This is something like the Minnesota March version of that standard image of a bent-over palm tree. Instead of being on a white, sandy beach, this one’s hunched over something like 2 feet of snow. We’ve gotten significantly more than that in recent weeks here in the Twin Cities without much thawing; I’m thinking the weight of each new snow blanket is simply compressing the snow underneath. There’s just a lot.
I’m not thrilled with the “bold north’s” winter at this point, but I have been getting a feel for its details: the knocking of several woodpeckers at once on still days, the ice on my face and inside my nose, the bulldozers and dump trucks loaded with snow, the ever-deepening valleys of sidewalks. Somehow only short segments of the Mississippi River freeze even now, but those that do genuinely resemble the surface of the moon.
I took these yesterday at Hidden Falls Regional Park in St. Paul. The falls are indeed hidden, frozen solid and covered in snow, but the rest of the park gave a nice opportunity to follow snowshoe trails, which are a little easier than raw snow to negotiate, down to the Mississippi and back.
Speaking of wintry details, I’d like to circle back to something I caught a glimpse of in this blog post back in November: odd root- or fractal-like patterns that appear in pond and river ice around here. I’ve since found a lot more of these shapes and actually wrote up a story for work about them here. There’s a few guesses out there, but they might form from warmer water trickling up from below or from water on top of the ice flowing back down through a hole or break.
Here’s some examples:
There are little treasures to find even when it seems like nothing but ice and snow outside.
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.
For the first time in five years, I consistently get to take photos for my job. It feels great.
I started more than six weeks ago leading two weekly newspapers in the Twin Cities suburbs: the Prior Lake American and Savage Pacer. It’s a relatively small operation that nonetheless takes a lot of work. I oversee two reporters and help get their work into the best shape possible, I work with other editors and reporters at six other weeklies that are part of the same company, I edit everything that goes in mine and work with designers to decide where it all goes in my papers. And I also get to report and photograph on my own. Above, for example, I watched a little CLIMB Theatre skit about nature and conservation at a Prior Lake elementary school last week. To understate, this is not a bad gig. Here’s a sample of some other things I’ve been up to.
A Shakopee establishment called Pablo’s was voted the best Mexican restaurant and restaurant overall in our coverage area, the southwest metro. I can’t say I’d mind taking a lot more food photos:
And I wrote a little outdoor feature all about the Minnesota Valley National Wildlife Refuge, which stretches over several miles of wetlands, streams and forests along the metro’s south. Look for that one, with some of these photos attached, this weekend:
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.