Today is Easter – a day filled with promise, hope, and spring.  Yet this year is not like other years.  Many of us are celebrating the day without friends and family and without the many traditions that we have come to associate with Easter.

And usually Mother Nature is on board too, but that’s not the case in Minnesota today.  I’m looking out the window at snow coming down and collecting on the grass and trees.  When the temperature was 60 degrees yesterday I thought the 3-6 inches of predicted snow was wrong, but that just may hold true.  Somewhere there are lovely small pasque flowers that are keeping their blossoms closed to protect themselves from the snow.  They too know what’s necessary for survival.  And yet I know spring will turn the corner, and these flowers will open up again and be thankful for the moisture and the sun.  There is promise and hope.

 

Being home-bound inside, due to not only the directives on COVID-19 but also my broken leg, I have been looking at some of my earlier photos.  This image remains one of my all-time favorites and it seems to have much symbolism for our present times.  The old weathered barn has stood the ravages of time – peeling and faded paint, a hinge askew, a window missing.  What events has it been through?  What stories can it tell?  The sunlight streams from an angle across its faded front emphasizing it’s age.  The sun doesn’t reach the inside of the barn where it is dark and black.  And yet on the far side of the barn, through the opposite openings, there is a green field.  Grasses are blowing, a fence line and trees are visible.  There is renewal beyond the old barn.  There is sunshine and green grass ahead.

Stay safe and be well.  There are greener pastures and sunnier days ahead.  We will weather these times.

The last few weeks have brought a world of differences to many of us — a new physical view from the inside looking out; a new vocabulary that includes medical terms of pandemics, viruses, curves, ventilators, and COVID-19; an appreciation for things that previously we’d taken for granted; and a feeling that the world’s turned upside down.  With the barrage of news and seemingly constant updates it’s hard to look too far forward.  Like many, I’m trying to take things one day at a time.  Today the sun is shining and there are signs of spring outside my windows.  The birds are migrating back into our area and their calling hangs in the air.  There are people walking in the neighborhood and soaking up the sun’s warmth.  There’s a young girl that’s riding her small bike next to her dad who is running; they’re chatting and singing as they go by.  Sometime ahead the tulips will be blooming here in Minnesota.  Somewhere ahead, the struggling and the uncertainty we’re dealing with now will be behind us.  Somewhere ahead I’m hoping we will have learned lessons from this time; perhaps we’ll appreciate the beauty all around us – in nature, in family, and the people we interact with.  And somewhere ahead I’m hoping our world will no longer seem to be upside down, but instead will be more kind.

The past two weeks have humbled me quite unexpectedly.  I took a bad slip on a frozen sidewalk and landed on my right leg and ankle.  A ride with the EMT’s took me to the local trauma hospital’s emergency room and a set of x-rays were taken.  Turned out I’d dislocated the ankle and had a trimalleolar fracture with breaks in three bones.  Surgery was scheduled the next day and I came out with plates, screws, wires and lots of hardware holding all those bones together.  Yesterday the plaster splint was removed and I got to see the results of the good surgeon’s work.  Luckily the breaks are healing and the stitches on both sides of my ankle were removed.  I’m now in a boot keeping my ankle immobile, but I cannot put any weight on the foot.  I’ve learned many lessons in these two weeks and some that I’m still learning.  Patience and slowing down are essential now — I couldn’t rush to do anything if I wanted to.  I’m unable to put any weight on my right leg, so I’m reliant on the walker to give me the support I need when I’m upright.  Friends and family are wonderful — flowers, phone calls, text messages, gifts, food, and visits have all brightened my days and given me something else to focus on.  I appreciate our medical system, doctors, nurses, assistants, PCA’s, EMT’s — I’ve been treated and taken care of by people who were smart, experienced, knowledgeable, and kind.  People who saw to my comfort and needs as they were dealing with many other patients too.  Yes, I’m not happy with the broken leg and the distant horizon of the end of May before I can walk “normally.”   But the past two weeks have given me a different perspective on the things that I have taken for granted so many times in the past – something as simple as walking, getting outside to enjoy the fresh air, and the people who I am lucky enough to call family and friends.

It was a cold day with a temperature of 16 degrees, but the sun was shining brilliantly and beckoned us outside.  We packed our snowshoes and went to Hunt Hill Audubon Sanctuary in northwest Wisconsin.  The wind was brisk, but if we could snowshoe along the tree line there was a welcome wind break.  There was even protection from the wind as we headed across the prairie, and in the valleys of the steep hills we could bask in the sun’s heat.  It was late afternoon so the sun threw its shadows across the landscape at a sharp angle.  We soaked up the sun and the crisp fresh air of the day and enjoyed the exercise.

I awoke last weekend to an amazing winter wonderland.  The air was cold and still and everything was coated with white hoarfrost.  The tree branches were outlined in frost, each individual leaf was outlined, and everything was shining white.  I wandered the nearby roads and saw pine trees and shrubs, oak trees and weather vanes, all outlined in white.  Even though our snow pack had gotten old and not-so-white, the hoarfrost brightened the entire landscape and gave it a magical look.

We’d finished our “work” for the day and it was mid-afternoon on an unseasonably balmy day for the North with a temperature of 34 degrees.  We loaded up the sled with our ice fishing equipment and headed out across the lake.  Leaving a trail behind us, we settled near the middle of the lake, set up our portable fish house and settled in for some comfortable fishing.  With protection from the wind, we fished for a couple of hours coming back with crappies, sunfish, and one Northern pike.  We packed up after dusk and were beckoned back to the cabin with its warm lights.  It was a delightful end to a mid-winter’s day.

We are in the midst of the coolest celebration on earth – the Saint Paul Winter Carnival.  One of my favorite events to attend is the snow sculptures.  Teams work for hours taking a huge block of compacted snow and cutting and carving and sculpting it into a work of art.  In years past I’ve only seen the sculptures after they were completed, but this year I decided to take in the actual carving.  I found some teams with elaborate hand drawn sketches and plans for their sculpture, and other teams that had small dolls or toys that they were using for their design.  The tools, measurements, and time that go into these works of art is amazing.   The temperatures have been warmer than usual which created some challenges for the sculpting but the end results are always amazing.

The snow had started to fall at sunset the previous day and continued all night.  The morning dawned quiet and lovely with the fresh snow blanketing the landscape.  The clouds had remained thick and then there was a brief opening, long enough for the sun to penetrate the cloud cover with its hazy rays for less than a minute.  The sun disappeared behind the clouds, the snow began again, and this brief scene was the only sunshine for the day.

Sometimes the beauty of winter takes my breath away –  the clearest of blue skies, ice and frost lining the tree limbs, the bright sunlight beaming down, and the fresh snow reflecting that sunlight in small diamonds all across the frozen lake in front of me.