Yesterday’s cool rain cleared overnight, but left pockets of fog in some of the low-lying areas. The stars came out with the promise of sunshine today. I was up before dawn this morning and went to Lake Como. The air was still — no wind to form ripples or waves across the lake, and the fog that was expected hadn’t settled in over the water. Gradually the dawn sky was growing lighter. The canoes and kayaks that are available for rent rested in place on the dock, waiting for today’s patrons. The peace and quiet were a welcome relief from the busyness and crowds that are a short mile away converging on the Minnesota State fairgrounds.
sunrise
Early spring daybreak
Spring has been fickle here in Minnesota. From cold to snow to rain to warm – we’ve had a bit of everything this week. I’ve already heard the welcome return of the red-winged blackbirds singing, and the lake ice has started to diminish. I was at Lake Johanna yesterday before sunrise. The winter air was crisp and cold at 19 degrees when it hit my face and hands as I got out of the car, but my ears could hear the geese and the ducks that were splashing in the open water near the shoreline, and in the distance a woodpecker’s repetitive hammering was contributing to the song. With all this cacophony the sun was illuminating the eastern sky in pinks and orange. It seems that everything is in anxious anticipation of the season of spring.
Daybreak through the leaves
With the promise of autumn sunshine, I headed out before dawn in search of some fall color. Gradually the changing colors have found their way down to the Twin Cities, and the landscape has become beautiful and filled with the rich colors of autumn. This morning was cold enough to provide frost in many areas giving an almost-white coating over the grass. The smell in the air is different as the seasons change and it was delightful to greet the day outside on this crisp and clear morning.
Daybreak over the lake
Last week I shared a sunset photo from our northern vacation. As beautiful as the sunsets were, I was equally amazed at the sunrises. We were staying on Jack the Horse Lake – a quiet lake with only a few cabins and houses and only one resort. The stillness of the morning, while the sun was yet to rise, was wonderful. The air was calm and the lake’s surface was like a sheet of glass. Off in the distance I could hear an owl making its presence known, and eventually the loons would add to the chorus. Slowly the sky would turn from black to a deep rose color, then to a pale pink and eventually to a brightness of yellow as the sun cleared the horizon and the distant shore, all the while reflected in the mirror-like lake surface. It was a wondrous and delightful way to greet the day.
Daybreak
I woke up in the dark the other morning, crawled out of bed, slipped on my shorts, T-shirt, and hiking boots and headed out the door with my camera. I’ve replayed this scenario so many times over the years. About 10 years ago I was living in Washington and would drive to Mount Rainier to see the sun rise over the mountains. Now I’m in Minnesota and I drive a few blocks and I’m walking through fields of tasseled corn, the temperature already at 80 degrees. In both instances I’m aware of so much more than the view in front of me. There are smells (whether of towering firs and cedars or agriculture fields) and there are sounds (of the creeks and streams that flow from the melting snow or the wind blowing through the corn and giving the geese thermals to float on). No matter where, there is so much that comes to life as the sun crests the horizon and the day breaks. The smoke from the wildfires in the west has drifted our way, giving our sunrises and sunsets a deeper shade of red and orange. This early-morning-time is ripe with the promise of the day (and the adventures) ahead.
lindastaatsphoto.com 