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.

Dancing into fall

Fall has arrived on our doorstep. Days are getting shorter and there’s often a chill in the air, especially in the early mornings. The leaves on the trees are starting to show their various autumn shades of red, orange, and yellow. It’s not consistent but there are certainly many patches of brilliant colors. And some of the leaves are now on the ground and underfoot. The air even has a different smell to it.

As I was driving our back roads in search of fall colors, I found some of the ferns had become a lovely shade of copper brown. The longer and lower fronds had twirled inward as they dried. There was a lovely delicate shape to their curves, while the higher fronds seemed to be reaching out for one last dance before the first frost of fall.

The calm of a spring dawn

It was an early morning in Kimberling City, Missouri. We’d escaped our northern winter temperatures and snow and met up with family and friends to enjoy early spring in southern Missouri. Here the lakes were not frozen and the grass was green.

The colors of a pink and orange dawn gave way to the cool blues of the sky. The tree branches seemed to grasp at the white clouds as they drifted by. Off in the distance I could hear the loons calling as they’re migrating north. The cardinals were high in the budding trees singing their morning songs, and the redbud and dogwood trees were opening their blossoms to the warmer days.

Gradually the world awakened. Other people in the campground started to stir and I could hear boats beginning to head out onto the big lake. The calm and quiet was broken. Now it was time to join others and relish the warm sunshine and fresh air – a perfect spring day!

Snow soldiers in a new year

The new year of 2023 has followed in the footsteps of 2022 with more snow. Yes, it’s winter. Yes, it’s the north. And yes, it’s expected. But it’s been unusual for us to have a parade of snow storms dumping feet of snow, and beautiful snow at that. In some areas the trees have suffered. Young pines have bent over with the weight of heavy snow on their branches. The tops of the oak trees, with their brown leaves still clinging to the branches, have collected the snow. They too have arced downward to the ground. In the suburban areas we are running out of places to put the snow. So instead it just gets added to the already large piles, growing taller and taller with each snowfall.

But in a nearby red pine forest the trees have stood tall, covered on one side with a stripe of snow. They stand at attention to the winds that blow, and their tall trunks cast long shadows over the white snow on the ground. I see it as a testament to their longevity and their sturdiness. And their example of surviving a continuing winter.

Change to winter in the landscape

We’ve just returned from a trip south to Missouri for a lovely family wedding. When we left our home in Minnesota the snow was flying and the plows were out clearing the roads. As we drove south the snow depth seemed to diminish with the miles and the sun would peek through the clouds as they were blown across the sky. A few miles later and we’d be surrounded again in a snow squall.

We crossed the border into Iowa and the scenario continued (actually, it continued the following day too!). I am always amazed to see the cleared fields outlined in snow. The geometry of the land becomes accentuated and so much more noticeable. In this instance, all those field lines are in a direct contrast to the roundness of the clouds. It’s a beautiful time to be out on the road and observe how the seasonal changes affect our view of the landscape.