Bare Trees

I know it is April in Northwest Indiana and we are all anxious to see buds forming on the trees and green in our landscape again.  However I love photographing the shapes of trees, proudly standing and reaching long after their leafy garments have fallen to the ground.

Trees have a mysterious beauty and grace that can only be seen once they have shed their green robes.   Yes, they are beautiful when they are full of spring blooms, majestic in summer's green mantle and breathtaking in autumn's fiery display.  But beneath all those trappings, each tree hides a personality that can be witnessed only when the sap flows down to the roots and winter's winds scatter the leaves.

Boughs and branches curve this way and that, always reaching like bony fingertips up and out and over.  No two trees are the same, no shape duplicated.  To me they are fascinating!

They stand in stark contrast against the sky - silhouettes that remind me of the Asian art I tried to emulate as a young girl.  Dropping a large dot or two of India ink on slick white rice paper and blowing air through a straw to make the ink travel across the page uncontrolled,  I was able to create dark, meandering lines that looked like branches and vines.  My artwork was a pale comparison to the artistry of the real tree trunks and branches I love to capture in my photographs.

A February Snowstorm

I've lived in Northwest Indiana for most of my life and one sure thing everyone learns about living here is that the weather is always going to change. Especially in February!

Last weekend, we enjoyed the most beautiful sixty degree Saturday.  The sky was blue, the birds were singing and the hiking trails were calling my name. Today, a mere five days later, we awoke to a world completely transformed into a scene from a holiday Christmas card.   Twelve inches of heavy wet snow (my snow shovel-wielding husband swears it's more) started falling last night and didn't stop until this morning, causing every bush and small tree in our yard to bend in graceful arcs and travel to be perilous.

After we heaved a deep sigh and finished clearing off not only our driveway but the neighbors, as well, it was hard to ignore just how beautiful the world had become overnight.  The birds had managed to find access to their seed in the feeders, and were amicably sharing their grub with a local squirrel.  My scarecrow bird house was smiling out from under the hat Mother Nature redesigned for him. There were patterns everywhere and everything had become simpler, cleaner, quieter.

I banished our lab mix, Cooper, to the house, much to his
displeasure, because I wanted to experience the peaceful
landscape untouched.  I have to admit I wasn't really
dressed that well for carefully trudging through wet
snow up to my knees.  Cold and wet were soon forgotten,
however, once I began to explore all the fascinating
creations the snow had made in my backyard.  There were graceful arcs and soft pillows; bushes taking a bow to stately maple trees whose bark was all speckled with bits of snow.   There were stick branches reaching to the sky with snow shaped by the wind winding around them like ribbon candy.  The sun tried to make an appearance for a few moments but its hazy glow gave way to clouds again in short order.

Finally, hearing a jingling behind me, I turned to find
Cooper poised at the edge of a snowbank.   He had waited long enough for his own way of enjoying this February gift.  A quick call of his name was all it took to have him bounding through the drifts, around the garden, in and out of the beautiful formations.  Of course, he could do this for hours, and so could I.

Trail 9

It seems that every time I hike a new trail at the Dunes, I dub it my new favorite trail.  I had heard about Trail 9 for a while and yesterday we finally had a chance to hike it for ourselves.

The trail began by winding its way through the tranquility of a spacious forest.  It just felt so good to be outdoors, breathing fresh air and surrounded by the quiet of tall, bare trees like sentinels standing at attention while we strode by.

For a January day in Northwest Indiana, you couldn't have asked for better.  As the trail emerged onto the crest of a tall sand dune, we were met with sunny, bright blue skies stretching over that beautiful calm lake. Ice bergs dotted the blue water for as far as our eyes could see and shelf ice lined the edges where a summertime beach was hidden.  The wind was minimal, lazily tossing about the grasses and any dried oak leaves that were left behind.

The view from the top of a Lake Michigan sand dune always takes my breath away.

A Resolution of sorts . . .

I don't make New Year's resolutions.  I think that any day of the year is a good day to do something new, break a habit or set a goal should I be physically, mentally or spiritually ready.

For the last few years we have started out the new year with a New Year's hike and this year I was able to squeeze one in. Although it took place the day after New Year's Day, I still think it counts.

It was about three in the afternoon when my daughter and I headed to Coffee Creek Watershed Preserve and we knew that the winter sun wasn't going to be with us for very long. The temperature was a little colder than we had planned, but the area was quiet and peaceful, the waning light was beautiful and my daughter and I could catch up on each other's lives.   We finished up the hike watching a herd of deer lazily graze in the twilight.

Looking ahead, our 2016 calendar is already marked with camping weekends and hiking excursions, planning to explore more of the trails in Indiana and our neighboring states this year.  So it's time to strengthen those legs and knees, get that backpack ready and lace up those boots because ready or not, 2016 - here we come!

March at the lake

This lake . . . . it never ceases to leave me in awe of its wonder, its power, its beauty.  Every season, every day has its own images.   

Music Among Friends

It was Friday night in the first week of December and it was cold, clear and dark. We parked the car on the main street that runs through that sleepy small town.  It was so quiet, but when the door of an old brick storefront opened across the street, light and the sound of music and people spilled out.  We were headed there for a CD release party hosted by Commoner, a local band we had supported through a recent kickstarter project. We were going to gather the items we had received as supporters, as well as hear their live debut.  

Commoner began with five friends and musicians who would frequently sit together, sharing equally their love for the Lord and for music.  They decided that what happened so easily when they were together,  could be shared outward, and so the band was born.

The old storefront is being slowly renovated into coffee house where people will be able to savor locally roasted coffees, relax, visit and where the band can routinely play their earthy, self-written songs of praise.  That old, unfinished building was drafty and cold, and the coffee pots were emptied as soon as they could be refilled, but twinkling strands of Christmas lights draped the walls, the crowd was warm, the music was uplifting and the musicians were joyfilled.  It is a place we look forward to visiting again.