Awakening from winter

We appear to have turned the proverbial corner from winter to spring. It was not a straight-line trajectory, but it was a snowstorm followed by a warm up and then a cycle of repeat a few times. My attention has been on other things the past few months, and my photography has taken a back seat to those concerns. But it’s never far from my mind, and when I’m “out in the world” and a scene presents itself to me, it sometimes cannot be ignored.

This was the case this past Easter morning. The world was quiet and still before dawn. The air was cold as the temperatures had dropped below freezing overnight. Yet there was the promise of warmth from the sun. I watched as the eastern horizon slowly awakened to the most beautiful shades of blue, rose, and gold. As the light started to glow, there was a cacophony of sounds – turkeys gobbling across the opposite shore, Canada geese honking in the bay to the south, and ducks quacking as they flew towards the shore and then swept back into the air. It was as if a chorus was announcing the arrival of Easter and of spring. And maybe this was the final turning from winter to spring.

Thankful

What a rich world we inhabit, with so many things to be thankful for! As our seasons change in the North it’s been wistful to say goodbye to the colors and brightness of fall. The leaves have fallen, allowing the sunlight to stream unhindered through the canopy of trees. The wind rustles branches rather than dried leaves. With a bench in a strategic spot, I paused on my walk in the woods to listen, to observe, to think.

And within a short span the calendar changed, the wind direction shifted, and winter slid in. November came and the winds blew cold coming out of the Canadian prairies and brought the snow. It was beautiful to watch it float down. The flakes silently landed on the trees. Others melted as they hit the water surface. For this moment the world was calm. And quiet. And beautiful.

With snow falling down around me, I gave a nod of thanks for the scene surrounding me and the changing seasons. Thankful for family and friends, near and far, and for those that came before me, and for all the love that surrounds me. Thankful for the paths I’ve followed, the adventures I’ve taken, and the lessons I’ve learned. Thankful for all the simple things – a roof over my head, clothes, heat, five working senses, and my health. I look forward to the lessons to be learned in this upcoming winter season.

Calm in the evening

We recently returned from a trip north into Ontario, Canada. It was a chance to explore new roads and scenery, camp, and fish. This is an area of big lakes and remoteness. Towns are few and far between, and the landscape is rugged and beautiful.

We were far enough north that the sun rose before 5:00am and set after 9:15pm, with twilight extending for about an hour. The days were unusually warm and sunny, but the clouds and rain were moving in the last night. There was an amazing calm and peacefulness that settled over the sky and water, and made me ponder how this area has looked the same over so many centuries.

Fishing was good and we were successful with walleye and Northern pike, making for fresh and delicious eating. Here’s my proof – a 36″ Northern pike, the largest fish I’ve ever caught!

From fall to winter in four days

We sailed into November with lovely fall weather in the Northland. Sunshine and warm temperatures were welcome and enjoyed, while everyone held their breath knowing we were running on borrowed time. On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving we even launched the boat and went fishing in open water – the latest fishing we’ve ever done in November. The next morning we awakened to a beautiful sunrise with bits of ice on the surface, especially near the shoreline. But the sun and the wind that blew across the lake caused the ice to break up during the day.

With a high temperature of 27 degrees on Friday there was more ice that formed on the lake surface. The wind blew throughout the day, but it wasn’t enough to break up all the ice. As the sun was setting there was more ice and less open water, resulting in some fascinating reflections in the lake surface.

Saturday morning dawned with clouds and cold, and a lake surface completely frozen over. The ice remained all day as the frigid temperatures settled in and the sunshine was intermittent.

And by Sunday there was a dusting of snow and continual snow showers throughout the day. The ground was hard and frozen, and the lake was solid ice – perhaps for the remainder of winter.

And just like that we transitioned from fall to winter in a short four days. Yes, we’ll see more temperatures above freezing and yes, we’ll see plenty more temps hovering around 0 degrees. But with this quick change of seasons I’m convinced even more we need to savor each day, appreciate the changes that take place, and embrace each season for all its beauty.

A goal to savor summer

The last day of July – traditionally I’d think this marks a point of only one more month of summer. That summer is over half-way gone, and it’s time to scramble to pack in all the plans that are unrealized for this year. But maybe I should shift that approach and instead focus on savoring each and every day of this glorious, albeit short season.

I tried complaining about the excessive heat and humidity we had a week ago. Temps were in the 90’s, heat index was above 100, and there was no cooling down overnight. But then I tried to shift my focus – yes, I was still hot and I was sweating. I wasn’t able to sit outside to read, I wasn’t able to work in the gardens, and I found myself wandering inside to the comfort of air conditioning. But if I launched my kayak in the early morning I could take advantage of the coolest time of the day. And if I found a place to read in the shade and with maybe a light breeze, a tall glass of iced tea was a good accompaniment to my reading. And then when it was the late high-heat of the day and I was tempted to escape inside, I could walk to the beach and jump in the lake – a surely quick way to cool off!

So maybe, just maybe, my attitude needed the adjustment to summer. Rather than complaining about the heat and complaining about how quickly the months are going by, I could embrace and savor each summer’s day – the sun-drenched heat, the thunderstorms that roll through and give way to a bright rainbow, the fireflies that blink after the sun has set, the plethora of stars on a dark and hot summer’s night, and the opening in the clouds that was briefly painted in the late evening sky and reflected in the calm waters below.