The dawn was cold and crisp. Although the temperatures have been above freezing during the day, they still dip into the teens and twenties at night. The multiple inches of snow on the lake have melted and frozen many days in a row, and what snow remains is only an inch or two deep on the lake. The sunrise was an explosion of color greeting the day, and some of those brights were reflected in a portion of snow-free ice on the lake. I am always energized after sharing in the beauty of a dawn like this.
Winter made its comeback this week with colder temperatures and snow. The St. Croix River, which creates the border between northern Wisconsin and Minnesota was showing the results of the weather change. Just last week the river was flowing freely, cascading southward to join up with the Mississippi River. This week was another story. The shoreline was filled with thin and uneven ice pushed up against the banks, yet the river flowed freely in the middle, carrying smaller sections of ice with the current. If the cold temperatures continue the river will freeze completely and will remain frozen until the warmer temps of spring.
The sun had just set, and the twilight was slowly diminishing. On the opposite shore of the lake, the full moon rose quietly. It gracefully cleared the trees and its light sent a column of brightness across the ice. The weather has been unusually warm so the ice was not solid and clear. The moon’s light showed the imperfections of the ice, along with the leaves that have been embedded during the colder nights. It was a beautiful study of light, patterns, hardness and softness.
Last weekend was especially cold. Temperatures dropped and the wind blew. The snow that had fallen remained, and the lake was frozen. Walking along the shoreline, I saw this leaf resting on the ice. As the time went by I saw frost forming all along its edges, outlining it carefully as if Mother Nature was painting each crystal in its place – so delicate, and yet so very temporary too.
Today we are on the cusp of the last month of our meteorological summer. As I’m getting ready to turn the page of the calendar to August, it’s not something I want to do, but yet it is reality. These yellows of summer will soon be fading, much as our daylight hours are already diminishing. Yet, I remind myself that change is good and often we must go through change to get to something better. Without the cold and snow of winter, we would not have the beautiful forests and trees that grace our state. Ten years ago I moved to Minnesota – truly a huge change after living 30 years in Washington state. I am amazed at the things I’ve seen and learned, and humbled by the changes in my life. I’ve learned that a mid-west winter can be survived (and embraced) with temperatures that remain below zero; that frozen lakes can be driven on; that hockey can be played on those same frozen lakes; that there are small little “houses” that spring up on those frozen lakes where people ice fish; that a horizon line that goes off into the distance as far as I can see holds immense beauty and openness; that thunderstorms can be as beautiful as they are sometimes destructive; and that the colors of autumn are intense and beautiful, yet they can’t be timed to the calendar each year. But the biggest thing I’ve learned is that life continues and we adjust – we can chose to adapt and embrace those changes and live our lives fully. My life has become bigger with all those changes and new experiences, and I know that there will be more in the future ahead, just like the inevitable change in the seasons.