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.

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.