Milkweed Dreams
Today I took a walk to a wildflower garden to pick milkweed pods. Next month, I'll turn them into Christmas ornaments. Whenever I see the silky seeds, I cannot resist blowing them into the breeze. I'm transported to a childlike freedom.
Milkweed seeds drifting across the night sky or sunlit breeze inspire me. Their iridescent shape in the moonlight reminds me of tiny fireworks. I'll stand for quite some time (actually play - and I did for about an hour today) sending these little tufts to a new home. I always hope they survive our dreadfully cold winters to nurture our butterfly population next summer.
Milkweed seeds drifting across the night sky or sunlit breeze inspire me. Their iridescent shape in the moonlight reminds me of tiny fireworks. I'll stand for quite some time (actually play - and I did for about an hour today) sending these little tufts to a new home. I always hope they survive our dreadfully cold winters to nurture our butterfly population next summer.
It took our sun about two hours to burn off a hard frost yesterday. The writing is on the wall for our Indian summer. So, I've been spending time with the telescope watching our recent full moon. Leaves like the ones in this photo and golden stands of Tamarack are locked away in my imagination to use when the mood strikes. I'm always fascinated at Mother Nature's transformations. Right now, our lakes are the most amazing shade of blue you'll ever see.
The snow forecast for Minnesota's winter is for above average amounts. I know it's cold, but in its deadly beauty lies such amazing inspiration. It glimmers like a field of diamonds under a street lamp or yard ornament.The swans gather again. The cheerful chickadee breaks the silence, daring you to come out and play in the sunshine, for the days are increasingly short. By Christmas, we'll have barely eight hours of daylight. You have to make friends with the darkness and the cold to live here. January seems to be utterly silent. I look forward to all of it and to weaving my new stories while the wind blows.
Enjoy your autumn. I am.
Margie
The snow forecast for Minnesota's winter is for above average amounts. I know it's cold, but in its deadly beauty lies such amazing inspiration. It glimmers like a field of diamonds under a street lamp or yard ornament.The swans gather again. The cheerful chickadee breaks the silence, daring you to come out and play in the sunshine, for the days are increasingly short. By Christmas, we'll have barely eight hours of daylight. You have to make friends with the darkness and the cold to live here. January seems to be utterly silent. I look forward to all of it and to weaving my new stories while the wind blows.
Enjoy your autumn. I am.
Margie
Margie--it felt like I was standing right next to you seeing the same things you were. Beautifully written!
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Thank you, Cindy. As beautiful a place as Minnesota is, I find spring to be dreadful and for the most part, summer keeps me indoors. If you've read Hard as Teak, you'll remember he won a state stamp contest on this image called Christmas Morning. I have that photo. I took it. It was utter simplicity of hoar frost on a grass frond on Christmas morning before the sun could steak away the sight.
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