From the Weather Book

November 7

November 8

November 9
A wet, cold and grey day.  Very high water this fall.

November 11
Snow, rain and wind.  So cold. 

November 13
A cold mornig at -10C.  Hovered around 0 for the rest of the day with some sun.

November 14
 A wicked wind overnight, rain.  A grey day.

November 16

November 17, 18
Wild, wicked winds for 2 days.  Snow, ice, rain.  Power out for a short while Tuesday late afternoon.

November 19
Cold!  Very light snow on a sunny morning.

November 20
A sunny, bright day.

Gone

A wicked wind blew through our area this past weekend, taking down many tress, and to my dismay, the big red barn at Swords.

 

 

 

The sound that mammoth structure must have made while coming down...well, I can't even imagine.  Huge, pounding timbers and screeching metal.  The wind that day sounded like a freight train through the trees; the barn coming down would have been other-worldly.

 

 

 

I visited Swords today to see the fallen barn.  As I walked all around it, I felt my heart heavy in my chest.  I'm sad to see such a landmark go.  It makes me think of the life the barn once had, the purposes it served and the lives that depended on it.  This barn held stories that I don't even know, and beyond that, was a permanent marker in many people's mental maps of the area.  Driving through Swords now, one might not even know such a thing as a massive red barn ever stood there.

 

 

 

I'm reminded of the importance of telling stories - connecting with those around us who know the local history of where we live.  I feel a connection to this place that I haven't felt in any other place I've lived.  I think that's because of the accessibility of it's history- it's still on the surface, so to speak, and I can visit and wander in it.  I am also connected to several people who can tell me stories of days gone by.  That history holds an importance that goes beyond words, deep into the heart and soul of the people that have lived, worked and loved here.  Beyond that, it stretches to the present and future generations.

 

The big red barn at Swords is just a old structure that gave way to time and the elements, sure, but to me it represents so much more.

 

 

Missing

I am missing writing and I am missing sharing pictures with you.  Yesterday morning the world was crusted with frost crystals and it was breath-takingly beautiful.

 

I had many errands to run, however, and the camera never made it out.  On one of my trips out of the house, the frost crytsals were raining down from the trees as the sun's heat loosened them from the branches and needles.  I'd never experienced anything like that before.  It was magical.  Upon my arrival home from that particular errand, the frost on the grass had melted, but the in the shadows, the ice remained.  Again, something I hadn't seen before.

 

I hope to be back soon.

Hike to the Falls

 

 

Rare

Interesting evening skies over Maple Lake can be a rarity.  We look out east over Maple Lake so the sun sets above the fields across the road.  Sometimes we are lucky to see some of those sunsets reflected in the clouds over the lake.

 

Here is the moon rising a few evenings ago.

 

 

The wispy mare's tail clouds (scientifically known as cirrus uncinus) tell of rain soon to come.  The evening that followed this was full of heavy rain, lightning and wicked winds.  That is a lesson I learned from my Granddad, and one of the many reasons I think of him when venturing through the natural world.

 

 

 

A Mountain of Cloud

Sometimes, having rain overnight produces the most interesting sunrises.  Not every beautiful sunrise is bright and fiery.  I often find the most beauty in the cool blues and purples and creams.

 

 

Over

Although it isn't true fall yet, summer is officially over.  The lake is quiet once again, and the days are growing shorter and the nights cooler.

 

My summer went by in a flash.

 

A newborn baby and a toddler will suck your time away like nothing else.  It is time well spent, and I know that even the trying moments are worth it a million times over in the end.

 

The last August sunrise -

 

 

 

My sweet little time sucks -