It's another one of those days in Minnesota - spring-like ... near the end of winter.

Today (February 27, 2016) it's 58 degrees. In two days, it'll be back down to 14.

Trails along the Mississippi River and at popular parks are downright crowded. Warmth and sunshine bring people out in droves. We Minnesotans have an uneasy truce with winter, so there's nothing like an almost-spring day to make us feel giddy that winter is disappearing.

Here is a series of photos taken at Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis at 58 degrees. We're moving on to another season.

High water, I expected. Falling concrete, I did not.

The location is Hidden Falls Park (South Unit) in St Paul, Minnesota. This is the Mississippi River Gorge. High water from recent rains flooded a section of the riverside trail. The yellow sign on the barrier also cautions about another hazard - falling concrete from the Highway 5 bridge over the Mississippi.

Falling financial support for infrastructure means falling concrete.

Watch your head!

Finally winter's harsh polar vortex has gone away. All the melting snow confirms that spring is upon us ... but the water puddles make you paranoid about the true depth of potholes. Spring thaw also makes it hard for police to distinguish between the erratic driving of pothole-evader-hopefuls and drunks.

The Minnesota wildflower in the photos below is an "aster." I have another name for it:  "bitter-sweet."

Blooming in late summer/early fall, this delicate, dainty, sweet flower appeals to me.

However, there's bitterness, too, because the petals mark the end of summer. Fall's cooler temperatures and shorter days are acceptable. There's a sad feeling though, because summer activities I should have done are impossible.

A sweet flower with bitterness. It's more than an aster. It's a reminder.

It was just a couple inches of snow. In Minnesota, that's no big deal. Not even a minor irritation. Just a typical day.

Well, maybe it irritated some people ... those who parked on a slushy street that was plowed ... by a fast plow.

I thought it was humorous. It would be nice if the car owner could see the humor.

If the owner laughs, that's Minnesota Nice. If the owner cusses, maybe he/she is from another state.

Woke up this morning, went to the window, opened the blinds. "Hooray! It's overcast."

Most people would say, "Darn! It's overcast."

Gray days affect people's moods. Gray days are thought of as dreary, dispiriting, depressing. Gray days, in my mind, are pleasant, even stimulating.

So while I like sunny days, I also like overcast days. I enjoy searching for pictures in diffused light.

Actually, any day is a good day to take a picture.

The Zumach family was to celebrate Christmas on December 9, meeting at a steakhouse in Mason City, Iowa. However, a snow storm in Minnesota (over 10 inches) cancelled Christmas. It was wise not to travel in the storm. I traveled, though, at home, in the Twin Cities, taking pictures with a weather-proof camera. There are a few photos below. To see the rest, follow the the link below. Click on the thumbnails for bigger images, or click "slideshow" in the upper right.

http://zumach.zenfolio.com/p856654841

In the last 200,000 years, God let severely handicapped children die. 

Wow! That's an outlandish statement. It's what popped into my head, though, after hearing a radio story about children with severe disabilities in poor countries. While industrialized nations can save many such children, poor countries can't, and certainly not tribes of our ancient ancestors. Modern humans (like us) have been around for about 200,000 years. Modern medicine for just a fraction of that time.

So, there's the age-old question:  why suffering?

If you believe in evolution, the answer is "that's the way evolution works."

If you believe in God, the answer is more complicated ... and perhaps less satisfying.

What kind of photos should accompany the topic of handicaps/evolution/God? I chose "handicapped" trees - a product of evolution, a product of ....

Fall, with its colors, is beautiful. The end of fall, with fewer leaves and less color, is subtly beautiful. I've tried to capture this beauty in photos. Here are two examples.

There are risks in exhibiting subtle pictures because less obvious beauty elicits less spontaneous oohs and aahs, less positive emotion. The photos shown here have been edited to enhance certain features. Not everyone will like them. Perhaps it's like appreciating some jokes:  you had to have been there.

ABOVE:  Mississippi River below the Summit Ave overlook, St Paul

BELOW:  Mississippi River below the Franklin Ave Bridge, Minneapolis

You gotta' love those digital cameras and lenses that can shoot in the dark.

Well, actually, they all can. It's just that some are better at it than others. Mine's not tops, but decent. And I shoot without a tripod. That means whenever I wiggle the camera - which is often - I get blurry pictures. People who carry a tripod, people who have more patience than me, have fewer blurry photos.

Last evening I walked the Stone Arch Bridge area in downtown Minneapolis, along the Mississippi River. It's gorgeous at night. There are a couple photos below and here's a link to a few more. http://zumach.zenfolio.com/p785424610. The blue-lighted bridge is the new I-35W bridge (that replaced the one that collapsed in 2007).

The dark, dark shadows of the pictures have been brightened a little so you can see what's there. At night our eyes automatically make this adjustment. Digital pictures need a little help to see what your brain sees.

It's not easy for me to walk up to a stranger and ask to take their picture.  But that's the assignment I gave myself at Minnesota's State Fair.

Pictures that are most memorable - most remembered, most liked - are those that contain people. I read this somewhere. Although I no longer remember where, I suspect it's true. People watching is a favorite activity of ... people.

Taking photos of scenery and buildings is, for me, easy compared to asking a person, "Can I take your picture?" Even when I "sneak" pictures of people doing an activity, not asking them, I still feel a bit self-conscious.

At the 2012 Minnesota State Fair I wanted to capture the flavor of the fair ... and do so by capturing people. The results are in two photo albums/slideshows at the links below. And below that are sample photos from the albums/slideshows.

Instructions for viewing albums:  Clicking on small thumbnails make images larger. Each page also allows clicking "Slideshow." Right and left arrows keys work for controls. For slideshows, click "slideshow" in upper right.

http://zumach.zenfolio.com/p716303643

http://zumach.zenfolio.com/p208121439

Some old city neighborhoods are very diverse, with a wide variety of businesses lining their streets. For example, University Avenue in St Paul has a mix of stores, usual and unusual. In fact, unusual shops are fairly common. This makes them, well, usual. The unusual is usual.

Recently I walked a stretch of University Avenue. Here's what I found, some of it R rated.

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This storefront church shares it's space with other churches.

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It seems appropriate that the Deeper Life Bible Church is next door to the Transformation [Beauty] Salon.

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These two businesses specialize in things for the bedroom.

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As you age you may not get as big a bang-for-the-buck [in the bedroom] as you used to, so it only makes sense to save money and shop for "toys" at an outlet store.

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This landscape service truck is innocently parked next to a Viagra sign. However, my mind saw a bit of irony:  "We turn your thing into a brick, man." And I suppose if the truck is parked there longer than four hours it should seek medical attention.

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Here is where I would go to find out where I am going to go.

Many jobs today are unheard of ... unheard of, that is, by me. Meet a young person. Ask what they do. There's a good chance they work with computers, medicine, consulting or project management ... with incomprehensible job titles. Again, incomprehensible to me.

My careers were in smaller organizations with few specialties or high tech jobs. So, my experiences were limited. I try to be open and to learn when I meet these "new careerists." Still, there's the feeling of foreignness about today's jobs.

Here's a photo that illustrates the new world of jobs.

I'm self-conscious about posting this topic:  Memorial Day 2012. I have conflicting feelings.

The holiday originated after the Civil War as a remembrance of men and women who died in military service. (Although now it's evolved into a day where we honor deceased relatives, whether or not in the military).

If I post pretty pictures of a ceremony that honors those who were in the military, am I, in a way, justifying war?

That's a question my pacifist, peace activist, strongly anti-war friends might ask me. I don't want to offend them.

On the other hand, my photos will not offend friends who will see the pictures as patriotic, honoring those who served our country. These friends might actually be offended by my hesitation to publish patriotic pictures.

Personally, I'm becoming more of a pacifist, more disturbed that our country - and the world - spends so much on the military and so little on understanding aggression and seeking peace. At the same time, I feel a sense of honor and gratitude toward those who served in the military.

These are contradictory feelings in me. I'm conflicted. However, I'm still publishing the pictures because they are an interesting visual record of an event. That's the photo-journalist part of me. I like to tell stories with photos.

Perhaps someday I'll post a story on peace activists ... and risk offending my patriotic friends.

To see more photos of the Memorial Day event and the cemetery, click here. The cemetery was the Minneapolis Pioneer and Soldiers Memorial Cemetery, Cedar Avenue and Lake Street.

To read about the cemetery's interesting history, click here.

Can someone buy a cemetery, and then turn around and use it for a ballpark, or a factory, or an office building?

In our time, that sounds outrageous. Almost 100 years ago, people didn't like the idea either. Someone, though, was actually buying back the deeds to cemetery lots already in use, thereby making progress toward owning it. Around 7,000 bodies had been dug up and moved to other cemeteries. But the public outrage was so strong that in 1927 Minneapolis stepped in and bought the whole cemetery.

It's still a cemetery: the Minneapolis Pioneers and Soldiers Memorial Cemetery, commonly called Layman's Cemetery, at the corner of Cedar Avenue and Lake St.

In the early 1900s, during the "buy back period," the cemetery was in poor repair. Over many decades, though, citizens groups have fixed it up. In 2002 it was placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Some cemeteries are very pretty. Layman's Cemetery's beauty is "subtle." It has plenty of interesting history though. What I know of it's history came from the Hennepin History magazine, Summer 2003. Here are a few things of interest.

Ordinary people are buried here, not the rich and famous. That probably explains why there are few large or elaborate gravestones or monuments.

It is estimated that 27,000 people were buried here between 1853 and 1919. Since then, only a few have - those who can prove they have relatives already there.

The majority of those buried in the cemetery died of communicable diseases such as tuberculosis, typhoid fever, or pneumonia. Children, who make up half of those in the cemetery, often died of cholera, diphtheria, pneumonia and enterocolitis. 

The Hennepin History publication tells heartbreaking stories, tales of notorious characters, and plenty of good history.

I visited the cemetery on Memorial Day, May 28, 2012 - the 144th Memorial Day observance held there. For photos of my visit, click here. 

I'm have mixed feelings about publishing the Memorial Day photos on the web. To see why, click here to read the blog.

The human brain has billions of interconnected thoughts. Thinking one thought can set off a chain reaction of thoughts. My chain was started by photographing a deer. I went from deer to cars to evolution to God.

At Fort Snelling State Park, I startled a deer. At first the deer held its ground, trying to make a decision. At 50 feet, he decided to move into the woods.

This made me wonder about how unprepared deer are to deal with cars, especially at night. Cars with bright blinding lights didn't exist while deer were evolving. So deer lack "car-sense."

Cars didn't exist during human evolution. Do humans lack "car-sense?" We're adaptable creatures, with flexible brains. We invented cars and are pretty good at using them. But is it possible there is some aspect of cars we are not good at? Are there consequences of technology that evolution did not prepare us for? For example, our wonderful multi-tasking brains take us away from paying attention to driving.

The next thought in the evolution-chain came later in the day while reading about aid to Haiti after the 2010 devastating earthquake (where thousands were killed). My thoughts on human evolution and "car-sense" were replaced by evolution and "God-sense." Some Haitians who received aid, such as a new house, thanked God for intervening and helping them. My thought was "non-sense." Please God, if you are going to intervene, do it before all those deaths. 

People's thoughts about God are varied and controversial. Thoughts range from knowing exactly what God thinks to knowing definitely that God doesn't exist. I've got my opinions and questions. I believe in human evolution and wonder where, in those millions of years, "God-sense" entered the picture. It's fascinating to study the relationship between religious diversity, evolution and brain science.

Deer evolved with a "car-sense" blind spot. No doubt we humans evolved with blind spots for living in a modern world. I suspect that one of them is believing we know what God is like.

Here's the photo of the deer that started this chain of thoughts.

NOTE:  THIS BLOG IS BY GUEST WRITER, SILVIA ROSE ZUMACH, AGE EIGHT MONTHS

My favorite eating utensil is a spoon ... although I have to admit my experience with the others - forks and knives - is limited to just a few seconds. I've picked the others up, brought them to my mouth, but then they quickly disappear. I wonder what that's all about.

I look around and see others using those long and pointy utensils. They look like fun. But at least I have my spoon ... and it satisfies me. I like the soothing sensation against those irritating, hard, pointy things I feel in my mouth. Maybe I'm growing my own internal utensils. Mom says, "Just you wait, Silvie. They're coming."

Mind you, I'm not complaining about spoons. They say "Don't bite the utensils that feed you." The spoon that feeds me is actually a smaller, more plasticky feeling thing. What Mom and Dad call cereal is pretty good. When they squirt colored stuff from a tube on top the cereal, I get what they call a "new taste sensation." I've heard the squirty stuff called prunes, broccoli, and other words new to me. This stuff makes the muscles on my face move in strange, wiggly ways, my tongue moves in and out, and my eyes feel squinty. Do I like these sensations? The jury is still out. 

Though, when I'm being fed, I do like the way everyone at the table smiles and laughs and says my name ... although I don't understand much else of what they are saying. A string of words that I've heard repeated, perhaps dozens of times when my face strangely squiggles, is "Silvia, vegetables are good for you." Whatever! Are those french fries that Dad's eating vegetables?

This is my Auntie Elizabeth. She says that in a few years I'll be able to eat anything I want off that piece of paper she has in her hand. The food pictures are pretty, but will I like paper?

Crossing the bridge, I looked to the west. The sunset was gorgeous! Adrenalin rushing, my heart speeding up, "I want that picture."

Braking, I detoured into a parking lot and walked to the center of the bridge. Aiming through the chain-link fence, I shot. Once.

Up popped the message:  Memory Card Full. I was now out of film. And I had no spare.

If I were a paid professional, paid to get the picture, this scenario would give me nightmares.

The one picture I was able to take, though, captured a good moment. If I had had more film, more memory, I could have preserved more stages of this sunset's life.

"Life of a sunset." I've never thought of that phrase before. I like it. Sunsets, like people, go through stages - be born, grow up, and die.

If sunsets had names, this one would be Out-of-memory Sunset. You and I would be the only people on the planet who knew what it meant.

PS:  A Google search of the phrase "life of a sunset" turned up 3,520,000 hits. And here I thought I was being original.

Sometimes taking photos involves catching heck. I could avoid it ... but usually don't.

Heck in this case is relatively mild, never reaching the level of catching hell. Three people receive immediate pleasure from the heck-generating activity. And others will eventually find pleasure.

The dilemma is this:  "How rough should I let the grand kids play? Do I try to keep them clean, or do I let them play, well, rough?" 

They like to play rough, and I like good photo opportunities. I usually catch my photos, and then catch heck from Omi (Phyllis) when I bring the kids home a little "dusty."

The girls immediately go into the tub, which they enjoy. And once they're clean, Phyllis enjoys the photos from the dusty outing.

The girls parents, Elizabeth and Zach, almost never give me heck. They just shake their heads ... and enjoy their kids' pictures, especially if Omi also washes the girls' clothes before returning the girls home.

This is a sunset from the Lake Street Bridge. It's a pretty sky and contrasts nicely with the bridge silhouette.

The photo didn't start out this way. The sky was fine but the bridge was too dark. See photo two ... the original.

With photo editing software, I kept the sky bright but lightened the dark bridge. Lightening up the darkness.

Street lights would have added interest to the picture. The lights weren't on yet ... so in the final photo I turned them on.

We're told to stop and smell the roses. To slow down. To take pleasure. To see.

Can you do that vertically? Look up. Look down.

Vertical roses.

The software that writes this blog couldn't see a large vertical photo all at once. So the "rose" - the Minneapolis skyline - was cut into three.

If your mouse has a wheel, roll it.

In the spring leaves series, this is take 5.

It's Mississippi River water - starting just above the Ford Dam, Minneapolis/St Paul - that I'm following. I'm capturing spring leaves.

Photo one is the Ford Bridge. I took 23 photos of this view, trying to capture a bicycle rider in a "just right" position. This was shot six of the series. 23 used to be a roll of real film. Ya' gotta' love digital!

Photo two is of "Ira's Island," taken from Ford Bridge. I informally named the island, just below the Ford Dam, for a fisheries-professor/friend who used to do research by the island. The study was about the effect of human-made hormones on the biology of fish. If we have a flood, it messes us the research. If we have a drought, we no longer have an island; there is a land-bridge to Lock and Dam #1. Someday I hope to walk on the island, just to say I've been there, enjoying the beach like the children on the photo ... and to take some dam close-up photos.

Photo three is from the Dam overlook by the former Ford plant. You can see fishermen in their blue and green boats, trying to catch the fish that my friend Ira used to study.

Photo four shows where Minnehaha Creek joins the Mississippi. The last bridge on Minnehaha Creek can be seen in the upper center section of the photo.

The fifth photo is of Hidden Falls Park, taken from on top a bluff downstream - one of the few places with an open, high view of the river. The beach, with it's exposed and knurled tree roots, is a favorite of my grandchildren - climbing roots, finding shells and discovering "sea glass."

The final photo is of Pike Island in Fort Snelling State Park, and near the Mendota Bridge. I'm standing at the Hwy 5/River Road overlook. Someday the trees may be tall enough to block the view of the Mendota Bridge. It's a pretty bridge. There are few places where you can get an overall perspective.

I've discovered an island - Quarry Island. That's exciting! A semi-wild space in the middle of the city, a place I've not noticed before. That's exciting!

It's an historic rock quarry, long abandoned, and now part of Fort Snelling State Park.

On the first photo you can see the island near the top - a forested hillock poking out of Gun Club Lake. There is a road/hiking trail/causeway out to the middle of the island, and from there a few simple paths to explore.

The first photo is from an overlook along Highway 13, between the Mendota and Highway 494 bridges. It's part of the Big Rivers Regional Trail.

On the photos, notice the fresh spring leaves. This post is part of my capturing spring series - take 3.

These photos are another try at capturing the budding of spring. The images are ...

1) Ft Snelling State Park, Pike Island and Mendota Bridges, with water-drops added

2) Minnehaha Falls, Minneapolis

3) Trail to Ft Snelling State Park

Heavily overcast skies make capturing color difficult. Contrast was added to the photos to make fresh leaves stand out. 

Spring is here again, and I'm afraid. Each spring I'm afraid.

But, you know, it's not just spring. I'm afraid at the start of each season. All four seasons.

To be honest, I'm also afraid at the end of each season. 

Why? What am I afraid of?

Of missing some pictures. I want to capture the start of each new season, to take photos that clearly say "This is the start of (insert a season).

As each season ends, I'd like photos that clearly say "This is the end of (insert a season).

Why the fear? Why the urge?

Beats me!

Aahhh, spring!

These photos are from Ford Bridge.

The tipping point is "the moment of critical mass."

In simple words, the tipping point is when something gets so "heavy" that it tips over.

Physicists can calculate this with precision. Sociologists, studying social trends, cannot.

The question I have regarding the last photo below is, "Can one person be the tipping point?"

PS:  beavers are not physicists.

The photos were taken along the Mississippi River, Minneapolis, between the Lake Street and Franklin Avenue bridges.

Some people are so passionate that they hurt others.

Some people are so certain of the truth - so passionate - that they hurt others.

When I read news stories where passionate people hurt others I almost want to hurt those passionate people. I certainly want to tap them on the side of the head and encourage them to wake up.

Here's an example of such a news story.

******  From BBC News, March 19, 2012

Police are investigating the shootings of four people at a Jewish School in Toulouse, France. A teacher and three children were shot dead at the Ozar Hatorah school, and a teenage boy was seriously injured. The fourth person killed was a seven-year-old girl, daughter of the head teacher. She died in her father's arms.

Investigations are pursuing two principal lines of inquiry: an Islamist motive or the far right.

***********

Subjects we are passionate about, subjects we are certain about, are a product of our genes, our culture, and our thinking. The biggest influence, we humans tend to think, is our thinking. It feels obvious to us that we analyze evidence and come to the correct conclusion. 

This feeling, though, can be wrong, wrong-headed, and dangerous.

Scientific evidence is growing that our genes and our culture are major influences on our conclusions. Most of the thinking we do is unconscious. That our conclusions are based mainly on conscious thinking is an illusion.

My hope is that by becoming aware of this illusion there will be more peace. If we learn that the feeling of certainty is a "flaw" in the way our minds work, then we can learn better ways of dealing with our thoughts. We can learn non-violent ways of dealing with our violent thoughts.

PS:  politicians, I'm certain, perpetuate the illusion that conclusions are based on thinking.

PS2:  Psychologist and Nobel Prize winner in economics Daniel Kahneman wrote an article about the "illusion of validity."   http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/23/magazine/dont-blink-the-hazards-of-confidence.html?pagewanted=all

The following picture has nothing to do with this blog's subject. I just happen to like the lines and color. It's a muskrat swimming in a lake at sunset, with a swirl-effect applied to the image.

I'm not hip enough to ever say, "This town rocks."

So I play with words and say, "This town's rocks."

You know what I mean:  the stones found in this town.

Stone outcroppings. Rock outcroppings. That's what caught my photographer's eye.

Oronoco, population 1300, is just north of Rochester, Minnesota. The Zumbro River runs through town, cutting through this town's rocks.

The river powered a sawmill and gristmill years ago, and the town thrived. Now the mills are gone, the river doesn't run as fast, and the town is a "shadow." Even Shady Lake, at the edge of town, dried up. But they're planning to bring the water back, and planning to bring  the town back.

Whatever, the rocks will be there - this town's rocks.

This town's website:  http://www.oronoco.com/

Lots of things in cities aren't pretty ... but they're functional. Construction equipment and power poles, for example.

Combine these human-made objects with nature - water and sky, for example - and the resulting photos can be artsy interesting.

The location for the photos below is near St Paul's Lowertown Landing, along Warner Road.

Soon trees will have leaves. Many people think trees are prettier this way. In Minnesota we have pretty leaves for half the year. Then what?

One solution for me is to try to find prettiness in trees all year round. 

Spring has new sounds ... and last year's color.

A spring sound I like best is the melody of the red-wing blackbird in a swamp. Perhaps the song is about territory, or mating.

Or maybe it's just a joyful, "Gee, it's great to be here again."

That's what I think.

A color I like best in spring is last year's gold in a swamp - last year's rushes, reeds and weeds, before last year's seeds turn to this year's greens.

"Gee, it's great to be here again."

That's what I think.

A recent scientific study found that photos with people in them are more "interesting" than those without. I want my photos to be interesting, so I've been thinking, "Where is the human element in my pictures?"

In the first photo below, from the historic flour mill district in Minneapolis, there is a person - a runner - that gives a human touch to this urban architecture image.

In the last photo, the sign "Annie's Parlour" is a bit of a human touch.

The middle photo is about nature, color, lines and patterns. Where is the human touch? It's in the shared brain architecture we humans have for appreciating nature, color, lines and patterns.

Bars and restaurants are pretty creative in their exterior and interior designs. Here are some samples from the "West Bank" (Cedar-Riverside) neighborhood.

On my bicycle, I passed the Dairy Queen (and stopped), cruised through downtown Minneapolis, angled across the Stone Arch Bridge, cut through the U of M campus, and then peddled in the dark along the Mississippi River to home. It wasn't my intention to get home after dark ... especially since last night I also got home "late."

My outings are always for exercise for the muscles and for the eyes. The eye exercise comes from working the mind's eye, the photographer's eye. Why did a scene catch my eye? How can I capture that in a picture? Look again. Work the mind's eye harder to see more. This eye exercise is an addiction. But, cast in a good light, it's like a painter who has to paint. The artist is obsessed. So I'm not addicted. I'm obsessed.

I detoured onto the Franklin Ave Bridge to see why there were two fire trucks and eight police cars in the middle. It was a jumper, a suicide. Sad. I got the story from a woman who saw him jump. I thought I should say something to her ... but didn't know what. This morning I thought perhaps I could have said, "Are you okay?"

Peddling away, I surprised myself by noting that I didn't even think of taking photos. As an addicted obsessed photographer who thought his career could have been photo journalism, I wondered if I flunked a test.

After passing the next bridge, Lake Street, I called 911 and told them they had a chance to see the body float by under the bridge. The bright bridge lights were reflecting on and lighting up the river. If a large object floated by on the surface you might be able to see it. When I got home, Phyllis, after feeling sad, wondered whether bodies float or sink. That's a good question for a Google search or for Zach, our goina'-be-police-officer son-in-law.

Here are some photos from the ride.

There's the old saying:  you can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy. Well, something like that applies to beavers. You can take the beavers out of the country, but you can't take the beavers out of the river.

In the heart of the city you still find that country-critter - the beaver - doing their country thing. The photos in this blog were taken just up-river from downtown St Paul. The bridge shown is the High Bridge (Smith Ave Bridge).

The audacity and persistence of beavers is displayed in the large trees they choose to gnaw on. Sometimes they are successful in toppling them, and sometimes not ... or at least, not yet. Are the trees abandoned, or just a work-in-progress?

Beavers can be amazingly effective in clear-cutting small trees and brush in an area.

The photos were taken near dusk on an overcast day. 

Turn this way to look up the Mississippi. Turn that way to look down the Mississippi.

And that's what I did. I took pairs of photos looking up and down the river, standing in about the same place. The result, I think, gives a perspective on the diversity of the riverfront.

The setting is St Paul, just up-river from down-town. The area is known as Upper Landing, a former industrial area, now residential and a river walk.

These photos don't belong to a category. They were shot one after the other in St Paul's artsy Lowertown district.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, are two pictures worth 2,000? Three worth 3,000? Four worth ... etc.? Probably not! But it's common for me to shoot several-thousand-words-worth of a subject. These "words" are from downtown St Paul, at the north edge of Lowertown.

The Mississippi River, flowing beside the city centers of St Paul and Minneapolis, offers tons of photo opportunities. Shooting them at dusk is one of my favorite outings.

Here are some samples from St Paul. Shots were made from the Wabasha Ave Bridge.

There are so many pretty sunsets. Here's one ... taken from the Raspberry Island Bridge by downtown St Paul.

Wandering along rivers, creeks and wetlands, I often come upon beaver activity. Beavers sometimes tackle over-size projects.

I'll add more busy-beaver photos as I run across them in my photo collection. But right now I'm too busy to look.

Wetland wildlife refugees are pretty, and they can also be pretty messy - tangled, bent, broken, dense, sparse, muddy, etc.

Taking photos of the pretty side of wetlands is "easy." Finding good photos in the mess is more of a challenge.

As dusk deepens, the color blue deepens. Digital cameras exaggerate these deep dusk blues, making them stronger, more dominant than seen with your eyes. Sometimes I use editing software to tone down the blues. Sometimes those deep blues are just right.

20 minutes on the beach. That's what I had before racing off to the airport on Maui, Hawaii for the flight home. These photos are from those brief moments.

20 minutes doesn't sound very satisfying. But snapping a few last pictures at the end of the vacation was. It's like a painter adding a few finishing brush strokes on a canvas.

A morning snow shower fell quickly on trees ... but also fell quickly off. A little remained on an evergreen tree. The setting is the bluff above the Mississippi River, near the Lake St/Marshall Ave bridge.

Photos taken during the recent shower of mixed snow and rain "begged" to be even wetter.  So, using computer software, I added rain drops to the images.

The snow that night (2-28-12) was full of water and hard to shovel the next morning. The bad disks in my lower back sent the message:  "Use good body mechanics when lifting that stuff or we're going out."

Our neighbor to the west always shovels first. (In comparison, I feel like a slacker.) Shovel in one hand, and camera in the other, what caught my eye that morning were patterns in the snow. On the sidewalk, early morning walkers left bold footprints. On the road, cars left squishy tracks.

Fresh tracks one snowy morning showed the path the paperboy (i.e., the paper delivery person) took - from car on the street, to my house, to the neighbors house. It's a small thing, but I liked tracking the tracks.

From old movies, the stereotype image of newspaper delivery is a boy on a bike, riding on the sidewalk, throwing the paper to the front stoop. Now days, the paper "boy" drives a car, stops at a convenient place on the road, walks within throwing distance, throws ... with the paper sometimes landing on the front stoop.

This morning it didn't.

Allen

We do day care with granddaughter Silvia on Thursdays. Silvia doesn't yet understand the full potential of a pacifier-nook. It's fun to watch her explore using it.

Dusk is a favorite time of day for me. As daylight fades and city lights come on,  there is sort of a magical feeling. I try to capture this in photos.

One of the fascinating things about Hawaii is the clouds. The mountains, sea and winds create lots of clouds of many shapes. Certain locations on the islands have more clouds. The island of Maui, our favorite, is basically two large mountains with a valley in between. This geography makes great clouds and great viewing.

THOUGHTS ON PASSION

Out of passion for art, photographers push the shutter.

Out of passion for power, leaders push (around) people ... who shudder.

I support:  1) more brain research on passion and power, and 2) more spending on peace, less on war.

Allen