As the days lengthen, the cold strengthens. I didn’t make that up, but I’ll bet it was a fellow Minnesota who coined it. These are the days that send many of our people scurrying to Florida or Arizona as fast as they can, not to return until March or April. Not that we’ve had the below-zero, skin-freezing temperatures yet – it’s been fairly mild, as winters go. All this snow and ice and wind scrubs us clean and scares away the kind of insects and snakes that are the sinister underbelly of the warm South.

I, ,too, went south today. We’re one of the last houses you pass as you leave our town heading south. In fact, as soon as you pass us, the street becomes a county road and there are wide, flat fields where e’er you look. I could tell that the sun would be setting soon and wanted to be free of the usual impediments to seeing it – all those bare-nekkid trees and bushes, all the clusters of houses. But as soon as I left them behind, I also left behind their shelter from the wind. The romance of getting a sunset photo got a severe slap in the face.

Winter Sunset Haiku
Red, yellow, orange
Warm colors, cold, distant sun.
My fingers are blue.

Cars and trucks whizzed by me and added to the ambiance, with their sounds increasing and then decreasing as they went by. It was a good sound track for my walk. I took a bunch of photos, but in the end, the one I loved the most was the one I took on our driveway when I was almost home. I passed a leaf standing proudly in the snow with the setting sun in the background and in a moment of dedication to the art that surprised me, I laid down on my stomach in the snow to get the photo.

Soli Deo gloria.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning…

Do you ever have delusions of grandeur? When I was in college, I learned how to play the guitar and used to sit in my room for hours playing and singing. I left the window strategically open so that any talent agents that just happened to be wandering by might hear me. I used to enjoy imagining the conversation if one of them came to our door:

Doorbell rings. Mom or Dad answer.
Agent: Hello, I just heard the most wonderful guitar playing and singing from your house. It was so lovely and mesmerizing, I just had to come up and see if I could sign that musician up for a multi-million dollar contract.
Mom or Dad: Are you sure you’ve got the right house?

That charming little scene never happened, but when I was visiting a friend of mine at her college, I spent an afternoon singing and playing the guitar in her dorm room while she was in classes. I took a break to go and get some food and ran into the janitor, an older man, out in the hallway.

Him: Was that you makin’ that noise?
Me: um… yes.
Him: I thought it was a somethin’ like a dog howling.

That really happened! Pretty embarrassing and awfully humbling. I think he was pulling my leg, but to this day, I’m not sure.

All these years later, one would think I’ve outgrown such nonsense, but today as I headed out for a walk, I decided to carry along my extra lens and unbidden, the thought came to me: people will think I’m a professional photographer! I blush even to write that. Today was definitely not a professional photography day for me and not a soul even saw me wandering around in the nature center. I ended up clumsily exchanging lenses after having to walk a bit to find somewhere to put the extra lens where it wouldn’t be in the snow (I bet professionals wouldn’t get stuck in that bind). While I was using the zoom lens, I wanted my regular lens. Just as soon as I switched to the regular lens (oh, my cold fingers!) I wished I had the zoom lens back on. I found out it’s confoundedly hard to take photos of animal prints in fresh snow – the camera kept saying “What? What are you trying to photograph? I can’t SEE it! Don’t expect me to focus.” And then I decided to experiment with all of the special effects that this camera has. Halfway through them I realized how dumb it was to use settings like “super vivid” “pop” (for color), “photo illustration,” “miniature effect,” “toy camera effect,” “selective color” and “silhouette” in a mostly snowy, colorless landscape.

Gah! All of my delusions of grandeur were no more than just some dog howling. But you get to see some of my photos anyway, including ALL the ones I took of a stand of trees using every single special effect. Please don’t unfollow me, although I probably deserve it.

I really might delete this in the morning – a higher probability than usual.

It was late in the afternoon when I started out on my walk today. As per my usual habit, I started taking photos as I went along, so in lieu of a lot of writing, I’ll just post some of those and let them speak for themselves, unless I’ve got something to say.

Little baby tree holding hands with Mom and Dad trees. That’s what I saw. And now, thanks to your imagination, you see it too.

I’m always keenly aware in the cemetery that all these dead names are living memories for someone else. Makes you think.

It was when I got the camera out to take the lone leaf photo that I realized that somewhere along the way, I’d dropped the lens cap. Rats. I took the photo anyway, and then followed my footsteps back the way I’d come, looking intently in the snow and frozen dirt for it. I got all the way back to the last photo I’d taken where I knew I’d still had the cap and didn’t find it. Double rats. I turned around again and there, just a few steps ahead of me, the cap was lodged in the snow and dirt. Double yay! I trudged back toward home feeling the cold nip at my face, but generally pleased with this little bit of kind providence. The sun was going down behind the gray clouds and streetlights and yard lights were coming on.

Another Sabbath day is coming to an end, and in my heart, I’m still singing one of the hymns we sang in church today:

God is working his purpose out as year succeeds to year;
God is working his purpose out, and the time is drawing near;
Nearer and nearer draws the time, the time that shall surely be,
When the earth shall be filled with the glory of God as the waters cover the sea.

Amen!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Minnesota Winter
Beautiful and glorious, bracing and bitter,
Bright like the sun glancing off a million whirling mirrors,
Dull days of endless dimming, blending all together.
White, gray, brown, black, white again,
Crunchy, crusty, slippery, slushy,
Snowballs, snowmen, snow drifts,
Shovels, plows, ice picks,
Skates,skis, snowmobiles,
Cars spinning, swerving, weaving, ditch-bound.
All things dead, silent, resting, waiting.

And then, a crocus.

I did, in fact, go for a short walk on this beautiful, bitter cold day. But I didn’t want to bring my camera – too cold – so I took some photos in our back yard using a bright red jingle bell for contrast with the balsam fir (the much photographed balsam fir!). I used both of my lenses to see which would get the best shot. See what you think.

The first two were taken with the 18-55mm lens and the second two with the 70-300. I like the way the background is blurred with the second lens, but I also like the background in view in the first two photos. And then this happened:

Not sure what happened there, but I like it!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

As I was looking upon this scene, Aragorn walked up beside me and murmured, “A great battle has taken place here.” Amazed at his ability to divine the things that had taken place, I asked him to continue. He walked around the two characters and studied carefully the markings in the snow and the position of the bodies. He lifted his head to feel from whence the wind was coming and closed his eyes in thought. After a time, he spoke. “The man of snow issued a challenge to the bearded man in red. They would face one another as contestants in the ancient dueling practice of limbo. The buoyancy of their bodies put them on an even playing field, but clearly the man of snow felt he had the advantage. The markings in the snow indicate that the man of snow went first, but a sudden burst of wind hurled him to the ground face first where he immediately died. The bearded man in red did not want the dishonor of a battle unfairly won, so he positioned himself to go under the bar. His back went out and, frozen in this unfortunate position, he too died. The limbo bar appears to have been removed by a third party, perhaps a witness or referee to the duel.” We stood in silence, shaken by the somber outcome of this battle. Aragorn suddenly let out a cry of anguish and kicked at a large mound of snow, which turned out to be a snow-covered fire hydrant. He limped away.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. Thanks to my husband who saw this scene on his way to work and recommended I use it as inspiration for today’s blog.

This is an unremarkable photo of an unremarkable piece of land. The only remarkable thing about this is what’s no longer there. When we first moved here, that space was occupied by an old farmhouse with a matching set of old bachelor farmers who were brothers. They kept to themselves, but we occasionally saw one of them if our mail got dropped there by mistake. One of them would drive up to our back door, honk his horn, and hand off the mail. Very few words were spoken at those times. The house and outbuildings aged along with the brothers, looking vaguely sad and neglected. First one, and then the other brother died and the property went up for sale. The house was in such disrepair that no one wanted it. Eventually the city bought it and the whole neighborhood got notice that the house would be taken down in a controlled burn as a practice exercise for firefighters.

On the appointed day we all gathered to watch the execution. It was exciting and terribly sad at the same time.

I wondered just how long that house had been there, and how many children grew up there, and how many birthdays and anniversaries were celebrated there, and if those in the household had seen hard times, and who came running out that front door with joy when the snow melted and spring had come… I wondered about those two old bachelors and wished we’d taken the time to get to know them. A whole lot of history went down in flames that day.

Now go back and look at the original photo. You’ll see something you didn’t see before: a memory.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

I made a tremendous discovery this morning! A Christmas cactus that was given to me over a year ago has finally bloomed:

So what? I don’t usually do well in the tending of plants. My daughter had left her Christmas cactus in my care when she left for college and between forgetting about it and then overwatering it, I pretty much destroyed it. With the helpful advice of a Gardening Master friend of mine, I was able to revitalize the roots of that sad, desiccated thing in a jar of water and then handed it off to the aforementioned daughter with a sigh of relief. When I received another one, it seemed a cruel irony, albeit a much-appreciated gift. I mended my wicked ways and sought to give it better care than its predecessor. After more than a year went by without any blossoms, I assumed the worst and wrote it off as just one more plant tending failure on my part. Yet, somewhere in the secret and hidden parts of that cactus, a flower was just waiting to delight and surprise me.

Is it possible that our prayers are sometimes answered in the same way? We look at what we can see (which is very little), and can be tempted to despair that God is not listening, nor is He acting on our behalf. And it’s unavoidably true that some of our petitions will not be granted, for God knows what we need better than we do. As C.S. Lewis said, “In our ignorance we ask what is not good for us or for others, or not even intrinsically possible.”

But sometimes God is at work in the secret and hidden places, waiting for just the right time to reveal what He has wrought for us. The next time I am discouraged about what seems like unanswered prayer, I’ll remember the extravagance of that blossom.

“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us,  to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” Ephesians 3:20-21

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

How hard can it be to take a walk every day? That’s what I told myself when I resolved that this year, in 2020, I would go out and walk every day with my camera in hand. It only took seven days to break me down. To be fair, I’ve been sick since the year started, so it’s taken a rather Herculean effort just to keep up with it. Today I woke up feeling crummier than usual and decided, nope, not gonna do it. I took a gander at the sunrise but wasn’t feeling the shout of joy. I sat with my tea and kleenex close at hand and enjoyed the beautiful feeling of being sedentary. Ahh…I was settled in for the morning.

Then God completely outfoxed me. It started snowing, one of those magical soft snowfalls, and it was like the sirens singing with their irresistible song. “Come outside…you must come outside…” I obeyed the imperative and went out.

The first photo is of our glorious Christmas tree. If that doesn’t fill you with delight, contact me and I will refund your deflated hopes and restore to you the curmudgeonly spirit with which you started your day.

As for the rest, as usual, I photographed as I went along, finding some colorful lizards and a sporty little frog on my journey. It would have been too much to ask for more than that. I spiced up the froggie photo on a couple different photo processing apps. You’re welcome.

Snowy Haiku
The snow beckoned me
With soft hands and wintry song.
I dared not say no.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. All except the frog.

I went outside in my pajamas and slippers this morning to get a photo of the sunrise, as much as we see of it here. Even though I am usually awake at sunrise, I hardly ever go out of my way to see it. Sunrises and mornings are everlastingly hopeful, even after a dark night of tragedy (not that I had one of those last night).

For His anger is but for a moment,
His favor is for a lifetime;
Weeping may last for the night,
But a shout of joy comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:5

Think about uttering a shout of joy next time you see a sunrise – that’ll get you off to a good start.

I got my Daytimer all in order this morning – took out the old sheets from 2019 and replaced them with the untouched purity of the 2020 sheets. This also was a bit of a sunrise moment – it’s a new day, a new year! I’m looking forward to the satisfaction of checking things off my To Do list everyday with a shout of joy.

My walk yesterday doesn’t appear to have made a dent in the bronchitis going on in my lungs, but this did not keep me from going out again this morning in search of Destination Happy (see above photo), whatever that means. I found things and identified them, which made me feel like a bonafide nature lover. Here’s what I found:

I think these might be rabbit prints, but I could be persuaded that they belong to a squirrel.

And here we have a touching moment between two squirrels. They met, chattered, discussed the best places to find food, and then they parted. I was channeling Aragorn as I created this detailed tableau from the two sets of prints.

One of many deer prints I found. I’ve walked in that cemetery during the winter so many times and never once did I look at the ground. This was a day of seeing things that I usually overlook. Allow me to share with you a poem I found recently that I’d like to establish as my blog motto:

God be in my head,
And in my understanding;
God be in mine eyes,
And in my looking;
God be in my mouth
And in my speaking;
God be in my heart,
And in my thinking;
God be at my end and at my departing.
Anonymous, 16th century.

Thank you, Anonymous. I like the way you think.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, a morning which will start with a shout of joy and hopefully not a lot of coughing.

I might have to start getting a little more clever with my blog post titles. How about this: Day Six of Being Sick. That would draw the sympathetic reader right in, as well as the curious (just how sick is she?). Plus there’s a little bit of alliteration to appeal to the literary minded.

In spite of my diseased state I still went on a walk, having developed a completely unscientific and untested theory that if I took in great gulps of cold air, it would have a purifying effect on my lungs. I even entertained a little animated movie in my head about what this would look like on a microscopic level: the millions of mighty molecules of frigid air swooping into my body and delivering sucker punches to the bad guys and then carrying their dead bodies out when I exhale. I think this could make a pretty good superhero movie.

Up until today, I’ve been lugging around the 70-300mm lens, but today I decided it was time to go back to the 18-55mm lens and give my arms and neck a break. Here I am looking mysterious and otherworldly as I go about with my camera.

Our Christmas tree is outside now, planted in some snow in the back yard so we can still enjoy looking at it. I’m sure you will recognize this as being a branch of a balsam fir that just recently held an ornament or two. I love everything about this photo…

Also captured what happens to purple coneflowers when succumbing to the ravages of winter. A moment of silence, please.

Near the end of my walk I saw something that made me so happy. I hope it makes you happy, too.

I had to trespass on this property in our neighborhood to get one closeup of these beauties, but it was worth it – don’t you agree? Fortunately, no one came running out to chase me away. They had two trees festooned in this manner. Unknown neighbor, I salute thee.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

I recently read the book “On Writing” by Stephen King and among other things, he was a big proponent of establishing a habit of writing every day, rather than waiting for the mood (or the muse, as it were) to strike you.

“Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to a lot of creative fluttering. …Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ‘til noon or seven ‘til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up, chomping his cigar and making magic.”

I want to take more photos and do more writing, so I’m combining those things by trying to do a short daily blog about the pictures I take that day. I expect there will be plenty of days in which the muse is hiding, but I’m hoping there will be days when he shows up, chomping his cigar and making magic.

An apartment building is going up across the street from our library. I can see the men working on it from my water aerobics class three times a week. I resented its intrusion at first – how dare they put an apartment building where my favorite parking lot was? I’ve always had a hard time embracing change. Yet I have to admit a fascination with the process that starts with a hole in the ground and ends up as a sound structure in which people can live. A blueprint becomes reality; someone’s math becomes someone else’s living room; my parking lot becomes someone’s home. I guess I can live with that.

I turned around and made my way into the library, passing this charming trio of imperatives on the way. It’s a chant I will no doubt hear throughout the year as I endeavor to meet my Goodreads Book Reading Challenge goal of 100 books in 2020.

And here is a the prize at the end: a book I’ve been eagerly awaiting for a few weeks. I may be posting the fruit of my efforts as I go through it. Or not, if the muse has rejected me utterly in this department.

This was more of a “slice of life” post. Thanks for joining me.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless you say “please,” like Westley did.