The year changed

I used to get really excited about staying up until midnight and watching Dick Clark's count down. 

I don't anymore. The new year is another way of starting January all over. I know that sounds pretty dumb and stupid. But for some people, the holidays are bummers. The expectations that on January 1st things are suddenly going to change is well,

stupid.

January can be a contentious month for winter weather. It can be awful or fun depending on where you live and how you like or dislike winter.  

I woke up early and thought to self. Hey Self, have a cuppa coffee and walk to the ridge with Charlie. It isn't too wickedly cold and perhaps the sunrise will be beautiful for the first day of 2023.

And we did.

I walked across the cropland to the eastern edge where the land is highest and waited. Charlie wandered around the corn stubble smelling deer and searching for mice or voles.

Maybe there wasn't much that was incredible about changing a number from 22 to 23. But the feeling of standing there in the still morning air watching the light change felt pretty incredible.

As it rose the predicted fog/haze from the high humidity of the previous day started to work its magic on the land.

I stayed longer than I intended too. Rich's coffee was made and I hadn't left a note but I figured he'd know that I walked up to the ridge as it is my usual routine.

I stayed a bit longer. I like this little tree. In the summer it gets lost with all the weeds and crops growing up on each side of it.

I walked home.

2023 officially had begun.

Let the adventures begin...

Daze of Summer

We are so lucky to live in such a beautiful area. I have to drive or walk to the ridge to see a sunrise view like this. I can also see a more limited view in the meadow north of our house.

We had a dense fog warning on Wednesday and I thought it might provide me with an interesting landscape.

It was pretty neat. As the sun rose, the fog got more intense. I wished I was on the bluff watching this, but I knew the drive to there would have been horrible with the low river valley fog of the Kickapoo. Driving in semi darkness in thick fog is no fun.

There was the sun...and then...it got very thick!

One of the cool things that occurs where I live is that I can go to the highest ridge point and watch the sun rise up. Then drive a quarter of a mile and watch it rise again. When it is done on the ridge, I can go home and watch for it to come over the trees. 

Thursday morning I noted that there were supposed to be some clouds in the sky early. I took the 'Ru and headed towards the end of the dead end. This spot is generally pretty nice for sunrises in July and through early October.

I am thrilled to say that this year the fields to the North and East are planted with soybeans. That means I can watch sunrises unobscured by 9 foot or taller field corn.

The gnats were absolutely vicious even with the gusty winds. I was able to jump into the car to avoid them and then jump back out to take a shot.

Finally I decided enough was enough and headed back home. I stopped just before I left the ridge and as always, was pleasantly surprised.

The swallows had awakened and were getting down to business!

I rarely go up to the ridge any more in the evenings which I used to do when I rode every night with my mule Badger. 
I miss those summer nights of me sitting on my big mule and watching the sun go down.

I do however, enjoy those mornings when I get out and enjoy the world as it wakes up.

There is nothing quite like a new sunrise to raise the spirits.

Snow Day

 

Charlie doesn't need YakTraks or ice cleats obviously. Look at those feet! We decided to go for a nice morning walk to the ridge and down through the woods and around the neighbor's meadow.

The snow in the area is compacted and very rough on the deer trails. I had to walk carefully, but Bigfoot darted all around the place like a wild man. He had chased two squirrels and was on a roll.

The road on the ridge was covered in a layer of snow and under that was ice. This is one of those times where the ice wasn't thick enough to bury the gravel underneath so traction wasn't too bad. The mist was still coming down and icing all east facing branches.

I had trees on my mind. The light was dull and pretty gloomy but I enjoy days like this for different types of photography.

You've seen this boxelder before and for whatever reason, I stop often in the winter and summer to photograph it. The kid in me wants to make a fort here.

Funny how you can take the same route over and over and see different things. I never saw the shape of this particular tree before. The light and the misty atmosphere stopped me in my tracks. 

Here is the full tree, and below that is a cropped version of what I really found fascinating.

Cropped version

Everything seems to be moving to the right in this shot. Strange right?

Soon enough Spring will arrive and the trees will have leaves which will hide their incredible features.

After lunch we had a grand time watching the birds at the feeder. I tried to hone in a skill of 'catching' a bird in flight while leaving a branch.

I'll save that for another day.

Perseverance

I keep going back and it isn't because of the beauty of the creek.

It isn't always beautiful.

Just over a week ago it was rather dull looking and choked with weeds. Yet I still came.
I still sat by the trickle of water and just opened my mind.

I often go by myself with no dogs. No other people. I sometimes prefer it that way. The creek becomes something else when I invite others to explore it. I do enjoy it, but I enjoy keeping the creek secrets to myself also.

Sometimes I just stand there and do nothing.

I simply admire those familiar rocks and trees. These places that bring me great comfort and at times sadness too.

Yesterday was one of those days that the creek felt like a secret place.

The air was heavy, warm, and humid.
The creek was cold and refreshed from the latest 2" of rain.

A fog hovered above the creek.
It was dark and the trees were silent and still.

I had a gambit of emotions run through my head as I carefully picked my way along the rocks.

When I stand still and let the forest and creek surround me, I feel small and invisible, yet large and powerful, and meek and humble at the same time.

I simply stand and am amazed.

I reached the spot where the trail heads back home and glanced up to see the lonely Teddy Bear that I'd found after the flash flood.

He simply looked so lonely.

I posed him on a rock and took this shot in the heavy fog.

Suddenly my Creek walk took on another feeling.
The feeling of sadness and loss.
The Brown Teddy Bear looked and embodied so much loss and emotion in this single photo that I was stunned.

He had been swept away with another Teddy Bear in a huge flood and had been found.
He'd survived mud, rocks, rushing waters...

He was Hope
He was Love
He was Lost
He was Sadness
and
He was Perseverance...

Walk

Nag...nag...nag.
"It's foggy as pea soup Charlie, nothing out there to really see."

Charlie went back to the door and bounced up and down. He made his funny little grunty whining noises. Odd to get used to his type of communication after so many years of Morris's very direct demands.

"Fine."

Charlie didn't understand the Fine...or the "Wait a doggone minute."

I grabbed my camera bag and tossed it over my shoulder. I opened the door and Charlie went out on the porch and turned around. As if to say, "Hurry up."

I grabbed his little black cord and attached it to his collar. Charlie took off at a bouncy run for about 40 feet and then stopped to see if I was coming.

Sigh. Bossy Little Dog!

I started out towards the neighbor's place on the ridge and Charlie charged ahead.

From a certain spot on the ridge the perspective of the road gets interesting.

I took the shot with the fog coming in and called out to Charlie.
He came on the run. I swear he was smiling.

We headed out to the corner to 'see' what we could see. The fog wasn't too bad and perhaps we'd be able to see the sun come up through it.

Then things quickly got foggier.

It was like the world past 100 feet had disappeared into grey matter.

"Charlie!" I called to him. He trotted back to me and I glanced towards home to see how foggy that was.
When....

out of the fog we got a visitor...

One of the neighborhood dogs. We call him the Nagel Dog. He wandered onto the Nagel farm one day years ago and has stayed ever since. He can often be found trotting down the gravel road. He is never aggressive or a nuisance. He is quite aged and very friendly.

He and Charlie gave each other a once over.

Then Nagel Dog disappeared into the mist.
Charlie would have followed except I said "NO!" and stepped on his cord.

I turned and headed towards home. Charlie trotted in front and stopped to smell interesting things on the side of the road. The fog just seemed to creep in heavier.

By the time we got to the mailbox, it was very thick.

The only sounds were those of my chore boots crunching on the gravel as I headed down the long driveway towards home.

Charlie was wet, Charlie was happy.
After I toweled him off, he jumped up on the couch and went to sleep.

Our day had officially begun.