This has been a winter unlike any I’ve experienced — a cold blast in the minus 20s before wind chill, several feet of snow, weeks below freezing. And all of a sudden it’s gone.
I know we could still get a snowstorm in the next month or so, but it’s hard to look around at all of the dripping and gushing and not conclude winter has lost its grip. We’ve had some moderate flooding around the Cities, including near where I work, and catastrophic flooding to the south in Nebraska and elsewhere that’s directly affecting old friends of mine and their families.
We could get some of the same, but for now, things are just soaked. This past weekend I went down to Minnehaha Creek to see the back and forth between freezing and thawing. It was a good bookend to my visit back in December when the freezing was really taking over. Streams of snowmelt have carved channels and miniature canyons in the snow and ice, and the creek is gushing.
One of my favorite things with the thaw is watching water and bubbles flow under ice and take on a lava-lamp-like mode. I also found a kind of ice that’s new to my repertoire: etched with wiggling lines as if shattered but whole and smooth to the touch.
I also went further along the creek than last time, all the way down to where it joins the Mississippi River. An orange bluff there seems to be made of the softest sandstone. People have carved names and designs all over it, of course, but I was more impressed with nature’s own contribution. The rock is covered in tree-like, branching tufts of sandstone powder that crumble to nothing at the slightest contact. Nature always one-ups us.
Happy spring, everyone! I’m as glad as anyone to see it.
Some of you might remember my first visit to Minnehaha Falls in June, when it was tumbling over a verdant cliff in a lush valley. Six months later, a good snowfall and a week of freezing temperatures have given the 50-foot falls a set of icicles almost as tall.
I went Minnehaha Regional Park last weekend right after that snow arrived and saw miniature snowmen and snow-plastered trees. But the creek itself was almost completely clear of ice.
So I went back today to see what the cold had sculpted since then. Minnehaha Creek has frozen itself into narrow channels and ice tunnels. The ice’s surface often looks topographical, forming stair-step terraces, sometimes a few feet tall, that remind me of terraced rice fields or canyon walls. Instead of wearing away at these canyons, the water has built them.
Those white blobs are bubbles that continuously flowed through what looked like a 4-foot-long, crystal-clear ice straw.
It can be hard to see with transparent ice, but the shot above shows a good example of the terrace sets I saw: maybe 3 feet tall and stepping down from the upper left to lower right, with water gushing on the left side.
This last shot is what looked to be another set of terraces somehow under the water, giving them a distorted and unreal appearance.
Thanks for looking!
If you missed the news, I’m now living way up north in the Twin Cities. It’s the biggest move I’ve ever made to the biggest place I’ve ever lived, as I keep telling all my new coworkers and acquaintances. I miss some of Arkansas’ people and places and weather; it’s been gray and chilly for most of my time here so far. Between the storms, I’ve started exploring this place, meeting some of its ducks and lakes, some of its people, its downtown and its Minnesota Valley National Wildlife Refuge, for a start.
The FairShare Farm community garden sits a few steps from my fourplex door, so that was one of my first stops. The growing season is obviously winding down, but some of the garden’s regulars tell me I should join the neighborhood clearings and plantings there over the next several months. I can’t turn that down.
This is a nice little corner of Minneapolis, a piece of a metropolitan area with more people than all of Arkansas. There’s a lot of life here, good and bad. Many of the people at the nearby farmers markets and shops originally hailed from the Caribbean, Latin America, Somalia, Russia and southeast Asia. Just south of here, scores of tents line one particular highway exit, and a grocery store keeps its supplies of baby formula and vanilla secure behind the customer service desk with the cigarettes. International flights roar over the wildlife refuge down near the Mall of America.
I’m looking forward to learning about the Twin Cities’ mixtures and contradictions.
Thanks for looking and following along with the journey.