Autumn and other transitions

We have officially transitioned to fall with the autumnal equinox today. Our daylight hours become shorter and the darkness of night becomes longer. There’s a change in the air, and here in the North the sun is losing its intensity and its heat. The green leaves aren’t the same deep shade of green, and in many places the yellows, oranges, and reds are starting to dot our landscape.

I have also gone through a transition these past months, as we have sold our house in Minnesota and have moved to our cabin in northwest Wisconsin. Just as the days become shorter gradually, it became clear to us, gradually, that this move was in our best interests. And yet it’s hard to pack up and move from a house, a neighborhood, a community that you’ve been a part of for 20 years.

After the move we headed out on a 3-week camping trip – a chance to escape from packing and unpacking, loading and unloading. We took our 16-foot Scamp travel trailer and headed west through the Dakotas, Wyoming, Utah, and Montana. It was a grand adventure and an opportunity to explore our National Parks and forests and be in much different landscapes. I’m planning to share some of those images and stories in the future. The image in this post was from a week ago on a prairie in northwest Minnesota near the Red River Valley where the goldenrod was already in its fall display of yellow.

If you’re looking for a way to celebrate the autumnal equinox, I would suggest spending some time in nature – get out for a walk, breathe in the autumn air and notice the difference from even a month ago, and enjoy a sunset. Nature has a wonderful way of helping us through transitions as it is always cycling from one season to the next, from one sunrise to sunset to sunrise again.

Wildlife abounds

We’ve had the wonderful opportunity to observe and enjoy nature in northwest Wisconsin. Our small lake and surrounding woods have provided us with stunning sunrises over the opposite shore, menacing storms that roll in over the lake, fall colors that never last long enough, and bountiful wildlife sightings. But for the first time in seven years, we have a loon family that is carefully guarding its new chick from all predators, including the eagles and their young eaglets.

We first saw the loon chick swimming on its mother’s back. It was certainly learning about the lake and seeing the big world around it with fresh eyes. Both parents were nearby and watching carefully. They would dive and get small fish and feed them to the chick – a pretty easy life when you’re young.

And then in a seemingly few days, the chick was old enough (and big enough) to be swimming on its own. We watched the parents dive down into the lake, and eventually the chick learned how to do it also. It was not as dependent on its parents for food, but it was still small enough that it needed the watchful eyes of its parents for safety.

At the far end of the lake is the eagle’s nest, high in the top of a tree. We’ve watched the eagles fly over the lake and swiftly swoop down to catch fish in their large talons and carry back to the nest to feed their eaglets.

We’re looking forward to seeing the young grow and mature. They have many adventures and so very much to learn before winter comes when the loons will migrate south and the eagles will claim their territories.

A quick trip to Arches National Park

We were fortunate to enjoy a quick 24-hour trip to Arches National Park in Utah earlier this month. Our timing was good as the weather was in the 40’s with bright sunshine, although we did find some residual snow in shadow areas. December is certainly off-season for the park as there were few other visitors which allowed us time to enjoy the quiet and appreciate the scale of these massive rocks. This landscape has been generating and changing for over 100 million years, and yet today we can walk among these rocks, spires, and eroded arches with easy accessibility and marvel at our small space in this big world and universe. Like earlier visits to other national parks, this trip renewed my appreciation for these special spaces. Big thanks to the people that set aside our National Parks and the people that work to protect them and share their wonder with others. Hopefully we will never take these parks for granted and future generations can experience a beautiful December visit like we enjoyed.

Soft light in the morning

Summer is usually filled with bright and vivid colors – the deep blue of the sky, the lightest whites in the clouds overhead, the bold red geraniums, the intense orange tiger lilies, and the vibrant gold of sunflowers. Yet this morning when I stepped out into the garden I noticed a welcome softness. Maybe it was the cooler temperatures or the haziness of the sky blocking some of the sun’s rays. The purple cornflowers were the same color they had been yesterday but there seemed to be a touch of delicateness in the garden – a softer light that spoke to me more than the primary colors of summer. It was as if it was telling to me to breathe deeply, and to enjoy the summer and this very moment.

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.