Come walk with me in the peak Autumn beauty of the Northwoods. To say that I love this time of year is an understatement. Most everyone can appreciate the colorful falling leaves---it reveals the 'true self' of a tree when its leaves are no longer producing chlorophyll. Their true colors are revealed, and there is something simple … [Read More...]
Archives for May 2014
Transition Time
Three weeks ago I was searching for a flower of any sort and was happily content with seeing the swelling buds on the trees. Amazing how things can change in three weeks! Spring is at a full gallop now! So many things are changing–the abundant honeysuckle are fully leaved out and will soon show their sweet yellow and pink blossoms, the maple tree has small amber leaves that are starting to throw shade on the green, green grass, and the daffodils are in full lemony bloom.
The ferns, hostas, and lilies of the valley are unrolling to their summer form in shades of green that are so welcome after the white of winter and the brown of early spring.
The wild plum is in all its sweet-smelling, white-petaled glory but has yet to develop its full leaves.
The creeping phlox is brilliant in its short-lived adornment at the mailbox.
The leopard’s bane shines with its large daisy-like flower.
The apple tree blossoms hold the potential of fall’s crisp, juicy crop in their rosebud clusters.
The bleeding heart is opening its distinctive flowers in the shade of the pine trees.
And the candle flame leaves of the pagoda dogwood light up the sky–not fully leaved out, yet far from the dormant state of so many months. It is a time of change.
The transition time marks the month of May. Schools are out or coming to an end for the year. Parents are moving kids out of dorm rooms when it seems like they just moved them in. Summer vacation or summer jobs begin. Graduations denote the end of high school days or college life with excitement and apprehension for the future and what it holds. New jobs transition college students to adult life. Weddings transition couples to married life. Endings, beginnings, change, new growth. Apprehension, curiosity, excitement, beauty. Enjoy the energy and promise of the May transformation!
The Luck of the Buckeye
This deep brown, nut-like seed is from a Buckeye tree. The shiny brown color and lighter tan circle on the seed gives it the appearance of a deer’s eye, thus the name of the tree. We have quite a few seedlings growing on our property, thanks to the squirrels who gather the nuts from a mature tree two blocks up the street. You can see the teeth marks from the little critter on the nut above. Similar to a Horse Chestnut, these nuts are supposed to bring good luck to those who carry them.
The buds of the young Buckeye are large compared to other tree buds, which gives us an inkling of what’s to come.
The bud cover now looks so small compared to what it contained.
Nearly a month has passed since I took a picture of the bud. The leaves are beginning to turn green and look more mature.
And this is the tree up the street that the nut probably came from and that will soon be blooming in showy clusters of flowers. It takes decades for a tree to reach its full potential–from shiny brown seed to flowering, nut-producing mature tree. Amazingly though, in only one month’s time, we can witness the large-budded seedling double in size and produce an array of beautiful compound leaves. It is one of the reasons I believe in miracles!
Love and the Heart-leaved Bergenia
There is something to be said about making it through the winter in Minnesota with green leaves intact. This perennial is rather shocking in its large-leaved greenness when the beds are cleared of their winter coverage of snow and leaves. Many things about Bergenia are surprising–starting with its common name of Pigsqueak, which was taken from the noise produced when two leaves are rubbed together. It also has a large-stalked, showy flower that is our second perennial to bloom in early spring after the demure Pasque flower. The heart-leaved Bergenia has large, leathery leaves and propagates by rhizomes that slowly form clumps. They are relatively pest-free, though the vine weevil will eat the edges of the foliage giving it a notched look as seen in the third picture below. It is happy in most soils in part to full shade and has a beautiful fall color of reddish-bronze. The passage from bud to fully open flower took about two weeks this year with cool temps and cloudy, rainy days.
There is also something to be said about making it through thirty-two years of marriage with love and respect intact! We have weathered the surprises, the drought spells, the wrinkle-inducing stretches, and the just-get-me-through-the-next-day moments. We have also been incredibly happy with three amazing children, family and friends, animals to make our days, and the goodness and treasure of growing things together. Happy Anniversary to my Partner in Life!
Oh No, We Have Squirrels!
We have squirrels. Now granted, ‘having’ squirrels is not like ‘having’ mice or ‘having’ fleas–especially since they stay outside, but there are times when I get a little creeped out with their rodent-ness. I can say with certainty that I really like most animals, but I have a very hard time liking rodents. Okay, that’s probably an understatement. We had a little hamster when I was a child, and I would not hold him. He was squishy and bug-eyed and if given the chance, would scurry away to hiding places. It also grossed me out to find tiny, pink, squirming baby mice in our feed barrel when I would feed the horses, but I did manage to scoop them out and give them to the cats. However, when I got to grad school, it took all my courage and fortitude when I found out my first research project would be working with mice. Lots and lots of mice, and I was to be their breeder, caretaker, and ultimately, their dissector. Ugh!
The squirrels, at least, are bigger and have that fluffy tail, and generally, when I see them out any given window at any given time, I don’t shudder! They can also be entertaining–especially in the winter when they raid the bird feeders and perform gymnastics to get to the source of all that sunflower seed goodness. We have twitchy little red squirrels.
And one furtive, feisty black squirrel who showed up one day this spring and chased all the other squirrels away in order to have lunch.
But mostly we have gray squirrels. They run up and down the trees; they eat acorns, gather acorns, bury acorns, and dig up acorns. I tell Chris they are his partners in planting oak trees. They provide winter exercise for our Black Lab who runs out the door like a sprinter when the word ‘Squirrel!’ is paired with a hand on the door knob.
The squirrels also build nests or dens in trees. Each one may have up to three nests in their area, usually for themselves and their babies. The nests are built with sticks and twigs, then lined with leaves, moss, grass and pine needles. They will abandon a nest if it is bothered by predators or infested with fleas or mites. Even squirrels need to deal with ‘having’ fleas. One of our cedar trees has at least three squirrel nests in it. (The darker, dense areas on the tree.)
The squirrels, like the mice I worked with in grad school, are impressive nest builders. They are also impressive mothers. These mammals have newborns that are helpless, hairless, blind and deaf. They care for them in their own relative long time until the young can fend for themselves. In my two years of working with mice, I was able to pick them up by their tails–and only because it made them go sort of comatose by doing so. But I did come away with a new respect for their mothering abilities. These rodent mamas work hard to provide safe shelter, food and sustenance, and loving care for their babies. It’s what all us mamas do.
Peace, Harmony and Beauty
Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness by Aaron Brake
Nature, like a loving mother, is ever trying to keep land and sea, mountain and valley, each in its place, to hush the angry winds and waves, balance the extremes of heat and cold, of rain and drought, that peace, harmony and beauty may reign supreme.
–Elizabeth Cady Stanton
Happy Mother’s Day to all!
Perennial People
Sedum
One of my favorite things to do at this time of year is walk around the yard and through our path in the woods to see what’s up–literally! The perennials are popping up all over the place! I love to see them peeking, pushing, poking, unrolling, unfolding, unfurling. Each one is unique in color and form. These cold-hardy plants made it through another winter of below zero temperatures and feet of snow. Occasionally we have one that doesn’t make it–it could have been too cold, too dry, or too wet for it. We take a moment for sadness at its demise but hold onto gladness that we tried. But mostly, it is an amazing process of re-birth as we remove the ‘dead’ leaves and stems from last year’s growth to make way for the new. Gone are the hail-pocked leaves of last year, the slug or bug-eaten greenery, the sun-scorched, dog-trampled, drought-wilted, or wind-whipped foliage. They begin again. The new, tender leaves and stems are bright with their color and pristine in constitution. Let me take you on a tour.
It rained last night!
Columbine
Fern
Bleeding Heart
Asters–with evidence of who ate them in the Fall
Meadow Rue with Daylilies in the background
Hostas just coming up
Hostas unrolling
Blue Salvia
Solomon’s Seal
This feeling of newness and excitement reminds me of starting a new school year or calendar year. Whatever happened in the last year is behind us now. We take stock, heal our wounds, make plans or resolutions, change up a few things, and go onto the new: new classes, new teachers, new things to learn and do. We begin again. And though we carry our scars, we are perennial people. We are bright with hope and pristine in spirit once again.
Pasque Flowers
Pasque flowers on SD prairie hill by LAn
It is a rite of Spring for my Mom, and I would join her whenever I was home at that time of year. We would walk down the field road, climb through the barbed wire fence, cross the dirt bridge, and follow the cow path around to a hill that faced the southwest. In among the rocks and newly growing prairie grass was the prize we were looking for–the Pasque flower! After the long, cold winters, there was a stirring pleasure in seeing the first blooms of spring. This chunk of land–part of my Grandfather Nels’ farm–was virgin native prairie. It had never been plowed–the rocks, the grass, and the prairie flowers have been there for centuries. No man planted them–they were just there.
The Pasque flower is the State flower of South Dakota. It is sometimes called the May Day flower since it often blooms around that time. Other names include prairie crocus, wind flower, Easter flower (pasque is Old French for Easter), or meadow anemone. Long silky hairs cover the leaves and flower stalks, helping to insulate them in the chilly spring weather. The flower is lavender colored and delicate. Once the petals fall off, the seed head is wispy and feathery.
Pasque flower seed heads by LAn
The Pasque flowers or Mayflowers, as my Mom calls them, are marvelous plants defiantly persevering the cold, snowy springs and relentless winds that sweep across the prairie. Yet their petals are delicate in color and constitution. Chris planted a trio of Pasque flowers in our no-mow grass last year, and one of the silvery, fuzzy plants that pushed its way up unveiled its flower on May 2nd. I was excited and so pleased to see it!
It connects me to the prairie, to my Grandpa and Mom, and to everything it represents. I believe the Pasque flower embodies a generational and cultural hope in the resurrection of Spring life, of new crops and calves, of gratitude for making it through a tough winter, and of new beginnings. My stoic Swedish grandfather showed these flowers on the hill to my mother who showed them to me. Nature does the talking. And quietly, we learn to listen.
Nest Crafters
My sister lives on a picturesque ranch in eastern South Dakota. It is beautiful prairie country with acres of grass, towering cottonwoods down by the slough, and grassy fence lines that provide cover for pheasants. They have a pasture of horses for rodeo and pleasure. The horses have provided an unexpected resource for certain birds in the area–horsehair from tails and manes. The horses flick their tails and rub against fence posts, and the hair gets caught in the fence hardware. The birds use the hair to construct their nests. My sister found these nests in the yard after a stormy, windy day.
The nests were tiny–1 3/4″ to 2 3/4″ outside diameter and only 1″ to 1 3/4″ high. We don’t know what birds made them, but I consider them ‘nest crafters’ instead of ‘nest builders.’ Even having been blown out of their tree or shrub of cover, they were still intact as near-perfect circles of woven horsehair. I think how hard it would be to make a nest like that using two hands and ten fingers–and these little birds did it with just their beaks! I wonder how many trips they made to find the horse hair. I wonder how many hairs it took for each nest. I wonder how long it took to craft that soft, yet tough dwelling. Each nest had some plant material in the cup–cedar and pine twigs–making a unique place to lay and incubate eggs, hatch the brood, and feed and care for the babies until they were ready to leave the nest.
We, as parents, are nest crafters, too. We use the resources available to us to craft a dwelling and family life in which to raise our young brood. Whereas the birds take weeks and months to prepare for and raise their young chicks, we invest months and years and decades of time and energy and love. Each family creates a unique place in which to grow. Sometimes the storms of life may blow things away, and we have to re-build, re-group, or re-craft our abode or relationships the best we can. It takes instinct, knowledge, work, trial and error, and tons of love to craft a soft, yet resilient family dwelling for our kids, knowing that one day they will leave the nest and fly away.
Nest photos by Dawn Gehrke