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...]
Bluebird of Happiness
The BLUE-BIRD carries the sky on his back. –Henry David Thoreau
Flashes of blue can be seen in our yard at any time of the day. This is the first year a pair of Eastern Bluebirds has used one of our bluebird houses for their grassy nest. We have four houses placed around the yard, but the location has to be just right for bluebirds. The house wrens are not so picky so have usurped a number of the bluebird houses, even though they have their own petite abodes in the maple trees. Bluebirds can have more than one successful brood each year, so this one in mid-July may be their second brood.
Both the brightly colored male and the more subdued female hunt for insects to feed their young. They perch high on electric lines, in trees, or on posts. They spy their prey from sixty or more feet away, then swoop to the ground to grab the unsuspecting insect and quickly fly back to their perch. Most of the time, the parents alight on their house or on a nearby post right before flying into the nest with the food.
Countless insects of all sorts are delivered to the babies’ gaping mouths…
…and just three days later, they have opened their eyes and developed more feathers. Sixteen to twenty-one days after hatching, these helpless chicks will fly from the nest.
Bluebirds have long been a symbol of happiness, hope, and renewal. Legends, poems, plays, songs, and stories have been written about the inspiring bluebird. What is it about these beautiful little thrushes that have aroused such appeal and even have prompted a National Bluebird of Happiness Day on September 24th? They are a welcome harbinger of spring after a long, cold winter. Their brilliant azure color is uncommon in the natural world, so the flashes of blue are noticeable against the green. The population of bluebirds severely declined up to the late 1970’s due to loss of nesting habitat and nest competition from starlings and sparrows. The North American Bluebird Society was formed in 1978 to place bluebird nesting boxes across the country, and since then the bluebird population has recovered. Do we appreciate something even more once it was almost lost? Or is it the feeling of a blue-sky day, when the air is crisp and clear and the sun warm upon our faces, that is evoked when we look at the sky the bluebird carries on his back? When I see the flash of blue, I feel a deep happiness to have such beautiful birds living in our yard. When I see the parents working so hard to provide food for their babies, I feel hope that another generation will populate our natural world. And I carry that happiness and hope to you so that we may all experience soul-filling renewal. What do you carry on your back for the whole world to see?
Splish Splashing in the Water
His name was Apples, and he loved water. My little strawberry roan horse never shied away from crossing a creek and would dawdle in the water, sipping it through his bit, letting it dribble down his chin. The creek seemed much more interesting to him than the dusty trail on the other side where the rest of the horses had gone.
One hot summer day in South Dakota, I was riding with my sister. We had had a large amount of rainfall that pooled into a low spot in the pasture. As we were riding by the clear water, Apples had different plans! He walked into the knee deep water and started pawing–the water splashed up onto his belly, onto my legs, and all around us! He dipped his head down, stuck his nose into the water, took sips, and blew the water out of his nostrils. I remember laughing at how much fun he was having in the cool water on that hot day! Then I felt him gathering his legs, taking small steps inward, and I knew that he was going to lay down! His legs folded, we went down, I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and stepped off of him into the water, all in one smooth, slow-motion movement. As my boots filled up with water, my sister and I laughed at how my little water-loving horse had changed the course of our ride!
That ride was over thirty years ago, but the memory of it was brought back to me when I saw a robin taking a bath in one of our bird baths. She flailed her wings in the water, lowering her head, shaking her tail, quivering her body, as the water droplets flew around her. Then she stopped for a few seconds, turned a bit, and started over again.
We sometimes forget that all the living creatures around us need, use, and enjoy water–just like us. The robin reminded me. The memory of Apples reminded me. On these hot, summer days as you enjoy the lakes, rivers, fountains and pools, remember to provide water for the animals–for sustenance, cooling, cleaning, and fun! Happy Summer!
Happy Independence Day!
Among my flowers and trees, Nature takes me into her own hands, and I breathe freely as the first man. –Alexander Smith
Yesterday was a good day for flying! The Robin babies in the nest on the screened-in porch were getting crowded.
Some time yesterday they fledged the nest! It was empty. They were gone. So much activity, then stillness.
This morning, I saw one of the babies in the maple tree close to the house.
Independence Day!
But one still needs a little help from Mom even after leaving the nest!
Hope your day is Happy and Safe. Hope you spend some time with Nature and breathe freely. Hope you enjoy your Independence while maintaining the connections that feed your body and soul.
Gleanings from June 2015
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever come perfect days….Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten. James Russell Lowell
The long, light days of June have slipped by, and we really have had some perfect days! The combination late Spring/early Summer brings warm, wonderful weather, incredible plant growth, exquisite flowers, and animals intent on nesting and raising their young. Life murmurs and glistens all around us, subtle yet extravagant, common yet miraculous.
Wild Geranium is a delicate woodland flower that graces the paths through our woods.
False dandelion grows in our woods, though I have also seen it in full sun along the road ditches. A cluster of small, dandelion-like flowers sways atop a two-foot stalk.
Our sun garden displays the glorious Penstemon digitalis ‘Husker Red’. It has dark maroon foliage and shining white flowers on tall stems. You can see why its common name is Beard tongue; the sterile stamen (one of five stamens) is lined with tufts of small hairs.
One of my prairie garden flowers–Amsonia or Bluestar–looks perfect in front of the wispy prairie grasses and the Western South Dakota petrified wood.
One of the critters that walked through our June yard was a Western Painted Turtle. She quickly ambled through the dewy grass until she saw me–then she stopped as I got pictures of her. She was likely on her way to her nesting place where she digs a hole with her hind feet and deposits her clutch of leathery white eggs. Incubation time is 72-80 days, and since we live so far north, the hatchlings stay in the nest until the following spring!
Tiny wild strawberries and our larger cultivated ones turn a shiny red in ripeness–a sweet treat for whoever finds them first.
Outside the screened-in porch, the chive blossoms line up like children at the schoolyard.
And speaking of the screened-in porch, my re-do project is on bird delay! A robin thought the unscreened cross beam would be a perfect place for her grass and mud nest. There are three hungry baby birds in the nest in spite of the sawing and hammering going on below. Staining and re-screening will have to wait until the young ones fly from the nest!
A couple of other creatures seemed to want a glimpse of human life inside the big wooden box with windows. I observe Nature every day–do we ever think about the creatures observing us?
All I can say to the little critters is that I definitely need to wash windows!
I liked this photo of Leopard’s Bane against the Norway Spruce tree. The flower is spent, on its way to decay with petals drying and falling off and with ants crawling on it. It is up against the supple new, green growth of the spruce tree. A study in contrasts.
But there is beauty in the ‘spentness’ of flowers, too. Dried blue blossoms of the pretty variegated Jacob’s Ladder reminds us that the bridge between heaven and earth includes the worn out and expended of us who are just a little farther along on our journey.
Perennial Blue Salvia in its ‘spent’ state provides food for a pair of American Goldfinches. It is in its prime time of nourishment for others, though its peak visual beauty is past.
So June encompasses the fresh, invigorated newness of plants, flowers, and creatures and also those in decline. Like all the seasons of Nature and of Life, change is always happening, whether barely discernible or a drastic metamorphosis.
Perhaps the rarity of a perfect day in June is not so rare after all. Perhaps every common day holds miracles waiting to be seen and heard. Where ever we are on our journey, whether ready to fly from the nest, in the perfect place, or in a spent state, we have gifts to offer the world and one another. As the murmur of angels ascending and descending beside us, escorts us on our journey, it is our faces that glisten on each perfect day.
Shade at Night
Imagine you’ve been playing or working hard in the summer sun for hours…can you feel the heat? Then imagine sitting under the shade of a maple tree…ahhh…that feels better! The shade offers relief from the intense sunlight, and you feel cooler and more refreshed.
A year ago at the end of May, we were on vacation for nine days, traveling to South Dakota and Missouri. When we left home, the leaves were just beginning to unfold after an extremely late spring. When we returned home, it was rather shocking to see the lawn grass going to seed and the trees fully leaved out. That first night back, I remember I turned off all the lights before bed and was startled by the blackness. Why was it so dark? I thought to myself. At first I thought something was wrong–it took me a few seconds to realize the darkness was from the shade at night!
For half the year, we don’t have leaves on the trees, and for many of those months we also have the bright reflection of light off snow. Starlight, moonlight, and lights from town down the hill shine and reflect into our numerous windows during those months. When late spring and summer arrive, the three maple trees around our house and the trees in the surrounding woods block the light, creating shade at night and during the day.
Last week a darkness fell upon a young couple as their newborn baby could not be resuscitated after an emergency c-section. My heart sank when I saw the tragic news about their firstborn son. I flashed back to my own emergency c-section with our firstborn, and I sighed another prayer of thankfulness that our daughter made it through that scary time. But this young couple, who tends the land and a menagerie of animals, who dreamed of and planned for and carried this baby for nine months, came home empty-handed and broken-hearted.
There are many ways to lose a child, none of which is any easier than the other. The heartbreak is profound and deep, and it seems like nothing will ever fill the hole of despair. For all those in a dark night of the soul, sit in the cool Shade at night. Let the glaring distractions of the outside world be filtered out by the Protection overhead. Let it envelop you with everything you need. Let it bring comfort for your aching heart and hope to your weary mind. Let it refresh you, replenish you, restore you.
Listening to the Silence
My middle growing-up years were in Pennsylvania on our little acre of hilly land, out of sight from everything, but within earshot of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Most every summer, we would pack up the Mercury wood-sided station wagon with us four kids, our little brown suitcase of ‘things to do’, and a Johnny Cash eight track tape and head west on that turnpike. Most often we would leave on Friday night after my Dad got home from working at the shop, and my parents would take turns driving, straight through, to my Grandparent’s place in South Dakota. We would arrive early Sunday morning before my Grandpa headed off to church and my Grandma put a large beef roast in the oven. It was always good to be back Home!
One evening–maybe that very first one after our long drive–my Dad was sitting on the porch stoop. I opened the door, walked out onto the porch, and asked him what he was doing. He said, “I’m listening to the Silence.” I can’t remember how old I was at the time, but I remember thinking that was a crazy thing to say! How can you listen to Silence?! He patted the cement beside him for me to sit down. He told me about hearing the crickets and frogs, the cows lowing in the paddock as they came up from the pasture to the round, wooden water tank, how the windmill squeaked as the breeze moved the blades, and how the geese chattered in the slough over the hill. We sat there together for a while, and I really started to listen for all the different sounds of the Silence on the farm.
Today is Father’s Day and the First Day of Summer! I smile when I realize it’s 10 o’clock in the evening, and there’s still a hint of light outside. I love it when I can go outside with no coat and no shoes! I laugh at our dog when we go out to get the mail, and she rolls in the warm grass and watches me walk to the mailbox. I marvel at all the bird mamas and daddys who are flying, hunting, and taking care of their babies.
Summer is…my most favorite flower–perennial Blue Flax…
blooms and birdhouses…
rain…
bumblebees…
and birds.
Summer is being outside with Nature, toes in the grass, head under the stars, fish on the line, sun on skin, and listening to the Silence.
Thinking back on those 1500 mile trips with four kids in the car, the constant buzz of turnpike traffic at our house, and the din of diesel engines working as a truck mechanic, it’s no wonder my Dad wanted the calm and quiet of an evening on the farm in South Dakota. That special memory of me and my Dad has stayed in my mind and heart for decades, and I continue to appreciate the quiet sounds of Nature. Happy Summer to all of you, and if you can’t be with your Dad today, I hope you can call to mind a special memory of him while listening to the Silence of Nature.
The Shimmering Line of Light
Have you ever walked a path that you walk every day and felt the lightest touch of something on your face? And even if you bring your hand up to brush it away, it seems like nothing is there? Tiny filaments of webs are spun from tree branch to tree branch–a suspended bridge connecting home and food sources for some little spider.
One bright morning at breakfast I was looking out the window and noticed a shimmering line of light by the front yard trees.
The light moved in the breeze and sometimes disappeared.
The sunlight was reflecting off a strand of dew-kissed web–a happy combination of water, filament, light, and wind. The sunlight danced along the spider’s road, moving one way, then the other…
until the sun moved higher in the sky, and I could no longer see the reflection. But the web was still there.
What if we are all connected by some unseen web? We feel light touches of this attachment when we pick up the phone to call someone and they were just thinking of doing the same. Do we brush it off as coincidence? We see the connection illuminated by the shiny glare of tragedy that brings people together to rescue, support, and fight for one another. We sense the shimmer of connection when meeting the eyes of a stranger and some spark ignites a smile. We hear that association when one person’s story sounds strangely familiar to ours, and our heart knows the ache they feel.
Perhaps the shimmering line of light that dances between us is God’s Love. It connects us in ways that are unseen for the most part–until a happy combination illuminates the bond. How fleeting is that illumination! Our positions change, outside forces exert pressure on the connection, and at times it feels torn and broken. Harsh words and strained silence tear at the bridge that was once a lifeline of Home and Sustenance.
The persistent spider rebuilds the web–even as we walk the path each day. Some things are worth it. As we toil, we must remember that the shimmering line of light is always there, whether we see it or not.
The Prairie, the Ash Tree, and the Anthill
In late April when we drove to Rockville County Park to check on the eagles, we discovered the restored prairie had been burned. Annual burning of the prairie promotes growth and dominance of grasses while discouraging growth of woody shrubs and some trees, especially Eastern Red Cedar. Fire clears away the previous year’s plant debris, allowing sunlight to warm the ash-blackened soil. The roots and rhizomes (where new shoots are formed) of the grasses and other prairie plants are below the ground and not affected by the fire. New growth takes place shortly after the burn, and soon the black prairie is green once again.
Forty days after the burn, the ‘sea of grass’ was growing, and a number of early season wildflowers were blooming.
Wispy, rose-colored seedheads of Prairie Smoke drifted in the breeze.
Lavender flowers on purplish-pink stems of Large Beardtongue or Shell-leaf Penstemon stood like royalty among the common grasses.
Wild Lupine is the only host plant for the Karner Blue butterfly caterpillar. Loss of prairie habitat has put the Karner Blue on the endangered species list. While I don’t know if there are Karner Blues around here, this bumblebee is enjoying the sweet Lupine nectar.
The large ash tree that houses the eagle’s nest was fully leaved out, making it more difficult to spot the nest. Luckily, there was a ‘hole’ in the foliage that allowed me to see the young eagles–and allowed them to keep an eye on me and everything else. The last time we were at the nest, the parents were there with the two eaglets, so I was surprised when I looked through the camera lens and saw three young ones!
As we walked closer to the nest, one eaglet hid behind the other. Perhaps his shyness was the reason we didn’t see him the last time we visited the nest.
One eagle, perhaps appointed by the parents to be in charge while they hunted for their large family or maybe a self-appointed firstborn, stood guard of the nest. He perched on the edge of the nest, a sentry for his siblings, as they relaxed behind him.
We left the eagle’s nest, walked along the trail, and found a huge anthill of Thatching ants! Their home is made up of plant material from the area–in the close-up picture you can see how some of the ‘thatch’ is black from the burned plants. Each colony of these social animals is headed by a queen ant or queens who lays thousands of eggs. The worker ants are wingless, non-reproducing females who forage for food, care for the offspring, work on the nest, and protect the community. The male ants basically mate and die. Each colony may have up to 40,000 ants, depending on the size and age of the nest.
These ants are beneficial insects. They eat nectar, seeds, fungus, and insect pests. They also scavenge on larger dead animals and are important soil builders. They do bite, so don’t get too close! The eggs and larvae of Thatching ants are a favorite food of bears who will rip apart the nest to get to the tasty morsels.
Thunderheads were building as we walked the prairie and oak savanna trail back to the car. It had been a perfect way to spend a couple hours of my birthday!
The prairie, the ash tree, and the anthill–all homes to the particular flora and fauna we saw, but also to so many more. The ‘Web of Life’ is illustrated in great beauty on this relatively small tract of land. While the fire on the prairie was a controlled burn and not one started by lightning, it demonstrates Nature’s capacity for regeneration and renewal. The anthill of Thatching ants shows how a community of workers takes care of one another and their home. The young eagles who have yet to fledge from the nest know their parents are working hard to provide for them and have begun to show their own personalities and traits. The Wild Lupine is growing and ready to provide a home for the Karner Blue if it passes this way.
What kind of homes and communities are we providing? Where do each one of us fit in the ‘Web of Life?’ How are we sustaining and extending the Beauty and Wisdom of Nature to all the living creations around us?
Gleanings from May 2015
Our back door is almost like a door to Nowhere. To be fair, it does have a sturdy cement stoop and a granite-covered sidewalk that leads twelve feet to the left to the screened-in porch door. But you can’t get to the garage or driveway or shed without walking through grass and around corners. It is a thick wooden door with ten panels, two of which are carved on the outside. One carving is a vine design, and the other is a dogwood-looking flower and leaves. I’m sure it is the original door of this sixty-year-old house, and it shows the weathering of time and sun. It faces WSW, and when I open the door, light floods into the rather dark corner of our living room through a full-glass storm door. The door that leads to Nowhere is really a doorway to Nature’s incredible, changeable Beauty. In Winter, I can see the River, silhouettes of old oak trees, and glorious sunsets. In Spring, I can see my square of prairie garden, my raised herb garden outside the porch door, the shallow clay birdbath on a stump, hostas, ferns, oaks, cedars, viburnums, and other extraordinary plants that make up the woods and yard outside our door.
The month of May is the doorway to Summer. School is coming to a close, changing the landscape of family life for the next three months–or in our case, for the rest of our lives, as our youngest graduated from college. The external landscape changes drastically in the weeks of May, from tiny buds and leftovers of winter to the deep, rich lushness of Summer. By the end of May, we are looking at the possibilities, plans, and potentials of Summer!
One of the delights right outside our back door has been the bright anemones or wind flowers. This perennial herb and popular wedding flower symbolizes anticipation and unfaded love.
Close to the anemones is the pretty Nannyberry Viburnum with its clusters of white flowers.
Honeysuckle shrubs of every size and shape are scattered throughout the woods. White, pink, and dark pink blossoms cover the shrubs in a coat of color.
Jack-in-the-Pulpits are hidden treasures in the woods–hard to find, but ever so lovely and unique. Umbrella shaped Mayapples shade insects scuttling through leaf litter underneath them.
Fragrant Lily of the Valley flowers peek out from among the crowd of green leaves. Their stems of pure white bells make the most beautiful tiny bouquet to bring inside.
Leopard’s Bane and Dandelion roar into bloom with sunshine yellow in this month of May.
Along with May flowers that have adorned our yard, we have also had creature visitors. The first heavy rain of the month chased Leopard frogs into our deep egress window well.
A Pileated Woodpecker checked out each one of the mature spruce trees in our front yard. Their food of preference is carpenter ants.
These two young bucks, probably last year’s fawns who were very familiar with our yard, walked up the driveway one evening. They watched our Black Lab dog wander around the outside of the house oblivious to the visitors we sent her out to chase away! (Interesting fact: Their antlers grow up to 1/2 inch each day from April to September!)
A Cooper’s Hawk is back in the neighborhood, darting through the tree branches, perching, watching, and flying again. He was likely the hunter of the pigeon carcass I found.
May holds promise for a new season, a new chapter in Life, and renewed hope and adventure.
The month of May prepares us for Summer. It is a time to celebrate the end of school–for the year or for life–with parties and graduations. It is a time to celebrate anniversaries of unfaded love. It’s a time of anticipation for the warmth and fun of the Summer months that always go by too quickly. May is the doorway to a productive growing season of garden goodies and farm-raised crops and animals. As we open our doors to Somewhere–a place where the light illuminates the dark, where we find our niche among the crowd, where we carve our initials in our Tree of Life, and where we find our hidden treasures–let us step out in Beauty, Courage, and Love.
The Unfolding
The last few weeks I have traded my camera and computer for a nail-puller, hammer, and drill. Our screened-in porch is in desperate need of a make-over. The chipmunks have chewed holes in the screens, and the decades of rain have rotted the sills, cross beams, and lower siding. Between the uncooperative weather (rain and cold) and the longer-than-expected time to dismantle the old, the project will be taking much longer than expected. Isn’t that the way it always goes?! Lead project manager was my Mom who is a very competent carpenter. She traveled from South Dakota to celebrate her grandson’s graduation from college and to help me for six days.
May in Minnesota is the Unfolding time. It begins with buds of every style, size, and color–the environment is expectant with the lushness of what is to come. It is exciting and humbling all at the same time. It never fails to amaze me that huge compound leaves and spikes of flowers can begin their transformation from such tiny buds! And the wonder of ferns, hostas, and other perennials emerging from the previously snow-covered ground is so Life affirming!
Maple leaves emerge like wet-winged butterflies, wrinkled and folded. As they mature, they change from a light bronze color to the solid, oxygen-producing green of the chlorophyll packed cells.
Linden tree leaf buds look like tiny bouquets of flowers on gray stems until they unfold to the serrated, heart-shaped leaves.
The Unfolding of the shiny red leaves and flower clusters of the Norway Maple is spectacular! As the leaves mature, the red color fades into green.
Striated Birch buds look like tiny boutonnieres along the flexible branches. The fully developed leaves are glossy green against the white of the birch bark.
The stick trunk of a young Kentucky Coffeetree undergoes an amazing transformation as the rounded buds unfold into long clusters of compound leaves.
Elongated, twisted buds of Virginia creeper vines open to five-fingered, dark green leaves that grow along the ground or climb up trees and other objects.
Oak leaves are one of the last to emerge from their buds. The young leaves are pale green and tender, yet develop into strong, deeply lobed leaves of rich green.
Many of the oaks bloomed prolifically this year with green pompoms hanging from the branches. The leaves on the blooming trees were even smaller and more pale than the other emerging leaves. As the flowers dried and fruit production began (there should be abundant acorns this year), the leaves continued to develop more slowly as the trees’ energy went to flower and fruit production.
Locust trees are late bloomers, distinct in their yellow-green foliage.
The old seedheads of sumac are soon engulfed in the vibrant spring finery as the new unfolds around the old.
In three weeks’ time the Unfolding is dramatic!
In twenty years’ time this Unfolding is no less dramatic, but much more heart-stirring. How can our youngest child be graduated from college?!
Life is unfolding around us, and we greet each day with expectation of what is to come. Often we only stop to reflect when we reach a major milestone or when faced with a life-changing event, and then we wonder how the time could slip by so quickly. Did we savor enough minutes along the way? Did we make the moments count for ourselves and the loved ones around us? It is humbling, exciting, and a little sad as our ten years of being parents to college students comes to an end. We need to let go of the reins–and I am reluctant to do so. The years and decades of my energy going to our flowers and fruit has slowed my development in certain ways but has enriched and transformed my life in so many others. Each one of us–my Mom, Chris and I, the girls, and Aaron–steps into another day that unfolds before us. We learn, mature, transform, respect the old, cherish the gifts, and make way for the new.
- « Previous Page
- 1
- …
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- …
- 50
- Next Page »