I made a quick trip to the Kansas City area this weekend. A one-way flight on Friday late afternoon took me 450 miles south of Minnesota. The sunset was stunning and the landscape below is always interesting. A pattern of fields and rivers, valleys and hills, and eventually roads with car lights that dot the lines from horizon to horizon. But what was more noticeable to me this time, was the difference in the seasons. Leaving Minnesota, our grass is brown and our lakes still have some ice on them. Snow is still visible in protected areas. But once I was in Kansas City I realized what a difference 450 miles makes in the seasons. The magnolia trees were in bloom, the bright yellow of the forsythia was glowing, and daffodils were showing their golden faces. Even the grass was no longer brown, and fields of winter wheat were a beautiful green. The drive home made the seasonal difference even more noticeable. Throughout northern Iowa and southern Minnesota grasses in the fields were visibly packed down from the weight of the recently melted snow, and there was a demarcation line that the red-winged blackbirds had not crossed yet in their journey to the north. Green grass will take-over in Minnesota, and flowers will bloom, and the blackbirds will be in our neighborhood, but nature hasn’t stretched her warm hands this far north yet.
winter
Barbed wire and weathered leaves
Every Minnesotan found an excuse to be outside yesterday as the temperatures soared into the 50’s. The sun was warm, the day was bright, and spring seemed just around the corner. We headed out for a hike in the woods. As we started out before 8:30 in the morning, the ground was still hard and frozen. Within the woods, there was more snow on the ground, but as the morning continued and the temperature warmed, everything became softer. The birds and squirrels were active, making their presence known, as if they too were enjoying this spring-like morning. I found a large roll of barbed wire that had been left in the woods. Amidst the tangle of wire, there were leaves that had fallen and been held in place by the snow. Now they were weathered and delicate, leaving an amazing texture to their thinness. The contrast seemed so opposite between the cold, hard barbed wire and the delicate, paper-thin leaves.
Colors in the gray of winter
Across the St. Croix River in Hudson, Wisconsin is a celebration of hot air balloons called the Hudson Hot Air Affair. Begun in 1970, the festival brings pilots, hot air balloon enthusiasts, and lots of spectators out into the wintry morning air. This morning’s temperatures were around 25 degrees – mild for early February, but the winds were too strong and the cloud deck was too low to allow the balloons to launch into the sky. When the weather conditions do not cooperate, the balloons are instead filled with air and up righted. Some were tethered to vans and trucks, others were held down by multiple people at the ends of long ropes (at times trying to keep their footing as the balloons pulled and tugged and their feet slid over the compact snow and ice). The balloons were plentiful and colorful, and the spectators were many and all seemed adept at keeping warm on a cold winter morning. It was all a bright delight in the gray midst of winter.
Lifeguard off duty
I got up and out of the house before dawn yesterday, in search of a photograph to show a Minnesota winter morning. The air was cold, but not bitterly so, and the wind was still. The eastern sky promised a bit of color so I headed to a city lake. Our winter has been cold enough, long enough to freeze the lakes and they are now a winter wonderland of activities. Hockey nets are in place on many lakes, snow has been dusted off to allow skating areas, ice houses are seen with people fishing, and even cars are driving on the frozen lakes. This scene caught my attention – the summer swimming beach is anything but hospitable in winter, yet we are reminded that the lifeguard is off duty, at least until the winds blow summer temperatures our way.
A perfect snowfall
Friday morning we awoke to a fresh snowfall. The dingy remnants of the earlier snow were whitened, the snow that fell overnight lay coating the trees, the wind was still, and the temperature was hovering around freezing – all the elements of a perfect snowfall. As I headed out the door to work, I made a “scheduled” detour to Como Park and the McNeely Conservatory. The lights inside the conservatory gave off a warm glow to the glass in contrast to the blue and white of the snow. And the snow-covered trees were sentinels of the beauty of this winter morning. In the stillness and beauty of the early morning it was just me photographing, and the snowplow driver clearing the roads and paths in the park.
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