The unexpected strikes again

In what seems to be a theme, once again I’ve been surprised by the unexpected scenes that present themselves.  A dear friend was driving home from work the other night and told me about a field of US flags that were just down the hill from the Minnesota State Capitol Building.  In my mind I was picturing a few small eight-inch tall flags.  And yet when I went there to see for myself, I was amazed at a lawn full of 800 full-size US  flags along with another area filled with 1,500 pinwheels.  This amazing scene was set up by the Minnesota chapter of Prevent Child Abuse America (www.pcamn.org).  Their Child Abuse Prevention Healing Field was in honor of Minnesota’s children and also those people who have survived child abuse.   With late evening light streaming across the flags and the Capitol Building, and a light breeze to unfurl the flags, it presented a very striking image.  For a few short days this scene graced our Capitol grounds, causing many passers-by both on foot and in cars to stop and reflect on the scene, the beauty, and the cause.

Spring’s softness

Last week’s photograph was of vivid red tulips.  In the bright sunlight of spring, colors often become bold, striking, and rich in contrast.  But there’s also a flip side to the season, and that’s the softness that’s found in the spring palette.  When the sky is overcast, or in the early morning or late evening there’s a calming and quiet hush that sometimes settles over the gardens.  It’s almost as if nature is resting after all its exuberance in bursting forth after winter.  In trying to photograph this softness and hush I’ve chosen to take this image with a slight blur, making this more about the shapes, tones and feelings rather than the direct representation of the tulips.

Spring green

Within a one-week span, spring has arrived and broken through the late-winter doldrums.  Warmer temps and an afternoon of rain followed by clear sunshine has brought a burst of green all around.  The lawns have quickly changed from brown to green, blooming daffodils have been spotted in the neighborhood, accompanied by colorful crocus, and leaves are starting to be visible against the blue skies.  Our lilac bush has opened its lovely light green leaves to the warmth of spring.  Everything seems to be about two weeks ahead of schedule, yet no one is complaining.  Even the smell of green and spring is noticeable and welcome in the air this first week of April.

Uncovered surprises

With rain and warmer temperatures, most of our snow cover has melted.  What surprised me was what has now been uncovered.  Not only have I spotted tulips courageously pushing their tips above the ground, but I also found a beautiful dried hydrangea bloom.  Somehow it survived the winter without being crushed by the weight of snow.  I woke one morning to see it being blown by the wind across the front lawn.  So strong, and yet so delicate, its blossoms are sheer with amazing intricacies.  When backlit the bloom shines with the warmth and strength of the sun, and reminds me of other surprises to come in the change from winter to spring.

Spring color in bloom

It’s winter outside — the ground is covered in white, the temperature is in the teens.  But this morning I walked into a breath of spring when I visited the McNeely Conservatory in Como Park.  The Winter Flower Show is now on display in the Sunken Garden, and it’s colors and sights are a treat to the eyes as much as its smells and scents are wonderful to experience.  The pinks of the azaleas and the pale whites and yellows of the pansies were a beautiful combination of color — soft and delicate as only spring can be.  In order to create a “softer” feel to this photograph, I placed a piece of plastic wrap over my lens.  It had a wonderful effect of softening the lines and making the image more about the colors and the “feel” of the colors than of the lines of the flowers.  As we deal with the snow storm that’s moving through over the next three days, I’ll easily return to my photos and my memories of the smells and colors of the conservatory garden.