A few weeks ago we were hiking in a wooded area in Faribault and came across an intriguing sight. It made us stop in our tracks to investigate…
From the trail we noticed this secret door…
It looked like two roots from a large, tall tree that had grown down a cliff and into the soil at the bottom leaving an opening exposing the rock cliff. It formed a beautifully-shaped, arched doorway, and it was the size of one too.
A closer look…
We saw this from the trail at the bottom of a rock wall but we didn’t see an easy way to get to the top of the wall, and we were not equipped to go rock climbing that day. We left the trail and walked closer to the tree to inspect how the split trunk/roots were attached to the rock and found they were growing into the rock. It looked like the rock was sandstone so it seemed possible.
Perspective as to how large the fissure is.
We wondered how it grew to be this way. It was a fun and curious discovery. Gary went and stood in the opening to show perspective to its size.
It lends to one’s imagination of opening an adult-size fairy door and entering through the tree to mystical and charming wonderlands inside…
An imaginary door…
Someday I’d love to go back and strategically attach a door knob to the rock door…
Valley Grove is a special place…two historic churches on top of a hill, surrounded by a cemetery and some lovely pine trees and oak trees…
The two historic churches at Valley Grove.
There was an old, old oak tree that stood in one corner of the cemetery, providing shelter and shade for many gravesites, but it blew down in a 2018 tornado. That was a sad day.
This stately, old oak tree stood tall in the corner of Valley Grove Cemetery. This photo was taken months before it was felled by a tornado.
Valley Grove remains a place of beauty…in any season. And one I like to visit often.
Winter’s beauty.
A sweeping prairie view.
I was recently snowshoeing there on a bright, sunshiny day, after a morning of hoar frost that shed its shards onto the freshly fallen snow causing them to sparkle in the sunshine, making us feel like we were walking through diamonds. It was stunning.
A bit of hoar frost left on this twig.
We walked for a couple of hours in the glistening and untouched snow, creating paths through the prairie land and into the woods.
Into the woods.
We noticed several varieties of animal tracks crating their own paths and sometimes leaving us to wonder what the animals were doing…dancing I’m sure, in the wide open spaces while no one was watching.
Today was my mom’s birthday. She passed away in 2009 but I thought I’d share a poem I wrote about her at that time.
Ruby. I don’t know the year this picture was taken.
Ruby Red
Red was her color
Ruby was her name
Never much recognition
Never much fame.
But she was a faithful mother,
A grandmother, a friend
Loved and cared by many
Generous to the end.
She surrounded herself with beauty
Both natural and man made
She had a green thumb for growing,
And an eye for things that stayed.
From the house on McKinley
To the apartment at Meadowbrook
She kept her place beautiful
It was always fun to look.
Her fun sense of adventure
Took her on many fine trips
And hours of playing bridge
Kept her mind sharp and crisp.
Being with family and friends
Made her most content
She had much joy in remembering
Those times were well spent.
So here’s to Ruby
Whose color was red
God blessed her life to 86
An active life she led.
Last week I posted a blog entitled The Color I Remember, an essay I wrote for an assignment with my writing companion. Today I am posting a poem she recently wrote for a different assignment entitled, I Would Never…
With her permission I have posted it below. Enjoy.
I Would Never …
By Sharon Ginter Eichhorn
Never is a powerful word.
Very finite, very fixed.
And so often that word,
well-intended and sincere,
does not live up to the intensity,
the determined meaning of the word.
Rather, we in fact would, and often do,
the very things we said we would not.
People are, in general, well-intentioned,
good-hearted, rightly motivated.
But, in all of us is a weakness,
a faltering humanness
that belies our good intentions.
Never is a powerful word.
We must never use it lightly,
Because it is then that we might tumble,
we might prove the weakness of our humanity.
Instead, live your life always hoping…
hoping to be the person you want to be.
Never asks too much, I think.
Never denies failings.
Never damns humanness.
Instead try, always, to hope,
because hope never fails.
Today is set apart to honor the civil rights activist Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
He had much wisdom to share, but his overall message was unconditional love.
MLK statue at the memorial in Washington DC.
There were several inspiring quotes by MLK in marble at the memorial.
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate only love can do that.”
Another gem to live by.
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. Tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
I bought this orange art glass piece for my parents in the sixties.
A writing companion and I meet monthly. We assign exercises and come prepared the next month to share our work. One recent exercise was to write about a color, specifically it was: Blank is the color I remember.
I am posting my essay below…with photos. I went back to look for evidence of what I remembered….so I’ve included some pictures that I found.
The slide viewfinder surrounded by a few slides.
There were a couple of slides in the mix and I wondered how I could post them…then I thought to put them in our slide viewfinder and try taking a photo of the image inside the viewer. Much to my surprise it worked fairly well. So here goes…
Blank is the color I remember…
I have always loved color. And I enjoy collecting colored glass. There is evidence I liked it when I was younger too…In our living room I display an orange glass art piece I remember buying for my parent’s anniversary when I was a teenager…at the JCPenney store in Apache Plaza. It was on a glass shelf in the back corner of the store, by an outside door. It’s interesting to think I remember those few details so vividly.
However, what came to mind when I read the assignment “ Blank is the color I remember” I thought of the house I grew up in on McKinley Street in Northeast Minneapolis. My dad built the house and we moved into it in 1953 when I was six-months old. Of course, I don’t remember moving into it, but from when I can remember our house was painted a rose-pink color. How that color was decided I’ll never know, and unfortunately I can’t ask my parents anymore. I do know my mom always loved reds and pinks so I’m sure she had a lot of influence as to the color choice. I remember telling friends, when giving them directions to my house, “it’s the rose color one.”
Our rose colored house in the background. This is a picture from my confirmation. I am standing between my two grandfathers.
The color of our house never bothered me, and I really didn’t take notice if the color was out of place in the neighborhood but I think it must have been, especially when I remember the houses surrounding us in the new neighborhood. I would not choose to paint my house that color today.
Thinking of my rose colored house prompts a memory of the house directly across the street from that house; next door to our good friends the Soderman’s. It belonged to an old man and, as children, we thought is was kind of a scary place. There were tall bushes that lined both sides of his property and he lived alone in this shack; an old, scary, unpainted, one-room house (as I remember it).
The old one-room house in the background. It doesn’t look so scary in the photo. It must be getting ready to be demolished. The bushes on each side of the property have been taken down in this photo. That is me and my childhood friend…apparently going somewhere with large suitcases! This is a photo from the slide viewfinder.
The one-room house was off to one side of the property and a ways back from the street. I think we always subconsciously picked up speed when we walked by it. At one point in time the bushes were removed and the shack was torn down and a new house was built in its place. I wonder what happened to that man? Did he die? Did he move away? I don’t even know his name.
Which prompts me to remember the old play shack my dad and brother built for a playhouse in our own back yard. It was much smaller than our neighbor’s house across the street. It had a big open window (no glass) in front (and one on the side?) and a front door. The roof was slanted and it had a built-in ladder on the back where we could climb to the roof and sit and watch the neighborhood. I don’t remember the color of the shack but it wasn’t refined. I wonder if it was even painted? I wonder if there is a picture of it somewhere?
I found this slide showing the shack in our backyard. It was painted to match the house. This photo was taken from the slide viewfinder. In the foreground is my childhood friend and I sharing a rain coat!
The house of my childhood eventually got re-painted but I don’t know what year. My parents changed the color to gold. That was a little more conventional. With that gold color they also painted the wooden crank-up camper, my dad made…which matched the new 1965 Ford Galaxy my parents owned. It was a big deal getting a brand new car.
Me in the back of our house, painted gold.
The ’65 Ford Galaxy is the car we took (pulling the heavy wooden camper) on a road trip in to Yellowstone National Park. I remember feeding the bears (legit to do back then I guess) and one stood up on the car door with its paws inside the window nearest me (!) and left a scratch mark on the black, interior fabric…hmmm…
The bear through the window at Yellowstone National Park.
The bear in my window at Yellowstone National Park. I can’t believe I took a picture…well maybe I can. HA!
So the phrase “blank is the color I remember” took me on a fun, crazy path down memory lane and I found a few pictures to go along with the story.
As we were driving south towards Rice Lake State Park and the surrounding area the trees kept getting frostier…is that a word?
I believe it was ice crystals from the fog. It was not freshly fallen snow (it has not snowed for several days now), that covered and clung to every – single – branch.
The images were breathtaking and, of course, hard to capture on a camera, especially those from a moving car. We stopped to hike, and as I stepped out of the car I felt I stepped into Narnia.
Here are a few photos from that day.
From the car window.Another from the car window…apparently blue tinted. 😉Even the grasses were frosted…
Evergreens and all.
Outside the park…
We stopped along the road for these photos.
Up close…
Up closer…
The weeping willow was my favorite…
The weeping willow, dripping like icicles.
He spreads the snow like wool and scatters the frost like ashes. Psalm 147:16
Whenever I see a cardinal it reminds me of God’s love.
Who knew that 2020 would change life as we knew it…
And who knows what 2021 will bring…
But I know who holds the future. Amen.
Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand.
Lyrics from the song by Alison Krauss, I Know Who holds Tomorrow.
Snow Angels
All bundled up
Almost unrecognizable
Skipping down the snowy sidewalk
Stopping to take it all in
Noticing squirrels
And planes, and dogs
Squealing with delight
Then falling into the snow
Beautiful snow angels
Disguised as Grandchildren
01/2019 vb
Snow angels helping grandpa shovel.
Snow angels chasing each other.
The snow angels in their snow fort.
…having tea in their snow fort.
Snow angels sliding down a snow mound without sleds.
