Airstream in the Snow

I just love our airstream retreat, even in the winter.



Those two tanks in front of the trailer are our only source of heat. When the furnace kicks on the noise is really loud, but I'm not complaining because it's better than no heat at all.



There is always a lot of shoveling to be done, but not before we get a chance to check out any animal tracks. It's fun to see the tracks of a mouse that jumps over and under all the logs, little tracks leading to and from the trailer. Ugh, mice. A reality I can't get away from in trailer living. There are usually deer and rabbit tracks as well.




This is picture taken years ago with my film camera. The shots had way too much light, blown out, I guess is the way to describe. Photoshopping these led to sort of a vintage feel and since these images are not current, that feels fine to me.

It used to be so difficult going to the trailer in the winter. Sometimes we couldn't even get into the driveway because of the piles of snow left by the plow. Let me tell ya, there's a lot of shoveling to do just to get the vehicle off the road. Having the Jeep changed a lot in terms of access. But, it was cross country skiing that got us to retreat more to the trailer in the winter.




Here's the routine:
We arrive in the early afternoon and shovel our way into the trailer. We unload our supplies after we get the furnace going. Then, we take off for the ski trails. The exertion warms me up, and the few hours we are away skiing gives the trailer time to warm enough to take the heavy winter coats off. Turning on the oven to cook some dinner adds to the heating of the trailer. But, it never quite gets warm enough until the next day. The first night the walls and the floor of the trailer remain cold, cold, and cold.

Why does all this matter? Why do you care? Why do i care? Well, for one, I have a much greater appreciation for the heat that is constantly running through our home in the city. Second, I have a much greater appreciation for those that live in these somewhat remote situations all year around. We are lucky that we have propane tanks, but it sure leads to a frozen night if we run out of propane, which has happened more than once. Thankfully, there is a place in town where we can fill up. I can't even imagine how much work people must put into having enough fuel if heating a cabin with a wood stove. Third, it does a body good to be out of its comfort zone. I feel like I'm hardy after a winter weekend at the trailer. Fourth, and last, I get a different way of existing in the winter, a way that gets me outside in the winter, a chance to get away from the tedium of going from one heated place to another, stepping away from the routine of home to store or home to office each day.

late winter pond

Ice Sculptures

We have these concrete molds that allow me to make pavers and ornaments for the garden. In the winter, the Big D take them over and makes ice sculptures with them, adding color dyes, freezing them together.



This seemed especially appropriate last January. This sculpture reminded me of two-faced Janus.




There is always a variety of abstract sculptures to be had at the trailer. The curve of the airstream produces amazing shaped icicles. He peels them gently from the side of the trailer and plants them in the snow. By the end of our weekend in the woods, the area is filled with glittering ice sculptures.

Chasing Turkeys

We ran into a large flock of turkeys on our venture into the woods. I hadn't expected to see so many. I've heard of people living out in remote areas having difficulty driving out because the turkeys won't budge from their take-over of the road.





When we encounter turkeys, they flee.





And, they probably should when I come around. For some unexplained reason, I have a fascination with wild turkeys. I'm not a fan of the Thanksgiving turkey feast, but for some reason, every time I see wild turkeys I get hungry. I daydream about ways to trap and pluck a wild turkey for our Thanksgiving meal. I've never had feelings like this before. I don't feel a need to hunt, I release every dang fish I catch, but when it comes to wild turkey, I feel oddly that I want to eat one. That is just a daydream, catching one is way beyond my abilities!





We expected the turkeys to take off, to scatter in the woods. We did not expect to be chasing them down the road.





It's hilarious watching a herd of turkeys running down the road. They bounce up and down and forward, keeping to the road like some wilderness running track.

The sound of the Jeep can heard from miles away, I'm sure. Eventually these turkeys decided it was too much and took flight.





We continued down this road, saying goodbye to the turkeys, but too soon, because as we rounded the corners, we found them again.





This lasted a little while with us driving along, the turkeys repeatedly flying off and then landing further down the road.





Eventually, they tired of the chase and scattered into the woods.





Look how yummy they look! Beautiful, too!





The tracks were a crazy pattern of thin lines. It was such a delightful encounter on the path today. Made me hungry, yes, but these flocks of turkeys do also strike me as the comical figures in the woods.

Have you ever encountered wild turkeys at night? They can be quite frightening if you have no idea that they are out and about. They fly up towards the tops of the trees and crash through the branches. They are large and the commotion they create is unnerving in the dark of the woods. I can remember several nights of wildly pointing the flashlight up into the trees, praying that it isn't a treed bear.

Who knew that turkeys roosted in the trees at night? Their bodies seem too clumsy and bulky to get into a tree. Surprising and comical, I love them wild turkeys!

W is for WHY?!

Tell me why would someone do this?


For over fifteen years we have been walking this trail through the local city park. Can't even imagine how long this rock has been sitting here in this spot. Could have been moved there after they leveled the trees. Or it could have been there even longer, from the time it was surrounded by the large oak trees that used to fill this area. Now it is forever marked by green spray paint, at least they used green. The marks go all the way around the rock.

What could be used to wash this away? When the garages get hit in the neighborhood, the owners paint over the marks and hope that the taggers don't return. But, here, with this rock, there is no way to paint over the desecration.



Nature seems to have created her own marks in the shape of letters. This W is in brown.

Strange how my questions about the marks stay the same. Who or what could have done this? Was it some bug burrowing under the bark? Does it reflect growth of the tree or a pattern of decay? The answers to these questions are far more interesting to think about.

This log was laying just a foot away from the "W log".

Such a crazy pattern. It almost seems like the work of wood carving.


Pulling in a little closer, I get the sense of crop circles. The sort of thing that gains meaning when looking down on the total design.


Pulling in closer yet, I start to see shapes that remind me of petroglyphs found in Southeastern Utah.

After spending considerable time with my camera pointed to the ground, I decided to take a look at what was up above me.

I don't remember seeing the wasp nest this past summer. It hangs right up above the paved walking path. In February the only part of the nest that remains is the top part attached to the tree branch. There was such geometric perfection inside the nest walls.

brief january thaw

The day was a surprise of above 40 degree temps. Neighbors I hadn't seen in months came out from their winter hibernation. Garden accoutrements that were buried by the snow were peeking through the snow melt. The neighborhood came alive and became very wet. The street corners started to flood because the snow melt had no where to go.

Spent part of the day splashing around in the Jeep, then some time on the ground, wandering around the thawing neighborhood, jumping from puddle to puddle...

down to the river

the road took us quietly down to the river





expecting to see the state park full for the Dr. King holiday, we were pleasantly surprised by the solitude of the riverbank





traces of ski trails on the ice gave the feeling of movement behind the stillness of the grass





the afternoon was filled with expressions of love...

crossing into the city at sunset

as the clouds thinned and the sun set, the sky was filled with color and light




the streets darkened mimicking the light at the end of the day in a canyon.

blue in the city

today my eye was drawn to the blues




drawn to the corners



and into the vibrant afternoon sunlight.

january's full moon

This month had the year's largest full moon. It's something like 15 percent larger than the other full moons. In it's orbit around the earth, this is the time of year where it is closest to us. It lights up the neighborhood like a celestial floodlight. I suppose that's exactly what it is, reflecting the sun light and pointing it down to the earth like a spotlight.



The full moon was on the night of January 11, the eve of Big D's natality. I absolutely love that I'm married to a forty-year-old!



As the night darkened, the moon took on an eerie brightness. There were candlelit cross country ski trails at the state park on the St. Croix river. But the temperatures dropped to single digits and that's just too cold.

The temperatures steadily dropped, and my body took on a shiver that prevented me from capturing the details of the moon. I learned that even with a tripod, there is a definite shake to the images shot without a remote shutter. It's a pity because my zoom seemed to draw the moon closer than our cheapy telescope.

Another one of those things that I cannot easily transition from shooting film to shooting digital. Learning something new every day with this camera, and it makes the day more interesting.

Frozen Minneapolis

The boat launch at Boom Island in Northeast Minneapolis, just north of the lock and dam.




Frozen solid, snow glittering in the sun, the lone lighthouse awaiting the thaw.

Demand for a New World in the New Year

On the road today, we encountered a rally on Central Avenue. It was in the vacant lot next to the Islamic Cultural Center Minneapolis. I think that it was a part ofthe protest worldwide against Israeli attacks on Gaza that began on December 30 and we will continue throughout this week.

We had passed the woman with the stop sign walking down the street. After a quick stop at the library, we drove past the lot again and it was full of people.

The cold didn't stop this community. The temperature was only about 10 degrees above zero. They were blessed with little wind.

There were several police vehicles directing traffic away from the lane next to the sidewalk.






Such a simple truth yet so difficult for governments to understand.

Central Avenue is so full of activity. For me, this is one of the neighborhoods where the city thrives. The area is revitalized by locally owned businesses, and many of these businesses reflect the rich cultural diversity of NE Minneapolis. The drive through the frozen city led us on a trail energized by hope and promise of the new year.

Snow Dock-ed

I took this shot just minutes for the sun went down on New Year's Day. Everything took on a shade of blue adding some color to the desolate winter landscape. Longer days seems to offer proof for the possibilities and joys in the new year.

Slick City Streets

The other night was warm and the streets were slick with snow melt.




It seemed like a false Spring, teasing the senses with tender caresses of warm air.




Today, the cold snapped and the slick, wet streets have iced over, making the walk more suitable for ice skates. It's a frigid reminder of the harsh reality of winter.

Stepping off the trail

It was a foggy day in the park today. I have no idea how long the trail is. We wind around in each area of the park, on and off the paved path, sometimes right on the ponds, sometimes along the edges depending on the season. We are usually there for an hour with occasional stops at the benches along the way.

The park has so many different personalities. We see a different trail each day. Today there was a thick blanket of fog, diffusing the shapes and colors of the distant trees.

The air temperature was very warm, soaring into the middle thirties. Believe me, the mid-thirties feel like a heat wave after two weeks of sub zero arctic freeze. I was reminded of the water below as we crossed the softening ice over the pond.

The paths were much easier to walk through on the flat ground. But as we moved into the hills, the trekking through deep snow uphill was more of a challenge.

The treasure spots today were off the path, risking the sink into 5 feet of snow. But the threat of wet feet was worth it to get up close to these winter mushrooms. The shelf like shapes remind me of lit votives offered in prayer.





Stepping off the trail reveals things pretty to look at, but these things are often not suitable for foraging. Why is it that whenever I spot something in nature, be it a berry or a mushroom, my thoughts first go to whether or not I can eat it? I have gathered raspberries, blackberries, grapes, and ramps growing in the wild, but collecting mushrooms is an entirely more complicated process.






Who would have thought I would find such a vibrant red in late December? Not me. Just these four little leaves, and another three on a nearby branch are all that remain of autumn colors.

And then, of course, there was the raindrops on the pine needles.




I hadn't realized what a blessing it is to have this warm air in the middle of December. Usually the cold takes hold of the area, making all movement outside a bit crunchy, a constant crush of snow and ice. The body gets weary as the winter seems to drag on month after month, even in this decade which has been considerably less cold and less snowy than most. This warm burst of air that pushed up from the south was truly a respite from the long drag. The rain and fog lifted my spirits so much so that I don't feel the bone-chilling weight of winter. I look forward to more of what this winter has to offer. More snow, more cross country skiing, more lit fireplaces on a saturday night. And, technically winter has just begun. Embrace the season. OK, I'm trying, and so far, it's fun.