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.

Braving the Storm

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Day 2 of Duluth’s big snowstorm.  From our house, about 1/2 mile in from Lake Superior, it seemed a mild event. The main feature was the slow but constant and significant accumulation of snow.  Sure, it was windy, as evidenced by the broken branches in the yard and slightly swaying trees, but for the most part just a pretty winter wonderland.

Similar to yesterday, by late morning I made my way out into the snowy accumulation.  This time I donned snowshoes and headed toward the lake.  We had at least 8″ of heavy new snow in our yard, but the closer I got to the shore, the wetter, sloppier and skimpier the snow.  And when I emerged from the new lakewalk tunnel, I was surprised to look down and discover that my jacket was covered in droplets and soaking wet.  I had entered an entirely different micro-climate.

IMG_0575 trimmedBut that wasn’t all.  I was suddenly in the throes of a real storm.  I could hear the wind as I approached, but that was nothing compared to the fury with which it whipped past me.  Sticking to the shelter of trees at the shore, I watched as the brown water churned and huge waves crashed over the rocks.  It was all I could do to hold my little camera steady to see if I could catch the action.

Not content with one view, I soldiered on toward Brighton Beach.  The wind coming down the lake was so fierce, I couldn’t see a thing as I fought my way forward through the windy wetness.  There was no way I was going to survive on the open rocky beach, so I sought another grove of IMG_0584trees for my viewing point.  There I could see the rainy snow driven sideways in sheets across the water.  It wasn’t a place I wanted to dawdle, and as soon as I did an about face the wind fairly blew me back to the tunnel.  On the way, I had to smile at the snow encrusted North Shore sign, perfect proof of the horizontal snowfall.

My return trip was the same transition in reverse, and I reached home in the quiet snowfall I’d left.  It was a short but intense excursion, from one world to another and back again.  I guess we really are in the throes of a major storm after all.

Ski-Shoeing

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Today was my first ski of the season, if you can call it that.  After weeks of running, waiting for snow, it was finally here. I’m pretty leery about early season snow.  Unlike my husband who heads out on his skis at the first sign of a snowflake, I prefer to wait for the real deal.  But I had to admit that there was plenty of snow right outside my door this morning.  So I waxed up my classic skis and headed out.

It was deep all right.  Thick and moist too.  Lacking groomed trails yet, I made my way up Seven Bridges Road.  For once, I considered the snowmobiles my friends, as they had packed down a nice trail right down the middle of the road.  It was far easier following their path than trying to break trail.

IMG_0574Although the wind howled overhead, the road was pretty well sheltered.  The trees were laden with snow, some bending way over under the heavy weight.  And the world was silent.  Progress was slow, and getting any glide from my skis was only a wish, but the early season novelty of the new fallen snow was ample compensation.

Continuing onto Skyline Drive and summiting at Hawk Ridge, I came into the full force of the wind.  It raged across the open viewing area and obliterated the snowmobile tracks.  Down below the city faded into greyness and Lake Superior was left to my imagination.  The only reality was the snow beneath my skis.

IMG_0572I hoped for some benefit from retracing my tracks on the return trip, but it was a futile wish.  If anything, the snow was softening and increasingly clumped up on the bottom of my skis.  It felt more like walking than skiing.  That’s when I coined a new phrase – ski-shoeing. Tramping through deep new snow being held up by long sticks instead of snowshoes.  At least I had the benefit of my ski poles.

It may not have been glorious skiing, but it was a start.  And it felt great to be outside in the snow.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll dig out my snowshoes.

Thanksgiving Kindness

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Like any family, as our kids have gown into young adults we have had to learn to share them. Particularly on the holidays. With our oldest married for five years, we are well versed in the trickiness of spreading their holiday time between multiple families, and have tried to allow them to make guilt-free decisions.

With one far-flung son out in Washington DC comes the added complexity of travel and extra vacation time required for these occasions. We fully understood when he chose to spend Thanksgiving with his long distance girlfriend, rather than making the trip home. But what came as a complete surprise was her family’s invitation to all of us to join them. Not just Rich and me, but the rest of our kids and grandkids as well. It was an act of sincere kindness that humbled and excited us. We happily accepted.

Joining forces with as-yet-unknown-friends proved to be seamless and heartwarming. I maintain that it’s not all coincidence. Carl undoubtedly is drawn to a young woman brought up with similar family values. Enveloped by their warm hospitality, we felt right at home and enjoyed sharing many common experiences, not to mention a wonderful multi-generational Thanksgiving dinner.

As if that wasn’t enough, their generousity enabled us to stay for on an additional day to stretch our scarce time with our son. Many games were played, football games watched, Christmas lights installed (with the help of a tractor – we were in Iowa, after all), walks taken and stories told over more meals shared around the table.

wpid-Photo-Nov-29-2013-1154-AM.jpgwpid-Photo-Nov-29-2013-252-PM.jpgThis Thanksgiving gave us many new reasons to be thankful. For wonderful new friends. For sharing the strength of family. For gathering together from far and wide. For those reaching out with acts of kindness. And for Carl and Chelsea, for being the reason it happened.

Photo Play

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When deer hunting season infringed on our hiking options, our recent trip up the North Shore took on a slightly different flavor.  Since we always have our cameras in tow, we traded miles on the trails for shutter time.  With such great material for shooting photos and plenty of time on our hands, we took the opportunity to play around with various settings and options.  Since I’m still just a novice, it was a great learning tool, and fun to see the results.  Even the pictures that didn’t turn out well were useful for knowing what not to do in the future.

Early in the morning, when I tired of shooting the sunrise, I turned the other way to watch the waves lapping the shoreline.  It was mostly calm, but there were enough good splashes to entice me to try and capture them.  My camera was still set on a long exposure, and I was intrigued by the blur of the water’s motion that flashed briefly across my LCD screen.  It made for rather a fantastical scene.  Resetting the shutter speed, my next goal was the exact opposite, to capture the water droplets.  I still got a bit of blur, but did manage to catch the tall splash in the air.

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On to the Cascade River.  With my new found techniques, I was eager to test them again.  This time I had roaring water to focus on.  Using shutter speed priority on my camera, when I adjusted from a long exposure to a much shorter one, the camera compensated by changing a whole lot of other things, including aperture value and ISO speed.  I also changed the White Balance.  As a result, in addition to the clarity of the flowing water changing, the scene took on entirely different hues as well.  Hmm, who knew?

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Okay, let’s try this again!  The next target was a tall waterfall further up the river.  Similar to the last results, the camera adjusted all the other settings for the difference in shutter speed.  Only this time the effects were less dramatic.  Interestingly, I tend to feel that the “blurred” picture has more crisp detail in the trees than the stop-action version.  But since I was hand holding the camera, that could have a lot to do with it.

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While none of my pictures would be considered stunning or artistically awesome, I felt like I accomplished a lot from my attempts.  And after all, that was the goal.  To play.

 

Hiking in Short Bursts

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The idea was a good one.  In concept.  We planned a short get-away to take advantage of the off-season mid-week rates at Cascade Lodge and do some hiking at the State Parks along the North shore.  The advance forecast looked reasonable, so we went ahead and booked our room.  We even splurged on the extra $5 for a lake view and corner room.

What we didn’t count on was the fact that the State Parks now allow hunting on a good share of their land.  While everything between highway 61 and Lake Superior was off-limits to hunters, much of the remainder was posted with bright orange signs warning us away from the trails.  Although Rich looked longingly at the enticing trails along with the empty parking lots, I became the trail police and insisted we stick to safe ground.  As a result, our options were rather curtailed, and we ended up with shorter hikes than planned.  But it wasn’t all bad.

The first day turned out to be cold, gray and blustery.  By the time we finished hiking along the shore at Split Rock Lighthouse State ParkIMG_3038 trimmed, the wind had picked up and snow was starting to fly.  We consoled ourselves with bowls of hot soup at Coho Cafe in Tofte and watched the snow swirl and settle on the deck outside.  Cascade Lodge suddenly seemed very appealing, and we quickly traded the chilly afternoon for reading by the fireplace in the lodge.  We could further rationalize our decision with the promise of a better forecast for the next day.

Sure enough, morning brought bright clear skies.  We were up before dawn and crept outside and across to the lakefront to catch the first morning rays of sunlight.  It was crisp and cold, but an invigorating and rewarding photo session.IMG_2987 straightenedIMG_2956 straightened

The Cascade River was open for hiking to the top the waterfalls.  The trail was beautiful, following the icy flowing waters up one side of the river and back down the other.  We followed that with a trip up the Temperance River.  The gorges were as impressive as ever, with the added attraction of icicles clinging to the edges of the IMG_3051rocky canyons.

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Returning to Split Rock Lighthouse, we hunted down good vantage points for photos.  We had great fun clambering around the campsites and down on the rocky beach, testing out all the sites for good shots.  What we lost in terms of hiking mileage, we made up for in photography research.

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All the way from Cascade Lodge, we followed the Roger Blough ore boat down the lake.  When it turned into Two Harbors to dock, we couldn’t resist the opportunity to watch it come into the harbor.  We were amazed at the sharp turns required to slip past the breakwater and position the boat for the ore docks.  Despite the close proximity of Two Harbors, we’d never seen a boat come into port there before.

Our get-away wasn’t the hiking trip we’d originally envisioned.  But neither of us minded the short bursts of hiking interspersed with photography and some creature comforts.  In fact, we quite enjoyed it.