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Bald Mountain
Another place we visited on our Adirondack vacation was Bald Mountain. It was a popular place the day we were there! There is a fire tower on the granite crest of the hill that you can climb to look out over the Fulton Chain of lakes. I’ve climbed it in the past, but not this year — the nice solid ground provides a sufficient vantage point for me!
Bloom where you’re planted! 
Touches of fall 
Our most sure-footed hiker -
A friend for Ted
My husband told us to bring home a big caterpillar to keep Ted company — so we wouldn’t have to maintain a fresh milkweed supply for long. Older Daughter and I brought home the biggest one we could find — about .5 cm long!But no worries. They grow incredibly quickly!
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Monarch of the Kitchen
We named this monarch caterpillar Ted. I’ve been wanting to find one (or more) to observe the process of caterpillar-to-butterfly again; we didn’t do it last year, but for several years prior to that we did.
The biggest monarch extravaganza was in 2011, when we shepherded about 20 monarchs to butterflyhood. I wrote about it on my other blog in this series of posts. I was embarrassed at the time, recognizing how excessive that was — but then in September our area was hit by a massive flood that completely covered the valley where we’d found all the caterpillars. We saved 20 of them, at least. And we had a blast!
This year I definitely envision a smaller operation! But if we should find a friend or two for Ted in this short period of feeding on milkweed, sleeping, and growing by leaps and bounds before making a chrysalis, we certainly have the room. (Edited to add: we added one more, pictured here.)
Meantime, sweet dreams, future butterfly.
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Revisiting Ferd’s Bog
Lucy, our trusty hiking companion, urges us on One of the places I love to visit in the Adirondacks is Ferd’s Bog, a 50-acre tract of boreal forest surrounding a black spruce bog. I first visited it in 2011, and the bog was filled with pitcher plants; I posted a picture of them here, at my other blog. I haven’t seen the pitcher plants for the last three years, though, and I suspect that people may be venturing off the boardwalk (judging from the many trampled trails I saw into the grasses) and taking them. It’s both foolish (since they won’t grow anywhere else — they grow in the bog because it’s acidic) and selfish (since it alters the ecosystem, prevents others from experiencing it, and even breaks the law by taking plants from a protected area). I hate to sound so negative, but it’s sad to see. I’m not sure whether the process can be reversed or not.
Nevertheless, the walk through the woods into the bog retains its primeval character. There are apparently many interesting birds that inhabit the area, but I haven’t seen any of them: gray jays, boreal chickadees, black-backed and three-toed woodpeckers, for example. But the many plants, trees and mosses always grab my attention and make the walk seem magical.
Here are a few pics from my most recent foray in.
Trail 
Lichen 
You descend into the bog — and climb back out 
A stump beautifully furred with mosses 
Wood between the worlds 
Boardwalk into the open bog 
Micro-world 
Creeping snowberry 
Stump host for all kinds of plants 
Open bog — the black flecks are dragonflies. The air was thick with them. 
Quietness — no sound but a single white-throated sparrow 
Big sky country 
Boardwalk leading back into the woods 
Follow the yellow — er, white — brick road 
The trail back out 
Red toadstool 
A tree bearded with mosses 
Red berries — not sure what kind 
Polished roots 
Evergreens 
Baby evergreens 
Log overtaken with other plants 
Decomposition 
Woodland benediction Some pics of Ferd’s Bog from last year are included here. Some from the year before are here.
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Big leaf, small butterfly
For the first time in the 15 years we’ve lived here, sunflowers actually came up. Always before the chipmunks ate them when they were mere sprouts, but these are at least 12 feet tall and just starting to bloom.We have a hedge of shorter varieties too.
I join the goldfinches, bees, and butterflies in my fondness for these bright flowers.
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Touching nature
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Random spring beauties
This flower is actually called “spring beauty.” Everything else in this post gets informally classed under the same heading… We’re drinking in the sights of the world waking up around here.
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Spring phoebe
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Brave blooms and a spring stream
They look like they’ve just arrived from someplace warmer, a small group of tourists looking hopefully around for accommodations.
Then there’s this one, growing in a tiny stream. Bloom where you’re planted.
We enjoyed the gorgeous glen on a sunny day. The joyous spring sound of rushing water was everywhere.
Wet-loving plants and mosses adorned the shale walls and dead trees.
I was taken with the sense of heights as we walked down the streambed. Everywhere, the steep banks invited us to look upward toward the sun.
The contrast between light and dimness caught my attention. So did the contrast between beauty and violence. You can’t get a stream picture that doesn’t include trees fallen down steep banks, broken and rotting — or great stones tumbled who knows how far by the water at its strongest.
Someone had created a space for humans along one part of the bank.
I, along with my daughters, joined in. We left our names there beside a growing number of others.
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Heroic ages
Thoreau wrote that morning brings back the heroic ages. I find that I’m much less eloquent about my morning walk the other day. I just enjoyed it. I liked the way the boardwalk zig-zagged mysteriously, and how it straightened out like a runway.
Then it was back into curving mystery.
The trees made another avenue along the meadow.
And bits of color from moss and bracket fungus showed a “land down under” that thrives even in a very chilly April when few leaves seem to want to open.
