Embrace the spirals of nature. Fresh snow inspires fresh snow art.

I’ve made so many works of snow art that I have lost count, and can barely find them all in my enormous photo files. So when this one popped up when scrolling today, a distant cold day warmed my heart. Note the globe on top!

This year, we have no snow. The record-breaking warmth is pleasant and easy. But I do miss the bright white, the childish magic of playing in fresh white stuff, and making spontaneous snow creations. Climate change keeps getting freakier. So jump in the snow when you can. And of course…

Keep the faith.

This installment of the Snow Art Series is titled Solstice Rosy Sunshine.

Why the (?) in Happy Solstice headline? Well, lotsa reasons, including that the day is DARK, the weather can be frightful, and it portends the start of winter. Still, the day is full of hope and reasons to festivate. (Or just unplug and meditate.) Stonehenge was built 5,000 years ago by Solstice fans, and people throughout the N side of the globe have commemorated in countless creative (and sometimes shocking) ways since the Pagan days.

My 2023 commemoration stayed simple. Some sun-colored roses offer reminders of brighter days ahead, while taunting a frozen (and slippery!) lake for a backdrop. Fortunately, the day was unseasonably warm enough to assure that the roses survived the photo shoot unscathed—though I was prepared for them to become sacrificial blooms.

They’re inside now. The earth has tilted. And we’re only 6 months til the longest day…and a full year until we can commemorate the dark daze yet again. I may not be ready, but I won’t miss out. Happy Solstice!

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

I stumbled on this pic from a fun week in NYNY in 2015 with my daughter, who was only 12 at the time. The statue looks stark, perhaps because Lady Liberty knows the world is ringing with divisiveness, war, extremism, and worse. It’s no fun for wide-eyed children and millions (billions?) of people all over the world.

Yet it’s the holiday season. So we continue to hope and pray for peace, love, and understanding. Nothing so funny about that, right? So as possible, please turn down the noise and enjoy your holiday rituals and festivities.

And of course, keep the faith.

Punny or not…No season brings deeper or more colorful reflections than fall.

Fall is a great time to travel—a ‘shoulder season’ when the tourists are usually back home yet the tourism bizzes are still humming but without irksome crowds and lines. The weather can be lovely if you choose the right place and have some luck. And autumn in most climes brings a free show of color and natural transformation.

And yet…fall is a good time to be home too. ESPECIALLY this year, here in MN, where we were gifted with drought-busting rains but also more sunny, warm days than I can count. Record-breaking stuff! The lake is full; the neighborhood pontoon party is still afloat. Chores got done without the panic of stinging snow or frozen fingers. We’ve been blissfully blessed.

Oh yeah, the other shoe WILL drop. Hard and cold. And soon, like, next week. Still, as I watched with envy while friends flew off to autumnal BreakAways in Italy, Nashville, and beyond, I also rejoiced in the epiphany that, often, the best place to travel is your own lovely yard.

From the Frontier Bar, on the Midway, MN State Fair. Highly recommended.

People go to to the MN State Fair for the rides, the food, the animals, and the live entertainment—and by that we mean the People Watching. My ideal fair day includes lots of live music (5 bands yesterday), some crop art, the best cheese curds on planet earth, and, of course, a few beers

You see it all at the fair. But I did NOT expect to see aliens! At least that’s how my friend Scott interpreted this picture. You see, we have a longstanding inside joke about aliens. So when riding the bus shuttle home I texted him this picture with one word—ALIENS!

He quickly replied, “And some tall green people behind them.”

I dunno. Maybe you had to be there. But after a long day at the fair, one feels a dizzy, punchy glow. So I found that to be the funniest thing in the world. And proceeded to laugh like a bad church boy on the packed bus. Until tears were flowing.

Did anyone notice? Not really; they were experiencing their own giddy euphoria. Do you know that feeling? I hope so.

I skipped the state fair for decades—avoiding the crowds, the lines, the chaos. I know better now…and see this otherworldly stimuli-fest as one of the most unique, accepting BreakAways around. I recommend it. As do the 2+ million loyal annual attendees.

Which brings to mind an old BreakAway mantra: When in doubt, just go!

Don’t believe me? Ask the aliens.