insects, resting on the pontoon cover, then continuing their aerial acrobatics. Occasionally I could hear a bird off in the distance. But as I sat at the end of the dock, my attention was focused about 20 yards in front of me. A loon was gracefully floating by, intent on things other than my presence. It went to the south, then to the north, and then it dove under the surface. After what seemed like an unusually long time, it reappeared…with a snail and some greenery that it found on the lake bottom. It floated by me, turned, dropped everything from its beak, dove down again, and disappeared for another long time, only to resurface way out in the center of the lake.
I treasure these simple moments – the quiet of the morning, the birds, fish, and animals doing what they do in the early hours of daylight, and the ritual that has played out for decades and eons. And I try to imagine someone sitting by this same lake shore observing a similar moment one hundred, two hundred, maybe three hundred years ago.
The other morning dawned cool and calm. There was steam coming off the lake surface, and the sun was a red ball rising into a hazy yellow and murky sky. It was quiet except for the sounds of geese and ducks calling off in the distance. On this day there was never much of a wind so the sky never cleared to it’s usual bright blue.
We’ve had numerous days like this one of hazy sunshine, partly due to increased humidity but also from the smoke of Canadian and northern Minnesota wildfires that have drifted into the area. The sunrises and sunsets have been unusual and unsettling, and yet quite beautiful.
Happy summer solstice and summer season! For all those days in the depths of winter when we grumbled about the cold and snow we now have the long days of sun and the heat of summer. It’s a time of blue skies, short sleeves, carefree shoes, lakes, fishing, and relaxation.
I have recently updated and combined my blog and website (https://lindastaatsphoto.com/) and I invite you to take a look around. You will see a menu ribbon or a dropdown option for navigation. There are three galleries with my photographic images – florals, architecture and designs, and landscapes and nature. These will help you understand the way I see the world around us. As we get closer to winter I will be adding a section for this year’s offering of holiday cards and 2022 (oh my!) desk calendars. And on my blog page is a place where you can sign up to receive emails anytime I have a new post (which is generally two to three times a month).
As always, I welcome your thoughts and comments. My blog continues to share the change of seasons and the scenes that I see, whether in the upper Midwest where I live or on the road with new adventures. Thanks for coming along on the ride with me; there’s still much to see, experience, and share!
And a credit to Greg Buzicky for the above photo, on a beautiful (and successful) evening of fishing!
Spring has been announced by the bright green leaves that are emerging and by the ephemerals that are popping up before the tree canopy is full. The white trillium have pushed through the carpet of leaves and winter’s debris to open up to the bright sunshine. Each flower has three white petals that bloom above the three broad leaves. For a very brief time the woodlands of northern Minnesota and Wisconsin are brighter with a carpet of white trillium.
It’s the shortest season here in the North. We’ve had snow and cold, freeze warnings in the mornings, and then it’s spring. All around plants, birds, animals are emerging. The ground is littered with leaves, pine needles, twigs, and branches. The trees are budded so there is no shade over the garden. But if you get down to ground level and look closely there are signs of spring. The trillium are up above the dead leaves and some of the other wildflowers are poking their shoots and leaves up. These ferns are about eight inches tall now but they will be hip height in a matter of a week. The fernheads are wrapped tightly in a ball but they will unfurl and spread their own shade over the ground below. And quickly the temperatures will rise, the humidity will increase, the lightning will crack and the thunder will roll, and spring will have passed to summer.