We made a day trip south to Faribault Minnesota yesterday. The day dawned with a dusting of snow, and a front moving through, prompting strong northerly winds up to 45 mph. Not a problem for driving south….As we were following along the southern shore of Cannon Lake, I was amazed at the whitecaps rolling across the water. I have never seen that much wind blowing over the open water. But then my eye caught the southern shoreline where the wind-blown waves were crashing. Because of the cold temperatures, the water was freezing along the trees and bushes. Everything was coated in ice, and even some of the icicles were leaning towards the south because of the incessant winds. As cold and windy as yesterday was, the pendulum of spring swung the other way today and we enjoyed sunshine and 60’s, with no signs of ice.
change of seasons
Spring’s attempt is foiled again
Spring is not known for its consistency. After tulips had broken through the ground, ice has been off the lakes, and everyone’s thoughts were turning to warmer temperatures, we got a slap of snow. The temperatures dropped, the winds picked up, and winter came sweeping back into Minnesota. I headed out before dawn to the Como Golf Course. The white dusting left some wonderful patterns and allowed the shapes of the trees to stand out in the landscape. It was still dark enough that the street lights around the lake were lit and glowed a beautiful golden yellow to contrast with the white landscape. And on the green, the red flag fluttered in defiance of the winter weather. Undettered, spring will try again this week to get its foothold on our landscape.
Spring is a mere 450 miles away
I made a quick trip to the Kansas City area this weekend. A one-way flight on Friday late afternoon took me 450 miles south of Minnesota. The sunset was stunning and the landscape below is always interesting. A pattern of fields and rivers, valleys and hills, and eventually roads with car lights that dot the lines from horizon to horizon. But what was more noticeable to me this time, was the difference in the seasons. Leaving Minnesota, our grass is brown and our lakes still have some ice on them. Snow is still visible in protected areas. But once I was in Kansas City I realized what a difference 450 miles makes in the seasons. The magnolia trees were in bloom, the bright yellow of the forsythia was glowing, and daffodils were showing their golden faces. Even the grass was no longer brown, and fields of winter wheat were a beautiful green. The drive home made the seasonal difference even more noticeable. Throughout northern Iowa and southern Minnesota grasses in the fields were visibly packed down from the weight of the recently melted snow, and there was a demarcation line that the red-winged blackbirds had not crossed yet in their journey to the north. Green grass will take-over in Minnesota, and flowers will bloom, and the blackbirds will be in our neighborhood, but nature hasn’t stretched her warm hands this far north yet.
A hint of spring to come
A couple of days with temperatures in the 30s and 40s makes Minnesotans think of spring. I was at Como Lake last night and the evidence was everywhere – people walking, running, biking the perimeter path; cars driving by and splashing all the snow melt water that was standing in the road; and an outdoor event at the Pavilion across the lake – complete with music and cheering. The temperature was 42, but it was easy to imagine a warm(er) spring day. There is open water on the lake, and what ice remains is becoming thinner and slushier. Ducks and geese were flying overhead, coming into the lake, swimming, and then taking flight again. The sunset lit up the clouds in the western sky, and the thin ice allowed the sky’s reflection and beauty to be repeated below. Eventually spring will come, and stay, but it’s a bit too early just yet.
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.
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