Lake Susan Park

I cannot claim Lake Susan Park as a new destination. I have biked on its trails, read against its trees, studied its vegetation, and waded into its waters for several summers now. Occasionally I play tennis there, or stop by and watch a baseball game, my cheeks reddening in the sun. Always I am thankful that its 33-acres are close by, an open space that holds out its hands to the community.

Yesterday, a season later, I woke to fantastically blue skies--more true, I found, than those in summer--and a world that was frosted white. Hoar frost. The remaining goldenrod stalks stood frozen and glittering. The grove across the street resembled something out of a fantasy story, something with a name like Niffelvine or Ruumulus or Asgard. Everything seemed cast in a sleepy spell.
I went to Lake Susan with sleep still clinging to the corners of my eyes because I didn't want to miss the way the light was colliding with light. How long could something that beautiful last? How long, I wondered, can I walk about, over bridges, under the frozen arms of willow trees, up to the edges of iced-over water, marveling at a place that is still not summer? My cheeks grew rosy from the cold.


  1. The first photo is luscious. Icy forest with early morning blue sky.

    The written contrast, "cheeks reddening in the sun" in the summer, and "cheeks grew rosy from the cold" in winter, kind of says it all doesn't it? Your writing is wonderful in the true sense of the word.

  2. Thanks, Bill! I reallyreallyreallyreally love mornings like that one. Magical.

  3. Beautiful Minnesota. Love it!!


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