Musings

Book Interview and Author Scams

/ mariezhuikov / 10 Comments
I love my book cover. Doesn’t it look like it’s really on fire?

I made it onto the local ABC channel affiliate’s lifestyle show recently to promo my poetry collection, High Fire Danger. The hostess, Baihly, does a great job of making interviewees feel comfortable in what can be a nerve-wracking, live-interview situation. You can watch the story here.

This year, I received many bogus author promotional opportunities that I’d like to warn you about. Most involve book clubs. The first was an email I received from someone purporting to lead a silent book club in New York City. They said my book was getting some “buzz” among their members and they’d like me to be a featured author for the group.

Of course, this surprised and delighted me. I have a couple of friends in NYC, so it’s possible that one of my books could have found its way around the city. I looked up the group online and found a Meetup page for them, so it seemed legit. I replied, saying I was interested and asked for more information. I didn’t hear back, so after a week, I pinged them again. I received an automated message that the email address no longer existed. That made me figure it was a scam, so I put it out of my mind.

A few days later, I received another message from them from a slightly different email address. They apologized for the delay in response and offered a revised date for my book’s promotion. I replied, just to see what would happen. I soon received a response that said I wouldn’t actually need to appear in person. They would set up a display for my book, and that would cost $216.

This spurred me to investigate them further. I input the search terms, “New York City Silent Book Club author scam,” and was led to this website, which solidified my hunch that it was a scam. So, authors, don’t fall for this one!

The second “opportunity” took the form of book club publicists who reached out to me separately about four of my books. They praised the books extensively (and excessively!) and offered to bring them to the attention of thousands of book groups. The emails come from gmail addresses. Although the praise was ego-affirming, I could tell that it was based solely on the books’ descriptions. The “publicists” had obviously not read the books. Their email text was probably AI-generated.

Here’s an example for my poetry book:

High Fire Danger is an exquisite collection that embodies how love and nature mirror one another, both capable of tenderness and destruction, both powerful enough to transform us entirely. From the first page, it’s clear that this is not merely a collection of poems but a lifetime’s reflection distilled into verse that burns with emotional clarity and elemental force.

The range of your imagery is breathtaking. You take readers from the cool expanse of Minnesota’s lakes to the windswept coasts of Scotland, and even beyond the bounds of Earth itself, yet the emotional truth in each poem keeps us grounded. This interplay between vast landscapes and intimate feelings gives your work both a cosmic and deeply personal resonance.

I was particularly moved by how humor and humility are woven into the meditations on love. There’s an unflinching honesty of voice, one that acknowledges the beauty and peril of connection, whether with another person or with the natural world. The poems don’t shy away from the scorch marks left by passion or the quiet ache of solitude, but instead, turn those experiences into sources of illumination.

The title High Fire Danger feels perfectly chosen. It speaks to the tension running through the collection, the balance between awe and fear, creation and destruction, desire and loss. Each poem feels like a spark that could either warm the heart or set it aflame. This duality is what gives your writing such emotional weight and timeless appeal.

What also stands out is your mastery of accessibility. Despite the scope of the themes, every poem feels intimate and inviting, like a conversation held beside a campfire or on a shoreline at dusk. The poems make the profound feel personal, and the personal feel universal.

High Fire Danger will resonate deeply with readers who are drawn to works that celebrate the natural world while exploring the human heart with honesty and lyrical grace. It’s a rare collection that appeals to both poetry lovers and those new to the genre, offering moments of reflection, passion, and healing in equal measure.

There were actually a few descriptive lines in this that I liked. If you watch my television interview, I stole the one about the poems feeling like “a conversation held beside a campfire or on a shoreline at dusk.”

Ha! The scammers wanted to use me, but I ended up using them! A fellow author said he replied to one of these emails just to see how much money they wanted, and it was several hundred dollars. I’m sure they’d just take the money and run.

Beware out there, authors. It’s treacherous.

Old Fish in Lake Superior Sparks Controversy

/ mariezhuikov / 19 Comments
The oldest lake trout yet discovered in Lake Superior, also known as “Mary Catherine.” Image courtesy of the Michigan DNR.

The Michigan Department of Natural Resources (DNR) published a story a few days ago that made many people upset. As someone who has her feet in both natural resources management and public relations/science communication it offers an interesting case study. The DNR was trying to highlight an interesting fact about how fish can reach old ages, but some mistakes got in the way of this message.

The ear bone of one fish they caught in a special survey done in 2023 to study the different forms of lake trout and their reproductive biology was recently analyzed and the DNR discovered that the fish was as old as I am! (62 years) They caught the lake trout on a reef in the southeastern part of Lake Superior (40 miles north of Grand Marais, Michigan) and this lake trout is the oldest one currently on record.

The ear bones of fish show annual rings much like a tree, and that’s how the DNR can tell the age of the fish. It’s the only way they can do this, and they have to kill the fish to extract the ear bone, also called an otolith

Mary Catherine’s otolith shows 62 years of growth. Michigan DNR image.

One mistake the technicians made was naming the fish. They picked the era-specific moniker of Mary Catherine because Mary was one of the most common names in 1961 when the fish was hatched. People who heard news reports were excited that such an old fish was found, and that it even had a name, only to be crushed when they learned later that the fish was killed in the process of discovering its age.

One Facebook commenter said, “Hey we just killed Mary Catherine, but the upside is we now know that she was 62 years young, much like many grandmothers and recently retirees. There’s one less on Social Security now, and that should help keep it solvent.”

Another said, “Sad that they killed a fish who is probably older than the combined ages of some of the researchers, but it is interesting information.” Another commented that the fish might have lived another 20 years if not sacrificed for science.

You might think that such an old fish would be very large, but she wasn’t. Mary Catherine weighed 2.1 kilograms (4.62 pounds) and was 627 millimeters (24.7 inches) long. That’s because Lake Superior doesn’t have much food in it and animals grow slowly. The typical lifespan for a lake trout is 25-30 years.

The story gained wide media coverage, so it was successful that way, but even some of the reporters were dismayed that Mary Catherine was a goner. People already love to hate the DNR, and this well-intentioned science story just gave them another reason.

I’d say the main lesson is not to name your research subjects in newsworthy stories, especially if they’re dead.

The researchers were mum about whether they were inspired by the Saturday Night Live character, Mary Katherine Gallagher.

Close Calls in Boulder, CO

/ mariezhuikov / 15 Comments
The Flatiron Mountains as seen from Chautauqua Park in Boulder.

When Russ and I were Scamping in Colorado last month, we visited Boulder with my son and his friends.  One site was a local park that’s home to the Flatiron Mountains, which are a series of five impressive flat-sided peaks. The destination is popular with hikers and climbers.

I almost went to college there at the University of Colorado in Boulder, so that was one reason for our visit. Back then (and maybe even now) its biology program had a good reputation, which attracted me. I was even assigned a roommate. But at the last moment, I decided to attend the University of Minnesota instead for financial reasons. The university wasn’t far from the park we visited, and as we drove past, it was fun to ponder how my life might have been different if I’d stuck with my first choice of college.

Anyway, back to Chautauqua Park. We hiked 1-1/2 miles UP and DOWN the base of the Flatirons. The spring flowers were out, which added cheerful color to our high-altitude breathlessness. My son’s friend went to college in Boulder and had climbed the mountains and he regaled us with tales of his adventures.

Afterward, we ate lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant. As our meal wrapped up, we discussed the agenda for the rest of our day. Originally, we’d planned to shop at the Pearl Street Mall in downtown Boulder, but nature won out when we decided we didn’t have enough time and would rather stop at Golden Gate Canyon State Park for a short hike. As we rose from the table to leave, emergency vehicles raced down the road. We wondered what was going on, but didn’t give it much thought until the next day when we learned about the Pearl Street Mall hate-crime attack.

Every Sunday since the Hamas-led attack on Israel in the fall of 2023, pro-Israel people have walked at 1 p.m. through the mall toward the courthouse to remind people of the hostages taken. Sometimes they sing the Israeli national anthem. It’s a peaceful demonstration.

On the day of our visit, a man yelled “Free Palestine” and threw a Molotov cocktail into the crowd of demonstrators. You can read national news accounts for a description of what happened next. In the end, eight people were badly burned and four had to be airlifted to Denver. One later died. The suspect (a recent transplant from Egypt) was quickly arrested and now faces a possible death penalty.

The view from Panorama Point, Golden Gate Canyon State Park, CO.

Blissfully unaware of these circumstances, and as more emergency vehicles passed us going the other direction toward downtown, we drove to Golden Gate Canyon State Park on our way back to Denver.  The park was recommended for hiking by my cousin who lives in Golden. We stopped at Panorama Point and enjoyed watching a dramatic thunderstorm roll past. As the storm turned toward us, we parted ways.

The next day when we learned about the Pearl Street Mall attack, we felt for the injured people, but also felt lucky that we had changed our minds about a mall visit and didn’t end up as collateral damage. The restaurant where we had lunch was only 10 blocks away from it.

What if I had gone to Boulder for college? What if we had eaten our lunch faster and decided to visit the Pearl Street Mall? I guess we’ll never know answers to the questions raised by these two close calls.

I dedicate this post and these images to the victims of the Pearl Street Mall attack.

Panorama Point, Golden Gate Canyon State Park

Changing my Morning Routine

/ mariezhuikov / 19 Comments
My last (and empty) box of dark cocoa.

I discovered recently that conditions half a world away have disrupted my morning routine. Instead of drinking coffee like many of you out in the blogosphere do, I drink cocoa. I make it myself because most of the commercial brands have ingredients I can’t tolerate. I use dark cocoa, pure cane sugar, milk, some decaf coffee crystals for extra flavor, plus cinnamon and nutmeg for zip. I drink it hot in winter and iced in summer.

However, for the past few months, I haven’t been able to find dark cocoa on the grocery shelves anywhere in my town. I can only find regular cocoa, but not much of that, either. I finally turned to the internet to discover why.

I learned there’s a global cocoa shortage that’s affecting the entire chocolate industry. I was aware there was a chocolate shortage, but I never thought of that affecting cocoa, for some strange reason. Cacao crops in Ghana and the Ivory Coast of Africa (which produces 60% of the world’s cocoa) are being destroyed by weather and an insect-borne disease with the worrisome name of Cacao Swollen Shoot Virus Disease (CCSVD). This and other factors are causing shortages of cocoa and chocolate, increases in prices, and supply chain issues. According to one blog, it’s even encouraged a cocoa smuggling business.

I began drinking dark cocoa because I thought it was “healthier” – containing more antioxidants than regular cocoa, just like dark chocolate contains more antioxidants than regular chocolate. Later, I discovered this is not true! Regular Hershey’s cocoa actually contains more antioxidants. But I kept drinking dark cocoa for the taste.

I guess that for now, I’m forced to drink regular cocoa and be “healthier.” I’m just glad I can find that on the shelves.

Here’s what AI suggests for finding Hershey’s dark cocoa if you just can’t live without it:

  • Check online retailers: While some stores may be out of stock, it might be available on websites like Amazon.
  • Consider other brands: If you can’t find Hershey’s, you might consider other brands of cocoa powder.
  • Use product locators: Some retailers may have online tools to help you find stores that have the product in stock. 

World on Fire

/ mariezhuikov / 21 Comments
Results of the fire near our cabin.

What is it about possessing things? Why do we feel the need to own what we love? And why do we become such jerks when we do? We’ve all been there. You want something, you possess it  –  and by possessing it, you lose it. – Chris Stevens (Chris-in-the-Morning), “Northern Exposure” TV series

When we returned home from Grand Cayman, northern Minnesota was on fire. Three wildfires from natural causes were burning, adding to the smoke from Canadian fires. During our vacation, the smoke blanketed Duluth, causing air quality warnings. Thankfully, we missed that, but once we were home evacuation warnings sounded for areas near our cabin.

What could we do against a wildfire if it chose to overrun our cabin? We live an hour away and weren’t sure how worried we should be. One of my relatives called me and suggested we stand outside our cabin with garden hoses. Luckily, a cabin neighbor was fighting the fire and was able to give us a clue about the conditions. He thought we’d be okay. But out of an abundance of caution, a few days later when the fire had crept within two miles of our cabin, we decided to evacuate some belongings “just in case.”

Deciding what to evacuate was an interesting exercise. It wasn’t easy, but we were thankful that we weren’t like many people who only had minutes to evacuate. Eventually, we decided on bringing our Scamp trailer camper home, which was stored in our cabin garage. We needed it in the next few weeks for a trip to Colorado, and it would have been very inconvenient to have it burned to a crisp!

My photos were the other things we saved. We decorated the cabin with many canvases and metallic prints of images that you’ve probably seen in past blog posts. I have a photo show coming up in July, and it would have been a bummer to have those all burned up. Not to mention, expensive to replace. (To see my online photo collection, visit my website.) We decided to leave the furniture until a more imminent threat arose. Some of our good friends volunteered the use of their truck if we needed it and we felt lucky to have such support.

I think this used to be a mobile home, located near where the fire began.

Thankfully, we didn’t need their help. Due to the efforts of state and local fire folks, the blaze was stopped soon after we evacuated our belongings. I’m glad our cabin survived and I’m glad no lives were lost in the blaze. Our firefighter friend told us the fire began due to a spontaneous combustion of a hay bale on a farm.

Once it was over, we drove down the road that flanked the fire. Several trailer homes were lost and possibly one “regular” home, plus many trees. The damage was sobering, and I was glad that we took the measures that we did. However, we would have been much more nervous if the fire had threatened our primary home.

Besides people and pets, what would you save if a fire came for your home? It’s something to consider.

Three Neighborhood Bear Fiascos

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Photo by Tomu00e1u0161 Malu00edk on Pexels.com

My home on the shores of Lake Superior in Duluth, Minnesota, lies next to a large and wild city park. We’re often blessed by visits from local wildlife. While I was on a walk earlier this week, I learned a new bear story from one of my neighbors, and it reminded me of two other stories about neighborhood bears.

The story my neighbor told me happened years ago at the house next to mine. The incident involved honey, a black bear, and guns. Warning: things do not end well for the bear.

My neighbor said that the event even got written up in the newspaper, so when I returned home, I began a search. I found it! The headline from the Sept. 25, 1958, Duluth News Tribune reads: “Honey-Loving Bear Killed. Elaborate Trap Ends Bee Hive [sic] Raids.”

Ole Martinson used to live in the house next door. He was a beekeeper and had several hives. Oak trees also grace the yard, and bears are drawn to the acorns. That fall, a 250-pound bear was bulking up for winter and raided the hives. Martinson complained to his neighbors, who decided to help him with his plight. The article says that the residents, “had fired about 15 shots at the bear in three days, but never were successful in hitting the animal.”

Can you image people discharging firearms within city limits like that now? (Currently in Minnesota, it’s illegal to discharge a firearm within 500 feet of a dwelling or occupied building unless you have written permission from the owner or occupant.)

After the unsuccessful hunt, a policeman who lived at the end of the road (Royce Hanna), and another neighbor concocted a plan with Martinson. They strung a line of light bulbs from a garage to a field and a lookout was posted to whistle when the bear approached in the night. The whistle was the signal for the lights to be switched on.

According to my neighbor, who witnessed the event, the first night they tried this scheme, the lookout mistook moonlight glinting off the lightbulbs for the bear’s eyes and Hanna shot out a lightbulb instead of a bear. (Apparently, they didn’t turn the lights on before Hanna shot!)

The second night, the bear walked into the trap “with 35 to 40 spectators hidden nearby. . . Someone whistled at the right time, the lights flashed on and Hanna opened fire. The policeman’s first shot wounded the bear. His second killed the animal.”

My neighbor told me that Hanna almost lost his job because he had called in sick that day and then his boss read about it in the newspaper. I guess the lesson is, don’t give interviews to newspaper reporters when you’re supposed to be sick! He also said that someone else in the neighborhood had skinned the bear and kept the hide.

The second story happened last fall. The people who now live in Martinson’s house had multiple bear raids on their garbage can, which they unwisely left outside all the time. I could tell the culprit was a bear by the scat left behind. Have you ever seen bear scat? It can look like a pile of chocolate soft serve ice cream in a pile as large as a dinner plate, depending on the size of the bear.

To deter the animal, they rigged the garbage can lid with straps to hold it down, plus tied the container to a tree in their yard. I just laughed when I saw this. Like a few little straps would deter a huge bear! Here’s a photo of what their container looked like the next morning.

Score one for the bear! After this, my neighbors cleaned out their garage enough that they could fit their garbage and recycling containers in it. I’m not sure why they didn’t do that in the first place. Must be slow learners. Or maybe they thought it was only a racoon.

Anyway, knowing that the house next door has been a bear target for years is sort of fun. At least this time, the bear got away with its life.

The third story happened in my own back yard about fifteen years ago. We were eating breakfast when we noticed the bear. My former husband was so excited, he burst out of the house clutching some doughnuts AND RAN TOWARD THE BEAR. I ran after him, asking what he was doing. “I want to feed the bear!” he said. I must mention that my former husband was from Russia. I guess that’s just what they do.

The bear took one look at this crazy Russian running toward him and promptly turned tail. He climbed a tree in a yard a few houses away. Disappointed, my husband left the doughnuts at the base of the tree for the bear once he climbed down.

I don’t recall if the bear ever ate the doughnuts, but this story was forever cemented in the annals of family history. Remember that time your dad chased a bear?

Iceout

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Iceout is happening.

In the North, we stand on the shore in spring and yearn, with a visceral longing, for a break in the smooth white face of the lakes. All winter, they have been a study of white, defined by the absence of blue.

As my acquaintance, former National Geographic magazine photographer and writer, Jeff Rennicke says so well, winter iceover is like an “annual sensory deprivation experience—the specter of negative space—a long, white poem of silent syllables.”

Now, that silence has been broken. As I stand on the frozen grass of our cabin lakeshore, air bubbles underneath the ice gurgle and emit otherworldly moans like the cries of a mystical animal. Blowing wind shifts the ice and I watch cracks form in the thin nearshore skim.

As Rennicke says, soon the ice will crinkle and clash, ringing like bells. Leads of open water will scroll across the blank white page like exuberant cursive. The lakes will awaken, announcing again the spin of the planets, the truth of the changing seasons.

No, the world hasn’t frozen permanently. Spring is coming once again to the North. And it is written in the iceout.

Switching a Website from GoDaddy to WordPress

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Northern Dreams — my current favorite image on my new photography pages.

Back when my first novel was published (Eye of the Wolf), I created a website using GoDaddy to promote it. That was over 10 years ago. Since then, the company almost tripled their prices and added an additional cost for a site security certificate. Figuring out how to add that certificate to my site was such a pain (Really bored? Read about that saga here) that I decided to quit GoDaddy before I had to do it again the next year. Besides, they were going to eventually do away with the ancient platform my site was built on, so I’d need to redo my website anyway.

Another drawback was that the GoDaddy platform was too old to integrate my WordPress blog into it. For a while, I had an RSS feed for my blog on my website, but that eventually stopped working. The only thing I could do was provide a weblink.

So, I decided the solution was to bring my website to my blog. Yes, this very WordPress blog! My New Year’s project was to figure out how to integrate them. Supposedly, you can just automatically move a GoDaddy site over to WordPress, but that seemed rather complicated. Other than for my photography pages, my site didn’t have a lot of content. I found it easier to just copy and paste the text from GoDaddy to WordPress.

The most difficult part was transferring my domain name (marieZwrites.com) over to WordPress. That took several phone calls to tech support and a few days of patience. (Patience = not my strong suit.) But it worked. Plus, the best thing is that WordPress doesn’t make customers pay extra for their site security certificate. It automatically comes with whatever package you sign up for. Yay!

My content about books was the most important because I had a short story collection coming out in February (The Path of Totality), so I needed a web presence to promote it. I put off working on my photography section until I retired from my day job and had more time.

Well, that time was this past week. I’m proud to unveil my new photography pages! The landing page has links to my nature-themed collections and my artist statement. The subpages are organized in “Water,” “Wood,” “Stone,” and “Sky” categories, The Water one has the most content since I am a watery person. I have at least one show set up for this summer, so I thought I should get my photography web presence out there.

If you see a photo that you like, let me know via my Contact page and we’ll work something out. I can also make my photos into puzzles, which have been very popular, or I can put them on yoga mats, tote bags, shower curtains . . . almost anything.

The site’s only been live for a few days, but I’ve already decided to add two more categories: Lighthouses and Travel. Even if that additional file space ends up costing me more through WordPress, it will still be cheaper than my GoDaddy site was. A win-win all around.

The Red-Haired Mummy

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I received notification about new results recently from one of the DNA-testing services that I use. (Note: it is not the beleaguered 23&Me.) Through this service, I had my maternal (mitochondrial) DNA tested. One report offered is called “Notable Connections.” These are “connections based on direct DNA testing or deduced from testing of relatives and should be considered as fun facts.”

Included in my results were some Swedish and Danish royalty and some poor bronze-age blokes who were dug up in England when modern roads were built. One connection sent shivers through me, however. It was for an Egyptian mummy named Takabuti. Her remains are currently on display at the Ulster Museum in Belfast. We visited that museum this summer! We went there on our first day in Ireland.

I racked my brains trying to remember if we’d seen the mummy. We must have because it’s a major display. But I don’t think we paid her a lot of attention. I mean, I’ve seen King Tut’s mummy, and after that, everything else is small potatoes. I also recall a vague distaste at seeing a dead body on display. However, if I had known I was related to this mummy, you can bet I would’ve taken more notice!

Takabuti. Image courtesy of the Egypt Museum.

According to the DNA site, Takabuti and I shared a common ancestor 6,300 years ago. She died and was mummified about 2,600 years ago in Thebes, which is now known as Luxor. The striking thing about her is that she has red hair. It has lightened to a golden color now, due to light exposure since she’s been on display. DNA testing on the mummy showed that her mother was European – probably from the Canary Islands or Southern Iberia (Spain and Portugal). Red hair is not uncommon in that part of the world. It’s thought to come from the area’s indigenous peoples who were known as the Guanches. They were believed to have originated in North Africa, specifically the Berber people of the mainland African deserts.

Takabuti was the daughter of a priest of Ammon-Ra, the sun good and the major deity in Egypt (like Zeus was to the Greeks). As such, her family would have lived comfortably and enjoyed the benefits of high status. Later, Takabuti was the mistress of a great house, and held high social standing. Although she wasn’t royalty, she was mummified to expensive royal standards.

Tragically, Takabuti’s life was cut short between the ages of twenty and thirty. Recent scientific analysis revealed she met a violent end while running, killed by an axe blow to her upper left shoulder that was likely instantly fatal. She may have been trying to escape an assailant, possibly during a period of conflict – perhaps at the hands of an Assyrian soldier or someone from her own community. A magic poultice was packed into her wound to help it heal in the afterlife.

How did an Egyptian mummy get to Ireland? The DNA site says that following the Napoleonic Wars, during a period of active trade in Egyptian antiquities (known as Egyptomania), Takabuti was purchased in 1834 by Thomas Greg of Ballymenoch House, Holywood, County Down. (Perhaps, because of her red hair, he thought he was bringing her back to her homeland?) She made history as the first mummy to be unwrapped in Ireland, with this significant event taking place on January 27, 1835, at the Belfast Natural History Society’s museum. The unwrapping generated considerable scientific interest, particularly in Belfast, then the commercial center of the Irish linen industry, which took special note of her fine linen wrappings.

The cover of a book about Takabuti shows a reconstruction of her face and the face on her coffin.

We know so much about Takabuti because she was the subject of intense academic study. Her face has been reconstructed. A book has been written about her, and she’s also been the subject of a short story. I haven’t read that story yet, but plan to soon. (It’s in Matters of Life and Death by Irish/Scottish author Bernard MacLaverty. Yet another retirement project!)

I wonder if her unusual red hair contributed to her high status is Egypt. Although I don’t have red hair, my mother had it. But hers came from her Scottish/Irish ancestry. My relationship to the mummy is a fun link to history. You can bet if I ever visit Belfast again, I’ll stop into the Ulster Museum and pay distant, distant cousin Takabuti proper respects.

AI and Winter

/ mariezhuikov / 19 Comments

He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter. — John Burroughs

I’ve been circling artificial intelligence for a while now, like it’s a dangerous wounded animal. When AI results first showed up for my Google searches, they were pretty bad. But I’ve got to admit, the responses to my esoteric search queries (like “Literary quotes about Minnesota winters”) have gotten better lately. I guess the beast is learning.

Some high school students recently asked me if I used AI in my writing. I told them that I don’t, and that I can tell when blog posts are created with AI because the writing is generic. However, I admitted that I have considered using AI to generate ideas.

Today, I took the plunge on the idea front because I didn’t have a good winter quote already in my head. I typed in that search term above about Minnesota winters. This came back: While there might not be a specific literary quote explicitly mentioning “Minnesota winter,” quotes that capture the essence of a harsh, snowy, and solitary winter landscape could be applied to a Minnesota winter experience.

In the spirit of full disclosure, one of the quotes from my search is at the beginning of this post. Maybe AI isn’t so bad? And while I’m disclosing everything right now, I might as well say that my photo editing software uses AI to enhance images. I used it on the images that accompany this post, except for the bottom one. The photography teacher who introduced me to this software said that cameras can’t capture everything our eyes see. The editing software brings the photos closer to that ideal. I admit to loving the subtle changes the software makes to the original image. I’m not going to disclose what that software is here, however. I need to keep some secrets to myself. 😊

But I don’t want this post to be about AI. I want it to be about winter. I took these photos at our cabin, which is on a small lake in northern Minnesota. The sun was setting as Russ and I cooked dinner. As with this summer sunset from a few years ago, I had to neglect cooking duties to run outside and capture the light before it disappeared. Luckily, earlier in the day we’d gone snowshoeing and had packed a path down to the lake through the deep snow. I was able to pop on my Sorrels and jog through the cold to the frozen lakeshore with ease.

As I snapped a few photos, I marveled at the still, white landscape and the way the sun tinged the small ridges of snow collected on the lake a dull orange. My camera couldn’t capture those ridge colors very well, but AI helped bring them out a bit.

Normally, we’d be travelling somewhere beachy and warm this time of year to soak up the sun and Vitamin D. We decided not to do that this winter because I am . . . drumroll . . . retiring this spring. I only have two-and-a-half weeks of workdays left! I have too many projects to wrap up before then for a vacation. We are saving our beachy-warm trip for this May.

It’s been good, so far, to stick out the winter here this year. We’ve ridden the temperature swings, complained with our neighbors about the cold, shoveled roughly a ton of snow off our cabin deck, and gotten out cross-country skiing for the first time since the winter of 2022-23. (The snow conditions were too poor after that.) Besides, if we travelled to where the temperature is eighty degrees, we’d have to worry about sunburning our Minnesota-white skin, and then reacclimatizing once we got off the plane. I have not-so-fond memories of walking to our car in the Minneapolis airport parking lot without winter coats or gloves in minus-ten-below temps, since we left our winter outerwear in the car.

To sum it all up: I’m enjoying winter in Minnesota, and I’ve prodded the AI beast. Maybe it’s friendly?

Our lake and snowshoe path. This photo was not edited using AI. Maybe you can tell that it’s not quite as sharp as the others in this post.