Some months ago I wrote about a tree in our neighborhood that has the rising sun behind it in the morning. I expressed a desire to photograph the tree once per season at sunrise. This desire did not in any way transform into action (sunrise comes awfully early, you know). Until this morning. I came downstairs, looked out the window and it seemed like it was just the right time – not quite sunrise, but you could see it coming in the lightened skies. I had a spontaneous moment, which in itself was a surprise. Spontaneity and I are not usually friendly with each other. I raced upstairs, got dressed, grabbed the camera, got in the car and went off to accomplish my quest.

The first photo I took was terrible – the camera wanted to do something different than I wanted, so I realized I’d have to change some settings in order to win that battle. I had some time, however – it wasn’t quite sunrise and I didn’t like the angle I’d shot from anyway.

And then someone came out of the house next to the tree. In an instant I went from having a nice solitary artsy moment to looking like a deranged stalker with a camera. I fled the scene like Joseph fleeing from Potiphar’s wife. As I drove away, I hoped the homeowner didn’t take down my license number. Thus ends the Saga of the Sunrise Tree.

Here’s the same photo hopped up on filters:

The guy probably just came out to get his newspaper and didn’t even notice me.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning out of sheer embarrassment!

What’s it like to be upside down
In a right-side up kind of world?
Does water reflect the heart of a man?
Will the clouds become uncurled?

The lake imitates all manner of things
With a strange and mirror-like lie.
If you stare at the water long enough,
You’ll forget that you need the sky.

That’s all I’ve got for today. Which is more than I had last Friday – I missed a day! Maybe I’ll do a make-up post sometime to keep my record intact.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning! Really!

We saw this mushroom at one of the state parks along the North Shore and it made me realize how underrated mushrooms are for having any sort of beauty potential. I wanted to know what kind it was, so of course I did a search on the internet for: “orange ball mushroom with white spots.” This would make a scientist cringe, but the internet isn’t that picky and gave me what I wanted without so much as an arrogant sneer. If I’m correct, it’s an American Eastern Yellow Fly Agaric mushroom. The cap flattens out as it gets older, so I think this one is a baby, which heightens its appeal. Anything in the baby category automatically blows the fuse of the cute circuit. Just look what happened when they took crusty old Yoda and made him into a baby? I rest my case.

I read some scholarly articles about this mushroom, or perhaps I should say that I skimmed them judiciously…or even more to the point, I skipped most of the boring stuff. Here’s all you need to know:

• It’s not poisonous to eat if you know how to prepare it (seems like a big “if”).
• Something about this mushroom when mixed with milk, kills flies. Maybe.
• Some species of this mushroom may have hallucinogenic properties.

If you see this mushroom in the wild, don’t eat it hoping for an unusual tripping experience based on what I just told you. By the way, guess what pops up when I type the word mushroom? This: 🍄 Yes, this is such an iconic mushroom that even the computer knows what it is.

And just to balance out the life cycle of our charming friend, I took a photo of another one that I think must be in the grandfather age category.

Or, if you want to stick to the Star Wars theme, if the other mushroom was Baby Yoda, this one is Jabba the Hut.

I think I’ve fed you enough pseudo-science for today. You can always look these things up if you want accuracy and thoroughness. I offer only fanciful speculations and disclaimers.

Brought to you by lynniebeemuseoday.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning after consulting with my lawyer about whether or not I’m going to be held responsible for actions taken by people with mushrooms after reading this post.

Are you waiting for something? Are you hoping for something? Could it be that God has something different planned, something just as good or better?

I saw a hummingbird flitting about on the mint patch last week. I hastened to get my camera with the telephoto lens and went to sit on the back steps to wait for it to reappear, as I was certain it would. I got the mint flowers all in focus and kept my lens trained on them in anticipation.

I’ll admit that I’m not a terribly patient person. A minute or two went by and I got restless. That makes me laugh when I think of the incredible patience that nature photographers must have to get the shots that they do. But yes, after a mere 60-120 seconds, I got restless. And then I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

It turns out I was waiting for the wrong bird. All I had to do was change my orientation and focus to see this downy woodpecker, an unexpected guest infrequently seen on the feeder.

So go ahead and wait. Set your sights on what you hope for. But be prepared to change your focus – don’t miss out on the thing God has for you right now while you’re waiting for something that may or may not appear. He knows what you need.

And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:19

I may or may not delete this post and it may or may not be in the morning.

We had 8 tomato plants this year in our garden. We’ve had years in the past in which the tomato harvest was so plentiful that I was praying for a hard frost to kill the plants so I could rest from the tomato labors. This year, we harvested exactly zero tomatoes. It was a complete and utter failure and we can’t blame the Japanese beetles either. They were busy destroying our apple tree leaves and couldn’t be bothered with the tomato plants. We think it might have been due to some nutrient deficiency in the soil.

I had my heart set on making some “sun-dried” tomatoes, however, and was not going to be denied. Store-bought tomatoes will do. The end result is as beautiful as it is tasty.

I made these in my dehydrator, so they aren’t technically sun-dried. But I bet the jars of sun-dried tomatoes I buy at the store aren’t dried in the sun, either. Change my mind.

That’s all I’ve got for today. Feast your eyes on that and consider it an abundant visual meal.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

That’s the hymn I heard today out on my walk.

One final “note” (pun very much intended): I changed one of my favorite lines in this poem because it didn’t resonate with the musical theme, but it pained me to let it go. I’m fairly certain that you all want to know what it was, so to satisfy the clamor of my readers:

“Spending colors like cash in one glorious spree”

Became

“Singing out colors like a loud hallelujah”

Should I have left it the way it was?

I’ll probably let this post fall to the ground in the morning.

Flowers are such undemanding friends. When you need beauty, they give generously. They have a quiet and humble glory. Their countenance is cheerful and colorful and this one has a heart of gold. They often enliven a room with sweet fragrance.

Their ephemeral nature makes it hard to form a lasting acquaintance, however. Fair weather friends, indeed.

The grass withers,
The flower fades,
But the Word of our God stands forever.
Isaiah 40:8

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, making this an ephemeral post.

Cascade River State Park – 3.5 miles, rocky uneven terrain, 5 small waterfalls, 600 feet in elevation: Bring it on.

This was our last hike on this trip up north, our fourth hike in three days. Not bad for a couple of old fogeys – although my husband would certainly want it recorded here that he is a veritable youth compared to me – not yet 60, whereas I passed that mile marker nearly two years ago.

There were rumors of rain coming, so we decided to do the hike earlier than planned, also hoping to avoid the big crowds of the day before. When we started out just before 9:00 a.m. it was another beautiful day. The parking lot was already full of cars, so we weren’t the only ones wanting to get an early start (if you can say that 9:00 a.m. is early).

Sometimes I wonder what’s involved with establishing the trails that we use at these parks. We have it so easy, for the most part, with groomed paths, stairways, bridges, and even fairly manageable rocky terrain. Trailblazers, I salute you!

It wasn’t long before we came to the first set of cascades along the Cascade River. One doesn’t like to become “ho-hum” about these things, but I caught myself just taking obligatory photos and wanting to move on, rather than fully enjoying the sight and sound of all that water flinging itself over the rocks. How sad to become blasé about anything God made, especially the more spectacular bits. My favorite part about waterfalls is how they mesmerize you. Am I the only one?

Onward we climbed. This was definitely a more challenging ascent than the trail at the Judge’s park. Lots more tangled roots, tricky stepping, and awkward angles.

We tend to go somewhat silent during these parts of the hike, concentrating on the next step and the exertion necessary to keep going. At least, that’s what I was doing. I call it Grim Determination Mode (GDM). Still found time to take a few “‘artsy” photos, though, and of course, there were more falls along the way.

This trail was part of the Superior Hiking Trail (the SHT, which I continue to insist is an unfortunate acronym). Kris noted that at another time in our lives, it might have been fun to consider hiking the SHT. I told him that if he was even thinking about doing it now, he’d have to get a trophy wife. He responded, “A trophy wife is one with whom you’re proud to be seen, who brings grace and glory to your life. I married her!” Yep, he’s a keeper! ❤️

We were headed to Lookout Mountain, which was the middle point of the loop. When we got there, it was really a spectacular view of the forest with the grand sight of Lake Superior in the distance. Kris climbed out on a rock that jutted out, to get photos, and I stayed back, horrified by the potential drop from the rock, but also pragmatically taking photos from my vantage point.

I found a place to put the itsy bitsy Spee-ider rock (see the movie “Megamind” if you want to know why I pronounced it that way). We’ll call it “The Conrad Rock.”

The lookout area was filling up, so we gathered our things and started back, stopping briefly so our navigator could check the map.

We took the road less traveled on the way back down, the path much narrower and somewhat overgrown. The Mighty Trailblazers got a little lackadaisical on this part, I must say. Still, we weren’t exactly having to hack our way through with a machete, so it was all good.

Plus, you could look up from the trail and see Lake Superior winking at you alluringly. That’s a sight I never tire of. (Or for you grammar sticklers: “That’s a sight of which I never tire.” I’m not judging – I’m a fellow stickler.)

It took us two hours and ten minutes to complete this rigorous 3.5 mile hike. Triumph!

Knee Score: Even though it wasn’t quite as up-and-down as the infamous Crosby-Manitou SP, I’d still give it a knee score of 10 without the trekking poles, and a score of 7-8 with them. The equivalent of 46 flights of stairs!

Well, that might be it for awhile. We did a couple “bonus” hikes on the way home, so maybe I’ll do a “Lynniebeemuseoday” report on those. We have unrealistic hopes and dreams of doing the St. Croix river parks yet this fall. It would be great to check a few more off our list before next year!

Thanks again for trekking along with us. You are such delightful company. 🙂

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Next Hike: Beaver Creek Valley State Park

Here’s the thing: it’s after 10:30 p.m. and I’ve been so busy today that I haven’t had time to do a blog post. But in keeping with my commitment to post M-F every week this year, I’m going to have to come up with something. I’ve already done the cheap bit of posting a photo of an actual wooden post and calling it a night, so I can’t do that again. Hence, I will go look for a random photo on my iPad and see what emerges. Might be haiku time again…

Long shadows, late sun
Sunset hour soon begun
Late sun, shadows run

So much for doing a “quick” haiku. It took me over 10 minutes to come up with 3 lines! I’d be ever so pleased to have you improve upon this if you are so inclined. What haiku would you do for this photo?

Good night and God bless. I’m too tired to think about deleting this in the morning. Yawn.

We had hiked Grand Portage State Park earlier in the day but were still feeling relatively fresh and ready for another.

Judge C.R. Magney State Park was so crowded that there were park staff at the entrance directing traffic. Once parked, we hoisted our camping chairs out of the car and had lunch before setting out on the 2.5 mile hike. It was still early afternoon when we got all our gear on and began. As we were starting, we passed a guy coming back, carrying his dog. “Too much for the puppy, eh?” I called out cheerfully. He laughed and admitted that it was. This should have been an ominous sign for me, but I went on in blissful ignorance. I was happy to be able to use the ponytail feature of my new sunhat for the first time.

The trail was, as usual, well groomed and started out easy. We crossed a bridge over the Brule River early on. It was shallow and rocky, but we could imagine it looking quite a bit more rowdy in the spring.

We hiked along the river upstream and the trail became decidedly more uphill. The trekking poles were starting to earn their keep. We knew we were headed to the Upper Falls, past which we would be going to Devil’s Kettle Falls.

I had glanced over the map and guide before the hike and remembered the number 175 coming up. Was it 175 feet up to the falls? Yes, that’s probably what it was. I had to dismiss the disturbing idea of a stairway with 175 steps – that can’t be right. In any case, the way up was steep and rocky, so most of my concentration was on where to place the poles as I went along. This should sufficiently explain why there are not a lot of photos in this post.

We were huffing and puffing as we went, Kris musing about how this was reminiscent of some brutal portages that he took on canoe trips in his youth. Eventually, we came to a place where to the left we saw a wooden platform and a sign indicating the way to the falls. It turns out the wooden platform was the top of a very long wooden stairway. Yes, it looked like it was, indeed going to be 175 stairs, all downhill.

We passed people coming up that were looking pretty rough with the exertion. And many of these were YOUNG people. I tried not to panic about what it was going to be like on our way back up.

When we reached the bottom of the stairway, we found out that this was not the end of our efforts, although there was a side path that led to Upper Falls. No, my friends, there was another stairway ahead of us to Devil’s Kettle Falls, this one going back UP. Well, in for a penny, as they say.

This set of steps wasn’t nearly as long as the ones we’d just come down, so it wasn’t long before we were waiting to see Devil’s Kettle Falls. There were several parties of hikers and the viewing platform was small, so we all took turns waiting for our moment. The thing that makes this falls interesting is that it splits the river in two. One section plunges 50 feet and continues downstream, while the other section vanishes into the huge pothole they call “Devil’s Kettle.” Ooh – mysterious!

I had hoped to be able to place my next painted rock on the viewing platform, but didn’t want anyone to see, so I had to be somewhat cagey, leaving it at knee level where I hoped some child would come upon it with delight. I took a hasty photo (hence the slight blurriness) and we left the owl rock behind.

Back down the steps, we stopped briefly at the Upper Falls to gird our loins for the grueling trip back up the 175 Steps of Doom. It was another nice falls, perfect for a selfie.

Also, I decided to use the slo-mo feature of my phone camera. Cool beans.

On the way back up the stairs, we bonded with another couple a little younger than us. Shared misery will do that.

We joked that perhaps it would be most merciful to be pushed over the side, so we would fall into the river, float downstream, and meet up with everybody at Lake Superior. Ha ha – kind of like gallows humor, I guess. A young couple went by us, each carrying a full, heavy pack of camping gear and hardly looking winded. Show-offs!

The last half of the trip upstairs we took in one fell swoop, having gotten our second wind somewhere along the way. Kris said he thought the words “I feel my second wind coming on,” would make a good epitaph on a gravestone. I love that! What a marvelous description of what it will be like when we finish this journey and meet our Lord face to face.

Near the end of the hike, we came across a plaque telling us about the old Judge himself, something we’d been curious about. Clarence R. Magney lived from 1883-1962 and was a lawyer, mayor of Duluth, and a district judge, as well as serving as a justice on Minnesota’s Supreme Court. He was instrumental in adding a dozen parks along the north shore, so it seems fitting to name one after him, although for my money they should have just left it at Magney State Park. Oh well, nobody asked me. Kris’s astute comment was, “Anybody who loves nature can’t be too much of a shyster. But anyone who’s a politician can’t be too little of one either.”

There you have it – another hike in the books!

Knee score: a solid 9-10 without the trekking poles, but I’d give it a good 6-7 with them. It was fairly hard work, but on beautiful terrain. My phone says we climbed the equivalent of 36 flights of stairs that day, which included the first park, but I’m guessing most of them were at JCRM. Phew!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. I bet you’re all exhausted just reading this post.

Next Hike: Cascade River State Park

Some of you are probably wondering how the Jump-Start watercolor challenge is going for me. Actually, I assume that you have completely forgotten about it, which is mete, right and salutary – no need for you to tuck that kind of extraneous information into your already-busy brains. However, now that I’ve stirred up the pot of memory for you, I’ll get you up to date and expect that you’ll similarly forget this in a timely fashion. It’s all good.

There are 30 Jump-Start watercolor lessons in all, done by Jenny Granberry on YouTube. Each video is less than 10 minutes and I’ve found them to be a very good introduction to watercolor painting in general and with some good specific challenges. I like her approach and appreciate the time and talent she put into making these videos. Her narrations are informative and sometimes amusing.

I shared the first 15 on this blog awhile ago and have now done all but that last four. Many of the ones in the last half of the challenge have been more time-intensive, often requiring drawing first.

If you have considered dabbling in watercolor, I’d recommend trying these out. I’ll feature more of mine every week or so just to give you an idea of what the projects look like. Sometimes my own brand of weirdness takes over, so you should definitely check hers out to see the originals.

Let me know how your own endeavors are going with whatever it is that you’ve been challenging yourself to learn how to do. I love it when this becomes a conversation!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning…