Sunset in Murphy Hanrehan

Another beautiful day in Murphy. An incredible park in the metro area. What else can I say….

View of the city

There are many areas in, or near, Burnsville that afford nice views of downtown Minneapolis. Unfortunately the air quality is frequently less than ideal, obscuring the view.

This photo was taken on the way to my current favorite coffee shop, Jo Jo’s Rise and Wine, off Burnsville Parkway. Frequently smog or particulate pollution will settle in the Minnesota River valley. The wind had recently changed direction and was blowing from the north, clearing the air. The best view is from the middle of the road, just after it crests over a hill.

Walk Through Murphy Hanrahan

Fall is one of my favorite seasons of the year. The others are winter, spring and summer. I used to not like spring, but now there’s no discrimination. Fall is so transitory. A brief flash of spectacular color, hot days and cold days, a flurry of activity followed by bareness of late fall and the silence of winter. Enjoy the transition while you can.

Murphy Hanrahan is a large regional park, not far from home. I am constantly amazed (when I’m not taking things for granted) at the number of parks, trails, outdoor experiences available minutes from here. Activities that are of particular interest to me include hiking, biking, photography and cross-country skiing. There are ravines, meadows, prairies, deciduous woods and lakes.

Over by the mountain biking trail on a southwest side of a hill, the trees seemed on fire – reds, yellows, browns, greens. While waiting for the sun to set, I noticed part of the mountain bike trail at the base of the hill. As riders came by, they provided additional color and perspective.

Several gravel roads traverse the park and although there isn’t much traffic, relative to the city around the park, there is still plenty. The stream of cars has kicks up a large quantity of dust that has coated the vegetation along side the road. Past this dusty region are trails, dense woods, strange creatures, views of the city in the far distance along with the standard foliage.

The full set of photos can be found here.

Hunting in the Black Hills

Went “hunting” in the Black Hills first weekend in November as a party of four. None of us are real serious about the hunting aspect. It’s the process, not the end result. In fact I had no license, my “weapon” was a camera. Essentially it’s the tradition and an excuse or reason to go out to the hills and hike. Although the area we go is in the Black Hills National Forest where it is managed for timber and cattle with an extensive number of trails and roads, there are generally few people.  They’re just aren’t a lot of people in SD. The nearest paved road is almost 20 miles away and the condition of Forest Service trails keep vehicle speeds at a crawl. We are almost as likely to hear the coyotes as gun shots.   However this year, I found myself in the field on two separate occasions with other hunting parties. In one case a party of four arrived on two ATVs and the other case a father and son were walking through the same area as I. Seeing people on foot is extremely rare. The most common form of hunting is road, where the hunters drive around until quarry is spotted, at which point there might be some foot travel as they position themselves for a shot. Despite my encounters with other hunters this year, it is rare to see others in the field or woods. This is one of the main attractions to “hunting” in the hills. Those roads and trails make for ideal bike travel. It is a great way to see more territory and still have a chance to walk and stalk deer.  On two occasions I stumbled across a  herd of elk.  They may be easy to spot, given their size and number (not to mention their smell), but they are difficult to stalk.  Both times the herd was in heavier wood, where they could monitor the surroundings and slip away if need be.  The herd spotted me, did not spook, just slipped away.  By the time I went around and positioned myself down wind of them, all that was left was their oder. Deer on the other hand, spook, run first, but then stop a short distance later and assess the danger.  That behavior, combined with a slow, patient stalk can be fruitful in getting near to deer. It had snowed the prior weekend, significant snow. The temperatures reached into the 50s during the day and down to the low 30s or into 20s at night. Despite the quantity, the snow really had no chance. In the sunny areas, the trails were dry. However, any shady or north facing areas were wet and could be quite muddy. That provided me the excuse to walk my bike. Although the altitude is not high by mountainous standards, it still is higher than the plains from whence I come. The thinner air oxygen is evident (or is that just age and lack of athletic conditioning?). One windy afternoon, after failing to stalk the elk herd, I managed to stumble upon this yearling. Not being quite wise yet, he was grazing upwind from me and traveling right toward me. I remained motionless and he remained clueless. Although he suspected that something wasn’t quite right, as he would periodically look up at me, he just kept coming. At about twenty-five feet away, he circled around me and continued grazing. Patience is something that requires work. Just when I thought he couldn’t/wouldn’t come any closer, he continued. Had I moved, he would have been bolted. As long as I held, he continued and I was able to continue shooting photos, the sound of the shutter didn’t disturb him. It was only after I had enough and moved that he recognized me for what I was and ran. So although it was easy to spot the elk herd and difficult to find deer, it was easier to get close to the deer than to the elk.

Our home away from home could be considered luxurious: large, central heat, nearby amenities with a view. The bathroom was only a short walk away, and as long as one did one’s job quickly, the rough logs were hardly noticeable. The view was unparalleled. Dual kitchen facilities both indoors on the stove and right outside the front door. Bacon and pancakes for breakfast ending with apple pie in the dutch oven for supper desert.   Camp looked cozy at night with a full moon. Even though the temperatures would dip into the upper twenties at night, the tent was cozy. In the evening as those in the field returned to camp, music was provided. It gets dark, real dark, before the moon rise and it’s helpful to have an audio trail to follow, especially if one forgets a flashlight. Hard to beat the sunset.

Another bad day at the pigeon coop

It’s March and the raptors are migrating north, eating as they go. The pigeon population in my backyard coop has been holding at ten all winter. This week however, it’s down to eight. A cooper’s hawk (or two) has killed two birds within three days. This strike happened literally fifteen feet from the house, out the back sliding door. I happened to glance up from my computer, and saw the hawk over his kill. I took a couple pictures through the sliding door, moved to the laundry room window which was closer for a few more shots and then tried to sneak around the house for a clean outside view. He was too vigilant and flew off with his catch before I could get a good picture. (This shot was through a dirty double paned window.) I scanned the tree tops, figuring he couldn’t have gone far with his load, but he was no where to be found.

Here’s a photo of the earlier strike. In that case, the hawk ended up in the aviary. (There are a couple sides that are loose, so he may have either fallen in or just gone through it on his way to the pigeon.)

Photos and Memory or Sunset on the Open Road

A photo is an attempt to capture a visual representation of an experience. Inevitably the experience, memory of the experience and photo are rarely in harmony. While living an experience we have the ability to “tune out” the clutter. So while watching a spectacular sunset, we focus on certain aspects of the scene, the clouds, the brilliant sun or the stark branches of the backlit trees, ignoring the power lines, road signs or cars zipping in front of the sun. We have the ability to “zoom” into the setting sun, feeling part of the light, even through the rest of the sky is growing dark.  A photo collects all that the camera sees and in it’s persistent two dimension state prevents us from tuning the clutter out.  We attempt to frame the scene hoping to capture the mood of the experience.  Sometimes in our efforts capture a specific mood, we end up altering the scene such that the original memory is subsequently molded by the photo accents we captured.

This photo was taken while travelling down an interstate west of Milwaukee returning from a business trip on February 25th, 2009.  The sun was burning a large portion of the horizon, especially as seen through the windshield.  What gripped me in this experience wasn’t the colors in the clouds as in a typically sunset, it was the sun itself, with its large halo viewed while driving down the freeway on a cold winter evening returning home. I searched for a place to turn off to try and set up an appropriate picture, but there was no place available. I thought of pulling off on to the shoulder, but thought that unwise given the amount of traffic. So all that was left of blindly driving down the freeway snapping pictures through the windshield.

Girls’ Basketball

My daughter decided this year to start playing sports. She went out for soccer in the fall and is playing basketball now. This has been interesting for me to watch as I compare her experience with my son’s earlier experiences.  There does seem to be a difference in dynamics between boys’ and girls’ teams. The girls appear to have more of a cooperative spirit (at least at this level) than I remember seeing on the boys’ teams. There also seems to be less of a tendency to blame others for failures. I have seen opponents complement our team members (not on playing ability, but personal artifact – another stereotypical girl trait) and seen apologies for fouls or poor play. Again not something I remember from the boys’ teams.

My recollection of my son’s playing is of constant comparison to other players, usually in a light as to make his playing look better. It was important to win, to be better than the other team. It’s early in my experience of girls’ play. The coaching of her teams has been very positive.  I’m sure that attitudes change as girls move up in their level of play and become more competitive.  It sure is enjoyable now.

The basketball season is almost over for the team, one more game remains – the final game in their one tournament. Having lost almost every game of the season, and having one every game to date in the tournament, there is an air of excitement for the last game.

The picture on the right is from a game Saturday, February 21st, 2009. It was difficult freezing the action without a flash.  The zoom brings the action closer but at a cost of aperture size. I enjoy reflection of the players on the glossy gym floor. More photos.

Burning

There is something primal about a fire, especially a large fire. A neighbor is in the process of building a “cabin” (except that it is bigger than his primary houses) in northern Minnesota. He is acting as the general contractor and as a result is involved in all details of the process. He wanted to check on the progress of the framing and burn some brush (trees) that had been cleared during the site preparation. So he, his young son and I headed up to the north woods.

A couple city boys headed up north to burn a couple piles of brush in the middle of winter – a book of matches, some newspapers and a little gasoline – how hard could this be? We figured a couple hours of burning and we’d be on our way home again. A fire needs three things – heat, oxygen and fuel. There was fuel in the brush pile and there was plenty of oxygen in the air, but getting and sustaining the heat proved a more difficult task. The first approach was a couple newspapers and a little gasoline. After a half dozen attempts with those ingredients, it was back to fundamentals – tinder, kindling, and building a base for the fire, start low and steady and preserve the heat. Finally the combination of fuel, oxygen and heat persisted and consumed the brush piles.

It was a lesson in humility and a reminder of the importance of inertia and persistence.

Vasaloppet

Winter seems to be dying. Others might say spring is coming. Both are correct. On Sunday I participated in the Vasaloppet cross country skiing race in Mora, MN. Somewhere in between one and two thousand participated. The trail starts approximately twenty miles north of Mora, winds through farms, woods and fields, crosses over several roads and ends on main street in Mora. It is a beautiful trail, in terms of scenery, condition, difficulty, spectators. A wonderful experience.

There are several categories of races – a 58K, 35K and 13K freestyle and 42K classic. I had hoped to attempt the 58K, but recognized that I did not have the physical conditioning needed to survive that length. After 35K, there wasn’t much left. I crashed (face plant) several times toward the end of the event on essentially flat sections – caught an edge and due to exhaustion wasn’t able to recover fast enough. I guess that’s an indication that I was giving maximum effort. The resulting time was a best ever for me at just over 4 minutes a km.

The picture is from my cell phone at the start of the event with close to a thousand in front of me. I typically start at the back and try to work my way up – even though it slows my time, it feels better to pass others up than to be continually passed by.

First Egg

Today a hen laid an egg. It was the first egg of the year from the hen house. There had been no eggs since October. There is something remarkable about a warm, newly formed egg. It amazes me that a hen can “manufacture” a single egg, much less continue to do so day after day. When the three hen hen house is in full swing, a dozen to a dozen and a half eggs can be produced in a week.

The egg is beautiful – the symmetry, the smooth appearance at a distance with imperfections revealed upon closer examination, the combination of frailty and strength.  Furthermore,  it’s delicious.

Like life, the production of eggs is cyclical.  It seems that the hens begin molting and stop egg production at a most inopportune time, just as the days shorten and the temperature begins to drop (perhaps opportune for egg cessation, but not for feather loss).  Fortunately, their feathers repopulate before the temperatures become extreme. Then, sometime after the days begin to lengthen, the hormonal changes start, the color returns to the hens’ combs and egg production begins.

It really felt like spring today. Sunlight has been increasing in intensity each day. It was well above freezing. Finding the egg was another indicator of spring. I wanted to visually represent my experience.  The hen house itself is still cold and dim.  The shadowed single egg lying on the wood floor in late afternoon sun is my attempt to show the warmth and perfection of this first egg.