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.
ice
Frost and ice
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.
Yellows of summer, and a signal of change
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.
Wind and ice
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.
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.
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