Woods
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Lovely, dark and deep
I took some pictures during a family walk in a hemlock wood today. I’ve played with the Orton effect in editing the photos to try and enhance the feel of the place, so they represent a variation from my usual realistic mode. It was a beautiful, cool early fall day, and the woods had an enchanted feel.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” -
Memory Lane
I have several preserves that I visit again and again. Sometimes, I wish I could explore new trails more often than I do. But this morning as I walked this familiar path, I was reminded that I have the companionship of memory — of the many times I’ve been here, and with whom. One of my favorite Wendell Berry stories is the bittersweet “The Boundary,” in which Mat Feltner goes out to repair a fence. He is old, too old for such a foray, and it seems every bend along the familiar creek is populated by others he’s known in the long years he’s lived there, re-enacting the episodes he remembers. He begins to have serious trouble distinguishing present from past, though many of the people he remembers have died.
It was on this trail 10 years ago that I came upon this fawn lying in the grass. When my parents visited for supper later, my father was concerned and wanted to go back and see if the fawn was still there. So we set out on a drizzly evening. My father tucked my mother’s hand under one arm and carried an umbrella in the other, and we trooped off through the woods to make sure all was well. (It was.) Ten years later, my dad is 85; my mom died in May. Being in that place brought them back to me, two pieces of a whole, in a way I wouldn’t have thought of otherwise.
There were other memories, too:
- The trees where we first saw black and white warblers on Mother’s Day
- The bench where my husband and I sat eating ice cream one evening while a caretaker on a lawnmower drove loudly past, looking straight ahead as he blew grass all over us
- The spot by the creek where my daughters and I always lingered, looking at frogs and tracks in the mud, and feeling peace
There’s much to be said for new adventures! But it’s also good to experience the richness of a familiar place, and its power to restore and affirm who we are.
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Fall
I have a number of photos taken over the summer to post. But for now, let’s think about the wonders of autumn.
Leaves covering the earth, even in a grove of evergreens.
I photographed this prospect in spring. It has quite a different character now. This little guy was perched in exactly the same spot as he was in spring, too, but drowsier.
I didn’t expect turtles, but there were some out on our walk the other day.
My daughter commented on the smell of fall. It’s true. Fall has its own odor, and I’m aware of it even though I’m not a good smeller and often don’t notice odors. It triggers a sense of great satisfaction edged with bittersweet.
It’s been some summer for our country, and there’s a weariness and worn-outness that goes along with it. I felt it was being reflected in the sights on our fall walk.
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Spring woods
Let’s take a walk. We’ll go through the woods to the pond…
…and enjoy the wild cherry blossoms.
The trail is grassy there, so we have a good view of the water and its life.
Just remember that no matter how many things we see — warblers, geese, blossoms, color, tracks — we’re always being watched as well!
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Greening up
The light in the woods is taking on a greenish tint at last. The trees are beginning to produce leaves, and the mosses are incredibly varied. This rock is just one example, showing a number of different textures.
This tree reminds me of hobbits, thanks to its fuzzy toes.
Chipmunks are always watching. Though they’re not secretive enough to go unnoticed, they do blend in pretty well.
I’ve photographed this boardwalk many times, but it always intrigues me. Yesterday it saved our shoes in the extremely muddy woods.
A little photo-editing was done on this one. Fiddleheads are starting to appear…
My pictures don’t show it, but there were quite a few people taking advantage of the nice day to walk in the woods. This is due to pandemic cabin fever. I wonder if it will last.
The crowded woods didn’t prevent us from visiting some favorite spots, and all in all I’d say it’s a great development that people are enjoying the outdoors. . . ourselves included. Hopefully next time we’ll spot some warblers.
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One step forward, two steps back
We’ve had precipitation of various kinds since last time I posted, including snow. This is typical for spring in the northeast. Here are some shots from the most recent walk — over a week ago now. The lighting is rather severe, but finding beauty in overcast days is also part of living in the northeast…
Interestingly, when we tried to go for a walk on a sunny day last weekend, two local preserves were absolutely mobbed. Very unusual! We gave up, mainly because we had our (crazy) dog with us, but it was amazing to see so many people looking for outdoor things to do on a nice day during the coronavirus shutdown.
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Wood Between the Worlds
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Mixed bag
My daughters and I have been making trips, roughly a week apart, to a local preserve to watch its progress as spring unfolds. The gallery above shows some of the sights.
And really, it’s quite early yet. May is the time when ferns unfurl, wildflowers and warblers run riot, and leaves pop. But it feels amazing to be in the woods in these early days as ever-so-slightly, the green begins to make its inroads against the brown, gray and white of winter.
Yesterday I noticed something I didn’t photograph that was equally cheering: many people, out and about. Both in the woods, and in the car on the way home, I thought about the strangely mixed bag of stayhomesavelivessocialdistancingflattenthecurve during a pandemic…
One the one hand:
- economic loss
- social isolation
- severe illness, and death
- children missing school lunches, friends, stability, routine
- family tensions inflamed in close quarters
- anxiety
- too little toilet paper
- too many sweets
But on the other hand:
- dogs getting walked more
- people doing things together more
- a man and a young girl riding a tandem
- parents and young children walking the trails
- temporary technological substitutes for community & education
- books getting read
- time
I don’t want to do this forever. But for now, I can see some good things happening, even in the midst of crisis. Spring is unfurling in the woods, and looking around, it appears that perhaps a good many “Someday when I have time, I will _____” ideas are unfurling as well. Six feet apart is not that far.
I say this without minimizing the bad, but with thankfulness for the good that exists alongside it.
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Yellowthroats and Other Wonders
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Wildflowers
We took an afternoon walk yesterday to see how a familiar preserve looked in the sun. Here’s a new flower — with the not-so-catchy name “narrow-leaved blue-eyed grass”:
It’s only about a half an inch across, but it was neat to see a new adornment on the ground. Here’s a closer look:
A veery was singing in the distance, which my daughter tried without success to see. Oven birds, a house wren, robins and cardinals provided musical accompaniment. A few other flowers we saw:
Buttercups (I guess) 
Bluets 
Daisies There were mosses a-plenty…
As well as some favorite spots to think.
A couple of oven birds tried hard to lead us away from what must have been their nest site. It would have been amazing to see an oven bird nest, but we settled for watching the birds for a few minutes, then moving on to give them some peace.
Not only did we observe; we were observed:
On the whole it was a lovely stroll.
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Cloudy and green
Around here this spring, we have to accept the overcast as an almost constant state. But the temperature was pleasant and even a little sultry, so we ventured out.
A may apple in bloom Plants continue to develop even in wet conditions. This interrupted fern shows its fertile leaves.
A closer look My daughter noticed this clump with a bracken fern growing in the midst of another kind of fern. (Maybe a common polybody fern? I’m trying to learn them, but many look alike to me.)
A few more specimens. . .
“Moss” on a dead tree. Seen closely, it always looks like a whole community of pants. 
A wide variety grow along the bank of the stream, too. 
Dogwood It was very dim light, and the photos show the drabness. But somehow the greens look greener when it’s overcast. My pics don’t show it as much (partly because I’m still stuck with my cell phone camera), but one has a sense of the light emanating from the leaves instead of the sky.
See the frog? 
