Omnia Sol

Omnia sol temperat, purus et subtilis...

The sun warms all things, pure and gentle,
bids us to rejoice; it shows us paths we know well

     ~ Carl Orff, "Carmina Burana"

                               --------------------

Spring is fast approaching.  Right now the main attraction

is my old friend the sun: stirring, thawing, coaxing me
with hope and urging my brittleness to give way.

Below the surface, invisible things are moving. I'm thinking
of sap and also the tiny rivulets of water under the snow
where meltwater meanders.

How is it that those things we don't see, that we don't
hear, but which we know regardless are often the most
sublime?

~ Hal

Barn Bluff

Barn Bluff

On Saturday morning I woke up early to go for a hike on 

Barn Bluff (down in Red Wing, Minnesota).  Over the years 

I’ve rock climbed there and I wondered what it would be like 

to hike along the stone walls in winter.

I don’t usually get excited about “grey” snow days, I tend to 

favor the bright winter sun.  This morning, however, I 

rediscovered a soft, reflective quiet that had me thinking 

about past summer adventures.

I took this photo as I walked along the quarry trail, revisiting 

old familiar haunts cast in a different light.

~ Hal

Kelly Creek

Kelly Creek

Once or twice a year I head over to take a walk at Kelly Creek, 

a beautiful little cold-water feeder stream that flows into the 

upper Kinnickinnic River.

Besides being a wonderful sanctuary for native brook trout, the 

magical thing about this creek is the way it springs wholly from 

a modest rock outcrop beneath an old bur oak tree. I can stare at 

that spot for hours and never come close to plumbing its depths.

This time of year it's just nice to check in on the green watercress, 

and poke around in the brushy alder, watching the birds come to 

the water for a drink.

~ Hal

New Years Day

New Year's Day

The sound of my skis, following a path left years ago. The tall 

hardwood trees move with the wind up high. Every now and 

again one of their trunks makes a brittle, deep cracking sound. 

A winter prayer.

We went up north for the long weekend and spent most of our 

time cross-country skiing and reading around the wood stove. 

The weather was very cold, the snow was perfect.

On New Year’s morning we skied this trail at The Nature 

Conservancy’s Catherine Wolter Wilderness Preserve (near 

Presque Isle, Wisconsin) with our friend Kath who was also 

up for the holiday.

For me, this quiet, nearly silent New Year’s Day felt like the 

perfect bookend to a warm and busy holiday season with all 

of our family and friends.

With thanks, “Happy New Year.”

~ Hal

In the Bleak Midwinter

In the Bleak Midwinter

I love the holiday season, but this year it has thrown some 

of my better habits off-course. There was a period of denial 

after Thanksgiving, then the cold weather arrived, now 

Christmas is imminent.

I would like to blame my not getting out much with my camera 

recently on all of the holiday build-up, and I guess there is a 

grain of truth in that. By last Thursday, however, I started to feel 

cranky, and realized the reason was that I desperately needed to 

get back outdoors.

The next morning I headed to work early, but with my camera on 

the passenger seat. I took a detour toward the upper Kinnickinnic 

River. The temperature was in the very cold range. I paused for a 

while at the Quarry Road crossing and found this ethereal moment 

unfolding.

~ Hal

Fall

Fall

This weekend we were back up north, helping Maggie's folks close 

up the cabin for winter.

Sitting at the breakfast table and looking out the window toward the 

lake, we were reminded that "fall" is a verb. The trees were making 

quick business of shedding their leaves - whole stems of black ash 

were coming down in clumps.

The maples at least had the decency to let go of their leaves one at a 

time (albeit in rapid succession). They flitted in circles, catching an 

occasional updraft, but never really questioning their final resting place.

~ Hal

When the Blue Hour Comes

When the Blue Hour Comes

Melting snow's fog settling in at dusk.

Next to the old cemetery,

a soybean field with a tree at its center.

~ Hal

Frozen Memories

Frozen Memories

We're in a "freeze and thaw" weather pattern right now, a

warm-up last week created lakes of melted snow in the yard.

The boys were out hacking at the surface with the ice axe,

flows of ancient lava burbling and gushing forth as they

rode the tectonic plates from here to there.

I went peering below the surface and found a few ancient

memories lurking in suspended animation.

~ Hal

Winter's Gifts

Winter's Gifts

Thursdays are my “work-from-home” days. No commute, good coffee,

and (at least when the kids are at school) few interruptions.

One of the side benefits is that it’s easy to pop outside when the

opportunity for a photo presents itself. I was standing at our kitchen

window when I noticed these flowers (bee balm) basking in my

neighbor Eric’s back yard.

It has been a very cold, snowy week and the visual geometry of the

landscape has shifted dramatically. Some days, the cold can really

sap your spirit; but I’ve also noticed that when everyone is wearing

a fluffy white cap it’s not all that hard to spot winter’s gifts.

~ Hal

First Snow

 

First Snow

This has been the week when November’s grey skies finally gave way 

to the first real snow of the season. A truly welcome sign... Hallelujah!

Now that I’m a few weeks into this project, I’ve been thinking about

the small changes it has brought to my life. For one, I’ve been studying 

sun’s schedule and the shifting windows of opportunity for capturing 

its magic. I find myself checking the sky and bringing my camera on 

quick trips to the grocery or when I’m hauling the kids around town.

I took this photo on an errand to pick up art supplies for my daughter’s

school project. However instead of taking a proper left at the shopping 

center light, I detoured down the gravel drive marked “fishing access” 

and got lost for a while along the banks of the Kinnickinnic River.

~ Hal