colvill park

Winters in Minnesota are mostly gray, dirty--the sooty color of salted streets, the sunless days, the color of dulled out landscape.

And the light is so fleeting, so brief. I'm so grateful my classroom has windows--otherwise I might not see the faded light of day some times, when I get up and arrive at work just as the world is beginning to wake, and when I leave after the evening's light has faded.



We have to take advantage of these weekends not weighed down with projects, trips, visitors. Advantage of lazily sprawling in bed as the morning seeps in, the sound of down comforters crackling.

I love the Saturdays when we take the dogs to some spot near our town, let them romp about, chase after them ourselves, trying not to splat in the melting snow.



Colville Park is known for its eagle watchers; in fact, we spotted many fish jumping, explaining this popular spot along the backwaters of the Mississippi River. Most of the watchers were taking snaps from their warmed up SUVs, however, and I think they may have been annoyed with us once we released the hounds. I found the eagles more gorgeous in flight, though I doubt they were afraid of our wee dogs. These creatures are fiercely huge!


This also gave me the opportunity to use my new lens my husband bought me for my birthday back in November. I'd never seen a duck capture and devour a fish before, which makes me feel a bit sheltered, but amazed to see the feeding, the blurps of fish touching the surface, the burrow of the mallards into the water.


And our dogs, thrilled at all the places with which to place their muzzles. I can tell they miss the freedom of being leashless at Hay Creek. Penny was all too happy to attempt to cobble together a little boat out of ice chunks; perhaps she thought she'd make it to the other side of the river.


There were clumps of men out ice fishing. I thought of Stefani's fish photographs, though I resisted running up to them, asking if I could hear the *pop!* of the cork of ice (Husband insisted, over and over, that it did not sound like a bathtub unplugging), if I could take pictures of their catch.

We did foist our dogs upon a beached dock, the green of fake grass, the blue of the leash bright spots on the gray landscape.

They were leashless after all, romping and free.