HUNKERED DOWN – When Wonder Moves Indoors

It's the depth of winter here in Minnesota. Not to worry; we're hearty souls. Generally, we don't let that stop us from enjoying life, even life outdoors—which, by the way, is still full of great beauty and life.

        A person's need for discovery and wonder 
        doesn't get left at the door like the parka 
        and boots.

Nonetheless, below zero wind chills conspire with the sun's quitting at 4:30 to make us spend far more time cooped up inside than we do in the summer. Some- times we have no choice but to hunker down for a couple of days and wait out a blizzard and the arctic deep freeze that so often follows.

But a person's need for discovery and wonder doesn't get left at the door like the parka and boots. Even indoors we're curious; our child side still needs to play, learn and experience delight.

Of course, there's always TV, a good book or the Internet to help pass the long, dark hours. But these, I submit, are remote, second-hand experiences. They may entertain or inform us, but do they nourish a curious soul?

Even indoors I'm always surprised and delighted at how many real-life, present-moment natural wonders await discovery when I'm willing to look with care. Here are just a few examples:

       Study the strokes and patterns; marvel 
       at the feathered crystalline brushwork; 
       imagine how the artist determined where 
       each element in the composition would go.

Could there be a more elegant artistic expression than the crystalline masterpieces Nature renders with water? Outdoors, of course, it’s snow; whether seen as flake or drift, it's the most sublime of sculptures. Indoors, though, relegated to the two-dimensional “canvas” of frozen glass, she once again outdoes herself.

Look closely at frost; study the strokes and patterns; marvel at the feathered crystalline brushwork; imagine how the artist determined where each element in the composition would go. Touch it; see how ephemeral it is. See if you can melt it without quite touching it.

Perhaps the one thing that changes most when our world moves indoors is our appreciation of things that live and grow. Instead of marveling at trees, shrubs or flowers in their natural, wild setting, we devise ways to shrink, capture and confine them in pots that clamber close to windows. Try not to take them for granted. These plants, for their staunch, surrogate duty, are all the more worthy of our notice.

For our indoor animal fix, we turn from summer's chancy thrill of spotting critters in their own realms and on their own terms to the certainty of specimens we've shaped to our convenience, bred to need no more than our care and attention. Take advantage of these most opportune occasions to relish your closeness to these dear creatures.

    The subtle white, comet-tail streaks suggest the 
    seeds have streaked out from center. And there 
    they’ve landed, on the vivid, glossy surface of 
    the fruit, each cupped in its own tiny crater. 

Instead of discovering a strange new fruit or nut on a wild plant somewhere in the woods, we learn in winter to explore things closer at hand, perhaps things so common we never thought to look at them with wonder. For example, have you stopped to appreciate the elegance of line, color, form and texture in a freshly sliced strawberry?

See how the flesh morphs from furry, white, womb-like core into sweet, solid crimson. Note the subtle white, comet-tail streaks that suggest the seeds have streaked out from center. And there they’ve landed, on the vivid, glossy surface of the fruit, each cupped in its own tiny crater.

Would you agree that discovery and wonder need not be lost on the home-bound? See if you can find "wild" living critters like meal worms, spiders or perhaps the occasional holdover ladybug. See what you can discover about another person. Play with soap bubbles or static electricity. Explore the attic. Cook something. Try to...ah-h-h...wait a second...whoa-a-a!...I'm sorry, I have a fire going in the fireplace, and there's this...amazing bright blue...tongue of flame…

FREE AT LAST

A month ago, this soil was frozen over three feet deep. Just last week it gasped under 16 inches of snow.

At long last, like so many eager chicks bent on freedom, spring flowers—daffodil, iris, Siberian squill—peck through earth’s crumbly shell, beaks agape for spring’s soft rain and sun. 

HOARFROST MORNING – A Study In White

Heading up to Bemidji, in north central Minnesota near the headwaters of the Mississippi, is always a nice drive. Up there, it’s a mix of pine, birch and aspen forest, the occasional open field and, of course, our state’s ubiquitous lakes.

Winter applies its own kind of beauty, stripping most trees of foliage and blanketing both land and lake in snow. It’s a challenge to find any color but shades of gray and white.

        It is a weightless, translucent white 
        not dumped from above as much as  
        breathed onto the landscape.

To the thirsty eye, though, there are, indeed, sips of colors to be found. Raw umber and burnt sienna oak leaves unable to let go their attachment to summer. The vividly lacquered bark of dogwood and other small, bare shrub stems striating snowy fields in airy patches of gold, burgundy, crimson, rust and even chartreuse. The quick, crimson check mark of a flitting cardinal.

CATCHING WINTER’S BREATH
But this time the drive home is different. Not for a coming out of those grudging colors, but for their further retreat. Today they are even more muted, everywhere veiled in white. And not the solid, hefty kind laid on by snow, but the weightless, translucent white of hoarfrost—a coating not dumped from above as much as breathed onto the landscape.
 

The pines seem to wear the sheer medium most elegantly. Each tuft of needles is rendered rounder, fuller, by frost’s airbrushed highlights. Pure dazzling white on one side wraps to light pastel green on the other. The clumps huddle as boughs, set off against the deep recesses between, places beyond reach of white.

                Birches, without the weight 
                of dark trunks to hold them 
                down, seem to hover...

While the pines seem sculpted, other bare, willowy trees are sketched in fine line. The crowns are consumed in luminous white; the trunks still black but for the frosted windward edges.

And the birches; without the weight of dark trunks to hold them down they seem
to hover, from base to branch a subtle fusion of white on white.

FROM MAGIC TO MYSTICAL
All the while, occasional leaks of sunlight pierce the mottled gray sky, their pools of light slowly sweeping like spotlights across this magical treescape. They turn up what already seems pure white to a brilliance one would think impossible if not lit from within.

Just as we’re thinking it couldn’t get any more glorious, specks of white seem to lift out of the treetops into the gray clouds. First there are a few; then dozens, rising, coming toward us. As they get closer we realize they are trumpeter swans, perhaps just taking off from nearby Itasca State Park.

The birds are huge and, as if intended to be the finale of our wintery wonders show, pure white except for black eyes, bills and feet. We watch the tandem of graceful, paired wingbeats pulse from each bird’s body to its wingtips in perfect mirror-image waves. The swans keep coming, right over us, in groups of five to fifty, for ten minutes.

We are left in awe, speechless.

SPARKS, SPECKS AND SPIRITS – Wonder Moves Indoors

Winter Cabin – Vilhelm von Gegerfelt von Gegerfelt 1844-1920

For four or five months a year, snow, ice, slush and some of the most extreme cold endured by anyone in the continental U.S. conspire to keep us Minnesotans indoors. But if you’re like me, just because you’re confined doesn’t mean your curiosity, your sense of wonder, your appreciation of beauty can just be turned off like the water supply to a frozen pipe.

From summer’s wide-angle view of Nature, winter has us dialing down to a tighter, more selective framing of things. Instead of the near overload your senses might experience at summer’s explosion of life and light, you’re challenged to find and cherish smaller, dearer things. You learn to appreciate—and appreciate learning—things that might not even make the cut on summer’s infinite to-do list.

Inside that dark little chamber a miniature 
electrical storm kicks up as the Orlon interacts 
with your dry hair.

SOMETHING IN THE AIR
If there’s one thing that loves a Minnesota winter, it’s static electricity. Arctic air, stabbing down from Canada, is already bone dry by the time it gets here. (Witness our chapped lips and the Styrofoam-like crunch of fresh snow delivered by one of our “Alberta clipper” storms.) But indoors, desiccated still further by furnace heat, the air shrivels to desert-like, single-digit relative humidities, cracking hair and skin, parching houseplants, separating furniture and floor joints.

Add to this perfectly conducive medium the tinder of friction between things fluffy and synthetic (like slippers or socks) and natural fibers (like woolen carpet), and you’ll discover one way we northerners stay awake through all those long, housebound evenings.

The sparks are even more fun when observed in the dark or, better still, when released, with their satisfying little snap, on the tender ear lobe of an unsuspecting sibling. Or try turning off all the lights and then peeling off your Orlon pullover. Inside that dark little chamber a miniature electrical storm, complete with high-pitched zaps of thunder, kicks up as the Orlon interacts with your dry hair.

Have you noticed how outdoor summer air teems with particulate matter: dust, pollen, mold spores and who knows what else? Indoor winter air, barring expensive filters, is every bit as richly seasoned, albeit with different “spices.” What it lacks in pollen it makes up for in dander from humans and pets. The dust and mold are there too, just different kinds.

To see for yourself how much solid material lurks in household air just study a shaft of sunlight, a flashlight beam or the glow of your bedside reading lamp. (This works especially well when the rest of the room’s dark.) If what you see doesn’t alarm you, it will, at least, make you appreciate how well the nose and the rest of the respiratory system manages to filter out all this junk.

For our animal fix, we turn to the certainty 
of specimens we shape to our convenience.


DISCOVERY, DOMESTICATED
Could there be a more elegant artistic expression than the crystalline masterpieces Nature renders with water?

Outdoors, of course, it’s snow. Whether you perceive it as flake or drift, it’s the most sublime of sculptures. Indoors, relegated to the two-dimensional “canvas” of frozen glass, she once again outdoes herself. One appreciates the brushwork of strokes and patterns; marvels at the feathered crystalline detail; imagines how the artist determined where each element would go.

        

Perhaps the one thing that changes most when our world moves indoors is our appreciation of things that live and grow. Instead of marveling at a tree, shrub or flower in its natural, wild setting, we devise ways to shrink it, capture it and confine it in pots that clamber close to windows.

For our animal fix, we turn from the chancy thrill of spotting critters in their own realm and on their own terms, to the certainty of specimens we shape to our convenience, bred to need no more than our care and attention.

Instead of discovering a strange new fruit or nut on a wild plant somewhere in the woods, we learn to explore things closer at hand, perhaps things so common we never thought to look at them with care. For example, have you stopped to appreciate the elegance of line, color, form and texture in a freshly sliced strawberry?

INSIDE OF INSIDE
Within our own minds—and those of people we care about—lie at least as many layers, twists and turns of discovery as there are in Nature’s outer realm. Our winter proximity to other human beings, whether it’s being sealed inside a vehicle or huddled around a hearth, encourages conversation, rewards patience and understanding.

        

It rewards self-discovery too, for turning our attention inward, in reflection, reverie or meditation, can show us the way toward becoming more loving—of others and ourselves.

Our taste for transcendent thought, that yearning for chances to glimpse the unfathomable, knows no season. But in winter, when we’re stuck inside so much of the time, often in close quarters, finding a quiet space and some time of our own can be challenging.

When we can find a way, though, the benefits will likely outweigh those of all the breezy tips I’ve noted above. For once you’ve found your spiritual wings, not even the cruelest Minnesota winter can confine you.

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, ESCAPE
When your interest in firsthand observation has run its course, what better time than a long, bone-chilling winter evening to turn to vicarious discovery. Turn on the tube. Try to avoid stepping in TV’s notion of “reality,” and find one of the many excellent nature and outdoor adventure programs.

Fly off around the cyber-world on the Internet, or, better yet, turn off everything but your mind and journey into the boundless world of imagination and wonder to be found in a good book. Get lost in a gardening catalog or website; build a model; collect something; plan a party. Or, if none of these virtual escapes quite satisfies your itch, book your dream vacation…and get out of there for real!

HUNKERED DOWN – Bringing Wonder Home

It's the depth of winter here in Minnesota. Not to worry; we're hearty souls. Generally, we don't let that stop us from enjoying life, even life outdoors—which, by the way, is still full of great beauty and life.

        A person's need for discovery and wonder 
        doesn't get left at the door like the parka 
        and boots.

Nonetheless, below zero wind chills conspire with the sun's quitting at 4:30 to make us spend far more time cooped up inside than we do in the summer. Sometimes we have no choice but to hunker down for a couple of days and wait out a blizzard and the arctic deep freeze that so often follows.

But a person's need for discovery and wonder doesn't get left at the door like the parka and boots. Even indoors we're curious; our child side still needs to play, learn and experience delight.

Of course, there's always TV, a good book or the Internet to help pass the long, dark hours. But these, I submit, are remote, second-hand experiences. They may entertain or inform us, but do they nourish a curious soul?

Even indoors I'm always surprised and delighted at how many real-life, present-moment natural wonders await discovery when I'm willing to look with care. Here are just a few examples:

      Study the strokes and patterns; marvel 
      at the feathered crystalline brushwork; 
      imagine how the artist determined where 
      each element in the composition would go.

Could there be a more elegant artistic expression than the crystalline masterpieces Nature renders with water? Outdoors, of course, it’s snow; whether seen as flake or drift, it's the most sublime of sculptures. Indoors, though, relegated to the two-dimensional “canvas” of frozen glass, she once again outdoes herself.

Look closely at frost; study the strokes and patterns; marvel at the feathered crystalline brushwork; imagine how the artist determined where each element in the composition would go. Touch it; see how ephemeral it is. See if you can melt it without quite touching it.

Perhaps the one thing that changes most when our world moves indoors is our appreciation of things that live and grow. Instead of marveling at trees, shrubs or flowers in their natural, wild setting, we devise ways to shrink, capture and confine them in pots that clamber close to windows. Try not to take them for granted. These plants, for their staunch, surrogate duty, are all the more worthy of our notice.

For our indoor animal fix, we turn from summer's chancy thrill of spotting critters in their own realms and on their own terms to the certainty of specimens we've shaped to our convenience, bred to need no more than our care and attention. Take advantage of these most opportune occasions to relish your closeness to these dear creatures.

    The subtle white, comet-tail streaks suggest the 
    seeds have streaked out from center. And there 
    they’ve landed, on the vivid, glossy surface of 
    the fruit, each cupped in its own tiny crater. 

Instead of discovering a strange new fruit or nut on a wild plant somewhere in the woods, we learn in winter to explore things closer at hand, perhaps things so common we never thought to look at them with wonder. For example, have you stopped to appreciate the elegance of line, color, form and texture in a freshly sliced strawberry?

See how the flesh morphs from furry, white, womb-like core into sweet, solid crimson. Note the subtle white, comet-tail streaks that suggest the seeds have streaked out from center. And there they’ve landed, on the vivid, glossy surface of the fruit, each cupped in its own tiny crater.

Would you agree that discovery and wonder need not be lost on the home-bound? See if you can find "wild" living critters like meal worms, spiders or perhaps the occasional holdover ladybug. See what you can discover about another person. Play with soap bubbles or static electricity. Explore the attic. Cook something. Try to...ah-h-h...wait a second...whoa-a-a!...I'm sorry, I have a fire going in the fireplace, and there's this...amazing bright blue...tongue of flame…