Bud Break and Other Wonders

Bud break is a very special time on this blog and I try to show as much of it as I can each spring as trees wake up. These are horse chestnut leaves which had just opened out of a thumb size bud, and if you look closely you can see the grape like cluster of flower buds as well. I hope this post will show that while spring is certainly known for flowers, there are other things going on that are just as beautiful.

Bud break is defined as when the tip of a leaf can be seen protruding from the open bud scales, so this red maple bud is a little beyond that. It’s still quite beautiful though.

I could almost hear this red maple yawning as it stretched out its arms in the sunshine. How is it possible to not love life when there are things like this going on all around you?

Older established maples look more like this. Red maples are a very prolific tree. It is estimated that one tree 12 inches in diameter can produce a million seeds. That must mean that we have uncountable trillions of seeds falling each year in our forests. It’s no wonder we have so many red maples.

Other maples are waking up as well. Here a striped maple is in the process of opening its new leaves. As maples go these leaves are among the largest, and that is because it’s an understory tree with leaves that will never see the bright sunshine of the forest canopy, so it has had to adapt to lower light intensity. If you pay attention you’ll notice that plants that can survive in shade almost always have larger leaves.

On Norway maples the flowers appear just before the leaves. Since these flowers have many parts that are all one color they can be challenging to get a good photo of. I had to try several times.

And then of course there are the beech buds, which open to reveal new leaves that look like silvery angel wings. They are among the most beautiful things found in a New Hampshire Forest in the spring. In spring all the beauty, mystery and miracle of life can be found in a single bud, and I suppose that must be why I’ve watched them since I was a boy, and why I’ve always enjoyed this season more than any other. It’s so full of promise and possibilities.

Red elderberry flower buds are nearly ready to open. The flowers will be white and the flower head will be the same shape seen here, not at all like the larger, flat flower heads of common elderberry. These berries will be bright red and the birds will eat them just as soon as they ripen. That’s why you never see photos of them here; I can never get to them before the birds do.

These rose colored blueberry buds will turn white as they open and become flowers. This is when they’re at their prettiest, in my opinion.

Leatherleaf is blooming. This early spring bloomer is in the heath family, as are blueberries, huckleberries, mountain laurel, and of course heaths and heathers. Leatherleaf flowers might look similar to blueberry blossoms at a glance but the growth habit of the two plants is very different. The shrub’s speckled evergreen leaves are very tough, and that’s where its common name comes from.

As with blueberries, the best place to find leatherleaf is along pond shorelines and sometimes along rivers and streams. It likes wet feet so it is one of the first plants to colonize bog mats. You’ll never see blueberry blossoms hanging all along the stem like these flowers do though, so once you know the plant’s habits it’s easy to spot from a distance. I’ve read that leatherleaf provides nesting cover for mallards and other waterfowl. Each flower, after pollination by a bumblebee, produces a single round capsule that will turn brown as it ripens. Birds are said to eat the fruit but there seems to be very little in print about that.

Right alongside leatherleaf and blueberry, you often find sweet gale. These are quarter inch long male sweet gale catkins, with their pretty triangular bud scales. I didn’t see any female plants but there were probably some nearby. Sweet gale is also called bog rosemary. Touching the foliage releases a sweet, pleasant scent from its resinous leaves which have been used for centuries as a natural insect repellent.

Wild ginger flowers have appeared. The plants flower quickly, almost as soon as the leaves appear, so you have to watch for them at this time of year. You can see this plant’s flower in the lower right at ground level. All parts of the plant including the heart shaped leaves are very hairy.

Wild ginger flowers have no petals; they are made up of 3 triangular calyx lobes that are fused into a cup and curl backwards. Reproductive parts are found in a central column inside. Wild ginger flowers are thought to self-pollinate and are said to produce 6 seeds per flower. I’d love to see the seeds but I can never remember to go back and look. Native Americans once used this plant for seasoning just as ginger is used today, but wild ginger has been found to contain certain toxins like aristolochic acid which can cause liver damage, so it shouldn’t be eaten.

This is what bud break looks like on a wild ginger flower bud. This will open to be like the flower seen in the previous photo. The buds are about the size of a blueberry and perfectly round. I found this small colony of plants on a sunny patch of ground in what used to be a homestead, but which has been abandoned for many years. It’s the only place I’ve ever seen them.

Dwarf ginseng takes the prize for the rarest plant in this post. These plants are quite small and easy to miss when they aren’t blooming. The plant at the top could easily fit in a teacup. Individual dwarf ginseng flowers are about 1/8″ across and have 5 white petals, a short white calyx, and 5 white stamens. The entire flowerhead is usually about 3/4″ across. If pollinated the flowers are followed by tiny yellow fruits. This is not the ginseng used in herbal medicine so it should never be picked.

Years ago I found a spot that had 5 or 6 dwarf ginseng plants. Now the colony seen above has grown from those plants. Hopefully one day the plants will cover the forest floor in this spot.

I happened upon a painted turtle convention. There were just as many as what we see here off to the right; so many they wouldn’t all fit into this view, all soaking up the sun. I think this was the most turtles I’d ever seen in one place. Any time now the much bigger snapping turtles should appear.

The above photo is of a hemlock root. That’s all; just an old tree root, but that’s not all of the story. It was in the middle of a trail and it had been worn down by countless feet stepping on it over who knows how many years. The traffic first wore off the bark and then slowly made its way down through the layers of root until it reached the heartwood. You can count the rings in the bark that show how many times it tried unsuccessfully to heal itself. That describes the mechanics of it but it’s hard to describe its beauty. It wasn’t purposely made; it all happened by accident, but it looks like it has been carved and sanded, and then colored with wood stain. In my opinion it’s worthy of having a place in an art gallery as a piece of sculpture. Beauty is where you find it, and you find it everywhere.

There was a time when friends and I used to fish from this spot just below the Ashuelot River dam on West Street in Keene but now I’m more interested in watching the foam patterns on the river than in catching fish. I’ll say it again: Beauty is where you find it, and you find it everywhere.

Google lens tells me this is an eastern pine elfin butterfly so since I don’t know a lot about insects I have to go with that. I do know that it was quite small and fidgety, so I had to take this shot quickly from a yard or so away before I scared it away. That’s why it’s not a very good shot, but I like those eyes so I’m showing it to you. I also liked how furry it was. I’ve read that this butterfly is about the size of your thumbnail and blends into its surroundings so well it isn’t often seen. The caterpillars feed on the needles of the eastern white pine and the butterflies sip the nectar from blueberry blossoms. Pine elfins are said to like to bask in the sunlight on chilly spring days, just as this one was doing.

Sensitive fern fiddleheads have a papery covering over them when they first come out of the soil. Other ferns like the ostrich fern also have this covering. Sensitive ferns also have the same shade of green and a groove in the stem like ostrich ferns but sensitive ferns are not edible and ostrich ferns are, so foragers should know them both well. Sensitive ferns contain toxins that have caused liver and brain damage in horses. That’s probably why deer don’t eat them.

Here is a sensitive fern unfolding from the fiddlehead. Sensitive ferns get their name from their sensitivity to frost, so one cold morning now could wipe out any that aren’t protected by overhead trees. This is one of those ferns that is so common nobody seems to see it.

I think it was two weeks ago that I said I thought coltsfoot flowers wouldn’t last much longer, but nature had other ideas and cool weather kept them going for nearly a month. Coltsfoot gives signals though and one signal is the appearance of leaves. When you see leaves it’s a fair bet that the flowers are on their way out.

Seed heads reinforce the thought that coltsfoot is done for the year. These seed heads are very different than those of dandelion, even though at a passing glance they might look the same.

It’s time for grasses to start flowering and I know that because sweet vernal grass is flowering. It’s one of the earliest grasses to flower in this area. In this photo you can see its deep purple male flowers and its wispy white female flowers. It is also called vanilla grass because it is said to be scented by the same substance that gives sweet woodruff its vanilla like fragrance. This is not the same sweet grass that Native Americans used for making baskets. This grass is short, only growing to about shin high, and forms small clumps with dark, easily seen flower heads as can be seen here. Its flowers are pretty and they’re another sign that spring is really here.

I meant to do my work today, but a brown bird sang in the apple tree, and a butterfly flitted across the field, and all the leaves were calling. ~Richard le Gallienne

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More Spring Flowers (And Friends)

Bluets have appeared so the game is on. The game is, how long will it take to find the darkest, bluest bluets? Some are almost white and others are a rich, dark blue but there are many millions of them and the trick is finding them. I don’t run around looking for bluets; when I happen upon them I just take a photo of those that I think might be darker than the ones in the last photo, so the photo above is the one to beat.

Violets have appeared along with the bluets as they often do. I was happy to see lots of white ones in this group. Some believe the whites to be color variants of the purples and others believe they are a distinct species. It doesn’t matter to me what the cause might be. I just enjoy their cheery spring beauty.

Yellow violets are the rarest of all in my experience, but a few years ago I found one in a local park. Since then that one plant has spread into several, so I can now count on seeing them each spring. Provided they aren’t weeded out, that is.

If you’ve seen bluets and violets in bloom then it’s a fair bet that you’ll be seeing wild strawberry blossoms as well. It was a cold morning and the sun hadn’t yet had a chance to dry the dew off these flowers before I came along with a camera, but a night in the 20s hadn’t seemed to hurt them any.

The strawberries that these plants will produce are barely bigger than an aspirin but they have an intense flavor that store bought fruit can’t match. A handful of the warm berries on a hot summer day is delicious. Wild strawberry roots were one of the ingredients in the spring tonic used by native Americans in this part of the country. They believed it purified the blood.

By the time I was born in the 1950s, trailing arbutus had been collected for nosegays to the point of near extinction. My grandmother loved these flowers and she always hoped that she would be able to show them to me but it never happened because we never could find any. She was born near the end of the 1800s and there were plenty of them then, so she could describe the way they looked and their wonderful fragrance well enough so when I finally found some years later, I knew immediately what they were. These days, though I couldn’t call them common, they’re making a good comeback. They should never be picked; not if you want to be able to show them to your own children and grandchildren.

Spring beauties haven’t yet carpeted the forest floor but they are working on it, as can be seen in this photo. They’ve been held back a bit by the cool, cloudy weather but that’s okay with me because this entire colony will be gone shortly after the trees leaf out. The odd thing about them this year is how most of them are white with pink stripes that are so faint they can hardly be seen. I’ve heard that the most colorful ones are those that grow in partial shade but I don’t know how true that is. These plants grow with a southerly exposure and get full sun all afternoon.

This is what I hope to see when I find spring beauties. Each flower is about the size of an aspirin so to get a good shot of one you have to at least get down on your knees.

The sharp eyed readers might have noticed trout lily leaves in amongst the spring beauties in the previous photos. That’s because the two like the same soil and exposure and they often co-mingle and grow side by side. This shot shows how the trout lily plant’s common name came about; its leaves are speckled like a trout’s body and the flower looks just like the much larger native Canada lily blossom. It’s nice to have plant names that make perfect sense once in a while.

Trout lily flowers nod at the ground so this is a hard shot to get. Each plant has just one flower and they can take seven years from seed to flower. Large colonies like the one I found this flower blooming in can be hundreds of years old, so there’s a good chance that it was here before Keene, New Hampshire was even thought of.

Sedges are starting to flower and the flowers of sedges like Pennsylvania sedge and plantain leaved sedge look a lot alike. The buttery colored male flowers appear at the top of the stem, which is called a culm in the world of sedges, and the wispy pure white female flowers usually appear lower down. I say usually because this year I’m seeing female flowers growing along with the male flowers at the top of the culm, as can be seen in this shot. I don’t know if this is “normal” or not but I can’t remember ever seeing it before.

Fern fiddleheads are suddenly popping up everywhere, as they usually do. These cottony fiddleheads belong to cinnamon ferns. An odd thing I noticed is how, because we had so little snow, the stalks from last year didn’t decompose as they usually do after spending months under the snow. The seedlings seen in this shot are those of jewelweed.

Christmas fern fiddleheads are also up. These fiddleheads are very hairy and scaly, and silvery. They’re quite different from other fiddleheads and once up they unfurl quickly. Christmas ferns get their common name from the way the first Europeans brought the evergreen fronds inside during the cold, snowy winters so the long days of sitting inside waiting for spring would be easier to bear.

Elm seeds are ahead of maple seeds this year. When I see these seeds I think of my father, because our street was lined with 200 year old elms and when the seeds fell they clogged up the vents on his car. That used to get him riled up because once hundreds of them were down inside the vents they were almost impossible to get out. The vents I’m speaking of are just below the windshield on the car’s exterior and are called cowl vents. If they get plugged up you get little to no fresh air inside the car. Back then they were a lot harder to clean out than they are today.

Colorful striped maple buds are all over the trees now, and the bud sheaths are just starting to split, as can be seen here. Once the sheath splits the leaves appear, and before too long the tree will flower. These are among the most beautiful buds in a spring forest, in my opinion. The main bud is about as big around as a pencil and might reach 2 – 2.5 inches in length.

These buds backlit by the sun clearly show the darker leaves within. To see the sun shining on trees full of buds is something you don’t forget right away, because sunlight makes them glow.

Male box elder stamens are hanging at the ends of their long filaments now, and soon all it will take is a breeze to get them to release pollen. It seems like many plants are releasing pollen right now.  

For the first time since I started this blog I’m able to show both the male and female flowers of box elder in the same post. What usually happens is, the male flowers appear and the after a space of maybe a week and a half to two weeks the leaves start to appear, and along with them come the female flowers, which are the beautiful long, lime green, sticky pistils seen here. They might look strange compared to the flowers of other trees but box elders grow lots of seeds, so they get the job done.

This robin was making a puddle look like someone had spilled dry ice in it. Every part of its body was in frantic motion except its head.

I saw a painted lady butterfly land in the grass and it was a good thing I did because it was very hard to find again once I took my eyes off it. Green looks orange to me sometimes so it just disappeared. I had to use landmarks like leaves, dandelions, and stones to find it again. It isn’t the first butterfly I’ve seen this spring but it’s the first one willing to pose. Its official name is now the American painted lady butterfly, I’ve read. As opposed to the English painted lady, I suppose.

I found this flower on a shrub at the local college. I believe it was a purple leaved sand cherry. The flowers were smallish at about the size of a dime, or about .70 inches. The red anthers were very pretty, I thought.

Bradford pear is an ornamental pear that is planted for its beautiful flowers. Beautiful to see, that is. You don’t want to put your nose in one, because its scent has been compared to everything from spoiled fish to an open trash bin. I smell fish when I get near it so I get a quick shot and move on. These flowers are larger than those of the sand cherry at about the size of a quarter, or .95 inches.

Ornamental cherries are still blooming beautifully this year. Some trees look as if they couldn’t hold even one more flower. These flowers are also about an inch in diameter. I discovered this year that bees love them. These trees were covered with bees and I thought for sure I’d be stung while getting photos but no, they were more interested in the flowers than in what I was doing.

Native shadbushes (Amelanchier) are blooming as well. They’re actually more tree than bush and cultivated varieties of the wild native are used ornamentally these days. Compare the flowers of the cultivar with those of the wild plant and you’ll see the same things. The main difference is, cultivars will often have more of them. They’re used extensively at the local college.

It’s amazing how plants are responding to the mild winter we had. Everything seems more vigorous and robust, including these beautiful blue grape hyacinths. Grape hyacinths aren’t related to either grapes or hyacinths. They’re actually in the same family as asparagus.

There are many beautiful tulips blooming right now and not too long after them will come the Tradescantias, which I’m always happy to see.

Pulmonaria have just started blossoming. Another name for the plant is lungwort. Lungwort was once considered dangerous because the grey spots on its leaves were associated with an infected lung. Later, it was used to treat lung disorders. The scientific name Pulmonaria comes from the Latin pulmo, meaning lung. This particular plant is odd in the way the flowers start out pink and then turn purple. Odd in my experience, anyway.

I looked for lilac flowers and thought I was too early until I saw these buds just about to open down low on a bush. It won’t be long now.

We’re still having some cold nights down into the 20s F., and that’s holding things back a little. Many trees don’t have that fresh burst of spring green color yet but it is happening slowly, as this Ohio buckeye shows; it’s a sign of things to come. Spring is an amazing time of year so I hope everyone is able to get out and enjoy it.

Spring in the world!  And all things are made new! ~Richard Hovey

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April Showers Bring-Birds?

Last week (4/9 – 4/14) we had several wet days. Since what we saw were showers rather than steady rain, I thought I might have a chance to get some photos of what happens here on showery days.

The hellebore are still going strong. I think they’re doing better this year than I’ve ever seen.

I wasn’t sure what the freezing temperatures we had in March would do to the Forsythia buds but as we see here, they didn’t seem to bother them at all. Their bright cheery color can be seen in large numbers on every street in town right now and I am always reminded how very different spring would be without them.

Siberian bugloss is also known as Brunnera macrophylla. It’s a pretty little plant that is blooming now. I first saw it in a local park and I’ve watched it spread over the years, but not to the point of being invasive. Plant breeders have come up with several different colors in the leaves, and all are quite pretty. Soon these plants will be loaded with flowers.

I love the deeply pleated leaves of false hellebore plants, which have just come up. They don’t look like any other plant in the spring forest at this time of year and that’s a good thing, because they are also the most toxic plant found in the spring forest, and people have died from eating them.

The white parts of these wild leeks look somewhat like scallions and taste somewhere between onion and garlic. They are considered a delicacy and are called ramps. They’re a favorite spring vegetable from Quebec to Tennessee, and ramp festivals are held in almost all states on the U.S. east coast and many other countries in the world. I found them just a couple of yards away from the false hellebores. Since both plants come up at the same time I like to show them in the same post when I can because people claim that they confuse the two, even though they look nothing alike. If you scroll up and down between this shot and the previous one I’m sure you’ll wonder as I do, how anyone could possibly confuse these two plants. If you’re a forager you should know false hellebores well.

Bloodroot blossoms will not open in the rain or on very cloudy days but this day was overcast and bright, so they were open or opening when I got there. “There” was an unexpected place; right along the rail trail I used to walk as a boy. Trains were running then though, and I can’t ever remember seeing a bloodroot along the tracks. I’m pretty sure the railroad used herbicides to keep the weeds (and flowers) down. Anyhow, I was lucky to have an overcast sky because the fine veins in bloodroot petals just disappear in sunshine. These are one of our most beautiful spring ephemeral flowers, here for just a short time. Their common name comes from the blood red sap found in their roots, which Native Americans once used to paint both themselves and their horses.

Every now and then the sun would break through the clouds, but not often. I was glad to see it lighting up these myrtle flowers one day. This is one of the old “shared” plants that passed from neighbor to neighbor in the early 1800s. Along with lilacs, peonies, iris, and orange daylilies it’s a plant that you find out in the middle of nowhere growing beside old cellar holes. After 200 years of growing on their own the plants still bloom as if the house was still standing and they were still being tended.

There is a big difference between looking and actually seeing, and if we just stop for a moment beautiful things like raindrops on lupine leaves can show us that difference. As Henry David Thoreau once said: It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.

I like the dark, loose flowers on this hyacinth. I used to know its name but that doesn’t matter. It’s a beautiful thing and so different from other hyacinths.

Tulips are up and blooming. These small red ones are the first I’ve seen but there are lots more coming.

Ornamental cherry trees just started blossoming. These are the first I’ve seen. We have mostly white and pink.

The magnolias are blooming beautifully this year but you can find frost burns here and there on them if you look closely.

Petals had fallen from another pure white magnolia blossom so I could see into its heart. It was as beautiful without its petals as it was with them.

One day I decided to go to the wetlands because nature seems to be really humming there lately. I sometimes stop at this picnic table to see if I can get a feel for what’s going on. There is a road to the immediate right out of view and on the day this photo was taken my car was parked on the other side of it so I wouldn’t have to go far if it rained.

I met a common grackle on the picnic table one showery day. “Mind if I sit with you?” I asked. It didn’t answer but apparently it did mind because it flew up and landed on a branch. Last time I saw it, it was high up in the top of a pine tree.

After I had sat on the picnic table for a while a cute little yellow bird landed in a bush beside it. “Look at my full belly,” it said. “Yes I see,” I replied. “It looks like you’ve had plenty to eat. You look almost like a pear with wings.”

The little bird had to smile at the thought of itself as a flying pear. Though it didn’t introduce itself I think it might have been a palm warbler, but I can never be 100% certain with birds. I don’t know why anything with the word “palm” in its name would be in New Hampshire in April but that’s what Google lens says. If it’s wrong I hope someone will let me know.

An eastern phoebe (I think) landed on a cattail in front of me, looking thin and forlorn. “I wish I had a full belly,” it said. “Maybe you just need to try a little harder” I suggested. “Watch your cousin over there and see what happens. There seems to be plenty of food for everyone right now.”

There had been a week long insect hatching taking place in the pond and though I didn’t know for sure at this point, I thought the insects might be mayflies. Mayflies can hatch in the billions and sometimes the swarms are so large they can even be seen on radar.

The phoebe’s cousin looked fit and trim and as we watched it would hop off the cattail stem and just fall like dead weight straight down to the surface of the water, where it would spread its wings at the last minute and scoop up an insect. “Try doing that,” I suggested to the thin phoebe. The palm warblers were doing the same thing but I noticed that they would also fly up into the air occasionally. They were all busy little birds, constantly moving.

Overhead was a flock of hundreds of swallows, swooping and diving and barrel rolling through the sky over the pond, eating any hapless insects that flew from the pond surface. They were also making other birds quite agitated. Many of last year’s cattail stems were armed with male red winged blackbirds, all looking up. If a swallow got too close to a nesting site, off the blackbird would go at top speed like a missile, chasing the swallow and matching its flight pattern move for move, plucking at its tail feathers all the way.

I’ve accidentally stumbled into red winged blackbird nesting sites so I didn’t envy the swallows; these blackbirds are fierce defenders of their territory. They have turned me around in a hurry by hovering right in front of my face and beating on my head and face with wildly flapping wings. They have no fear.

This not very good shot shows just a very few of the hundreds of swallows that swarmed together over the pond in a feeding frenzy.

On the pond surface were Canada geese, mallards, hooded mergansers, wood ducks like the pair in this photo, and I don’t know what else. As I sat on the picnic table I had to wonder how word of these hatchings traveled so quickly through nature. It seemed like a messaging system had let everyone know, because all these birds would show up in no time at all when the insects appeared. It was an amazing thing to watch, and I learned quite a lot by just sitting and watching. Male wood ducks are usually very shy and hide away in coves and backwaters where they can’t be seen, yet here they were out in plain sight with people nearby. That’s how strong the pull of easy food pickings was.

It was hard to get a good shot of the wood ducks because they never stopped moving. They and all the other waterfowl swam quickly back and forth, vacuuming up as many insects as they could, just as this one was doing. They must have been eating them by the thousands, and if you figure in all the swallows overhead and the smaller birds in the bushes, along with all the fish, frogs, turtles, and other life in the pond, you begin to see that it’s a miracle that any of the insects survive. But they do survive, and they have for hundreds of millions of years. Mayflies, it is said, are among the most ancient of insects still living. And it’s a good thing they’re still with us; just look at all the life they help support. Though called “mayflies” I’ve read that they can appear at any time from April to October.

It started to rain again and as I got back to the car and reached for the door handle I saw an insect that had been resting on the car fly away. I still can’t say for certain because I only got a quick glimpse, but it looked to me like a mayfly. Other possibilities are stoneflies and caddisflies but what I saw didn’t look like either of those. They’re bigger than mayflies.

Non biting midges are another good possibility. Midge fly pupae swim to the surface and emerge as adults, which look a lot like mosquitoes. They mate in a swarm shortly after becoming adults, so they sound like a good possibility as well. Adults live for 3-5 days.

After all this talk of mayflies I knew I’d better show you one. A year or two ago I got this shot of one hiding on a fern stalk. According to what I read about them online the dull opaque color of the wings means this mayfly was at the “subimago stage,” which is halfway between the nymph and adult stages. This is when they are most vulnerable, so they will often hide in the undergrowth at pond edges. At the adult stage they have no mouth parts and cannot eat. They mate and the female lays her eggs in water, and both she and the male will die after living for just a day or two.

I found this photo of non-biting midges, also called lake flies, on Wikipedia. It was taken by Alexsuchy near Lake Winnebago in Neenah, Wisconsin. These insects like a surface water temperature of 60 degrees F. to hatch, while Damselflies prefer 70 degrees F. If I’d had a way to measure the water temperature I would have had my answer. Mayflies require very clean water but midge larvae are somewhat tolerant of pollution.

When a fly fisherman ties a fly he tries to make that fly look like whatever insect will be hatching when he uses it. If it’s good enough it will fool the fish into thinking it’s the real thing.

I suppose the moral of this story is, don’t let wet weather stop you. You can often see amazing things on rainy days that you might only rarely see when the sun shines. The beauty and splendor never stops, rain or shine.

Looking at the pond all I could think was that it is an incredible thing how a whole world can rise from what seems like nothing at all. ~Sarah Dressen

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A Cold Snap

We’ve had a cool, showery week and that has slowed down a lot of the flowers. Since they were really blooming about two weeks early anyway, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The weathervane at the local college on this day was showing stiff winds out of the east-northeast, which is almost always a chilly direction, so I didn’t spend much time standing around.

NOTE: The arrow on a weathervane always points in the direction that the wind is coming from, which in this case is the west. I took this photo on Wednsday but was apparently thinking of yesterday when I put this post together. In any event it has been cold and windy all week.

Of course I didn’t really need a weather vane; all I had to do was watch the alder catkins. Their normal position at rest is straight up and down, so even sitting in a car I knew it was windy.

Last week I was able to show spring beauties but they’ve left us for now due to the change in weather, I think. This week coltsfoot blossoms have appeared. They’re another early spring flower which is able to stand a lot of cold. They close up at night and when rain threatens. Though they aren’t native they’re a welcome sign of spring.

This shot isn’t great but I wanted to show it because it shows how flat coltsfoot blossoms are as opposed to dandelion blossoms, which are more mounded. At a glance you could walk right by thinking you had seen dandelions, but a closer look would show the differences. Another difference is in the stems; dandelion stems are smooth and coltsfoot stems are very scaly. Once you look closely you see that they don’t look at all alike.

Flower buds are finally showing through the gray of willow catkins but as I write this on Thursday, March 21st, the night’s forecast calls for temps as low as 15-20 degrees F. Willows are used to the cold, but we’ll have to wait and see just how cold it gets. These were female flowers.

I got up the next morning and saw that the thermometer read 19 degrees; not good with so many flowers in bloom, so off I went. I found that the few male willow blossoms that had appeared  over the past day or two were undamaged, and I saw many willow catkins that still hadn’t blossomed yet. It’s going to be a great year for willow flowers by the looks.

I could see that some of the female red maple flowers had blackened tips, and in other places the entire stigma was black and withered. There are many millions if not billions of these flowers in just this area though, so the red maple population will be fine, I’m sure. Staggered bloom times mean that by the time the last flowers appear the first ones that appeared have already been pollinated and are producing seeds.

One of my favorite buds to watch in spring are red elderberry. They’re uncommon but worth looking for because they’re very colorful and are big enough to be easily seen. This year I was fortunate to find two or three bushes in different places in different stages of growth, so we can see what bud break looks like in a red elderberry.

Bud break happens when you can just see the tip of a green leaf coming out of a bud in spring. Or in this case, a purple leaf. Many new spring leaves protect themselves from harsh sunlight by having colors other than green to start with. Purple and red are common new spring leaf colors.

This is the first time I’ve been able to show you the entire sequence of red elderberry buds breaking in one post. Normally I’d have to show it over the course of two or three posts. Elderberry buds show a lot of movement, even in still photos. The new leaves look like little hands.

This photo is from a few years ago but I’m including it so you can see the entire bud break sequence. In this shot the flower buds have appeared and the new leaves have started to turn green. When mature the flower heads will be small, bright white, and kind of truncated cone or bee hive shaped; much different than the large, flat flower heads of the much more common American black elderberry which is found throughout the northeastern U.S.

Cornelian cherries have finally blossomed, just in time for the coldest weather since January. The plant itself is hardy down to -30F but I didn’t get a chance to get back to them so we’ll have to wait and see how the tiny flowers did. This is an ancient plant that was well known by the Greeks and Romans. Pits from its tart berries have even been found in archeological digs dating back to Neanderthal times.

The ground ivy flowers have been growing quickly so the large, spotted “landing pad” petal will now support insects. From there an insect might crawl over a small forest of guide hairs which point them down into a tube where they will find nectar. Once they’ve had their fill of nectar they’ll crawl up out of the tube, hopefully avoiding the guide hairs and instead brushing against the 4 chunky white stamens. The stamens will dust them with pollen, which they’ll transport to another flower. Above the blocky white stamens, peeking through a notch in the upper petal, is the forked style. The example show here still had some growing to do; when fully grown it will arch up over the flower, bending almost low enough to touch the guide hairs. When an insect that has been dusted with pollen from another flower brushes against that sticky forked style and leaves its pollen, pollination will be complete and the flower can produce its 4 seeds, which are called nutlets. Ground ivy flowers can be male, female or “perfect,” flowers, which means they have both male and female reproductive parts. In the time it took to type this a dozen flowers probably could probably have been pollinated. It’s a quick, uncomplicated process. Until you try to explain it, that is.  

I saw maybe a dozen flowers open on a single Forsythia but the thousands of others in town, on almost every street, aren’t blooming yet. Most aren’t even showing color in their buds yet.

Though I thought I’d be wasting my time I went and checked the striped maple buds. Much to my surprise I found several that were close to opening. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them open this early. I think for striped maple it usually happens in early to mid-April, so everything seems to have been accelerated by two or three weeks due to the early warmth.

The light colored bud inside the darker bud scales is very easy to see. I’ll have to watch them closely now so I don’t miss the beautiful velvety, pink and orange buds. They’re easily one of the prettiest buds to open in spring and I’ve seen them each spring no matter what the weather has been like. Bud opening is staggered, so if a few are lost to the cold there will be more coming along.

Violas won’t mind the cold. I’ve seen them blooming surrounded by snow.

This was the first daffodil I found fully opened. The cold probably wasn’t kind to the garden flowers but the few daffodils I have here which are budded, made it through fine. Scilla and reticulated iris also weren’t harmed. I have to remind myself occasionally that certain plants bloom in early spring because they can stand the cold. And when it comes right down to it this really isn’t unusually cold weather at all; it’s normal weather. It just seems cold because it was 60 degrees in February, which isn’t normal at all.

I saw a few magnolia buds that had started to open. It would be nice if most of them stayed closed for now. They’re delicate, and burn easily.

The first of the grape hyacinths are up at the local college. It’s funny; as I saw them there I realized that this small group of them, in this spot, are the first I see each year. Like clockwork they’ve appeared here each spring I think for as long as I’ve been doing this blog. Through them I’ve learned just how unique they are, or at least how unique their timing is; I know that I won’t see another grape hyacinth blooming anywhere for a week or two after I’ve seen these.

The witch hazels are still going strong. They can take a lot of cold and though they can roll up their petals I’ve seen a lot of them blackened over the years. I’d like to not see that this year.

Another of my favorite crocuses is up and blooming. I don’t really know how much cold this one can stand but I have seen them blooming in the snow before. It’s a beautiful thing and I’d like to see it last for a while.

I’m short on critters this week. I heard lots of birds but didn’t see many, and the animals have been quiet. I did see this bee peeking over the rim of a crocus though.

It was moving slowly and I didn’t know if that was because of the cold or if it was looking for a place to stop and clean itself up. It had obviously been rolling in pollen so it was probably about as happy as a bee can be.

As I finish this post on Friday evening I see that they’ve now changed the forecast, saying we could get 3-5 inches of snow tonight and tomorrow. Or it could be sleet and/or freezing rain. Whatever it turns out to be, it will be normal weather for March in New England. We may lose a few flowers but there are many more to come.

Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment. ~Ellis Peters

Thanks for stopping in.

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A Few More Signs of Spring

Spring is happening slowly again after a warm spell two weeks or so ago that got everything moving quickly. I saw maple sap flowing a couple of weeks ago but they just put out the sap buckets this past week. Warm days and cold nights are what keeps the sap flowing so hopefully it won’t get too hot too fast and spoil the season. Right now it’s just about right, with daytime temps in the 40s and nights getting down into the 20s. Much higher than the 40s during the daytime means the sap won’t run.

The red and silver maples are beautiful, loaded as they are with bright red buds.

I haven’t seen any maple flowers yet though, even though the buds are swelling. Maple trees can flower quickly and a tree that doesn’t have any flowers one day can be loaded with them the next. Maple syrup producers are in no hurry to see the trees flower because that means syrup season is just about done. Red maple sap especially, gets bitter once the trees start flowering, but luckily all the trees don’t blossom at the same time. Blossom times are naturally staggered so you can find trees just coming into flower as much as a month after you saw the first one blossom. Nature has it all figured out.

I looked at some of the beautiful powder blue box elder buds but they didn’t seem to be doing too much yet. They’re one of the last trees in the maple family to flower. The powdery blue color on the new twigs and buds is cause by the same natural wax like crystals that cause the bloom on blueberries, plums, and many other things. It’s there essentially to protect from sunburn.

I took that shot of the box elder branch at the river, where I also saw a large gathering of ducks and geese. This Canada goose was alone but there were also pairs there as well.

This is unusual. Ducks and geese don’t usually come onto the shore when there are people around. In fact they usually swim or fly to the other side of the river as soon as they see someone coming. It didn’t take long to see what had removed their fear though; someone had dumped something they liked on shore and they all wanted it. From a distance it looked like it might have been cracked corn but I couldn’t be sure. Every time Mr. and Mrs. Mallard got too close the geese would run them off, so it must have been tasty. Feeding wildfowl isn’t usually done here so I can’t even guess what this was all about.

After the mallards got the geese really bothered one goose stood guard while the other ate. You can see the mallards over there on the right, plotting their next move.

The waterfowl are happy the ice is gone but really, there wasn’t much to go. Nobody was able to skate on this pond at a local park this year and the annual ice fishing derby on Wilson Pond in Swanzey was cancelled because what little ice there was never got thick enough to support all the fishermen. This is the first time that has happened, I think.

I gave up on winter and went looking for spring, and I was glad I did. I found this grouping of crocus at the local college. A lady saw me with my camera and stopped me to ask if I was there to get photos of the locust. “The locust?” I asked. She must have thought I looked confused because she said “You know; the flowers.” I told her that I thought she might mean the crocus and if so yes, that was what I was there for. “Oh yes, locusts are insects, right?” “Yes, that’s right,” I replied. I didn’t want to explain that certain trees are also known as locusts. “Well, have fun,” she said with a smile, and off she went.  

This one was my favorite.

The ones that are white inside and have three petals that are purple on the outside is another favorite. I think this is the first time I’ve ever found them wide open like this. For years I’ve always found them closed.

At another part of the college there are groups of yellow crocus planted with groups of purple ones. The yellow ones always seem to come up first and there are a lot of them blooming right now.

Bees were enjoying the flowers too.

I was surprised to see the bees because I didn’t think it had warmed up enough for them. They left these crocus flowers covered in pollen, so their timing was perfect.

I saw one or two purple crocuses but there are lots more to come. I always like to see the beautiful feathery designs inside these flowers.

I saw just one wrinkled viola blossom, which is odd. In years past these plants often bloomed before the crocuses, and it was colder then.

There are a few snowdrops in bloom with many more of them to come as well.

Dandelions started blooming two or three weeks ago and they haven’t stopped since. Not even snow can slow them down this year.

The Cornelian cherries are taking it slow. Like a child dipping one toe at a time in the water to feel its temperature, they seem to open one bud at a time to feel the air temperature. Then one day, as if a silent signal was given, you’ll walk by one of the trees and all its flowers will be open.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the spring blooming witch hazels with so many flowers on them as they have this year. I stopped to see them one day and found bees all over them. The flowers seen here seemed to be what they preferred. Possibly because they’re the most fragrant. You can smell them from a block away when the breeze is right.

I like this one because of its long petals. On cold nights they roll up each of the four petals and tuck them in for the night. In the morning when the sun warms them they unroll them again. That’s why the petals always look so crinkly, almost like crepe paper. Other than to attract insects and look pretty, they serve no real purpose.

Go out in nature and you will find yourself in love with all of nature’s kind. ~Wald Wassermann

Thanks for coming by.

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Things I’ve Seen

Hello again everyone. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and are having a Happy New Year. I thought I’d better do a post and show you the first real snow of the year, which fell on January 7th. I say it’s the first real snow because we’ve had a dusting and a nuisance storm of about half an inch, but this one was a plowable 4-5 inches. This old road is one of my favorite winter scenes so I had to get out and get a photo of it before the wind blew all the snow off the trees. I thought it was very beautiful with all the colors of the oak and beech leaves mingling with the white of the snow in the morning sunshine.

This shot of a dandelion in bloom was taken by cellphone just 7 days before that first snowy photo, on December 31st. The two photos illustrate the up and down, freeze and thaw cycle we seem to be stuck in at present. The snowy scenes didn’t last long thanks to 48 degree temps and pouring rain just 2 days after it fell. That’s the way the last two or three winters have gone. The dandelion is the only flower I’ve seen bloom in all 12 months of the year.

This just about says it all. If you can picture that little raindrop freezing at night and then thawing when the sun hits it in the morning, that seems to be the latest version of winter in New Hampshire. I read that the average winter temperature is now 3.5 degrees warmer than it was ten years ago. I’m not here to talk about right or wrong, good or bad, or this or that; I’m just reporting what is.

We had enough rain to make the river flood and when that happens thankfully much of the water ends up in unused fields like this one. I like to get out after the flood waters freeze because that’s when you can see and hear some amazing things.

When the ice begins to shatter some ice plates can be bigger than a car tire. When they’re supported by shrubs as they were here you can tell how deep the water was when it froze over. In this instance I guessed it had been about 18 inches deep. Standing here watching and hearing them break up in the warm sunshine was amazing.

The ground isn’t frozen yet so the water quickly drains away, leaving the ice high and dry. When the sun hits this ice that is left just floating in space the ice begins to shatter and when it does it sings, sometimes tinkling, sometimes crashing. Sometimes you hear loud snapping sounds made by ice cracking under pressure, and it can be startling.

That’s just what happened shortly after this killdeer landed beside me while I was standing and listening to the ice sing. All of the sudden there was a loud snap and crash when ice caved in and this bird flew straight up into the sky like it was a jet airplane. I had to laugh because I had jumped at the sound of the loud noise as well. This is not a great shot of this bird because I was surprised to see it just feet away and of course I didn’t have my camera turned on so there was a lot of fumbling going on.

Killdeer are in the plover family and aren’t seen that often, at least not by me. Its name comes from its “shrill, two-syllable call,” which someone apparently thought sounded like “kill deer.” Where people get these ideas from, I don’t know. Females lay their eggs directly on the ground, often in gravel. I’ve read that the eggs don’t get eaten by predators because they look like stones. If a predator gets too close to the nest the female will flutter on the ground pretending to have a broken wing, and lure the predator away. It’s a very clever bird.

Of course ice can be beautiful, so I always take a closer look. I love the wave like patterns that are often found frozen in ice but I’ve never been able to figure out how it happens. I’m sure wind must have a lot to do with it.

This was a large piece of ice on the shore of a small pond. I thought it was beautiful, almost like a sand dune in shape, and its color reminded me of puddle ice. Years ago I read that ice that is white like this has more oxygen in it; millions of tiny bubbles color it white. It is almost always very thin and it tinkles like the very thin glass of a fluorescent tube when it breaks.

Endlessly fascinating and beautiful, that’s what ice is to me.

I’ve seen this pond freeze over and then thaw again several times since mid-December. It always has interesting frozen bubbles on its surface.

I’ve seen a few examples of “winter fungi” including this one that I saw peeking out from under the bark on a log in a December. I haven’t bothered identifying it.

I’ve also seen lots of color so far in these colder months. This crowded parchment fungus was at its best on a rainy day and it glowed like a beacon so I could see it long before I reached it. You find this common fungus growing on limbs that have fallen from nearby trees. I always wonder how fungal spores get so high into the crown of a tree. Wind I suppose, or maybe they stick to the feet of birds.

Speaking of birds, I’m seeing lots of bluebirds this year. Years ago I saw my first bluebird sitting on a post and rail fence, and then I didn’t see another one for probably 30 years. That’s because I wasn’t looking in the right places. They like wide open spaces like old fields and wetlands, which is just where I saw this one. They’re a good reason to come out of the forest every now and then because they’re beautiful, and they’re also my favorite color. In warmer months they eat insects and in cold weather seeds and berries. This one heard me coming from a few yards away, just about when I saw him, and turned his head to see what I was up to. Often when I see something so beautiful I forget I have a camera, but on this day I had sense enough to get a shot. I love the curled markings on its feathers. They made me realize that I had never seen a bluebird’s back.

There are lots of dogwoods, many different viburnums, highbush cranberry, and other native fruit bearing shrubs here in the wetlands, so I’m sure that has something to do with the large bluebird population.

Bluebirds like to nest in hollow trees but I knew I wouldn’t find one in this hole, because it was in a fallen log.

Still, I had to take a closer look to see if anyone was home. I didn’t see anyone or hear any little feet rustling but I was happy just to see the beautiful wood grain, so it didn’t matter.

I saw this wooly bear caterpillar sauntering down a road on January 10th. These caterpillars produce their own antifreeze and can freeze solid in winter but once the temperatures rise into the 40s F in spring they thaw out and begin feeding on dandelion and other early spring greens. Eventually it will spin a cocoon and emerge as a beautiful tiger moth. From that point on it has only two weeks to live. Unfortunately this wasn’t spring; it was January and 48 degrees, so I wondered if it had been fooled into thinking it was spring. Since winter has been so warm so far, maybe it hasn’t yet felt the need to freeze.

I saw some nice staghorn clubmoss in a colony bigger than I’ve ever seen. Clubmosses are ancient spore bearing plants which have been here for millions of years. Fossil records show they once grew to the size of trees. I don’t see this one too often but they are obviously very happy in this spot.

I saw what I thought was a flattened pinecone on the road one day. While I took photos of it I convinced myself that it was a pinecone that had been run over so many times it had been cut in half. “This will be an interesting thing for the blog” I told myself, “I doubt many people have seen half a pinecone.” Then all of the sudden I realized what I was seeing was not a pinecone at all; it was simply the flattened tip of a pine branch. How could I have totally missed the reality of what I was seeing?

These are the moments in nature that are important, but most of them will go unnoticed. That is unfortunate because it is in these moments that all thought can drain from the mind, and for a second or two you can experience the silence and peace of pure emptiness. Something clicks like a key in a lock, and perhaps for the first time you see with absolute clarity. Others have said the same:

In his 1926 book The Gentle Art of Tramping Stephen Graham said it this way: As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged on the shingly beach of a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens.

Author Charlene Spretnak said it this way: There are sacred moments in life when we experience in rational and very direct ways that separation, the boundary between ourselves and other people and between ourselves and nature, is illusion.

Author Marty Rubin said this: People think in such grand terms-unconditional love, changing the world, doing the impossible. They fail to see the joy, the immense bliss, which lies in simple everyday acts.

Author Charles de Lint had this to say: Free your heart from your mind. Embrace wonder for one moment without the need to consider how that wonder came to be, without the need to justify if it be real or not.

Native American Black Elk from the Lakota tribe said this: And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell, and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of things in the spirit, and the shapes of all shapes as they must live together like one being.

They and many more over the course of countess centuries have all said the same thing in different ways, so I suppose the moral of this too long story is simply; pay close attention. When you get a glimpse of how an imagined life has fooled you into believing what is false, that is the time to see truth. You can’t make it happen and you can’t stop it from happening, but you can stay quiet and pay attention. Then, let whatever wants to happen, happen. As the old saying goes; when the student is ready the teacher will appear. My point is that the teacher doesn’t always have to be human. It can come in any form, anywhere, at any time.

I found a bush full of beautiful bluish seedpods that I hadn’t ever seen. Google lens told me it was a pearl bush and when I looked at a photo it was obvious where the name came from. The flowers remind me of mock orange but the white flower buds on leafless branches look like strings of pearls. I thought its seedpods were beautiful.

A little critter had zipped up the snow.

This blog has evolved over time I suppose, but the message is really still the same: walk slowly and look closely, and marvel at all the wonder and beauty in this paradise we find ourselves in. Anyone can do this, so why not try? Let nature gently lead you back to yourself and remind you that you don’t stop at your skin. You are so much more; beyond knowing, beyond description. Lose yourself in life’s sweet song and let life’s energy surge through you, just as it was doing in everything seen in these photos.

The splendor of Silence—of snow-jeweled hills and of ice. ~Ingram Crockett

Thanks for coming by.

NOTE: I’m not back full time yet. I will still be posting sporadically until sometime in March. Take care.

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Winter in the Wetlands

This post completes the circular story of the wetlands for this year. We’ve seen the beautiful trout lilies and other wildflowers of spring, the birds, insects and animals of summer, and the beautiful colors of fall. Now we see winter but before we know it, it will be time to show those spring trout lilies again. This is a beautiful place, with many unusual things that I haven’t seen anywhere else, so that means I’ll have to keep coming back. 

Wild raisin (Viburnum cassinoides) is a native viburnum that likes wet feet so it’s right at home here in the wetlands. In fact I’ve seen more of them here than I ever have anywhere else. They’re easy to spot at this time of year because of their dangling clusters of round blue black fruit. The fruit is edible and is said to be quite sweet, and Native Americans ate them fresh or dried.

If you aren’t sure if what you have are wild raisins, just look at the buds. The valvate buds have two long bud scales that look like a blue heron bill, but the scales don’t cover the center of the bud. There is another native viburnum called nannyberry (Viburnum lentago) that has very similar buds, but its scales cover the entire bud. It also has edible berries, but its berries are more oval or elongated than round and they ripen slightly later. The difference between the flavor of the berries I’ve read, is nannyberries have a prune / banana type flavor, while wild raisins taste more like actual raisins. In any event birds love them both so if you want to try them you might want to get after it.

Bright sunshine showed these blackberry leaves were still green.

If you aren’t sure if what you’re seeing is a raspberry or a blackberry, just feel the canes. Blackberry canes feel more square than round and mature canes will have a groove or two in them that will run the length of the cane. Just watch the thorns.

These blackberry leaves were finished with photosynthesizing so they no longer needed to be green. Blackberries and other brambles like swamp dewberry often have deep purple leaves at this time of year.  

American wintergreen is another plant that turns purple when it gets cold. Oil of wintergreen has been used medicinally for centuries and a soothing tea can be made from the leaves. The fragrance of the oil is unmistakable because it is used in toothpaste, mouthwash, pain relievers, breath mints and many other products but you should note: If you are allergic to aspirin you should not eat the berries, leaves or any teas or other preparations made from this plant because it contains compounds very similar to those found in aspirin.

I saw lots of berries on these plants and thought of my grandmother as I picked a few. When I was just a small boy, after we visited my mother’s grave we would go into the woods so she could teach me about the plants that grew there. Teaberry plants grew in abundance and she always called them checkerberries. Since she often had trouble getting up from a kneeling position before long it was up to me to find the berries and I usually found a lot of them. She loved them and taught me to love them as well but on this day these berries were kind of on the mealy side. I thought maybe they had been frozen and I didn’t care for their texture, but the flavor of Clarks teaberry gum was still the same.

There are lots of gray birches here. Though they aren’t quite as pretty as the bright white paper birches they do have white bark and they’re far more common. It is rare that a day goes by without birches in it.

Gray birches have the odd habit of having upright male catkins rather than ones that hang down like so many other trees. Before they flower in spring though, they will have changed position and will be hanging down. How they might benefit by standing upright, I don’t know. Plants don’t do things just for the fun of it though; every time they use energy, there is a good reason behind it. I’ve always thought that part of the fun of nature study was trying to figure out why they do what they do. If you watch them very closely, like each day in spring for trees, their secrets are often revealed. You don’t have to stand there watching them; often just a glance each day will show you something is different. You might see that those birch catkins that were standing up yesterday are now hanging down. I don’t know this as fact but I would guess in this case that the catkins would want to be pointing downward so water didn’t get in under the shingle like bud scales when they opened. If water reaches the flowers and freezes in a cold spring it can damage or even kill them. 

The female cone like gray birch strobiles are larger than the male catkins and they always hang down. A close look shows that each one bears many hundreds of seeds. The small seeds are shaped like triangles with tiny wings, and are blown about by the wind in late fall and winter. Unless that is, birds get to them first. Many songbirds love them. You can often find the snow under a gray birch littered with hundreds of tiny seeds after a storm and chickadees and other small birds will be feasting on them. If they aren’t eaten they can persist for years in the soil.

But I would guess that most birch seeds do get eaten and to make sure I knew how it was done this black capped chickadee landed right in front of me to show me. It was easy to see where the name “black capped” came from. These are beautifully colored little birds but they don’t sit still long so few of us ever get to see them up close. Quite often I’ll notice as I walk on trails they fly along beside me from bush to bush, always just out of sight of the camera.

Luckily this one wasn’t camera shy so we can get a good look. How it can find those tiny birch seeds in all that gravel and pine needles, I don’t know. They’ve got better eyes than I have, I do know that. Males and females look almost identical but you can tell them apart in spring by their song. The males have a beautiful “fee-bee” mating call that sounds both sad and sweet, and it just doesn’t seem like spring is here until I hear their call. They also have an “every day” call that sounds like “chick a dee-dee-dee,” and I would guess that’s how they came by that part of their name.

We’ve had some up and down weather lately. One day last week it was 48 degrees and as I came out of a store I noticed this cluster fly hanging out on the hood of my car, enjoying the warmth of the engine that was wafting up from the gap between the hood and fender. Google lens told me it was a cluster fly and I learned that their name comes from the way they cluster together on your window sills on sunny winter days. They get into attics and other warm spaces and spend the winter there, but unlike the common housefly they don’t lay eggs on food.

One day it was very warm and all the melting ice created a heavy mist. Since I had seen flies and even mosquitoes around I thought I’d go and see if the spiders had built any webs in the wetlands but no; apparently they all disappeared. I’ve read that orb weaver spiders die in winter but the egg sacs the females leave behind ensure a new generation in spring.

The ice was melting quickly and in a day or two there wouldn’t be any left except in places that saw no sunshine.

There is so much beauty in this world, sometimes it seems like these posts have now reduced themselves to nothing but beauty. But I’m here to report what I see in nature and beauty is what I see, because it’s everywhere I look. I find that my thoughts of whether or not something is beautiful are based more on how something makes me feel than how it looks, and the simplicity of a pickerel weed leaf tip sticking up out of frozen pond grabbed me and held me for a time. I love the colors and the minimalistic, abstract feel, and the way the leaf’s shadow looks like it has been colored in with a crayon. That’s due to tiny bubbles in the ice, I think. I must have taken twenty photos of this scene and this is the one I liked the most.

There is never ice everywhere here in the wetlands; even in the coldest winters there is always open water to be found and mallards are expert at finding it. I found the mallards seen here swimming in part of a pool that hadn’t frozen over completely. There was Mr. Mallard…..

…and there was Mrs. Mallard. I love the way they float along so serenely, and I loved the beautiful patterns in her feathers.

Actually on this day I saw far more of this than I did serene floating. These birds were hungry, and they were finding plenty to eat down there on the bottom.

There were lots of black eyed Susan seeds for other birds to eat. Goldfinches love them and there are lots of goldfinches here. Other birds that eat them are chickadees, cardinals, nuthatches, and sparrows, all of which can be found here in the wetlands.

All of the same birds also eat aster seeds. Years ago I started leaving garden plants standing for the winter so birds could eat the seeds and I usually have a yard full of birds. Most of the smaller birds hide in the big eastern white cedar out front and they fly into it when I open the door to leave. Bigger birds just fly up and perch on the many bare limbs of the maples, cherries and crab apples and watch what I’m doing. I don’t feed them but they know I won’t harm them so I’ve had generation after generation nesting here. One of the great pleasures I find in nature is in the spring when I can start opening the windows to hear their songs at dawn.

I saw lots of bird’s nests here but I chose to show this one because one side support had let go and it was tilted so we could easily see inside it. I thought back to last summer and what birds I had seen in this spot. There were lots of catbirds and a few blue jays here but I can’t say with certainty which of them would have made the nest. A baseball, which is about 3 inches in diameter, would have fit right into it. There are lots of grapevines here as well and this and other birds had used their peeling bark to build their nests, along with straw and whatever else they could find.

I always look at the grape tendrils because sometimes I see amazing things in them like horse heads or Hindu dancers, but on this day all I saw was a grape tendril. It seems like my imagination has decided to take some time off lately.

Miles off in the distance it looked like Mount Monadnock had received a dusting of snow. It usually snows on the mountain before we see any down here in the lowlands. It had rained here the day before, so I’d guess that it fell as snow up there. Once there is a buildup of snow on the mountain it will most likely stay snowy until May, depending on the weather. I’ve been up there when the snow was so deep I had to kind of swim / crawl through / over it. It’s a good thing I was young because it was exhausting. I felt tired right down to my bones.

I couldn’t stand around thinking of mountains for very long because there were some dark clouds moving in, and it was cold enough to snow. I snapped this one last shot of the clouds and stayed dry all the way to the car, but I woke the next morning to find that we’d had a dusting of snow overnight.

Beauty, joy, serenity, simplicity, and wonder; I found them all while making this post and I found them without really even trying. I know you’ll find them too, and much, much more as you travel through life.

Go to the winter woods: listen there; look, watch, and “the dead months” will give you a subtler secret than any you have yet found in the forest. ~ Fiona Macleod

Thanks for coming by.

Note: As I did last year at this time I’m taking a short break from regular blogging, so posts will be sporadic until they resume in March. I need to just be quiet for awhile so I’ll post the usual “Christmas card” post next week and then, unless something comes up I’ll be back in March. I expect something will come up before then though. Last year all of the sudden I was writing poetry. And don’t forget-you can always go to the archives up there on the right hand side and wander through them. There are 12 years worth of blog posts there.

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Big Changes in the Deep Cut

It has been nearly a year since I last visited the man-made canyon on the deep cut rail trail up in Westmoreland, because the last time I visited there had been a rockslide in the southern end of the man-made canyon and it had flooded the canyon badly. The northern canyon seen here remained mostly untouched.

I say mostly untouched because rock falls were also happening in the northern canyon. If you look closely up ahead on the right side you can see a caution sign, there so snowmobiles don’t crash into the rock fall in winter.

The largest stone seen here is about half the size of a Volkswagen beetle, and it surely would have crushed one if one had been there when it fell.

Above the rock fall is a scary scene, because huge stones have detached from the wall and are ready to fall. You can see marks from the old steam drills and the stone has come loose from the face of the canyon along the line of one of the drill marks. This is a dangerous situation that I will stay away from until that loose, car crushing stone has fallen.

The reason so many stones fall is because there is a lot of groundwater here. The water seeps into any crack in the stone and when it gets cold enough it freezes and expands, and ever so slowly the stones are pushed apart. Eventually they fall, but this never would have happened when the trains were running because the railroad would have regularly inspected the route.

Though some features, like that beautifully built retaining wall on the left, need little maintenance the drainage channels that run through here need regular cleaning of leaves, silt and branches or they dam themselves up and flood into the trail. This has happened in several spots along this section of trail. There is a lot of water here and if it doesn’t have a way to run off, it causes problems.

The reason I started regularly coming to this place is because I found plants here that I couldn’t find anywhere else, like the wild chervil seen in the photo above. Its leaves were still nice and green and I think that was because there hadn’t been a frost here yet. This place has its own weather and usually runs about 10 degrees cooler, but on this day it was warm and so humid the camera lens kept fogging up. I was also swatting mosquitoes in November, which was a first. Wild chervil isn’t the same as the cultivated chervil used to flavor soups so it should never be eaten. In many places it is called cow parsley and it closely resembles many plants like water hemlock that are extremely poisonous. It’s a good plant to admire and just leave alone.

I saw some late fall oyster mushrooms on a log. On this side they had just appeared and were whitish colored…

…and on the other side of the log they had some age and had darkened. These mushrooms almost always form in overlapping groups. They are sometimes said to be the last mushroom seen before winter but there are many others that fruit in late fall. Though I didn’t show them here the gills are yellow to yellow orange. When quite young they also have a yellowish color where the cap meets the stem and that is the “glow” seen in the previous photo.

There are lots of ferns here, including the evergreen wood ferns seen here. These ferns are true evergreens, holding on to their green fronds under the snow until spring.

If you’re interested in knowing what fern it is you happen to be seeing a good guide book is Identifying Ferns the Easy Way: A Pocket Guide to Common Ferns of the Northeast by Lynn Levine. When I bought it, it was $10.95, which is a low price for a guide as good as this one. One of the things she explains in detail is how to use a fern’s spore case locality on the leaf to identify it.

On another log there were some brown cup fungi growing on a log and they must have been tasty because something, probably a squirrel or chipmunk, had been nibbling at them.  According to Michael Kuo at Mushroom Expert. Com these are among the most difficult fungi to identify. I call them brown cup fungi because they are brown and cup shaped but they could be one of several different species.

I looked up to the rim of the canyon and there was a young beech so bright against the background trees it looked to be on fire. Though the walls of the canyon look barren at this time of year in summer they are lush and green, with masses of violets and other flowers growing anywhere they can get a foothold. It transforms itself into a beautiful Shangri-La.

One of the most unusual things I’ve found growing on these walls is algae. Even though what you see is colored carrot orange it is called green algae. Over about a dozen years it has grown to about twice the size it was when I first found it and has even started growing on the opposite wall of the canyon. I keep hoping I’ll see it producing spores but I haven’t yet.

I found lots of beech drops here. They grow near beech trees and are a parasite that fasten onto the roots of the tree using root like structures. They take all of their nutrients from the tree so they don’t need leaves, chlorophyll, or sunlight. Beech drops are annuals that die off in cold weather, but they can often be found growing in the same place each year.

Tiny pinkish purple flowers with a darker purplish or reddish stripe are the only things found on a beech drop’s leafless stems. On the lower part of the stem are flowers that never have to open because they self-fertilize. They are known as cleistogamous flowers. On the upper part of the stem are tubular flowers which open and are pollinated by insects. The flowers seen here never really opened, possibly because it is so late in the season. I usually find them blossoming in September.

I was surprised to find leaves on this young maple. I think it was an invasive Norway maple, which hold their leaves until most other maples have dropped theirs. Their fall color is yellow as well. The real test is to break a leaf stem. If it has white latex rather than clear sap it is a Norway maple.

These leaves had a good case of powdery mildew. Like tar spot, which is another leaf attacking disease, it is unsightly but it doesn’t harm the health of the tree.

Since I knew how wet the trail ahead was, and since I wasn’t going “thru,” I skirted the sign so I could see what had been done over the summer.

The answer was, not much. They had broken up the huge stone slab that had slipped off the hillside though, so that was a start. I had spoken to one of the people who were going to do the work so I know there are big plans for the place. I’m guessing they’re waiting for the ground to freeze so the heavy equipment doesn’t destroy what is left of the trail. In this photo you can see by the stone standing upright how thick the slab was. When it slipped it came to rest in the drainage channel, plugging it tight and flooding the trail.

There were three of these huge slabs of rock along this section of trail and now there are two. If the others let go and slide into the trail I hope I’m not here when it happens. This shot of one of the two slabs still left gives you an idea of how big they are. You could park a Volkswagen beetle on this one. In winter they are covered in sheets of ice about 6 inches think, and I always hoped the ice wouldn’t give way when I was here in the winter. That the stone would let go and slip never crossed my mind. It must have made quite a rumbling sound.

This view gives an idea of how thick the slabs are; I’d guess about 18 inches. The slab of rock that fell was about the same thickness as what is seen here but it was bigger, if I remember correctly.  It was also covered in ice when it fell. The green you see here and there in this shot are great scented liverworts. There was a lot of water between us so I couldn’t get any closer.

For the first time since I’ve been coming here I found great scented liverwort growing in soil beside the trail. I’ve always liked its reptilian appearance and its clean, fresh scent. I hope it continues to grow in this spot but it is a very fussy plant that will refuse to grow if the conditions aren’t right. It demands clean, unpolluted water, for instance.

Also for the first time, I saw a yellow jelly fungus growing on a leaf. Or it might have grown through holes in this beech leaf. I’ve never seen them grow on anything but wood. There is always something unusual to see, every time I come here.

I had to reach out and run my hand over this white tipped Hedwigia moss. It seems more animal than plant and it begs to be petted. When it looks like it does in this photo it is at its optimum; it has had plenty of water and is good and healthy, and is at the top of its game. When dry it looks completely different. The white tips are caused by young leaves that have no chlorophyl. They turn green as the age.

I’ve never shown you how I get into the canyon. This is the view just as you come out of the canyon, looking toward the road, so we’re leaving rather than arriving. The ice climbers who come here kindly built boardwalks to get over the washouts that get bigger each year. You really have to watch your step through here because after the heavy rains of last summer the washouts have become deep enough in places to break a leg if you fell into one. When I’m moving through here I walk slowly and keep my eyes on the ground at all times. Just off to the left of that nearest boardwalk there is a washed out hole that could swallow a car.

There are seeps in this area as well, and this one had an iridescent sheen on it. Seeps are groundwater that lies on the surface like a huge puddle, but they never freeze no matter how cold it gets.

Looking forward, it will be nice to have the trail restored to its former condition with working drainage channels so it is not so muddy here, but for the next few months this will be a good place to stay away from.

It’s amazing how quickly nature consumes human places after we turn our backs on them. Life is a hungry thing. ~Scott Westerfeld

I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving Day. Thanks for stopping in.

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On The Level

This post was going to be about the beeches and oaks at Willard Pond in Antrim. For years now I’ve finished the foliage season by visiting this beautiful hardwood forest but this year the light just wasn’t with me on my first visit. This photo has been lightened somewhat so it doesn’t show how dark it really was, especially under the trees. Shooting photos in such conditions would have been a waste of time so I turned and left.

A week later on Halloween I returned to Willard Pond on a cold, blustery morning to find that most of the leaves had fallen. I thought this was a bit odd since Halloween has always been my time to visit but the weather has been strange and unpredictable for all of this year. To be truthful I wasn’t upset that there would be no Willard Pond post this year because the Tudor trail that I usually follow is one of the roughest I know, with a lot of boulders and other things to step over and around. Each time I went I followed the trail for a short while and found that it bothered the knee that I damaged in my recent fall on Pitcher Mountain, so skipping it this year will probably turn out to be the right decision. If you want to see what Willard Pond Forest is like just go up to the search box at the top of the page and type “Willard Pond.” You’ll find several years of posts.

On the road into Willard Pond I saw some beautiful maple leaved viburnums on the side of the road. The color range of these plants is really amazing.

I also saw some bright red winterberries at Willard Pond. The fruits of this native holly hold their color for quite a while so they are sought after by people wanting to use them for holiday decorations. I often find bushes that have had almost all the berry bearing branches cut off.

I think for a while due to leg pain and maybe some balance issues that I should stay on flat, level surfaces like this rail trail in Keene. Other than an occasional woodchuck hole there is little to trip over as long as you stay on the trail. This will not be a hardship because I grew up on this trail way back when it was a working railroad route and I know it as well as I know myself. On this day I went to see the tree colors, which were a bit muted.

The muted colors come naturally because I think there are mostly silver maples in this area. Silver maples turn different shades of yellow in the fall unlike red maples, which have a much wider color range including red and orange.

Though there are still a few isolated red maples showing color most now look like this one.

All the yellow seen in this view comes from beeches, silver maples, birches, and Japanese honeysuckles.

Even the deer tongue grasses turned yellow this year. Quite often I see a lot of purple on these plants.

The silvery, fluffy seedheads of virgin’s bower vines line the rail trail. When in flower they’re known as traveler’s joy but at this stage they’re called Devil’s darning needles. Both names are just meaningless labels we’ve put on a pretty plant. The truth is, in nature there is no good or bad, no right or wrong, no past or future; there is just the perfection of this moment called now. We would do well to learn from this.

In a college botany class I once had I did my final exam paper on poisonous plants. The plant seen here was one of the deadliest, but also one of the most interesting. It is monk’s hood or monkshood; Queen of poisons, and it has been used to kill for countless centuries. If you were found growing it in ancient Rome there was a good chance that you’d be put to death, because as far as the Romans were concerned the only use for the extremely toxic plant was to add its toxic sap to the water of one’s enemies to eliminate them.

A side view of the flowers shows where the name monk’s hood comes from. The plant is in the aconite family and its sap can be absorbed through the skin. In 2015 an experienced gardener in the U.K. died of multiple organ failure after weeding and hoeing near aconite plants. I will often hold a plant steady with one hand while taking a photo with the other hand on windy days but not this plant.

Monkshood plants can stand a lot of cold so it is often one of the last to bloom in this area. The flowers are quite unusual and very pretty but it should only be grown where there are no children present, in my opinion. Knowledge of its dangers and always working around it with gloves on means anyone can grow it. If you do it will certainly be a conversation starter. Just think, you could tell friends how the Roman Agrippina hired Locusta to poison the emperor Claudius I in 54 AD. It is said that Locusta chose aconite to do the deed.

I saw some oak leaves with odd patterns on them. Whether made by insects or caused by nutrient deficiency, I don’t know. There is an insect, a leaf miner I think, which eats all the soft tissue of an oak leaf, leaving just the ribs and a net like skeleton leaf behind.

Some of these photos weren’t used in other posts for whatever reason. One of them is this misty morning visit to the wetlands when the maples were still colorful.

I saw more dewy spider webs on that visit. It’s hard to believe how many large webs are in these trees. This one was about the size of a basketball and I’d say on average that would be the size of most of them.

The colors have been beautiful this year but they’ve also been drawn out because of the warm weather. Everyone I meet seems to have an opinion about what a strange year it has been weather-wise.

The staghorn sumac colors have been amazing this year. The reds especially have been intense. Red is often a tough color for cameras to reproduce accurately but I think this is a fair representation.

Except for the deep purples of ash and oak I can’t think of a single fall leaf color that isn’t represented here in this scene from the wetlands. They’re all there and how beautiful they are when they’re all together in this way. It can take your breath away sometimes.

This is another scene from the wetlands that I like very much. All summer long I thought it would be beautiful in the fall because of the maples, and it was.

In the past the photos I’ve taken of poplars (Aspens) in the fall have almost always been soft and impressionistic as if they had been drawn with pastels, but these trees in the foreground seemed a bit loud to me. In shape and in leaf color poplars look a lot like birches from a distance. Only the gray bark tells the story. Most birches in this area growing in large colonies like that seen here are gray birches, which have white bark.

This is why I call this place the wetlands. The road I walk on was built through a swamp and there is water all along the roadsides. There is abundant life in a swamp and this is an excellent way to stay dry while seeing it.

I’m not sure where else I’d see autumn meadowhawks still flying in November. They were everywhere yesterday, resting in the sunshine. This one landed on a stump right in front of me and I had to wonder if they could read minds. I also saw lots of bluebirds on this day but I couldn’t get any of them to pose.

I was surprised to see a few pickerel weed flowers blooming in the wetlands after all others in various places had gone to seed. I have to say that this spot is a real jewel, with an abundance of birds, animals, insects, and interesting plants and wildflowers. There’s really no telling what you’ll see on any given day and I’m very happy to have finally discovered it, right there alongside the Keene Airport of all places. The level, paved road is easy to walk but there are plenty of places where you can leave it and explore the forest.

It was there in the wetlands that I saw the fall colors of tall meadow rue for the first time. This plant always blooms just at or before July 4th with flowers that look like bursts of fireworks. The “tall” part of its common name is very true; I’ve seen it reach over seven feet.

Since we had snow flurries as I was writing parts of this post I’ll end it with a white aster. We’ve also had our first freeze, almost a month late and coming before the first frost that should have happened in mid-September. Oh well, since a friend in Michigan reported 10 inches of snow on Halloween I don’t think we have anything to complain about.

An autumn forest is such a place that once entered you never look for the exit. ~Mehmet Murat ildan

Thanks for coming by.

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Fall Comes to Beaver Brook

Before I get started on this walk through the Beaver Brook Natural area I’d like to thank all of you who wrote in with kind thoughts and well wishes after the last post. I won’t go on about it but I will say that it meant a lot, so thank you. I saw a doctor on Thursday and he said I should take some vitamins for brain health but otherwise my progress is as expected. Post concussion syndrome can apparently be a slippery thing, hard to get a handle on.

I should also like to apologize for adding information about my fall in such a shocking manner, but the point was to show how easily and quickly serious injuries can happen on trails, even to someone very familiar with the trail. All it takes is one misplaced step, so having a plan B is most important, as many of you pointed out.

Anyhow, after my fall I was having some pretty strong pain in my left leg, so after a couple of days of resting and nursing it I decided that walking might be better for it. I wanted a place where I could enjoy the beauty of the season while not having to worry about tripping and falling. That place could only be Beaver Brook Natural Area in Keene, and here we are just inside the gate in the photo above. The beauty was immediate and stunning, as I suspected it would be.

The old road we’re following remains pretty much as it was back in the 1970s when it was abandoned after all traffic was re-routed to the new route 9 north. The place remains frozen in time, with no passing zone lines, guard posts, a waterfall, and even a bridge over the brook still able to be seen. Now it is used as more of a park where local nature lovers can come to see the amazing beauty of the area. On this day the old road was nearly covered by fallen leaves and I felt like I was in grade school again as I shuffled through them and smelled their familiar warm, sunburnt, earthy scent.

I stepped off the road after making certain there were no stumps or branches to trip over so I could get a shot of these false Solomon’s seal berries, now fully ripe. It is said they taste like treacle, which is essentially molasses, and that eating more than a handful can lead to time for some bathroom meditation. I was surprised the turkeys hadn’t gobbled them up; there are quite a few turkeys here.

Something I didn’t talk about in the last post was watching my brand new camera slam into the gravel of the trail when I fell, and seeing my macro camera and one of the cell phones I carry in my shirt pockets go skittering across the stone filled trail. The second cell phone was in my left pants pocket and my left leg now has large purple bruises all over it after apparently taking the brunt of the fall, so when I finally got home that day I thought all four cameras were done for. But I tried them all here at Beaver Brook, and as you will see I was wrong; they all seem to have come through unscathed.

If you’re looking for tough field cameras able to stand up against anything a trail can throw at them I suggest the Canon PowerShot SX-70 and the Olympus TG-6. They’ve certainly proven themselves to me, again and again. You can have both for just over eleven hundred dollars and you won’t have to carry heavy lenses. They may not be the best choice for shooting fine art photos but they get the dirty, everyday jobs done without complaint.

All these thoughts come now as I sit and choose which photos to show and what to write but in truth on the day I was here there were no such thoughts. Many times a post will write itself in my mind right on the trail but on this day my mind just wanted to rest quietly so I simply enjoyed the beauty I saw, like my old friend the smokey eye boulder lichen that lives here. Sometimes, depending on the slant of the light, it looks as if someone has hammered a thin slice of gold onto the rocks and then burned a blue candle, letting its beautiful blue drops fall at random on the golden background. If someone ever asked me what I thought were the world’s most beautiful lichens this one would easily make the top ten.

In the last post my friend Cheri reminded me of the “Stuff your eyes with wonder” quote by Ray Bradbury. The entire quote says Stuff your eyes with wonder … live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. That is just as true today as it was in 1953 when he said it, and if you’d like to practice what he preached this is a great place to do it. You don’t have to search for beauty because it is absolutely everywhere you care to look, and you can’t help but stuff your eyes full of the wonder of it all.

Hobblebush leaves have turned pink and orange this year and they were beautiful. This is the first time I’ve seen this. Hobblebush is one of our most beautiful native viburnums, especially in May when they’re loaded with hand size white flowers.

There are a lot of black birch trees here. They’re also called sweet birch or cherry birch and they were once almost wiped out by people wanting to harvest their essential oils, which smell like wintergreen. At one time toothpaste and just about anything else that smelled like wintergreen had black birch oils in it. They are the smaller trees with yellow leaves in the foreground, with taller beeches in the back. There was a lot of yellow here on this day.

The big hand size leaves of striped maple were still yellow, which was a surprise since they’ve usually gone over to white by this time. It’s such an odd year; as I write this we still haven’t seen a real frost. Usually by this time we’ve seen one or two freezes and the growing season would be finished, but this year it just goes on and on.

Beeches rule the hillsides here, and what beautiful and mighty rulers they are. Every now and then one will fall into the road but not this day. I didn’t see any beechnuts in the road either.

This place is beautiful at any time of year but in the fall nature just pulls out all the stops. Edward Abbey once said: There are some places so beautiful they can make a grown man break down and weep, and this is one of those. What he didn’t say, at least not that I have heard, is that you don’t weep from sadness or loss; you weep out of gratitude and love. In my experience when tears are wept in nature they come by way of revelation, and they are tears of joy.

Lemon drops brightened up the darkness of a rotting log. These flat, disc shaped fungi look like they lie flat on the log but they have a short stalk. Each one is smaller in diameter than a baby pea but when together in a group they can be seen from quite a distance. They are in the sac fungi family. The term “sac fungi” comes from microscopic sexual structures which resemble wine skins. There are over 64,000 different sac fungi, including cup and “ear” fungi, jelly babies, and morel mushrooms.

I saw the biggest caterpillar I’ve ever seen on a tree here. It was as big as my index finger and Wikipedia says after it winters under the bark of a tree it will become a giant leopard moth. The caterpillar is 3 inches long and its hairs don’t embed themselves in the skin as those of some other caterpillars will. It has red / orange rings on its body that make it easy to identify. It eats dandelion, plantain, and violet leaves.

I found this photo of a very pretty giant Leopard moth taken by Jeremy Johnson of Toronto on Wikipedia. According to what I’ve read these moths have a range covering most of the eastern U.S., the southern part of Ontario, and south to Columbia. They are said to be attracted to bitter, unripe vegetables and broccoli flowers. They have a body length of about 2 inches and a wingspan of 3 inches, so they are big. They are also strictly nocturnal and fly only after nightfall, which might be why they are rarely seen. I’d love to find one and get a better look at its iridescent blue spots. Maybe the caterpillar I found will become a leopard moth next spring right here at Beaver Brook.

More of those hillside beeches, so beautiful you just have to stop and admire them. I had a hard time not taking photos of them.

I saw a stone that I really wanted to carry home but I knew better than to try that. The swirls in it reminded me of the beautiful ammonia clouds of Jupiter as seen by NASAs Juno spacecraft.

I saw some nice colored turkey tail fungi here, as I expected I would. The number of trees that fall here is astounding and when they fall the town cuts them into logs and leaves them off to the side of the road. These logs are great places for all kinds of fungi to grow, so I always check the log piles to see what is growing this time. Today it was turkey tails, everywhere. These fungi play an important role in the decomposition process of a forest. Without them and other “wood eating” fungi, nutrients would not be released back into the forest. If you think of a forest as a giant composter for a moment it isn’t hard to understand. Nothing is wasted in nature.

Turkey tails are considered “winter fungi,” meaning they grow in the fall; often late fall, and persist through winter. They finally shed their spores and slowly lose much of their color over winter and in spring are often just shadows of their once colorful selves. Finding them on a cold blustery January day is like finding colorful jewels in the snow.

White might have been golden pholiota mushrooms grew on a log. They can grow on living or dead wood in the summer and fall and usually form in clusters. Their orange-yellow caps are slimy and covered in reddish scales. I had to take this shot from a distance because the log they grew on was in a tangle of other logs and I didn’t want to risk being tripped up.

I was very close to Beaver Brook Falls when I took this shot. I thought for just a moment how nice it would be to be able to get one more shot of them from down at brook level but I quickly disregarded that. This was only a few days after taking a fall and the pain in my leg wouldn’t let me think about climbing down to brook level. Even on a good day you have to climb / slide / fall down the trail, and then you get to crawl back up again. If you’re not in fairly good shape I wouldn’t recommend it.

Since the leaves had fallen off most of the smaller trees that lined the old road I could get a good look at the falls from an angle I hadn’t seen previously. It clearly shows how, about halfway up the falls is a flat, roughly triangular stone, the downstream point of which cuts the flow in half when the water is low. The darker part of the flow seen here in its center shows that this “parting of the falls” was about to take place unless we had some rain. I’ve seen the water so low there was just a dribble on either side of the triangular stone and I’ve seen the water roaring over the falls with such volume that neither the triangular stone or the step it creates could be seen. Based on that I’d say the flow on this day was probably near average.

I warned you that there would be a lot of yellow in this post and I think that almost every leaf in it is indeed yellow, Including the bright yellow witch hazel leaves seen here. I love these leaves because they turn a deep, reddish brown and persist on the bushes throughout winter. Their warm tones are always welcome in the cold of winter.

Unlike the busier flowers on spring blooming witch hazels, the flowers on fall blooming plants are simple and no fuss; almost business like, because they have just a short time to carry out the business of pollination. The flowers of both plants are beautiful, but in different ways.

I remember when I first started this blog years ago someone wrote in and said “Nice leaning trees!” presumably implying that the leaning trees were leaning because I didn’t know how to correct for it with my camera. But the fact is, trees really do lean. They lean into any open space where there is sunlight, just as that string bean plant you probably grew in grade school kept leaning toward the sunny window no matter how many times you turned it. This is called phototropism, and I don’t know of any place better than this to see trees displaying it. Trees on both sides of the old road lean into the open space created by it, because that’s where the brightest sunlight is.

What is most amazing about this place is how, though the walk from the gate to the falls is under a mile, all of the beauty you’ve seen here and so very much more is contained in what is really a comparatively small space. It’s like walking into a painting where each brush stroke is absolutely beautiful, and I hope you enjoyed seeing it.

The fallen leaves in the forest seemed to make even the ground glow and burn with light. ~Malcolm Lowry

Thanks for stopping in.

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