Winter at the Japanese Garden

Location Coordinates:
44°49'48"N,
93°19'54"W
Normandale Community College
Bloomington, MN

After the hectic activities and fun of the holiday season has passed, those of us in the northern latitudes face the dreariness of the dead of winter. More often than not the sky is gray, the sun is hidden, and the landscape is defined by a black and white dullness. On the occasional day the sun breaks through the murk, the frozen world seems to come alive again. These are my favorite of winter days, and I make sure I get outdoors for a natural dose of Vitamin D from the gleaming sunshine. Earlier this week was just such a day, and I was anxious to go out and find something in the metro area I had not yet discovered. A random Google search provided a destination that seemed to hold potential. On the campus of Normandale Community College sits a petite authentic Japanese Garden.The web site boasts this small oasis of serenity offers a place "ideal for contemplation and renewal of the spirit". After suffering through record-setting cold and snow in December and the natural let down of the end of the holidays, I felt my spirit could definitely use some renewing.

Understanding, of course, the winter weather would most likely render the place a bit less serene than visiting during the other seasons, I set off to check it out anyway. When I arrived the conditions were a bit challenging for sure. Even with bright sunlight the temperature was a mere five degrees above zero, and the garden was buried under lots and lots of snow. To add to the less-than-calming atmosphere, heavy construction was occurring to the college buildings directly adjacent to the garden. I literally had to trudge through a snow drift and squeeze past a giant crane and truck to gain entry. But I forged on, and once inside the walled entrance I could see the effort was worthwhile.

A dominating feature was the hexagonal-shaped building, called a Bentendo, which stands beside the frozen, snow-covered lagoon. The red paint of this building as well as the adjoining arched bridge and longer bridge in the distance stood out vividly against the pure white of the snow and the bold blue of the winter sky. I made a circular walk around the frozen lagoon and imagined what it might be like in different seasons: the soothing sound of water falling and flowing into the lagoon, the burst of cherry and apple blossoms in the spring, wind-chimes gently playing in a warm breeze. Yes, I definitely think a person could create a little Zen moment here. I'm glad I happened upon this place, and although this particular day was not conducive to providing much spiritual renewal, I'm contented to have observed the winter view that I'll now compare to other seasons throughout the year.

When the weather warms up and the construction is complete, I'll make another visit to the Japanese Garden when I'm certain to enjoy it for its intended purpose.

Sledding in Lyndale Farmstead Park

Location Coordinates:
44°55'49"N,
93°17'35"W
Lyndale Farmstead Park
Minneapolis, MN

A white Christmas was something I never experienced growing up in southern California. We were sometimes treated to wet Christmases, or maybe a windy Christmas, but never a white Christmas. Snow was an exotic substance that you saw glistening on the mountains as you stood in the valley below. Occasionally our family would pack up the car and drive up to places like Wrightwood, Lake Arrowhead, or Big Bear to play in the snow. We pulled on three or four pairs of socks and doubled up on sweaters under an overcoat, grabbed our little round sleds, packed a lunch with a thermos of hot chocolate, and headed up for adventure. My dad battled bumper to bumper traffic as all the "flatlanders" from the LA basin trekked up the mountain roads to throw snowballs at each other and skim down the icy hills on various forms of sliding contraptions. Looking back, it really was a lot of work to pull off a little winter entertainment.

Now I'm a Minnesotan, and snow is no longer exotic. It arrives in November and doesn't depart until March or April. But I still have an appreciation for its beauty and all the fun winter activities it enables. And having a fun snow adventure is a whole lot easier now than needing to drive to a distant mountain locale with lots of other people. Now I simply throw on my coat and snow pants and head out for cross country skiing, snowshoeing, or ice fishing. Or, I can simply walk across the street to an ideal sledding hill. Area residents flock to Lyndale Farmstead Park as soon as the first flakes fly to glide down a perfect bowl-shaped slope. No traffic, no long lines for a ski lift, just the simple good times of a toboggan and a hill. It is a little bit of Currier & Ives viewed right out of my kitchen window.

The year 2010 will be ending in just a few hours, and I'm very excited about my plans for photographic activities in 2011. It is going to be a great year. Stay tuned!

Lake Harriet Ice Over

Location Coordinates:
44°55'17"N, 93°18'19"W
Lake Harriet
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Earlier this year I wrote about the annual event known as Ice Out, which is the date our lakes become ice free in the spring. Each of Minnesota's thousands of lakes has its own Ice Out date depending upon the characteristics of the lake in question. It stands to reason, then, that each lake also has an Ice Over date in the winter - the date the surface of the lake obtains a solid frozen covering from shore to shore. This year I wasn't able to pinpoint the exact Ice Over date for my local lake, but it was achieved sometime between December 2nd and December 7th.

 

After a much warmer than average early November, our first major snowfall occurred on November 13th. I missed this event; I was basking in the warm 75+ degree temperatures of late fall in southern California on that day. When I returned to Minnesota a week later on the 20th, I was thrust abruptly into winter with a fifty-degree temperature drop coupled with freezing rain which glazed the roads and turned the remnants of the first snow into something akin to concrete. My favorite season had definitely vanished while I was out of town, and winter was robustly announcing its arrival in the upper Midwest.

The first ice I noticed on Lake Harriet was the day after Thanksgiving as my daughter and I walked around the lakeshore working off those extra holiday calories. A rugged ice shelf of about twenty yards had extended from shore towards the center of the lake. Where solid ice met water, jagged ice chunks bobbed about, which gave off a sound similar to a giant punchbowl filled with ice being rocked back and forth. But a late-November warm up quickly dissipated much of this initial icing. 




December roared in with another sharp blast of cold, and by the time I walked around the lake on December 2nd a much smoother, clear sheet of ice was setting up across the lake's surface. As in the spring when the ice broke, I became captivated by the sounds coming from this new ice. As newly formed ice sections moved and grinded into each other the lake sounded as if it was groaning. It was eerie hearing these strange noises emanating from such a familiar place, but at the same time it was completely fascinating.



What a difference five days can make in the life of a lake. By the time I next ventured to the lakeshore on December 7th it had completely frozen over. Granted, the ice crust was dangerously thin, but all the same it is amazing that such a large body of water can freeze over in a relatively short period. So now the pretty lake, so active with sailboats in the warmer months, has transitioned to a solid field of white upon which cross-country skiers will glide and winter festival-goers will tread. And so it goes - one season to the next . .

I'm still here . . .

OK - so it has been a whole month since I've published a new blog entry. November turned out to be a hectic month with a family emergency, unplanned travel, and then the Thanksgiving holiday. December looks to be a bit less crazy so I hope to get a few Holiday season postings out here soon.

After a very warm start in early November, the weather has turned the other way and is now well below seasonal averages here in Minneapolis. There is snow on the ground with the prospect of more to come, which sets the stage for interesting winter weather photography. I'll get out there soon and see what I can find.

Head of the Charles



Rowers in front of the Newell Boat House

 Location coordinates:
42°22'11"N,
71°07'23"W
Boston/Cambridge, Massachusetts

A little more than ten years ago I began what could be described as an obsession with the city of Boston. My first trip to The Hub (one of Boston's nicknames) was a three-hour stopover during a southern New England excursion Chrys and I made in 1987. My second visit was a fairly stressful business junket there in 1996. But these brief early trips planted the seed, and from late 1999 on we have traveled to Boston several times each year, and even lived there in 2008/2009 prior to our move to Minnesota. I've now spent so much time in Boston that I will always consider the city my second home. While living there during the fall of 2008 we were looking for things to do during a visit by our daughter Rachel. Chrys noted the Head of the Charles Rowing Regatta was scheduled that weekend and was to be held on the Charles River near the Harvard campus. As that was close to home, and thinking that activity would represent a perfect New England experience, we decided to check it out. We ended up having such a great time that we now have made the regatta an annual tradition, even though we have never participated in organized rowing ourselves. This past weekend marked our third Head of the Charles Regatta.

Rowing teams from all over the world participate in the event on the Charles River, which delineates Cambridge on the north bank and Boston on the south bank. Individual and team participants come from high school and collegiate crew teams as well as private rowing clubs. Competitors range in age from youth to athletes in their 80s. The bulk of the action takes place in and around the John W. Weeks bridge, a footbridge which links Harvard's main campus in Cambridge with the Harvard Business School and athletic facilities which lie on the Boston side of the river. It is a festive atmosphere with booths selling crew-themed apparel and food along the river banks where spectators cheer on their favorites. The setting can't be beat: rowers skimming over the river against a backdrop of Cambridge's colonial-era architecture, fall-colored trees, tasty "fair food", and crisp autumn air.

The sights off the water are often as interesting as those on the water. Groups of dapper English rowers decked out in their very British navy rowing blazers mix with American college groups in their team sweatshirts. Well-dressed Ivy League alumni cheer their school teams alongside average Joe spectators like me with no particular team affiliation. This year one of the more interesting non-rowing sights was the imaginative way one particular bicyclist found to secure his or her bike high above the crowds. I wonder how he or she was able to hold that bike aloft while securing it to the tree??



Competing rowers against the Boston skyline

 The Head of the Charles Regatta is just one of the events that keep me traveling back to Boston on a regular basis. I'm always happy when I'm there, and I'll likely write about many more of my favorite Boston "latitudes" in posts to come.

The Brief and Brilliant Season

Minnesota Landscape Arboretum

Location coordinates:
Multiple in Minnesota,
Connecticut, and
Massachusetts

Autumn. What a great time of year. Hot weather has melted away into cool, crisp mornings. The angle of the sun shifts, casting a softer, warmer glow over the landscape. A walk around the neighborhood can find you caught up in a blizzard of leaves coming down in a fresh breeze. Apple orchards fill with families seeking hay rides followed by cups of hot cider and warm apple pie with cinnamon ice cream. Gourds and pumpkins, football teams and baseball playoffs, sweatshirts and sweaters. It is the calm and beautiful season before the rush and thrill of the Holidays.

 

Maple leaves, Norfolk, Connecticut

In the south, an autumn enthusiast waits, and waits, and waits for the first signs of the season in the trees. It finally arrives in mid to late October with a sudden flash of dazzling color which all too quickly dissolves to the browns and grays of winter. In the north, the season sometimes stretches longer, with yellows and oranges showing up as early as late August. North or south, fall is like anticipating a fireworks show as you wonder what nature has in store each year.

Along Route 23, western Massachusetts

During the autumn of 2008 I lived in Boston, where my favorite season seems longer than any other place I've lived. It started in August and little by little became more colorful each day well into November. On a cloudy October day I took a drive through western Massachusetts and northern Connecticut and found storybook images. There really is nothing like New England in the fall.

White birch, Finlayson, Minnesota

In Minnesota it seems just about anything goes. In 2009 color didn't peak until the week before Halloween - after we had already endured three snow events. But last year's early snow seemed to only enhance the brightness of the yellows and reds. This year has been warmer and dryer with not a trace of snow so far. And even though this autumn has been as pretty as a picture from a coffee table photo book, I believe last year was better.

St. Croix River near Stillwater, Minnesota

All too soon the comforts of autumn will fade. The trees will become barren, temperatures will continue to drop, outdoor furniture will be stored, and daylight will dwindle. But not to worry. Next up - Thanksgiving and the Holidays. Yep, this is by far the best time of the year.

The Great Inland Port

Location coordinates:
46°46'48"N,
 92°05'28W
Canal Park

Duluth, Minnesota

 
Feeling the need for a "big lake fix" along the shore of Lake Superior, I drove north the other day with the goal of not only taking in my favorite lake, but also enjoying some fall leaf-peeping. Seasonal color north of the Twin Cities is typically at its best in late September and early October. The reds, oranges and yellows were at or near peak on this particular day, which made the drive up Interstate 35 especially pleasing. The scenery was brilliant as I dropped down into Duluth, where I-35 transitions to scenic Highway 61 which follows the Lake Superior shoreline on up to the Canadian border. In previous journeys north my impression of Duluth was that it was simply a hurdle to get through on my way to more interesting places further north. Turns out I was wrong. This trip I decided to park and have a look around, and I'm very glad I did.

 

After scouring the car to find enough change to feed the parking meter, I found my way to a pedestrian boardwalk and bike path that followed the lakeshore. I had a choice to make: walk west toward downtown or east toward the canal and Aerial Lift Bridge and Canal Park. I decided to first investigate downtown. Duluth is located at the westernmost point of Lake Superior, and there is a steep shift in elevation from the lake to the inland area. Geographically speaking, it reminded me of a stadium with rows and aisles (street grids) rising up and away from a playing field (downtown and the lakefront). Many of the residential neighborhoods are blessed with impressive views of the lake as they ascend from the downtown core. Perhaps these grand views are of some consolation to residents who must endure the biting winter chill of one of America's most vigorous climates!



Duluth North Pierhead Lighthouse

 After admiring the interesting architecture downtown, I returned to the lakefront boardwalk and walked east toward Canal Park, named for the canal that allows ships to pass from the lake into the port. Once an industrial and warehouse district, this region has now been converted into a vibrant tourist and entertainment destination with pleasant lakefront hotels and numerous restaurants. My stroll eventually led me down a breakwater to the North Pierhead Lighthouse, where I was rewarded with a front row seat to observe a huge freighter as it passed through the canal on its way out into Lake Superior.

All in all, I was quite pleasantly surprised by what I found in Duluth, and my three hour diversion served to favorably alter my impression of the city. Knowing now what Duluth has to offer I'll be less inclined to simply blow through town on my way up the north shore of Superior.