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.

Hope in the sunrise

Quietly this year will be leaving and the new year will be ushered in; as it always has done over time, just as every day’s sunrise ushers in a new day. With each sunrise there is hope dawning – hope for each one of us, hope for all of us. How fitting are these lines by Emily Dickinson:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all

I wish you all an abundance of hope for the new year’s sunrise, and for each day that follows.

Looking to Christmas

As we near closer to Christmas I’m reminded of all the things I have to be thankful for – people, places, and memories. And so many things to look forward to in the new year and beyond.

Wishing you all the joy and love that is found in the celebration of Christmas!

An unsettling summer sunrise

The other morning dawned cool and calm. There was steam coming off the lake surface, and the sun was a red ball rising into a hazy yellow and murky sky. It was quiet except for the sounds of geese and ducks calling off in the distance. On this day there was never much of a wind so the sky never cleared to it’s usual bright blue.

We’ve had numerous days like this one of hazy sunshine, partly due to increased humidity but also from the smoke of Canadian and northern Minnesota wildfires that have drifted into the area. The sunrises and sunsets have been unusual and unsettling, and yet quite beautiful.

Stillness at sunrise

My favorite time of the day is sunrise and dawn.  The earth slowly turns out of the darkness of night and gradually there is light.  At first it’s barely perceptible but gingerly the black turns to shadow.  The sun nears the horizon and it’s light gets scattered above, bouncing off any clouds that are near giving them their own colors and hues.  Generally, not always, the daytime winds have subsided during the night and the air is calm – as if in anticipation of the dawn.  All the colors of the sunrise are reflected in the smoothness of the still lake.  The loons are long gone but as the light gets brighter I can hear the ducks and geese that have not yet headed south for winter.  They are gathering in larger flocks before they depart.  At this point everything pauses for a suspended moment.

And then the sun rises higher in the sky throwing it’s brightness all around, the wind picks up and riffles across the lake surface, the geese and ducks take flight, the squirrels start to scurry, and our human noise of activity echos throughout the area greeting another day.