A Little Winter/Spring Fog

 It's March. The snow has lasted much too long, especially for a visiting friend who lost car keys in the snow back at Thanksgiving and is waiting for a thaw. Yes, the keys have been replaced, but there was also a very sentimental and irreplaceable medallion on the ring which serves as a last memento of a deceased parent. 

The snow banks left by the plow have melted on the other side of our street.  On our side,  shaded by our homes due to low sun angles all winter, the piles are still here in dirty glory, snow converted to ice but still stubbornly in place. A metal detector is part of the plan for key retrieval, as not all hope is lost, maybe for this weekend, depending on how high forecast temperatures really go, and whether cars are reliable transportation for people on unreliable budgets. It's been a tough winter on those as well - cars and budgets.

The roads themselves around here are in great condition, and travel for enjoyment has resumed slightly. With a heavy fog Wednesday, a morning trip was ordered, along with the camera.

There is a lake at the bottom of the hill. Visibility ended just before the shore, so I'll let you take my word that all ice houses were removed exactly on schedule, and so far as we know, safely. Had I walked to the bottom I still likely could have seen the ruts in the snow-over-ice near shore where for the last couple months racing snowmobiles on the lake could be heard nearly any time one stepped outside. Do note snow on the north vs. south sides of the street. And yes, it was garbage pick-up day, in case sharp eyes picked the cans sitting out.

As I headed toward the river which was my destination, I passed another lake, again with very limited view and no open water. However, sitting patiently on the ice near shore, waiting for a thaw was a pair of trumpeter swans, securely sleeping. The highway is narrow there with no place to pull off safely, so no picture except in memory.

The goal was a small park along the St. Croix River, known to us locals as Osceola Landing, part of the National Parks system, recently upgraded for picnics, better canoe egress, and a large paved boat access ramp off a huge parking area with added restrooms. The best part is the total lack of entry fees. Or perhaps the scenery, turtles, and birds. Whatever your pleasure is, that day offered a still ice-covered river with just enough exceptions to solid ice to keep people off and boats away. It didn't stop dog walkers or those of us with cameras from enjoying an outing on higher ground.

A tiny spur of land juts out into a backwater near the highway bridge. Canoes can pull up to the stairs near the point and carry their lunches to the tables and grills on its point. As hard as those are to see in winter, the foreground grasses and  weeds all but completely obscure it in summer. You have to know it is there. Behind it the water wraps around, a the barrier which keeps foot traffic off the private farmland rising on the far side. The main stream of the river is on the other side of the park so most people don't make the lengthy u-turn to explore it.

Turning around from shooting that, the small slice of river continues on out to rejoin the main stream, down past the far side of the round grey tree which grows in the middle of the stream on a sand bar. 

Dead trees topple into the stream, an untended hazard for canoists, and when low enough to reach from the water, allow turtles to crawl up for a morning warm-up in summer sun, like this photo from last summer. One can also spot a lot of birds then, but the only bird of this day was a single trumpeter swan, flying through the trees, hidden from cameras, only revealing its presence by trumpeting about every three or four seconds as it headed south... presumably for warmer, ice free water, and a source of food after a vary long and optimistic trip.