Here we are past the middle of December and quickly hurtling into the final week before Christmas. Everyone seems to be moving at an exaggerated pace trying to accomplish all that needs to be done before the holidays. In search of some very specific Christmas presents we headed north of the Cities today to Marine on St. Croix, Minnesota. This small city was founded in 1839 and was the site of the first commercial sawmill along the St. Croix River. As we parked the car I could hear a rush somewhere nearby and upon following the sound I saw the cascading water of the creek that was emptying into the St. Croix River. It made a musical sound as it tumbled downward, and here in this one small spot was both the rush of the waterfall and the pause and suspension of the ice on the banks and the rocks and trees that were laying over and near the creek. I was reminded of how important it is at this season to enjoy the rush and the hustle and bustle of all we’re doing, but to also pause and appreciate the season of light and Christmas, the beauty of nature, and the friends and family that we enjoy. Wishing you the best of Christmas this week and into the coming new year.
Minnesota
Semifrozen Minnehaha Falls
Our weather in the Twin Cities has been cold this past week — the coldest temperatures since last March. With that many of our lakes have frozen over, and I even made a first sighting this winter of a person ice fishing on a nearby lake. We were in Minneapolis today having a delightful brunch with family, and afterwords stopped by Minnehaha Park. It was the perfect opportunity to see the falls in a semifrozen state, surrounded by large icicles. Minnehaha Park includes the area where Minnehaha Creek empties into the Mississippi River. The park dates back to the late 1800’s and the name Minnehaha is from the Dakota language meaning waterfall. Minnehaha Falls is a 53 foot waterfall drop surrounded by limestone bluffs. After heavy rains in early summer the falls flow full, and in times of drought they’ve even been known to stop. But today there was one stream of water flowing over the bluff above into a small pool of open water. I was at the falls in late morning and the sun was beginning to reach against the northern side of the bluffs. As it heated and melted some of the icicles, they would come crashing down with the sound echoing throughout the ravine.
The sounds of winter’s arrival
Just when we were resigning ourselves to the prospect of a brown Christmas, the snow moved into the Twin Cities yesterday afternoon. It snowed throughout the evening and into the early morning hours, and when I awoke today our scenery was coated with four inches of white and fluffy snow. I grabbed my camera and headed over to Como Park early. There were few people on the streets but even the sound of the three or four cars was muffled by the snow. After about 15 minutes of walking I could hear a snow shovel scraping the pavement. When I arrived at the park I could see, and eventually hear, the sound of the trail groomer as she laid down the cross-country ski track; we exchanged waves as she drove past. Another five minutes passed before I heard the whish of a skier coming up behind me. And shortly after that the sound of geese flying south filled the air. It was one skein of geese after another, no longer content to be in an area of frozen lakes and ponds and headed to warmer climes. I watched and wondered how far south they would fly today. Another ten minutes passed and I could hear children’s laughter and squeals as they were sledding with abandon down a nearby hill. The time passed quickly and as I headed back home the city had awakened. Traffic was moving carefully on the snow-covered streets and people were either shoveling their walks and drives or using snow blowers to clear the paths. The sounds of winter have arrived once again.
Mother Nature’s gift
This past week I headed south to the Kansas City area to spend Thanksgiving with my family. I left the Twin Cities with two inches of snow on the ground and a temperature of about 24 degrees. After an hour or so the sun broke through the clouds and I found myself looking repeatedly at the landscape and trying to understand what I was seeing. With the low angle of the sun and some of the distant dark clouds the trees seem to take on a white appearance. I knew it wasn’t snow and yet it seemed that it was too late in the day for frost. After about 30 minutes of craning my neck from side to side I pulled off the interstate to look more closely. As I got out of my car I realized there was a thick layer of hoarfrost coating the trees and other plants. It was beautiful the way the sun was glistening off the frost. I was in the farmlands of southern Minnesota and the browns of the fields and the golden grasses all made a wonderful contrast to the sparkling frost. Within about 30 minutes the sun disappeared, the winds picked up, and the beauty that I had stopped to appreciate was gone. This was my start to a week of thankfulness: for nature’s moments that are given if we only stop to notice, for health that we too often take for granted, for family and for friends, both near and far.
On the wing
The days are shorter. The nights are colder. The first snow of the season has fallen. And our lakes are starting to ice over as we begin to slide into winter. Along with all these changes there is an increase in the activity of the ducks and geese. One of my favorites sights and sounds is a flock of Canada geese flying overhead — the beat of their wings and their honking is music to my ears. Since I live between Lake Como and the agricultural fields of the University of Minnesota I am on the path of the geese flying from the water at the lake to the food at the agricultural crops at the U. So many times I am stopped in my tracks to look up and appreciate their flight overhead. I know that soon enough the majority of geese and ducks will have migrated south to warmer climes and we will return to the hush and quiet of the snow and the cold of winter. In this week of Thanksgiving, the geese and their winged flight are one of the many things I appreciate and am thankful for.
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