I was very fortunate to be at Como Park the other evening. It had been a beautiful day and many people were enjoying the evening and the park. There were people walking, biking, running, flying kites, setting up hammocks between trees, picnicking, and taking in all that our urban park offers, including a recent high school graduate celebrating his accomplishment. The sun was fighting through the hazy clouds on the western horizon, but it threw a lovely light on the waterfall on the right side of the Frog Pond. And that same light was streaming through the glass of the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory. How lucky I was to be there at this very moment.
Pink lady’s slippers
I was contacted by a neighbor saying they had pink lady’s slippers blooming in their yard; oh, what a wonderful invitation! Semi-hidden amidst some tall grasses, she showed me multiple clumps of these lovely flowers. Pink lady’s slippers are part of the orchid family, and are about 6 to 10 inches tall. They are delicate and stand tall on a single leafless stem. Like other ephemerals they bloom for only a few short days before the deciduous trees form their full canopy of leaves blocking sunlight to the ground. I sat on the ground and marveled at these beauties, thankful that I could enjoy them at their peak.
Sadness and dark times
It’s a dark and sad time in Minnesota this week. Tensions have risen, actions have been taken, people have been hurt, and everyone is in a state of shock. Our state is filled with a wonderful diversity of people which adds to the richness of this place. We are proud of our lakes, our rivers, our towns and cities. We take on the challenge of hard winters that linger late into spring, snowfalls that bury is in feet of snow, and subzero temperatures that settle in for weeks. Now we are facing the challenge of grieving losses – loss of life, loss of property, loss of respect. Sadly there are business owners, apartment dwellers, and many people that have had their places burned and have been displaced through no fault of their own. The losses are many and spread throughout our cities. We are mourning and many of us are saddened that our state has been rocked by the extent and severity of this week’s events, and it will take time for us to mend.
Change is inevitable in life. We will grieve and struggle, and we will get through this, and I sincerely hope that this week’s news gets replaced with hope and understanding, love and respect.
A full moonrise
A week ago there was a lovely full moonrise. I stood by the lake and waited for the moon to clear the hill and the trees on the opposite shoreline. The wind slowly settled down, and there was a lovely quiet that wrapped around me. The waves calmed and the lake became still. Then the moon appeared – large and pearl colored, and as it rose it seemed that the tops of the trees were supporting it and offering it up to the night sky. I watched and then my ears picked up the haunting call of a loon at the other end of the lake. It all seemed a perfect rite of spring, and I savored this respite from the many worries of the world right now.
The hope of spring
Springtime – a season of change, a season of hope, and a season of color. I’ve always looked forward to spring and its warmth and beauty. In Minnesota spring seems to condense and then open up all in a small time period. It’s as if you can literally watch the grass become green and the leaves pop out from the buds on the trees. Everything draws deep into the color palettes as Mother Nature wakes up from winter. One of my favorite flowers are tulips with all their styles and hues, colors and textures. They are the precursor to the abundance of late spring and summer and all the rich colors that follow. On a dreary day they can be the one bright spot in the garden. And on a sunny day they glow as their colors are set off by the warmth and brilliance of the sun.
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