Outside – Inside

The outside world has not transitioned to spring. We’ve had snow, sleet, rain, and a thick ice that covered everything — the trees, the walkways, the electrical lines, the fences, and the barbed wire. Suspended in the cold air, the ice drips froze in place. It was eerie to see, and even stranger to watch as the temperatures rose. The wind picked up and the ice began falling from the electrical lines and trees. As I parked my car, it was like a hail storm with bits of ice raining down from the overhead tree branches.

But there’s a respite with being indoors, especially at the McNeely Conservatory in Saint Paul. Spring is at its finest without the cold, the snow, or the ice. Here it’s a feast of color with flowers and plants that make us yearn for the warmth of spring. And there’s a scent of green and color that can’t be denied. Poppies, tulips, ranunculus – all blooming without any care to the outside cold. A truly wonderful escape from our long winter season.

The pendulum season

We are in the pendulum season – where it is spring one day and winter the next, in which ever direction the pendulum settles. We’ve enjoyed a false spring of moderate temperatures where everyone had a smile on their face. Then quickly winter came again, with it’s surprise snow, cold winds, and freezing temperatures. The other morning we woke to a fresh coating of two inches of snow. It had rained before turning to snow, allowing the wet snow to collect on the branches and trees.

It’s a slow and unreliable process to change from winter to spring, and all we can do is swing with the pendulum. We keep winter coats, hats and boots handy, along with a light spring jacket. I have seen some open water, especially in the creeks where there’s a current flowing. And with that we’ve had mallards and swans that have come back into the area.

Eventually the pendulum will swing all the way forward to spring and we will put our cold and snow behind us. We’ll look to greening grass and leaves on the trees – it can’t be much further ahead!

Mid-winter, and newer images

We have reached mid-winter. We had a string of sub-zero temperatures in mid-January, bottoming out at -32 degrees. Those were the days to hunker down inside, keep warm, and be thankful for modern conveniences and warm clothes.

We’ve also had a string of mild days, some with sunshine and some with gray skies. If the sun is out, the snow will compact or even melt in places. The roads become sloppy, then often freeze overnight as the temperatures drop. And when we have sunshine it seems our spirits lift – there’s the promise of spring and its warming sun. People, including myself, react to the prospect of spring with smiles and hope. Hope – something we’re all looking for this year in particular, in this part of the country (and elsewhere too). To me that hope is found in the setting sun each day, and the promise of its rise the following morning. The clouds and sun can give a symphony of colors, each one different as they sweep across the sky.

I’ve added a new page to my website that has some of my newer images. You can find it as a listing in the top menu of my website, or as a drop-down choice. As I look at this collection I see the hope and light that I just spoke of in the paragraph above. A light that brightens or softens, that reflects or shapes. I hope you’ll enjoy the 16 images on the page and appreciate the hope that abides in each season and day.

Structure in the snow

This has been a hard week. My mind has been anything but calm, and the “news of the world” has not been kind. Sleepless nights and fits of anxiety have not helped.

The other morning I awoke to a fresh layer of snow on the ground. For most winters that would not be unusual, but this year the winter precipitation has favored a track around us. The meager snow has been icy and anything but photogenic. But this new snow had softened the immediate world around me. There was a layer of white covering the grass and lying gently on the pine trees. Even these allium heads welcomed the bits of snow in their centers, cupping it around the delicate stems. I marveled at the intricacy of the seed heads and their ability to weather and stand up to the winter winds and storms. Bravely they stand as a testament to summer and fairer weather.

It was a welcome relief to spend time with the alliums and the fresh snow. I forgot about the “outside world” and focused on the “news of the heart” – the sturdiness and resilience of nature.

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.