I’m fortunate to live in close proximity to the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory in Saint Paul. No matter what season or what the weather’s like outside, there’s always a view of color and warmth at the conservatory. And as we’re quickly approaching Thanksgiving, the sunken garden is filled with the warm colors of fall – yellows, oranges, and all the shades in between. As I was photographing here this morning I was reminded of so many things I have to be thankful for: my eyes, my health, my friends and family, a warm house, plentiful food, and the joy of living a wonderful life. I hope your week of Thanksgiving gives you pause to appreciate all that you have and the world around you.
Minnesota
A search for color
Our weather has turned wintry today with falling temperatures and rain and sleet. I looked around the yard and found it void of color. But just earlier this week the sedum had turned a beautiful rusty-red. I don’t usually pay too much attention to the sedum, but each small bud and the deep color reminded me of cranberries (another of my fall favorites). I am glad to see that I stopped to photograph the sedum before it bore the brunt of the freeze and slap of the cold temps. Sometime in the near future our landscape will be refreshed in another color – the white of winter.
Bee balm in the fall
Fall is quickly vanishing across our landscape. The colors that blazed so brilliantly are now gone. The leaves that valiantly clung to the tree branches have let go and fallen to the ground. We’ve been working in our yard and gardens, preparing them for winter. As I was pulling out plants that were way past their prime I found a stand of bee balm, their flowers having dropped many weeks ago. I paused for a moment and realized how beautiful this seedhead was — a globe of intricate pieces that wasn’t noticeable during its summer bloom. Sometimes I feel the need to appreciate those things that are stripped of their original beauty and taken out of the context we’re accustomed to. Here too was beauty and form, even out of season.
A goal achieved
Last weekend I reached a goal I set for myself earlier this year – I completed 1,500 miles on my bike for the year. From back in mid-March when the temperatures were cool and our legs weren’t ready, we’ve biked and journeyed through Minnesota and even across the state of Kansas. We’ve seen prairies and wheat fields, lakes and flatlands, rain and wind, hills down and up. Sadly some of my final miles this year have been ridden alone as my riding partner hasn’t been able to be on the bike. But he was helping me along in all the important ways with his encouragement and support. So last Sunday with a SSE wind of 14 mph+, I headed northeast on the Gateway Trail, then meandered on county roads with that tailwind behind me. The final miles were north on the Sunrise Prairie Trail. My wingman met me in the town of Stacy where I watched my bike odometer turn to 5,000 miles (yea!) and the culmination of 1,500 riding miles for this year. My bicycle has brought me in contact with great people, amazing scenery, the best and worst of weather, a sense of accomplishment, and the most wonderful feeling of adventure as I cruise along on trails and roads. The kid in me enjoys the freedom of riding and the adult in me appreciates the bounty of sights, sounds, and memories. So this winter as the snow is piling up we’ll be planning our biking adventures and goals for next year.
Morning fog on the lake
Our fall has continued dry, yet yesterday morning I awoke to a thickness of fog hanging in the air. I grabbed my camera and drove about five miles north to one of our urban lakes. The further north I went the thinner the fog, until I arrived at the lake with blue skies and a beautiful sunrise. I was a bit bummed that I wasn’t getting the fog that I was hoping for, but I continued to photograph the lake and the fall colors. After about 30 minutes the setting changed, and the fog enveloped the far shore, then rolled across the lake from south to north. The atmosphere was just what I was hoping for. As I waited the fisherman moved closer to the point and I made this image. Two minutes later the fog had thickened even more and the fisherman was not visible and the even the reflections were hidden behind the fog. As fleeting and unpredictable as it can be, I love the ethereal and softening effect that fog can give to an image.
lindastaatsphoto.com 