Wildflower report

Observed in the forest today:

• Harbinger-of-Spring (Erigenia bulbosa) - common and widespread
• Cutleaf Toothwort (Cardamine concatenata) - a few beginning to bloom
• Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica) - a few beginning to bloom
• Yellow Corydalis (Corydalis flavula) - saw one plant in bloom in a sunny area
• Hepatica - found 2 plants with developing but unopened blooms

Hepatica with unopened bloom

Waiting for spring

Spring. I watch and I wait and look for every little sign. Suddenly the signs are clear. The start of the season has slipped by unnoticed once again. Not waiting for me, the party is already going full force even in cold weather.

"No mortal is alert enough to be present at the first dawn of the spring, but he will presently discover some evidence that vegetation had awaked some days at least before." -- Henry David Thoreau, Journal, March 17, 1857.

Snowfall

There was a small snowfall in the hollow overnight. Before dawn, the sight of moonlight on snow was so beautiful and peaceful. These early morning pictures were taken before the sun had risen above the eastern ridge of the hollow.

Remembering Dr Yates

Dr Oliver Yates

Today I am thankful for the life of Dr. Oliver Yates and his influence on me as a biology student at David Lipscomb College (now University) in the early 1980s. Dr. Yates passed away at the age of 79 last Thursday. Although I never went on to a career in science, I will probably never know fully the extent of his influence and encouragement. His enthusiasm and curiosity were as infectious as his demand for a student's best work was unrelenting.

He is best known for his Cell Biology class, but my favorite class ever at Lipscomb was Spring Wildflowers, taught by Dr. Yates every other year. The course could have rightly been named "Taxonomy and Classification of Spring Ephemerals with Special Emphasis on the Forest Communities in Middle Tennessee." But that wasn't his style. His way was to make learning fun, and then teach you more than you knew possible once you were sucked in. What could be more fun and carefree than a class called Spring Wildflowers? (Incidentally, in the alternate years, he taught a similar course called Algae, which was almost as much fun but required taking samples back to the lab for identification.)

Our main text

I enjoyed the Spring Wildflower class so much that I basically took it twice. After taking it first in 1981, Dr. Yates allowed me to join class field trips when it was offered again in 1983. He also guided me through independent studies describing the plant life of cedar glade communities in middle Tennessee. I have many fond memories of tramping the woods and hills with Dr. Yates and his other students as he sought to show us how to use complex taxonomic keys and make meticulous notes of what we had seen. In my memory it seems like the class spent just as much time in the field as did in the classroom. I remember how he demanded that our field notebooks be as detailed as humanly possible. I remember how he would never just name a plant that we asked him about, but would insist that we work through the taxonomic key to find the identification ourselves. I remember the whole class encircled round a yellow dandelion working through the key in our wildflower guide until we came up with the correct identification. I remember how he magically led us to see the rare showy pink orchid known as Moccasin Flower or Pink Ladyslipper (Cypripedium acaule) in the Smokey Mountains. I remember Dr Yates and his wife, Betty, always seeking out the elusive Little Brown Jug (Hexastylis arifolia), a non-showy, but cute little brown wildflower that is all too easy to overlook. I remember fishing for turtles in the Tennessee River just so that we could study an algae that is only known to grow on the backs of turtles. I think his main reason for that exercise was so that we could see the wondrous diversity of life and be amazed. I remember him looking up from a microscope in amazement one time and rhetorically asking those around him, "how can you not believe there is a God when you're looking at something like this?"

Before coming to Lipscomb I had always loved being in nature. Reading people like Henry David Thoreau, Rachel Carson, and Lewis Thomas, I understood that studying life could and should leave us gawking in amazement. The world is an incredibly complex and beautiful place. Walking the woods with Oliver Yates, I got to see this scientific amazement firsthand. Dr. Yates' curiosity and sense of wonder became a part of me and I am grateful.

Linked here is a remembrance of Dr. Yates on the Lipscomb University website:
Yates remembered for impacting lives of hundreds of pre-med students.

Pink Ladyslipper, King's Point on Basswood Lake, Ontario

Sauntering through the hollow

Surrendering to the nasty weather this morning, I was prepared to spend the entire day indoors. The rain stopped in the afternoon, however, and I decided to go for a walk, which soon turned into saunter. I left the dog in the house, and walked quietly and slowly around our trail. Sometimes you can see more by going slowly. I spent more time deliberately looking at the small and subtle things. For about 60 seconds of the walk I was treated to the sound of two Barred Owls calling to each other (see video below on Barred Owls).

It was just a simple walk, but it left me wandering in wonder.

Beech leaves wearing thin as the winter progresses

Moss reclaiming a beech stump

Hepatica leaves

Old sycamore and young beech

Grizzled wanderer

Mysterious neighbors

I love it that we share these woods with Barred Owls. These beautiful and mysterious birds never cease to fill me with  wonder. This video from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology has very good examples of their amazing calls. Check it out. Then imagine it's dark and you're walking alone in the woods when you hear this.

Cozy and thankful

Safe and warm in the ice cold rain. This is the kind of day that makes me thankful for good shelter. I think most of us take it too much for granted.

Right now it is 32ºF and raining steadily. This morning has been hot maple oatmeal, coffee, and Thoreau. Later today I'll make a pot of chili for our dinner and make a fire in the fireplace.

Winter sanctuary

A clear gibbous moon climbs the eastern sky.
They say by morning an ice storm may fill our forest hollow with winter.

But we do not fear the cold.

A slow fire burns in the fireplace,
homemade vegetable soup simmers on the stove,
and we are warm,
tucked in for the night,
feeling peaceful and safe
in the care of the Keeper of the night.

All is well.

Walden retreat

I'm not sure why, but I would love to build one of these at the edge of our woods some day. It's a replica of the house that Thoreau built at Walden Pond in 1845. I think I'm just drawn to the simplicity that it represents. Maybe some day.

Thoreau's house at Walden

Late afternoon in the tree tops

Today woodpeckers share the trees with the moon.

Seemingly out of place in the blue daylight,
a pale waxing gibbous moon rises above the eastern ridge,
looking for all the world like a small cloud through the branches.

A Red-bellied Woodpecker moves from tree to tree,
flashing red and disappearing,
ceaselessly scratching, pecking, hunting for a morsel of insect.

From somewhere further up the hollow,
a Pileated Woodpecker announces himself,
and the shadows grow steadily longer in the afternoon light.

Reading and walking

Sometimes I like to read, and other times I prefer to go for a walk in the woods. If I am torn between the two, I almost always go for a walk. I do love books. In fact, my view is that if something is worth doing well, then it is worth purchasing and reading a book about that subject. But I also must say that if the choice were a year without nature or a year without books, I'm afraid I would have to tell my library goodbye. Of course the best would be reading a book about nature in between walks in the woods.

Hushed moonlight

Clear and cold,
moonlight pours into the hollow
making the forest floor a patchwork of moonbeam and shadow.

Suddenly a raccoon breaks the quiet.
A harsh, high-pitched chatter, for just a moment.
Just as suddenly the silence hushes the chatter.

Above the trees, Orion chases the moon westward.
It reminds me of George Bailey trying to throw his lasso for Mary.

I listen for the Barred Owl,
but am answered only by the silence of the trees
shining in the moonlight.

Moonbeams and the sound of moon-shadow
hush the night.

Sunday afternoon walk in the hollow

Earlier today I posted this on Facebook (with my iPhone) while at the mall with my wife:

Getting my mind stretched today. Just a few minutes after gawking in wonder at a vending machine selling iPhones and iPad Minis, my wife paid for our Starbucks coffee by waving her phone in front of this little scanner thingy. I think I better make sure to go for a walk in the woods this afternoon.

So later in the afternoon, I felt a compulsion to get out in the woods before sunset. I must say that it felt good to touch rock and wood, and to be in the presence of a place older than I can imagine.

Limestone forms the streambed in the center of the hollow.

This ephemeral stream flows only 2 or 3 times a year, and only

after prolonged heavy rains. Walking the winter terrain in the hollow,

I am reminded that this place has been shaped mostly by flowing water.

This is the senior beech tree in the hollow.

Its crown broke out many years ago, but my measurements

indicate that it must be at least 300 years old

Self-portrait, with old Beech

I didn't do a whole lot of walking, but it was a beautiful day to be outside. The weather was sunny, with temperatures into the mid 50s. It has been nice to have so much sunshine this weekend after a couple of weeks of rainy, miserable weather.

Nature watching

To note the daily weather, along with the types of trees and where they grow, when various wildflowers bloom, along with the topography of the land, and what birds are about in the brush does not mean that I am an observer only. These observations are for me the very means of experiencing and engaging the world around me.

To see a bird outside the window is one thing. To see that there are 4 female Northern Cardinals foraging on the ground by the wood pile (where are the males?), along with a few busy White-throat Sparrows, a bobble-head Mourning Dove, and a male Goldfinch flashing yellow through the low branches above is quite another thing. My detailed observation forges a bond, a relationship.

Increased observation brings increased engagement with its object. It brings me outside of myself and recognizes the world more fully as it is: independent of me. This noticing of detail brings about true engagement and the fuller experience that comes with it. Increased observation brings increased wonder.

Shelter

Today was a good day to stay indoors. Yesterday I spoke of Thoreau's advice to walk in foul weather. While his prescription does ring true to me, I'm sure there were also days when even Thoreau elected to stay inside close to the hearth.

I was off work from my job in the bookstore today and I enjoyed it. I spent the day snug and warm, enjoying good coffee, listening to the 70s folk radio station on Pandora, and reading here and there in Walden. I also fixed old-fashioned beef stew for the family dinner using a recipe from The Cook's Illustrated Cookbook that Beth gave me for Christmas. The stew turned out fantastic, and seemed particularly appropriate on this cold, rainy, icy night.

The temperature has stayed right around the freezing mark all day long. Combined with a slow rain most of the day, this has made for a day of really rotten weather. Just after noon, the National Weather Service issued an ice storm warning that will be in effect until 8:00 tomorrow morning.

In the midst of the storm, we find ourselves thankful for food, shelter, heat, electric lights, and running water. Days like this are good in that they cause us to focus on essentials rather than the zillion details that normally capture our attention. Perhaps our lives would be better if we could remember these days when the weather is more accommodating.