Six black muffins

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I now know I can trust my instincts.  On our annual XC ski weekend, I like to go out before breakfast to either ski, snowshoe or take photographs.  This year was no exception.  Before leaving the cabin for an early morning walk, I popped a few muffins in the oven along with some pears to bake, leaving Susan in charge of them while she pursued her own morning passion – painting.

IMG_3221The morning was gray and uninspiring, but it was pleasant wandering through the fresh snow that had fallen during the night on the small roadway right next to Lake Superior’s shore.  Mine were the only tracks in the snow, and the rest of the world seemed asleep.  The area was an eclectic collection of tiny cottages, large homes with sweeping views and tumble down sheds.  I wasn’t adventurous enough to trudge through the deep snow to get to the water’s edge, so I had to confine my photography to what I could see from the road.

As I walked, my thoughts kept wandering back to the oven.  Did I tell Susan when the muffins would be done?  Did I set it to the right temperature?  Despite my best efforts to dismiss that responsibility, something nagged at me.  But I walked on – intent to let go and savor the freshness of the morning.

Opening the door to the cabin, my senses were assaulted by the harsh burning smell.  And it wasn’t the blaze in the fireplace.  Susan looked at me sheepishly saying “I failed…”  Suddenly the six black rocks outside on the deck railing took on significance as I recognized them DSCN0055for what they were.  And the charred pears that melded themselves into the baking dishes were equally appalling.  I knew it!  I shouldn’t have left my baking in the hands of an artist absorbed in her work.

But in fact, I was wrong.  And Susan’s self-blame was misplaced.  Instead of activating the lower heat element, the oven malfunctioned and turned on the broiler, charring our breakfast to death.  No amount of care or attention could have stemmed the tide on that disaster waiting to happen.  All we could do was laugh.  And poke fun at ourselves and the situation.  And our six black muffins.  Sitting in a row.

My instincts were right – something was bound to go amiss.  I just didn’t know what.  And Susan’s painting?  It turned out quite nicely.  A lot better than the muffins.

2014 North Shore at Anderson's Resort day 1

 

Deep snow, silent woods

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Many times Susan and I have been snow challenged on our annual XC ski trip. Not this year. Snow was in abundance after about a foot of new snow fell on the North Shore the day before our trip. And more snow continued to fall and accumulate while we were there. Instead of navigating sparsely covered trails, we plowed through new snow still awaiting the arrival of the groomer. Or skied the latest powder into the previous set of tracks.  While it was slow going, and we didn’t cover anywhere near our usual number of kilometers, we put out plenty of effort blazing the trail. And it was so worth it.

DSCN0041There’s nothing like the silence of new snow. It slid soundlessly under our skis as we plodded along. It glistened in the sunshine, sparkling like closely packed constellations. And it muffled everything around us. Whenever I stopped, there was a total absence of sound. I could tell when a large bird flew overhead, announced by the whoosh of the air as it flapped its wings.

The trees were cloaked in heavy layers of snow. Skiing through deep pine woods was like traveling through a tunnel, with walls of snowy pine boughs. So beautiful. So peaceful.

DSCN0053The sky overhead was that deep blue that only comes with cold dry air. It made for a striking background in contrast to the snowy pines and tall willowy deciduous tree limbs.

The sunshine had a palpable warmth that was as noticeable in its absence in the cool shade as it was radiating on our faces when we stopped to soak it up. Late afternoon brought fiery sunsets with a brilliant red glow in the sky.

Yes, it was a good year for snow. And a great year for striding through the woods.

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Changing Perspectives

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Tonight my good friend Susan arrives in Duluth for the start of our 22nd annual XC Ski weekend together.  This is the first time we haven’t driven up from the Cities together, talking our way through the dark to our first stop in Duluth.  I remember those days well, rushing out of work, decompressing on the drive and looking forward to some time to ourselves.  It was a release from kids, husbands, work and routine.

How things have changed, for me anyway.  Retirement has not only brought me back to Duluth, but I’ve left behind the stresses of work for good, not just for a long weekend.  The kids have all grown, and having the little ones in the house is now something special rather than a daily responsibility.

I no longer feel I need the “break.”  But I still look forward to our ski trip.  There is no substitute for time spent with a long-term friend, one who knows me well.  Nothing else compares to getting in some women time.  We can talk feelings, art, culture, crafts, family, life, religion and anything else that occurs to us.  Running out of things to talk about is never an issue.  And it is oh, so rewarding.

Of course we’ll ski.  We’ll put in asIMG_7501 many kilometers as we can squeeze in each day.  It will be invigorating and being out in the snowy woods will feed our souls.  We’ll revel in the views of Lake Superior and appreciate the beauty of the North Shore.  And each night we’ll collapse in front of the fireplace to enjoy some wine and cheese – and chocolates – and talk.

Yes, some things about this get-away weekend have changed.  But my real reasons for treasuring it stand firm.  It’s all just a matter of perspective.

 

 

 

 

Icy Expectations

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I heard about the Ice Bar last year.  It caught my attention, and I put it on my mental “I’d like to do this” list.  But it didn’t happen.

Last week I saw the article in the local paper about it’s annual reincarnation, with a Winter Olympics theme.  With the extreme cold we’ve had, I figured it had to be holding up well, and put it back on my list.  This time we found willing friends and made the trip together up to Grand Superior Lodge to take in the Blu Ice Bar.

IMG_3219 trimmedArmed with heavy jackets, long johns and boots we were prepared to settle in for a chilly but unique drink at the outdoor bar.  Although I realized the structure itself was a tent and not made of ice, from the description I did envision table and chairs made of ice.  Instead, we found a large open area, with ice sculptures decorating the perimeter, and a round icy table in the center for stand-up socializing. There was a good crowd inside, many sporting snowmobile suits or downhill ski garb.

IMG_3220 trimmedThe bar itself was quite impressive, and completely made of ice.  And I couldn’t help but applaud their choice of cross-country skiing for the sport that adorned the front.  In fact, all the ice sculptures were attractive and well done, particularly when back-lit with colored lights.  We availed ourselves of the unique drink offerings, choosing the hot chocolate spiked with Bailey’s and Peppermint Schnapps over the Blutini.  After taking a few turns at the icy miniature curling table and admiring our surroundings, we ran out of reasons to stay.

As long as we were there, we decided to head indoors to see just what the lodge was like.  The bar area was crowded and warm – no need for our heavy layers there.  Before we had time to decide to retreat, the wave of a friendly hand revealed friends in the mob, and soon the six of us were crammed around their precious table.  Combining old friends with new, we spent a pleasant evening trading stories.

So did the Ice Bar live up to my expectations?  Not really.  But the evening did.  And I have to admit that the concept is still pretty cool, and I’m glad I saw the icy artwork.  I just don’t need to go again.  I’ve already crossed it off my list.

 

Released!

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Despite the bravado of the last post, depicting my defiance of the cold weather and continuing to enjoy winter activities regardless, I have my limits.  And I reached them these past few days.  With temperatures reaching -25 at night with highs of only -7 IMG_3215degrees and dangerously low wind chill factors, I did the only sensible thing and retreated.  Trading my skis for trips to the swimming pool and limiting my outdoor exposure to hurrying between the front door and the car, I resolved to stay warm.

The one advantage to cold IMG_3216temperatures here in northern Minnesota is that they are nearly always accompanied by clear blue skies.  If I couldn’t be outdoors, at least the sun could cheer me up.  The hard part was that it looked so inviting.  But I knew better.  Peering out the windows, taking it in from the warmth of our cozy house was close enough for the time being.

I almost went out yesterday.  Rich, being the more macho Minnesotan, went for a short ski.  But one look at his frosty garb upon his return convinced me I was wise to hold out for another day.

So today was the day.  I watched the temperatures soar through the morning, from -16 when I first got up to +3.5 by 1:00pm.  Yes!  It was well over my threshold of reasonableness, and soon I was bound for the ski trails. Sweet release!  Never mind that the snow was still cold and slow, I was back in the elements and feeling good.  I didn’t have much company on the trails, which was no big surprise.  My poles squeaked in the frozen snow and my skis made noisy complaints traversing the skate deck, refusing to glide.  But I was out there.  And it was good.  Let the winter continue!DSCN0031DSCN0034

 

 

Why do we do this?

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Toe and hand warmers have become my best friends.  That little warm glow next to my sensitive digits is so comforting as once again I head out into the COLD.

The thermometer is hovering justDSCN0030 below zero – a veritable heat wave in this cold snap.  I pull on my long underwear, add several thermal layers, don my head wrap and head out the door with my skis.  For my first circuit around the trails I take in the sun’s golden glow on the trees and long shadows across the snow.  Despite its lack of warmth, I enjoy the ambiance and even the crisp air.  It makes me glad I made the effort to get out and ski.  During my second lap, the cold begins to infringe on my body.  First the thumbs go, followed by my fingers.  By the time I’m gliding rapidly down the final hills, my knees complain of the chill, and I have no desire to go for a third lap.  I can’t wait to reach the warmth of the house.

The Northern Lights indicators are all pointing to a high likelihood of activity.  My husband’s phone buzzes with multiple alerts informing him of the fact.  He’s intent on going out to see and photograph the display late at night, and I hesitate but decide to join him.  The temperature is already -11 and heading out of town and away from Lake Superior it continues to plummet.  Fortunately, Rich has been busy scoping out viewing points that allow us to stay in the car and watch for the northern glow.  We are happy to occupy our seats with their “bun warmers” and wait.  And wait.  Scuttled again with a lack of aurora, we decide to salvage the trip with some photo shots of stars.  It’s clear and cold, and Rich IMG_3190 trimmedcatches me doing a “warming dance” alongside my camera as it takes its long exposure on the tripod.  My photos weren’t very good, but we do get in some valuable practice, and a few good laughs, mostly at ourselves.  And I get a decent shot of the dashboard…

The temperature has finally risen into the teens, but snow is falling and the wind is fierce.  We watch the snow swirl outside our windows, note how blustery it is and think how cozy we are inside.  But we don’t stay there.  Instead, we pile into our down jackets and jump into a 4-wheel drive truck with friends to go to a UMD hockey game.  Hockey?  Me?  Okay, so I’m not really a hockey (or spectator sports) fan, but hey – it’s a social outing.  And after all, it’s indoors.

We’re Minnesotans – better yet, Duluthians.  And proud of it.  Life doesn’t stop just because it’s cold outside.  That’s why we keep the warm clothing industry in business and continue to pursue our outdoor activities.  Otherwise it would be a long, dull winter.

Permission to be Kids

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There’s nothing like the holidays to provide ample opportunity to shed our adult persona and reconnect with our inner child.  Add to that an abundance of snow, and the possibilities are endless.

1500812_704546786668_1722331551_oOn Christmas day my sons and I headed out on snowshoes to enjoy the deep powdery snow. After averting near disaster when my foot broke through into the flowing Amity Creek, we sought safer ground and stuck to trampling through the woods.  With big fat snowflakes falling, it was an idyllic scene.  We eventually made our way down to the Big Lake.  The snow layer was 1531867_704546991258_540783886_omuch thinner there, but Brighton Beach’s rocks were encased in a thick coat of ice, which was beautiful but treacherous for any kind of foot travel.  Backing up from the shoreline, we found a cache of rocks under the snow and proceeded to do what any kid would do there – throw rocks in the lake.  Since the shoreline was ice-bound, it became a game to see who could break through the ice with a rock, producing a mini spurt of water through the hole.  What better way to spend Christmas afternoon, than having a rock throwing contest amid ice and snow?

IMG_0684Throw a couple of toddlers into the mix, and the fun multiplies.  After a morning of sledding on the neighbor’s hill, my grandson proceeded to lead me on a tour of the woods in our yard.  Seeing the snow, trees and findings of nature through his active imagination was one of the most delightful hours I have spent in a long time.

Kids of all sizes love Christmas Bentleyvillelights, so a visit to Bentleyville has become an annual tradition.  This year the milder temperatures allowed us to linger and enjoy all the offerings of that expansive holiday display.  After roasting marshmallows and warming ourselves by the fire, the lively music caught the ears of the littlest ones who began to wiggle and dance. An impromptu family dance party ensued, as we couldn’t resist their merriment and joined in the fun.

As family members gradually drift back to their own homes and we resume our own routine after the holidays, I only hope that we can keep some of the kid alive in each of us.  It’s far too much fun to reserve for the holidays.

Holiday Music Traditions

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Christmas is a season rich in musical traditions.  Coming from a family steeped in music, I have fond memories of Christmas caroling out in the cold with family and neighborhood friends.  I sang in countless Christmas concerts, and mustered family members to play musical instruments in church for Christmas services.  It was a joy to see the tradition continue when our children were old enough to sing in Christmas concerts of their own.  And when they went on to sing in college choirs we were treated to some of the finest musical tributes of the season.

With college graduations behind us, we decided the trips to distant campuses were no longer necessary.  Instead, we have visited local colleges to sample their Christmas music.  It’s amazing the talent we have in our midst.

This year, however, I was drawn back to the past.  In middle school and high school, our daughter Karen spent five magical years singing under the direction of Julia Fahey in the Partners in Praise Girls’ Choir.  It was an experience that would shape her life, both musically and personally.  The music that the choir produced, the discipline that it required, and the mutual respect that each member had for each other were of the highest standard.  They traveled internationally, performed spontaneously in public places and sang in prestigious venues, but more than that, they won the hearts of all who heard them sing.  As Karen put it, Julia taught them so much more than just music.

So when I realized that I would be in the Twin Cities close to the time of their annual Holiday Benefit Concert, it was no decision at all to extend my stay long enough to attend.  As always, it was an evening that filled my heart as well as my holiday music quota.  The girls looked so young and I didn’t recognize a single one, but it was the same choir.  They still had the that special sound, the spirit, and they owned the music. When alumni were invited up to sing, I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my face as Karen took her place among the other singers.  They all still sang like angels, just with richer more mature voices.

I couldn’t get enough of the music that night.  This was one holiday music tradition that was well worth going back to relive.  I just may have to do it again next year.

 

It’s a Blue Ball Year

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We finally bought our Christmas tree late last week.  Our old faithful, the Duluth Farmers’ Market, came through for us, but we barely made it in time.  They apologized for the slim selection, adding that most people bought their trees Thanksgiving weekend.  We were a few weeks later than that…  But the real explanation was the snowfall.  Because of the deep snow, they have been unable to access the remaining trees on that lot that they intended to cut yet this year.  So their inventory has been frozen.  Literally.  Luckily for us, we still found a nice tree and happily carted it home.  As predicted, the Market sold out by Saturday.

Fortunately, since it is a Blue Ball Year, Rich was actively engaged in trimming the tree, and it went up quickly.  Blue Ball?  Early on in our marriage we reached an impasse over Christmas tree decorations.  I already had a collection of carefully selected ornaments that I had gathered over the years.  Many of them were hand made by me or by friends, some were souvenirs from trips, a few were from my parents’ tree, and all had special meaning to me.  But not to Rich.  He wanted blue balls.  Period.  For him, that brought back memories of his parents’ earliest Christmases when they could only afford simple blue balls for decorations.  The elegance and simplicity of the tree still resonated with him.

IMG_0622Since hand crafted ornaments and blue balls didn’t mix, we arrived at a compromise.  We would alternate years.  So every other year I get to handle my treasured collection of ornaments and memories, and continue to add to the array.  On the alternate years, Rich merrily hangs blue balls.  It has turned out to be a good system, and has kept the peace for 30 years now.

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The good news is that the tree is now up and decorated.  The lowest balls are a good plastic imitation of the shiny breakable variety, in preparation for the arrival of the grandchildren.  And an active cat, who delights in denuding the lower two feet of the tree.

It now feels like Christmas in the house.  The remaining decorations are up, and I even have a few Christmas cookies made.  Soon presents will appear under the tree, and family will begin to arrive.  Ah, Christmas!

And then I will begin anticipating next year, and triggering special moments with each unique ornament I hang.

Ah, Sunshine!

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I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.  After three days of constant snowfall and heavy cloud cover, the reappearance of the sun lent a welcome glow to the new fallen snow and rays of visual warmth to my world.

IMG_0607I started snowshoeing in the woods early this morning just past daybreak.  The temperature had dropped during the night, and the trees that were doubled over with the weight of the wet snow were now frozen in their curved poses.  Occasional trees and branches had snapped and fallen under the strain.  Following the trail was like doing an obstacle course.

The snow under my feet started out hard and crunchy.  While it easily bore my weight, progress was noisy. Further inland, the depth increased and the snow softened.  That’s snowshoeing at its best in my mind.  Silent and deep.

IMG_0609The prettiest trails were those that followed the Lester River.  The ground rose high above the water and my path was narrow and secluded.  The trees must have been more open to the wind, as they all stood tall and proud.

It was at that point that I saw it.  The sun had just risen above the clouds at the horizon and illuminated the trees all around me.  Their long thin shadows lay across the trail, adding a new dimension to the snow.  Re-energized by the sun’s appearance, I prolonged my snowshoe trek to absorb my new surroundings.

IMG_3131The longer the sun was up, the bluer the sky.  It made a beautiful backdrop for the snow covered tree limbs.  And it lifted my spirits.  After days of isolation and greyness, we had color again.

Ah, sunshine is a wonderful thing.