Month: November 2023

Shot of the Day 11/28/23

I’m standing out here in the bitter cold wind on the shore of Lake of the Woods, and the lake is freezing over as I watch. The ice has spread out another 10 feet or so since I got here; it won’t be long now till all 1,700 square miles of the lake will disappear under ice.

and now, before my very eyes,

the lake begins to crystallize;

it spreads so fast, i must surmise

the fish are in for a surprise

–photo by me

Sunday Shots 11/26/23

Winter may have come late this year, but she’s definitely here today. Brrr. Her order for snow has yet to arrive, but the lakes and rivers are freezing so quickly.

I just wrote a haiku the other day about the river being open so late in the year; today, it looks like milk flowing through honey-colored land. The land of milk and honey?

This looks like the perfect place (in summer) for a swing. The grass here crunches under my feet.

At the marina on Lake of the Woods, the boats are all put away for the winter. If you’ve left yours in the water, it’s too late now.

The Big Lake itself is still mostly open, but it’s freezing fast. It’s hard to believe this will soon be a forty mile ice road to Canada. The wind is so cold, I can only stand here long enough to snap a picture. I take one last look; all is quiet save the lapping of the waves as the sun sets on another day.

–Photos by me

Jody’s Depression

My wife Jody suffered from depression (which eventually led to her fatal drug overdose), and I remember how frustrated I was that I couldn’t do anything to help. It came from inside her, and seemed to have little to do with how things were.

It’s been over 12 years since she’s been gone, and life goes on. When I took this photo, it reminded me of her depression, so I wrote down how I think she might’ve felt:

there’s a bright blue sky

just beyond these dark trees;

a wonderful world of beauty;

a world of light and love

where people wave and smile

and life…happens;

a world of fussy grandmas

and naughty grandchildren–

if only I could get beyond

these damn black trees!

it’s no use; they’re too thick.

maybe if I take more morphine,

i’ll get to that blue sky.

And that she did.

–photo by me

Time for Freya

This is what I open my eyes to every morning. I never know how long my cat Freya’s been sitting there, staring at me as I sleep, but I know what she wants: she’s been on a no-snacking-at-night diet, and she gets a little eager for breakfast.

This morning, as I was just lying back, waiting for the oomph to drag myself out of bed, I started wondering if Freya is aware of the passage of time, or is it always “now” to her. I could find no clue in her big green eyes, but I think it’s the latter because…

the past is remembered

in the here and now,

and the future is imagined

in the here and now,

but the present is real

in the here and now–

freya may be right:

it has always been now

and it always will be

–photo by me

Young Eagle

There’s a two or three year old juvenile eagle in a tree ahead, giving me the eagle-eye. He’s almost as big as an adult, but he doesn’t have the bald (white) head yet, and his beak is only half yellow.

If I come any closer, he’ll fly away. It’s kinda funny, cuz if he wanted to, he could sink those six-inch talons into my neck and open my skull like a can of beans with his beak.

Eagles are sea birds. They love to have fish over for dinner, and will even transport them to their nests free of charge, but after the lakes freeze over, road-kill tops the menu.

juvenile eagles

always give me a craving

for fudge swirl ice cream

–photo by me