Come walk with me in the peak Autumn beauty of the Northwoods. To say that I love this time of year is an understatement. Most everyone can appreciate the colorful falling leaves---it reveals the 'true self' of a tree when its leaves are no longer producing chlorophyll. Their true colors are revealed, and there is something simple … [Read More...]
Archives for October 2016
Gleanings from October—A Reflection
There have been days in my life when a glorious mixture of Light and Love from a combination of earthly wonder and heavenly grace has shone upon me. The brightest of them all were the days in which I married my partner for life and I bore our three children. Each of those days is etched in my body, mind, and soul as a reflection of everything that is good and holy. Each of those days included mundane tasks, messy happenings, and marvelous emotions.
October is a reflection of those kinds of days—bright and beautiful, colorful and chaotic, yet peaceful and priceless! It seems like October days pass by too quickly, as the vibrant-colored leaves fall and dry to brown, and the warm days fade to cool nights. Maples of all species are the shining stars of autumn color in our yard…
and in the woods at St. John’s Arboretum, where a Sunday hike on the trail is like walking through a grand, gilded cathedral.
The stillness of the beautiful Lake Sagatagan reflected the autumn colors and housed a community of lily pads with only the stems remaining of their exquisite flowers.
The reflection in a pond along the trail seemed sharper and more realistic than the actual trees in the woods…
until the focus changed to the individual leaves floating on the stained glass water.
Our destination for our Sunday hike at Saint John’s was Stella Maris chapel which sits on an island-like peninsula across Lake ‘Sag’ from the campus. Stella Maris is Latin for ‘Star of the Sea’ and ‘Our Lady Star of the Sea’ is an ancient title for the Blessed Virgin Mary. The original chapel was built in 1872 but was struck by lightning and burnt down in 1903. It was rebuilt in 1915 and has had three renovations since that time.
The beautiful stained-glass star window and pregnant Mary statue simply adorn the inside of the chapel.
Moving on through October, another celestial body displayed its beauty—the full moon.
A hazy reflection of the Sun’s light illuminates the darkness.
And then a foggy morning diminished visibility and gave the changing leaves a muted glow. Such a changeable month this October!
A clear, crisp night frosted the blades of grass and tipped the outlines of fallen leaves with white.
The bright sunlight soon melted away the frost and shone on these robins who grabbed a bite of crabapples.
By the end of the month, the gloriously colored leaves are gone, and the silhouettes of the trees are lined against gray skies. We move into our late fall landscape.
October reflections of light, color, and brilliance are gone before we are ready for them to leave. Once again we are reminded that Nature’s time schedule doesn’t bend to our wishes and wants. But those days of illumination stay with us and quietly and stealthily renovate our hearts. We build our lives with the stones we have available to us, and sometimes the fires of life tear down those walls in order for us to rebuild something new and better, all while retaining what is good and holy. At any given moment, we believe we see the reflections of our lives clearly—but what happens when we change the focus? Hindsight has a way of honing in on what matters most and of illuminating the flaws of our thoughts and actions. And the best thing we can forgivingly say to ourselves is ‘Live and Learn.’ We move into a new landscape of life, our eyes see differently, and we receive new wonders from our earth and new graces from the heavens.
Art In The Park
Smack dab in the middle of glorious summer, Brookings, South Dakota hosts the Arts Festival in Pioneer Park. Two weekend days of music, food, lemonade, art of all kinds, flea market, trader/trapper rendezvous tents and goods, children’s face painting and activities, more food, and more fresh-squeezed lemonade! We lived just a few blocks from the park, and I was always amazed at the transformation from quiet playground to exuberant festival. The art in the park included photography, painting, jewelry, leatherwork, sculptures, pottery, woodwork, fabric arts, and so much more. With creative minds, art can be made from almost anything.
On our exploration of St. Croix State Park, we saw art in Nature by the Great Creator via a walking tour. This piece is a collaboration of Mother Nature and the stone masons of the 1930’s who built the roads and crafted this stone pillar for a bridge over Bear Creek. The stonework and mosswork are exceptional, especially with the indigo background of rippling water!
A Maidenhair Fern tapestry is woven from fall-colored fronds that whirl and blend together, all accented by dark stems.
A light-reflecting prism of water is nestled in a leathery leaf basin, one of many multimedia works of art seen on the tour.
Realistic landscapes are abundant in the Park. This particular scene transcends realism to an ethereal realm.
This interactive piece is made up of soft green moss over rough bark with a line of fall-colored Virginia Creeper. Touching is encouraged.
Fungi art is an often overlooked medium that seems to be particularly popular at this time of year. Bright colors and wonderful textures highlight the geometric shape.
This stone-moss-pine study integrates wonderful textures and details with the muted green and stunning river-blue background.
These images by Current and Foam are ever-changing. Each evolving creation boasts a unique design and an ink-blot quality to its interpretation.
A colony of free-standing sculptures arise from the hodge-podge, monochromatic, needle-like matrix that has tiny accents of green.
An ancient, life-giving sculpture is the foundation for an even greater work of art that towers above it.
Dark and moody with punctuation of sunlight and clouds, this reflective work also features bubbly texture along with an applique of lily-pads.
Usually seen in a vertical position, this three-dimensional piece offers a fresh look for the bark-covered cylinder. Especially unique is the colorful banner of Virginia Creeper hanging below this expansive work of art.
A collage of leaves, duckweed, and grass are picture perfect on a reflecting aqueous background that transmutes trees and azure blue sky to a grounding environment.
These are just a few of the masterpieces from the gallery of Planet Earth. Nature’s art is available at any time of the year for all to see, study, and admire. Works of art can touch a place in our souls that needs healing and can inspire us to transformation. How glorious it is that all of Earth is an exuberant festival of arts!
This post is dedicated to my friend Amy Olsen Linn who has made art in more ways and out of more things than anybody I know.
The River Just Rolls On By
‘Cause the river don’t talk, the river don’t care
Where you’ve been, what you’ve done
Why it is you’re standin’ there.
It just rolls on by, whisperin’ to your soul
It’s gonna be alright, the river just knows.
–Annie Tate, Dave Berg, Sam Tate
I don’t usually listen to Rodney Atkins, but I love what the chorus of his song ‘The River Just Knows‘ says and invokes in me. The singer/storyteller gets up early in the morning to go fishing and sees another guy at his spot on the river, and he wishes he could have the river to himself. He notices the guy has a military haircut and fresh scars on his face, and knows what brought him to the river. The soldier catches a rainbow trout, then releases him back to the river with “I’ll help you get your wind back, ’cause you helped me get mine.”
Our journey to St. Croix State Park a couple of weeks ago centered on the rivers that border and crisscross the large park. Twenty-one miles of the St. Croix River make up the southeastern border, and the last seven miles of the Wild and Scenic Kettle River is on the southwestern side. After leaving the fire tower, we first crossed Bear Creek–one of ten other streams that flow through the park. The stone and log bridge and beaver-chewed trees made a picturesque scene as we drove toward our hiking destination–Two Rivers Trail.
We ate our picnic lunch at Kettle River Overlook. The cloudy sky made the river look gray, and white-capped and burbling rapids brought the river to life.
The trail along the Kettle River was often lined with towering white and red pines that dropped their needles to cushion the path and provide the heady fragrance that makes you know you’re in a good place.
Along the river bank, where rain and flooding waters had washed away the soil, some of the roots of the pines were exposed but hanging on to keep the trees upright.
As we hiked, the clouds gave way to blue sky, and the river reflected the change. This one spot had swirly foam that created abstract pictures as the river rolled by.
Then we walked to the point where the Kettle River ended…
and flowed into the larger St. Croix River. Five Pine sentries stood at the confluence of the two rivers. “Welcome Home.”
It was easy to see why this river was chosen for a National Scenic Riverway–every glimpse of the river was so beautiful! It stirred a desire to explore it from a canoe.
Across the river, in Wisconsin, is Governor Knowles State Forest, with more impressive pines.
The rock in the river made a natural fount to hold the holy water, blessings for all the travelers who passed by.
The tipping Pine, on the point of an island, had a pileup of log debris at its feet.
A primitive camping spot for canoeists is at a bend in the river under another giant pine. The hiking trail veered into the forest away from the river at this point—and the river just rolled on by.
I had an inordinate amount of fear growing up. Nature helped to cushion my path and get my wind back every time I felt a pile-up of debris at my feet that threatened to tip me over. It helped me hang on. In the song, the river brought life back to the soldier–and to the storyteller. All of Nature brings Life back to us–even when we don’t realize we’re in need. The holy water, the sanctuary of trees, the steady foundation of rocks, and the breath of wind whispers to our souls, tells us we’re in a good place, and lets us know that everything’s gonna be alright.
A Yard Full of Beautiful Bluebirds
Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.
—Mahatma Gandhi
There have been times in my life when I wondered if I would ever be happy again. Those were struggling times, deep and dark times in my soul. I couldn’t wish, pray, think, or act my way out of the darkness. So I just went through it–like those long tunnels under the mountains on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. No matter how much you want to see the light or maybe want to turn around, you can’t—you just have to move forward and travel through it.
I thought the Bluebirds had left our place and migrated south–I hadn’t seen them for quite a while. And then Friday I noticed the yard was full of them! They perched and swooped and chirped like a playground full of children! Bluebirds of Happiness!
They were probably gathering up for migration, filling up on their fall diet of sumac and chokecherry seeds–after a summer of eating insects.
I was amused by how this little guy looked all around from his perch on the Maple tree right outside our window.
A male and female flew to an inverted tub to drink the rainwater that had accumulated in the little troughs. What beautiful birds!
Most Eastern Bluebirds migrate some distance to the south, but not all of them. Researchers are not sure why some stay in the northern climate during the harsh, cold winter. I wonder if their winters are as bleak as my struggling times were. But struggling times are learning times, a vast and precious rearrangement of our thoughts, words, and actions, all precipitated through the troughs of our feelings. We drink them up, and they sustain us. Aristotle wrote, “Happiness depends upon ourselves.” Not what other people do, not with how much stuff we have, not with who wins the election. Alignment to harmony equals happiness. A yard full of beautiful Bluebirds is just icing on the cake!
The View from the Top of the Fire Tower
I’m not afraid of heights. I climb ladders and get on roofs without hesitation or sweaty palms. I’ve ascended lighthouses, campaniles, trees, Pike’s Peak, and a few tall buildings. I worry more about the mechanical integrity of a ferris wheel or roller coaster than I do about how lofty the apex is at that momentary high point. It’s exciting to see the rest of the world from the sky-high zenith of natural or man-made structures.
So it was on our visit to St. Croix State Park as September moved into October. St. Croix State Park is the largest of Minnesota’s state parks with 34,000 acres along twenty-one miles of the St. Croix River that divides Minnesota from Wisconsin. The St. Croix River, a National Scenic Riverway, was an important trade route for hundreds of years for Native Americans, fur traders, and later for logging companies. In 1935, 18,000 acres of logged and failing farmland was purchased and became the St. Croix Recreational Demonstration Area under the direction of the National Park Service. The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) and the Works Progress Administration (WPA) built roads, group camps, campgrounds, and many buildings from red sandstone and logs from the area. 164 structures remain as the largest collection of New Deal projects in Minnesota and are listed on the National Register of Historic Sites.
One of those structures in the Park is the fire tower built in 1937 by the CCC. It was one of 123 fire towers used across Minnesota to monitor wind and fire danger. It was manned during the fire season by dedicated watchmen until 1981. The last watchperson was a woman, Mrs. Wolters, who volunteered for 19 years of smoke spotting! The tower is situated on a hill and is 100 feet tall.
Come along with me as I begin at ground level and climb 134 steps to the top of the tower for a breath-taking view of the Park.
When we got within two landings of the top of the tower, Chris said, “That’s enough for me.” I said, “But we’re so close to the top!” He turned around and climbed down the wooden stairs. The very last set of stairs at the top were old, rickety, and covered in bird poop. I have to say my knees felt a little weak for a moment before I ascended that last bit, but, wow, it was pretty amazing at the top! The Maples were brilliant in their fall colors, and the sweeps of trees that had already lost their leaves were purplish against the still-green Oaks. I leaned over the edge of the tower side with the camera to get a picture of Chris waving to me from the ground. I thought about all the watchpersons who had spent long days up on the tower with beauty and boredom in all kinds of weather.
Chris’ simple statement has stuck with me. I have admiration for him climbing that tall tower as far as he did, as he cannot proclaim to be ‘not afraid of heights’ like I do. I have even more respect for the proclamation he did make–“That’s enough for me.” In my excitement to reach the top, I urged him on instead of congratulating him for climbing so far. Knowing ourselves and our limits, our goals and values, the things we struggle with and the things we know we need to get better at are the keys to climbing to a better life. That’s enough food for me. That’s enough shopping for me. Enough gambling, enough alcohol, enough abuse, enough silence, enough pretending. We make a new deal with ourselves and take steps to live a life that is congruent with our true selves. And from there, the view is breath-taking!
Gleanings from September—One Way then Another
I’m not very good at making decisions. I try to avoid the shampoo aisle at Target. I will think about all the possibilities and outcomes of choosing a particular thing, then look at the alternative in the same analytical way. One way, then another. Pros and cons lists. No wonder nobody likes to shop with me; heck, no wonder I don’t like to shop! It’s exhausting! Ask me to go somewhere? Let me think…. I also tend to make decisions based on how it affects other people in my life, which of course, is usually pure speculation on my part. I suppose that beast Perfectionism is involved–I don’t want to make the ‘wrong’ choice, but the beast’s offspring Procrastination often ends up the winner.
Ah, September! It is a month of one way, then another. The days are warm and sunny, then chilly and rainy. It is State Fair fun, then back-to-school schedules. It is green leaves, then daily changes to red, orange, and yellow. But there are some constants in September, like the does and fawns who make a path from the woods to the apple tree to eat up the sweet, fallen treats. Mmm, apples! And the fawns ‘losing’ their spots as their winter coats grow in long and thick.
September most often houses the Harvest Moon–the full moon that falls closest to the Autumnal Equinox.
Obedient Plant blooms in September. Each individual flower on the square stem can be moved one way, then another and remains in the new position.
Monarch Butterflies get late season nectar from the pretty Sedum flowers.
Tall, wispy-stemmed Cosmos flowers outside our picture window sway one way, then another in the breeze.
September brings the combined family groups of Wild Turkeys to our yard and woods. We can hear them scratching through the leaves on the wooded hillside searching for acorns before they emerge and stroll through the yard. The young ones are almost as big as their mothers, and they all make an impressive troupe.
They walk in a trailing group, heads down, pecking at things as they go. The mothers stand sentry to the group with raised heads, looking for potential danger.
Then they see something! A couple of the young ones see it, too.
The sentries stop and watch as some of the unsuspecting young ones head down the driveway. A black dog runs down the road, not seeing or minding the young turkeys.
Quickly the whole troupe turns around and walks in the other direction with purpose. No time for grazing with the threat of a dog around! They take a different path through the woods on their daily grazing journey.
September ushers in the harvest season–a time to reap that which has been sown. All the plants and animals, including ourselves, follow the instinctive, unconscious ways of Nature to prepare us for the winter season. We pick apples and pumpkins, corn and squash–whether from the orchards and gardens or from the markets and stores. We make sure we have our winter coats and boots. We check to see if the furnace works–and if it doesn’t, the freezing forecast moves that to the top of the ‘important and urgent’ list, beating Procrastination. Maybe this season for me is the season of ‘pretty darn good’ instead of perfect. Perhaps my internal sentry needs a vacation. The Autumn season ‘lets go’ of one way of doing things and shows us another way, a different path. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1.