Through the clouds

The air hung unusually warm for a mid-September evening. So warm that the bugs and mosquitos were following me as I waited on the shoreline. But the wind had died down and the lake was calm. Slowly the full moon rose over the opposite shore. Peering between the branches and leaves, it cleared the tree tops. It was clothed in a pink veil but as it rose higher the color changed to a shade of orange and then to a golden glow.

As I marveled at this harvest moon I could hear an owl in the distance. Was it too watching this nightly ritual? And what of all the people that have stood on this shoreline and watched this very same moon rise into the sky? Those that once ventured north to a lovely small resort on this lake? Those that might have hunted in the woods nearby and fished these same waters?

The moon slipped behind some clouds as I was pondering these questions, and then it slowly inched past the threads of clouds and shone down brightly, glistening off the water’s surface.

Looking to the skies

The past few weeks have been busy and hectic. The news reports have been discouraging and filled with the “bad news” of our times. I’ve found it’s been easy to lose my way and focus on all the negative. But I also know that I can choose to shift that thinking and focus on the positive – for me that means being outside and soaking in the real balm of nature.

Winter has moved aside and allowed spring to take over in the North. The loons have returned to the lake, diving and feasting on the fish in the shallows. The goslings have hatched and are now paddling by, surrounded by their parents. During dusk I can hear the whippoorwill calling, and in the night time there’s a barred owl in the woods hooting “who cooks for you.” The trillium have bloomed under the tree canopy, the lilacs have offered their sweet scent into the air, and now the peonies are opening their buds and busting into full and vibrant colors.

A few weeks ago I was lucky to see one of the brightest Northern Lights displays in many years. I watched in wonder as the skies pulsated with greens and purples, dancing on the horizon and even overhead. I was surrounded with color and I watched for hours, hesitant to leave my sense of awe.

And then a few weeks later I marveled at a huge pink moon rise in its fullness over the opposite shore. It first peeked through the trees and then gathered it’s light and slowly rose, higher and higher until it’s reflection glistened in the still lake surface below. It promised me a return the following night.

Nature had triumphed over my worries and brought back my sense of awe and openness to the world around me. And I truly believe that just like nature, love will somehow triumph over the hate and evil that we see so much of in our world today.

A challenge accepted and the benefits gained

Neighborhood walks have become my thing. And I’m only now realizing how important, and fun, they are for me. On Thanksgiving I read of a challenge for people to get outside for 30 minutes everyday for 101 days. That intrigued me and I realized that with my walking I cover a little less than two miles in 30 minutes. So I decided to challenge myself to walk two miles everyday until the end of the year. And then I saw that if I walked three or four miles for a dozen or so of those days I could reach 400 miles for the year of 2021. The goal was set and the challenge was on.

I started walking more regularly after I broke my leg in February 2020. My physical therapy was to get motion and movement to my ankle after the bones were pinned and screwed back together. Around the block was a challenge in those first months, but I stayed with it and went more blocks every few days. And with that increasing distance I learned and observed new things. This was near the beginning of our COVID-19 lockdown. I saw window signs of thanks to our front-line workers and I saw sidewalk chalk drawings of rainbows and better days. I walked through the months of signs about George Floyd and then election signs, both local and national. And I observed the Halloween decorations morph into Christmas lights and blowup Santas and snowmen, followed by the spring flowers, the green grass of summer, and the brilliance of fall leaves.

I don’t wear earbuds or headphones when I’m walking — I prefer to be open to the sounds and sights around me. I’ve heard the happy squeals of children out on the playground during recess and the honking of geese flying high overhead. I’ve seen eagles above me, the first spring crocus emerging from the snow, a nest full of robin’s eggs, and deer crossing the path ahead of me. I’ve learned how to dress for the different weather – a baseball hat for summer’s sun and a tightly knit fleece-lined beanie for winter’s cold; waterproof boots for rain and thickly lined heavy boots for snow. And I’ve used the time to think — to process things that are bothering me, to think of lessons learned from the past, and to dream of future adventures.

Yesterday was a busy and full day with a long list of things to be done. I was up early, shoveled the light snow that had fallen overnight, then made a quick trip to the grocery store. Things to be tidied up at home, a visit to a loved one in the hospital, and quickly the daylight was passing by and I hadn’t gone for my walk. A half hour before sunset and feeling a bit stressed I put on my boots, hat, gloves, and heavy coat and headed out the door. With each step I got out of my head and started to look around me. The fresh snow was still lovely on the ground, and as the sun was starting its descent to the horizon it spread its light all around. In the distance I could hear the wolves at the Como zoo howling and the squeals of children riding their sleds down the hills. As I walked near the golf course at Como Park I looked to the east and was greeted with a pale full moon rising over the snow covered hills. I saw a group of skiers that had stopped to take in the sight too. These are the moments of delight that get me out of the house on my walk each day. I returned home with a new attitude.

So I have 12 days remaining before year end and 19.9 miles to go. Plenty of time for more delight and joy and to think of new challenges for 2022.

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.

A full moonrise over a frozen lake

The cold has settled in and the lakes are freezing.  Throughout the day I watched the clouds and the snow move in.  The wind would pick up and blow the snow down the lake, forming whirlwinds of white skimming the ice.  As quickly as the snow came in, then the sun would come out.  The ice would creak and moan as the heat from the sun combatted the cold of the ice.  There were sub-sonic groans that pierced the air.  And then the cycle would repeat – snow then sun then snow.  But before sunset the skies cleared and there was a beautiful and quiet full moonrise.  It lifted over the opposite shore and trees and eventually directed its light on the snow-covered and ice-cracked lake, littered with leaves now encased in the ice.