Our copy of Maurice Sendak’s classic picture book ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ is tattered and worn, the shiny gold Caldecott Medal sticker peeling along the circular edge. I would hate to guess how many times we read it. The story is about play, actions, feelings, imagination, and processing. (If you are unfamiliar with ‘Where the Wild Things Are,’ click here to see a YouTube reading of the book.)
These wild things in Max’s imagination are at the opposite end of the spectrum to the literally wild things in Nature. And before I go any further, I must give due respect to the multitude of places across the world that are much more ‘wild’ than here in Central Minnesota. Nonetheless, all it takes is a bike ride or a hike close to home to encounter the wild things.
We can cross the highway down the hill from our house and ride the twelve-mile bike trail to the west. Redwing blackbirds sing from their cattail podiums and frogs chortle in the wetland area strewn with Yellow Water Buttercups.
Farther down the trail, the Sauk River flows from the Chain of Lakes where the geese and the pelicans float. Beware–if you were a fish, he’d eat you up, he loves you so.
Down the ditch, across the busy highway, through trees and grass, I saw the strange walking movement of a family of Sandhill Cranes. These red-masked, five-foot-tall birds with a wingspan of nearly seven feet are formidable defenders of their young ones. They survey the world all around them for tasty frogs, snakes, insects, small mammals, and grains. Their distinctive trilling call draws your eyes skyward during spring and fall migration.
Last weekend we hiked through Rockville County Park to discover we are six baby eagles richer than we were a year ago. The family of five, with all their yellow eyes and terrible claws, sat peacefully in their lofty nest, watching as we walked around their prairie.
Golden Alexander, a member of the carrot family, is a host plant for Black Swallowtail caterpillars. It has a wild, beautiful scientific name–Zizia aurea–one that is meant to be proclaimed out loud! ZIZIA AUREA!
Be still and look at this beautiful little butterfly on the most common of all wildflowers.
The exuberant wildness of Prairie Smoke drifted in the breeze. The nodding pink-red flowers stand up and open up after pollination and has a seed at the base of each feathery plume.
The other eagle’s nest is on the edge of the forest, and the three young ones sat patiently waiting for their parents to return with supper.
As we walked through the forest towards the Sauk River, we saw ferns that grew and grew and grew until they were as tall as we were!
We saw a woodland plant that looked like Solomon’s Seal, but it had a different flower from the ones that hang from the underside of the arching stems. When we got home, I looked it up–it’s False Solomon’s Seal–I was both right and wrong.
We all possess the magic trick of staring into our own eyes, letting our imagination run wild, and believing it to be the truth. We become the king of our own wild imaginations. We like being in charge of the wild rumpus that ensues. But like Max, we eventually become lonely, and something from far away entices us to give up being king. Our ego cries, “Oh please don’t go.” But we say “No!” Amid the terrible roars and gnashing of teeth, we step into our true self and sail back to where Someone loves us best of all.
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