After a few warm days it was truly bitter cold through most of the Martin Luther King weekend. The stream froze nearly solid overnight, and all the half-melted snow firmed into an extremely slippery glaze over nearly everything. On the positive side, it was a great opportunity to get out an enjoy some animal tracks. There have been a dozen or more massive turkeys wandering the community and the flock leaves various traces. I like how the “arrows” point in the opposite direction from the one in which the turkeys are actually walking.
My appetite is rather keen,
But how shall I get there?
“Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square.”
Disheveled maples hang over the water;
Deep gold sunlight glistens on the shrunken stream.
Somnolent trout move through pillars of brown and gold.
The yellow maple leaves eddy above them,
The glittering leaves of the cottonwood,
The olive, velvety alder leaves,
The scarlet dogwood leaves,
Most poignant of all.
—from Falling Leaves and Early Snow, by Kenneth Rexroth
One of my favorite early snow poems. Here are some scenes from my walk in the woods after ours (click for full pictures):
One of the joys of a such a leafy green rainy summer has been the proliferation of all sorts of wonderful caterpillars. Presented here are a handful for your enjoyment.
The milkweed tussock moth caterpillar (Euchaetes egle) makes a series of dramatic twitches when disturbed. A whole cluster of them twitching away can be quite alarming!The hickory tussock moth (Lophocampa caryae) is one of my favorites. These beauties were absolutely everywhere this year (maybe because we have so many hickories — but this one on an apple tree).I think this is a Yellow Bear caterpillar (Spilosome virginica), in the same tiger moth family as the tussock moths, but it has a really different look. If anyone has a better ID, I'm open to suggestions...The woolly bear caterpillar (Pyrrharctia isabella) is another favorite. When we were kids someone told me that the relative width of the red stripe is supposed to foretell the length of the coming winter... batten down the hatches!*The black swallowtail butterfly caterpillars (Papilio Polyxenes) enjoy all the Queen Anne's Lace flowering along our roadsides, but lately they've been setting up shop on the parsley in Melissa's garden.Everyone's favorite, the monarch butterfly caterpillar (Danaus plexippus). This one is packing on a few extra calories before getting a late start for Mexico -- happy trails!
*I’m backdating this post from after the October snowstorm, so I have the benefit of hindsight. Boy was he right!
I had a feeling Harold Camping was going to be proven wrong for a second time when I saw how busy the robins were this week, feeding their new chicks:
Feed Me, Seymour!
Well the world may not have ended, but we certainly had an epic deluge. A solid week of rain, and then suddenly Pow! Pow! Pow! We were pelted by thousands of marble-sized hailstones, quite impressive even if relatively low on the official Hail Scale ™ (1. Marbles, 2. Golf Balls, 3. Grapefruit). Barely had I time to stow the obligatory Bowl of Hail in the freezer when the sky split into a massive rainstorm.
The ground was already swelling from all the water it had soaked up this week, so the runoff was extreme. All the colverts were overloaded, some jammed with leaves and others just couldn’t take the volume. The dirt road looked like a river in most sections, and in several places was flooded out entirely.
Many rivers to cross...
The frogs and mosquitoes had quite a party, but Carmen Barbato was on the scene in no time, inspecting the damage, and aside from a few new channels in the road here and there. no harm was done. Our local robins got back to pulling worms for their hungry brood, and I went for a walk in the misty woods.
Misty Mountains
One final note: I used some of the rainy time to add a bulletin board to the website, available for members to post notices or enjoy general discussions. As always, let me know if you have questions or suggestions. Here’s to sunny days ahead!
A huge ice storm hit the area in March and the woods are all askew. Downed trees are everywhere, large boughs broken and scattered, and the more brittle varieties — evergreens and birches — snapped off at the trunk. In the deepest woods, the tallest ones can’t seem to find their way down to the ground and remain suspended at precarious angles, resting on the kindness of neighbors. I’m told they’re called widowmakers — best not to contemplate.
And despite it all — even despite the April snowshowers — spring springs eternal, once the spring is sprung, and sprung it is. Buds and catkins are doing their thing, the insects are waking, and the phoebes have arrived to dine on them. Also, the dastardly cowbirds, watching the phoebes, and waiting. Beware!
"Ask not for whom the bird trolls..."
Finally, Debbie knows a couple who are interested in renting in the community — contact her for more information. My next project on the site is to add a bulletin board for members to post their own notices. More news on this shortly.
I took a walk up to Bash Bish Falls last weekend. The snow was still falling but the trail (which is sheltered and well-trod) was encrusted with about a foot of bare ice. It was quite an adventure. There were ice-donuts at the side of the path — created by tree-drippings or ski-poles? I’ll leave that to you:
Ice Donuts
Bash Bish, Iced Over
The Snow Man
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
