This past January, in the middle of freezing temperatures and feet of snow, we were planning a spring trip to a Minnesota state park. We decided that mid-April would be a perfect time to go to the prairie lands of western Minnesota and enjoy a warm sunny weekend with the opportunity to photograph early wildflowers. Of course, this past winter has been harder and longer than usual, and the snow has only recently melted. So it wasn’t altogether a major surprise when we drove to Lac qui Parle State Park on Friday night and arrived in the middle of a snow squall. The snow continued throughout the night and into the morning, with the winds howling around our little camper cabin. As “frightful” as it was outside, we were warm and snug on the bluff overlooking Lac qui Parle Lake, which is a broadening of the Minnesota River. The winds continued throughout the day Saturday, blowing the clouds across the prairie sky. Eventually the front passed us by early Sunday morning and we awoke to blue skies and warmer temperatures. Lac qui Parle was named by French explorers who lived with the Dakota Indians and means the “lake that speaks.” This weekend the area was “speaking” with a plethora of pelicans, geese, ducks, and cormorants. We were even treated to the sighting of a coyote and the olfactory “sighting” of a skunk. With the recent spring snowmelt the lake has flooded the lowlands and even closed some of the roads in the area. However, we were still able to explore this part of the state that borders South Dakota, meet some fascinating people who shared their knowledge and history of the prairie and the area, and brush up on the history of the fur-traders and missionaries that settled here with the Dakotas in the early 1800’s. We will certainly return to this wonderful state park and prairie land again, perhaps in the fall when over 150,000 Canada geese migrate through the area. Although our original plans and expectations did not come to fruition, we had a truly wonderful and enjoyable weekend.
snow
The return to a liquid landscape
We have turned the corner here in the Twin Cities — back to a liquid landscape. Our snow has melted (mostly) and we’ve even had some rain. It’s been music to our ears to hear the sounds of dripping snow and ice, and to once again see and hear rain falling. However, it does mean that we have quite a bit of standing water as well as flood threats on a substantial number of rivers. With sunshine and blue skies above, I set out on a long walk to the library yesterday. Now that the snow is mostly gone there is evidence remaining of what a harsh and early winter we had. Our lawn is filled with leaves that were unraked before our first snow – that first snow that never melted and was followed by another 80+ inches throughout the winter. Many trees are showing damage because of the excess weight of the snow. I’m sure some will recover, but it appears that others may not. Yet there’s a lightness in the air and the hope of spring. Just like me, there are people finding excuses to be outside and enjoying the warm sunshine. The birds are busy chirping and singing, and many of the migratory birds are coming back into the area. I was especially thrilled to hear the honking of a small flock of Canada geese as they flew over our house. They too know that spring has returned to Minnesota.
The quiet of a Sunday morning
There’s a special stillness and quiet of a Sunday morning that doesn’t exist on other days. Perhaps most people are slowly easing into the day. The sound of commuter traffic is not to be heard, the air is still as the wind hasn’t picked up yet, and the landscape becomes peaceful and meditative. I headed over to Como Park early this morning. After a light snowfall yesterday and another dusting during the night, the snow was once again white and clean. The footsteps of walkers and the tracks of snowshoes had been covered. There was a bird that had awakened on the other side of the park, and his call was soft but not disturbing, as if he too had only just awakened. This bench had been decorated with the fresh snow, and it seemed to invite anyone who was willing to climb up and over the piles of snow by the side of the road to come sit for a while and enjoy the quiet and the beauty of this early morning time.
The simplicity of winter
There is a wondrous simplicity that seems to take hold of the landscape in winter. With all the snow that has fallen, our world has become very black and white. Color is hard to find in the surroundings. With a fresh few inches of snow this past week, I headed out of the house with my camera before dawn. I didn’t have to venture very far — just over to a nearby golf course. The world was quiet on this winter’s day; there were no birds, animals, or other people when I got to my destination. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of my snowshoes. Quickly the sun moved over the horizon and into the sky adding some color to the scene. Doing so it lent its warm light to the cold landscape, with long shadows over the clean snow. As if on cue, the rest of the world began to stir and wake. I heard a cross-country skier out on the groomed tracks, and I heard cars moving by with their tires scrunching the compact snow on the roads. The quiet and stillness had changed, but the simplicity of snow and trees and sunlight was still there.
Winter’s sunset at the Cannon River
Our weather has remained cold this past week with temperatures hovering around zero at night. With this extended cold snap all the lakes within the Cities are frozen over. Until a snowshoe hike yesterday, it has been awhile since we’ve seen any open water. We ventured to the far southern edge of Dakota County, Minnesota to the Miesville Ravine Park Reserve. Way off the beaten path, and down a winding gravel road, we had the park all to ourselves on this late afternoon. The crunch of our snowshoes broke the silence of the cold air. The trail followed alongside a small creek which accompanied us with its sound of tumbling water. There were a few bird calls and one squirrel that was racing across the snowy landscape, but otherwise we were alone as the sun was beginning to move low on the horizon. We crossed the road to where the creek joined into the Cannon River and were surprised to see bits and pieces of ice floating in the water, sometimes gathering along the shore and becoming more dense. The sun was shining on the hillside opposite of the ravine causing the barren trees to take on a golden reddish hue. Their warm tone was a beautiful contrast to the white of the snow and the ice on the ground.
lindastaatsphoto.com 