In the blink of an eye

In the blink of an eye – a phrase referring to a quick and often significant change and/or one with larger-than-usual consequences. Within the past few weeks I’ve experienced this three times, each one causing me to pause and reassess. First was a family member who suffered a fall while working outside. He had family close by to attend to him, and miraculously he wasn’t seriously hurt, although he easily could have broken his back, neck, or cracked his skull.

The second was a car accident we witnessed while driving home. A large SUV drove off the side of the road, broke through a guardrail, and fell halfway down a steep embankment, nose towards the creek at the bottom. We immediately stopped and called 911 requesting help. The driver climbed out of the car and up the embankment, but his passenger was badly hurt and was quite hysterical. She was eventually removed from the car and carried up into an ambulance with a compound fracture to her leg, a possible hip dislocation, and maybe a broken pelvis. My appreciation has been renewed for EMT’s, firefighters, first responders, state patrol, sheriffs, and all those well-trained people who we rely on for their quickness, their expertise, and their compassion.

And thirdly I learned of the death of a friend, an inquisitive man whose career had been as a newspaper reporter. Doug Grow appreciated good writing and was always interested in each and every person’s story. Conversations with him were varied, long, and always enjoyable. He and his wife Sheila introduced us to the best fish-fry restaurants and bars in northwest Wisconsin where we shared stories, engaging conversations, and laughs over food and drink. He lived a life that was committed to his community, to his wife, and to his family.

The morning after reading of Doug’s death, I woke up before the sunrise after not sleeping well. Standing in front of the window, I stopped to observe the present moment – to pause and appreciate the stillness and quiet of the early morning. Only after this pause did I sit down with my cup of coffee, pen, and paper to try and sort out my thoughts. Eventually the sun cleared the horizon and burned off the steam that was rising from the lake. The air was beginning to warm and the still lake was calling me. I walked out in my pajamas and felt the cool, wet dew wrap around my bare feet and toes. Reaching the end of the dock, I sat down on the bench and felt the sun on my face. I listened to the birds, watched the loons, and smelled the freshness of the early morning. I was filled with a renewed awareness and appreciation of the significance of each moment, and the beauty and wonder of being in the world each day and each minute.

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.