By Amy, on December 25th, 2011
It was 42 degrees F and sunny here in Minneapolis today, with no snow on the ground. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Christmas like this one. Nobody hesitated to take advantage of the pleasant weather, however, so many folks, including me, headed to local parks for a walk. At some point, winter will hit Minnesota, so you’ve got to enjoy a day like this whenever you can!
I wasn’t sure there would be much to photograph, but I took my camera anyway. Turns out someone had put food for the birds below a tree, so I settled in to watch and shoot. Seems like a good way to celebrate a holiday. Here’s the best of the bunch.
When I first arrived, there were some Crows there. A red squirrel decided to move in:
There were lots of White-Breasted Nuthatches about as well:
Look out below!
One of my favorite birds was there in abundance–Black-Capped Chickadees. How can you not love Chickadees? Even the name says “love me.”
Merry Christmas!
By Amy, on December 4th, 2011
In my last post about Glacier National Park, I’d just finished my hike above Avalanche Creek. At that point, I headed back to St. Mary. As the shuttle drew close, I was captivated by the channel that drains water from St. Mary Lake into Lower St. Mary Lake:
The ranger who I had spoken with when I first arrived in the park mentioned there was a trail leading from the visitor’s center to the campground, and that this trail crossed the channel. So I set off to explore when I returned to St. Mary. As I look at this picture, I’m reminded of how incredibly hot it was that day. The temperatures were in the upper 80s–very unusual for Glacier in July. I guzzled water like crazy, and the heat slowed me down quite a bit, especially since St. Mary is at a lower elevation than Avalanche Creek, and therefore even hotter. It wasn’t pleasant out on that bridge at all:
I soon decided to move along to Many Glacier, which is north of St. Mary. When I visited the park in 1994, my friend Jen and I hadn’t made it up to that corner of the park, so I was curious to go there. On the road to the Swiftcurrent Lodge and the Many Glacier Visitor’s Center is a trail to Apikuni falls. The field at the trailhead caught my eye, so I stopped with the intention of hiking:
I was careful to have my bear spray with me when I got my things together for the hike. I was somewhat emboldened by my succesful walk above Avalanche Creek. Heh, bears, I thought. I’d be lucky if I even saw one. I wasn’t entirely over my fear of running into one, but definitely gaining confidence and feeling bolder. Especially with my trusty canister of bear spray at my side.
With new-found courage, I strode toward the trailhead. Bears, I ain’t afraid of no bears! I can hike this trail!
Well, maybe not:
I know when to respect a sign. I turned around, got back in the car, and continued driving toward the Visitor Center. More from this area in my next Glacier post.
By Amy, on November 25th, 2011
I’ve always been a morning person. Even with two days off of work, I find myself waking up before my alarm would go off. It’s frustrating at times–I’d love to sleep in once in a while. If I do sleep in, it means I’m sick. Still, it’s not as if I spring out of bed and into action on a day off. I simply move to the couch and laze around a bit. When the lazing around coincides with a particularly beautiful sunrise, I’m glad to be awake:
Colors like this don’t last long. Like a shy doe, they slip silently into the trees once you notice them:
Not every morning is this beautiful, and many that are fall either too early or too late for me to catch them–or I’m too busy getting ready for work to notice. Now that I wake up in darkness and return in darkness, I don’t catch the final, lingering moments of sunset. I do catch these bursts of sunrise, though. At least for a while longer, until the daylength ratchets down too far. Solstice is only a month away, however, and when my time with sunrise returns, the backdrop will be a snowy landscape.
I don’t think I can ever see too many sunrises in my lifetime. Each one brings a moment’s peace. A slow inhalation of light and the promise of life, for without the sun, nothing lives. I enjoy the traces of that promise, reflected in the morning sky.
|
|
Welcome This site is typically updated once a week, generally on the weekends. If you like what you see, please stop by again. Thanks for visiting!
|
