One of the constants of the weather in Minnesota is the wind. We seem to attract the winds from all four directions, whether it’s a northern clipper coming down from Canada, a warm tropical surge coming from the Gulf Coast to the south, a wintry mix blowing across the northern Rockies from the west, or a wrap-around wind that skirts Lake Superior to the east. So when the air is calm and still it is most noticeable, and so it was one recent evening. A good friend (and wonderful photography scout) of mine was driving around Lake Como and noticed that the lake surface was as smooth as glass. I packed up my camera and headed over to the lake. The sky was filled with dark gray and blue clouds although there was a thin line of clearing to the south. I headed to a small bay where I knew I could include the pink clearing in my photo. As I walked up to the shoreline I found a flock of wood ducks who were not overly pleased that I was coming to their area. Their swimming out into the lake created a bit of water movement in the bay — just enough to blur the beautiful reflection that I was seeing in the water. It wasn’t until I got home and was looking at the photos on my computer that I saw the effect of their movement, and although subtle, I liked the end-result.
Como Park
Yellow of spring
The one color that sums up everything about spring is yellow. It’s the color of sunshine, the color of warmth, and the color of daffodils. These bright flowers shine with color and promise and brighten any day. Although we don’t have daffodils blooming outside just yet, I was fortunate to find these lovely blooms at the McNeely Conservatory in Como Park. They speak to me of warmer temperatures, the end of winter, the hope of spring, and the promise of summer.
The quiet of a Sunday morning
There’s a special stillness and quiet of a Sunday morning that doesn’t exist on other days. Perhaps most people are slowly easing into the day. The sound of commuter traffic is not to be heard, the air is still as the wind hasn’t picked up yet, and the landscape becomes peaceful and meditative. I headed over to Como Park early this morning. After a light snowfall yesterday and another dusting during the night, the snow was once again white and clean. The footsteps of walkers and the tracks of snowshoes had been covered. There was a bird that had awakened on the other side of the park, and his call was soft but not disturbing, as if he too had only just awakened. This bench had been decorated with the fresh snow, and it seemed to invite anyone who was willing to climb up and over the piles of snow by the side of the road to come sit for a while and enjoy the quiet and the beauty of this early morning time.
Brief winter’s thaw at Lake Como
The past week offered up a short respite from winter with a brief thaw. Some of our snow piles diminished and we were able to see open water on some of the lakes. I headed over to Lake Como on Thursday night and was treated to a vibrant sunset that was reflected in the pooling water standing in areas of the lake. It was all looking so much like the beginning of the end of our winter. I was even treated to a small flock of geese that flew overhead, honking as they made their way from one end of the lake to the other. But this was all a tease by Mother Nature. Even after photographing this image, the wind picked up and the temperature began to drop. And today we’ve had snow falling for over 12 hours, accompanied by strong winds creating white-out conditions and drifting. Winter is not done with us yet, as our landscape is now covered with close to a foot of fresh white snow, and any water is now frozen once again.
Lessons learned from a sprained wrist
It’s now been two weeks since I slipped on our notorious Minnesota ice and badly sprained my right wrist. Much like the camellia in this photo, I am starting to emerge from this injury although I’m still seeking some protection as I do so. I realize though, that I’ve certainly learned some lessons from my injury: (1.) Appreciate all the things you take for granted. Until now I haven’t realized all the things, big and small, that I do with my hands. (2.) Trying to do things with a non-dominant hand is not as easy as one would think. OK….I tried to get my brain to talk to my left hand and tell it how to move and what to do, but of course the message wasn’t getting through completely. I have humbled myself many times as I fumbled trying to do simple tasks. (3.) Mindfulness is really important, and not second-nature. I have learned to pay more attention to what I am doing at a specific time. If I’m outside walking, I try to concentrate on my walking — one foot in front of the other. How easy it is to be distracted with thoughts of how cold it is, where I’m going, what I’m going to be doing there, what the roads are going to be like, what I’m having for lunch, etc, etc, etc. Live in the present!! (4.) When walking on ice or slippery surfaces, always carry things in your dominant hand. I read this tip the day after I injured my right wrist. If you have something in your dominant hand and you fall, you will most likely use your non-dominant hand to break your fall. OK, you just might injure it badly, but you will not be nearly as incapacitated as you would be with injuring your dominant hand. (5.) Everything takes longer when you have an injury, and patience is something to strive for. I haven’t been able to tie my boots, put a glove on my right hand, or turn the key in the car ignition without some assistance from either my left hand or from the willing two hands of a friend. My frustration would get the best of me at times. And photographing with a tripod and a dominant-hand injury forces me to slow down — look, observe, envision the shot, and only then do I spend the five minutes to mount the appropriate lens, place the polarizing filter, set the camera on the tripod, adjust the tripod legs, attach the cable release, focus, and then make the image. And just maybe, that’s not a bad thing.
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