Winter Perks

Posted on February 23, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

One of the occasional perks to having a long drive to town is the inability to get to town at all. Snow days, for instance. In this particular case, there wasn’t even that much snow, but the road was glazed. It was fantastic. When I get to Hwy. 79 and my truck is sliding as soon as I so much as tap the brakes, it’s a subtle clue to cancel lessons and mosey on home. And, since my camera is always with me, to admire the scenery through my viewfinder.
I pulled off to the side of the road to snap some pictures around Battle Creek. The scenery that is so familiar, and so enchanting in inclement weather. The textures and colors draw me in whenever I drive past.Two kind people who saw me walking along the highway in the bitter cold and wind stopped to make sure I was alright. I love South Dakota. The lady who stopped looked like she thought I was crazy. “Are you okay?!?!” (Translation, “Are you insane?!?!”) The sleet and snow and wind were burning and freezing my face, and I grinned as big as my frozen face would grin. “Just taking pictures!” Teeth chattered. My fingers hurt. Wonderful.Winter perks.

Winter Bluebird Day

Posted on February 23, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography

Here are some more photos from that bluebird day drive. A little behind on posting, but I thought these were worth sharing! Winter has definitely become my favorite season. All that’s needed is a camera and four wheel drive.

There’s that needed four wheel drive.
A view from Hwy. 244 near Mount Rushmore.
A sleepy mountain goat, enjoying a sun bath.
These beautiful horses matched their surroundings!
Another favorite of the Canada geese in Battle Creek.
Cattails on Battle Creek in the sunlight. Look at their little snowy caps!
Do some people really not like winter?

Photography Challenge 2018 | Week 4 of 52

Posted on February 16, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography

WEEK 4 – Creative – Quiet Moment. A bluebird day in February is an invitation to take a drive. The sky was unbelievable. The air sparkled. Just off one of the back roads near here, a little flock of Canada geese were enjoying the relative warmth of Battle Creek, which steamed in the frigid air. The sunlight caught in the mist and in the golden grasses, and gleamed on the fresh snow. Hardly a breath of wind, not a disruptive sound. All was quiet, except for the quiet murmuring of the creek.

The Real Middle of Nowhere

Posted on January 2, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Scenic, Writing

Although we’re a good ways outside of town and are, by a lot of people’s standards, “in the middle of nowhere,” you haven’t seen the middle of nowhere until you’ve driven to Lusk, Wyoming. That is truly the middle of nowhere. For miles and miles, there is nothing except for Mule Creek Junction, and on either side of the highway there are miles and miles of beautiful, open, desolate rangeland, low buttes and rock spires, miles and miles of fenceline and windbreaks, dry washes, miles of road with the occasional mailbox and ranch signpost.With not a mountain in sight, Lusk sits at just above 5000 feet above sea level. The beauty of the high plains. And that region is glorious. I’m a forest and mountains person, so I wouldn’t choose to live in the Lusk area over, say, the Buffalo area, but that area is beautiful, breathtaking country. Literally breathtaking, today, with the famous Wyoming wind whipping the snow into a flurry, streaming it across the highway, billowing from drifts and hilltops, working its magic upon the landscape.Even a day drive to Lusk and back to pick up a friend is a wonderful opportunity to marvel at God’s creative powers. I find that they are best viewed in the middle of nowhere.

Warmth

Posted on December 30, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under country life, Writing

What a miracle fire is. I know there is a scientific explanation for the how and why of fire, but my mind can’t see it as anything other than a miracle brought about by the mind and will of a creative God. This miracle, which is intangible and without substance yet injures terribly if touched, provides so many of our most basic needs. This deadly, destructive miracle of energy is necessary to our survival. We’ve figured out other ways to harness heat, but fire is still the most basic form, and not too long ago was alone what provided light and warmth, a way to cook food, a way to power trains and to test the air deep in mine shafts. Imagine a life without it and what it provides.

And how beautiful it is. The dance of fire, the glow, the heat – they’re spell-binding. The tiniest flame of a candle, or a crackling fire in a wood stove – what beauty. The tinselly rustle as a log slides into the embers, the golden lights dancing on the ragged edges of the bark, the deep, mesmerizing glow in the hot spot beneath the logs…I could watch the flames for hours.

With the cold weather we’ve had lately, our cove heating has really been struggling. When daytime temperatures are around 25 degrees, the cove heating does fine, but when we’ve got temps of zero and below, that’s another story. Even with the temp set at 70 degrees during the day, it hardly would get above 62 degrees inside. But with Dad’s help we checked the stove for safety issues (since it hasn’t been used in probably a decade), got a load of firewood and pine cones brought down, and as I type I’m feeling the delightful warmth radiate from the stove. For the first time in awhile, it is actually too warm in the cabin, and I’m comfortable without layers and layers of clothing and blankets! How wonderful to be warm indoors with winter running wild just beyond the walls.

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Mercury Zero

Posted on December 26, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under Photography

Nothing like a cold snap to inspire appreciation of warmer temperatures. But I still love the cold. I love the clearness of the air, the clouds of steam from mouth of man and beast, the ringing silences and the frosty pictures on the windowpanes. I love the chill, and even the burn of cold on face and fingers and toes. The searing cold in the lungs. And then I love shivering into our warm cabin and feeling the life coming back to cold self. After what felt like a very long fall and an unseasonably warm December, we are paying for it. And I love it. It snowed gently all day yesterday, making for a lovely, cozy white Christmas, and today the sun came out in the bluest of winter skies. But even the hours of sunlight couldn’t warm the air, and the cold almost seemed to snap and crackle like shattering icicles. The thermometer read about 1 degree Fahrenheit all day long, and plunged into negative temps as the sun disappeared. Our cabin’s cove heating is struggling to keep up with the chill and the indoor temperature has hovered around 60 degrees today, in spite of being turned up much warmer than that. We have a wood burning stove, but it probably hasn’t been used in a decade – Sarah and I are ready to have the chimney inspected so we can supplement (or replace) the cove heating! In the meantime, we use lots of layers, blankets, and hot tea. We had the brilliant idea today to do a some Jeeping and buzz over to Little Falls for a short hike. Because that is the normal thing to do when it is 1 glorious Fahrenheit degree outside. The Jeep tried communicating its unwillingness due to the cold, but Sarah coaxed it along, and we made a mad dash to Little Falls, took a look, and immediately turned around. The frozen swimming hole and frozen creek looked as frozen as we felt, but the icy chuckling of the water beneath the frozen falls was friendly sounding. I don’t think we’d ever hiked to and from Little Falls quite that quickly, our feet and fingers and faces cold and aching within a couple of minutes of hiking! But here in the Hills, we often enjoy dry cold, so even the frigid temps aren’t as bitter as if we had more humidity. It was a lovely, brisk (i.e. frigid) hike, and we even got a few good photos! Tonight, the temps have sunk even lower, and all the critters will be inside for the night. The cats were all in last night, but even the dogs will be inside tonight. We’ll batten down the hatches, boil some water for tea, and snuggle under blankets and watch a movie. Not a bad way to end a cold winter day.