A BUGGY TIME OF THE YEAR

This hot, muggy, bug infested world that I live in today still finds me longing to venture out and observe nature, and write a new blog post on this fine Sunday morning.

I'm sitting on the bank of the now brown and muddy, swollen creek, near the forks not far from the cabin.  We received over 1 1/2" of rain last night and the water is rising.  I found a spot to nestle in among the tall grass and ferns, and am swatting mosquitoes right and left.

My pants are wet well up above my knee boots, from traipsing through the wet woods, but I don't mind.  The path I took on my journey here was strewn with overgrown alders, occasional spider webs, and deer flies adorning my head and shoulders.  If you think I am miserable, you are wrong, as my journey was well worth it.  When I reached the creek bank I saw my first Joe-pye weed flower of the summer.  As this season continues, Joe-pye weed blossoms will fill up the marshy areas and spread their sweet cinnamon like aroma my way and that is truly something to look forward to.

As I continue to swat bugs that surround me, the sounds of the forest are truly uplifting and song birds are singing everywhere.  A grasshopper perches on a nearby blade of grass while delicate little orange butterflies chase each other from grass top to grass top.  As I gaze above, I see a blue sky without any clouds while a remnant of the strawberry moon sinks toward the western horizon.

The sun is beating down on my black rubber boots and I can feel the heat penetrating through them to the tops of my feet.   It's time to look for some shade.   As I pack up my journal and pen to head for cooler parts, dragonflies zip quickly above the water's surface and seem to know just where they are going.

I'm not sure where I'm going, but it's time to move on, away from the sun and heat, and the bugs.  I'm not sure what the week ahead will bring me.  Last week, my counts were too low to receive my fifth dose of chemotherapy in this session.  If I can get a dose this week, it will be great, and another one will be done.  If I can't take the chemo it will be o.k. too because it will mean another week of reprieve.  Either way, I won't worry about it until the day comes and my lab work makes the decision.  The week ahead, according to the weatherman, promises cooler temps and lower humidity.  I can't wait!

O.k., I fibbed about not worrying.  But I'm trying hard to keep a positive spin on things and nature is great therapy for me.   Get outdoors yourself this week, and let some bugs perk you up too. Lightning bugs have been putting on some wonderful evening shows lately.  Not all bugs are evil!

ROBIN'S EGG BLUE - OPPORTUNITIES

This Sunday morning, cool, cloudy, and compatible with my way of thinking, I put on my La Crosse knee boots and trekked across Tom's Creek to a little high spot in the shady woods to journal.  In this spot I chose to ponder, I'm surrounded by a few large white oak trees and many white pines that are about 8' tall, too close together for good growth, but great cover for the whitetail deer.

On my walk here I spotted remnants on the trail of a robin's egg.  One piece of the beautiful blue eggshell, in particular, was being admired by an ant.  I think the ant wanted in the worst way to carry the treasure home with him.  High up in a tree nearby, a robin, worm hanging from it's beak, kept tweeting at me as if to say, "Don't come any closer.  I've got a nest nearby." 

Continuing on my short walk, a chipmunk popped his head up to stare at me beneath a pine tree and then quickly dashed away. 

As I waded across the now shallow creek I spotted fresh wolf tracks in the sand and snapped a picture.  This wolf was probably chasing fawns.  Now that the fawns are a few weeks old they can run quite fast; maybe they will be safe from the wolf.

Two geese have claimed residency around our pond now, after the loss of the gander who was nesting on eggs here several weeks ago.  At first this couple had four goslings but now they are down to two.  Snapping turtles could be the culprit in their case.

 

Opportunity, that's just it.  They're all looking for an opportunity; the ant, the robin, the chipmunk, the turtle, the wolf, and every living creature, actually.


I'm thankful that I've had another opportunity to write in my journal today and to admire the blue color of the robin's egg and all of nature that surrounds me.  There is nothing quite like it really, that beautiful blue color.  Don't take it all for granted!

MEMORIAL DAY VISITORS

We're having a picture snapping challenge, me and my hubby, as we sit on the bistro bench in the shade of a white pine tree this afternoon, each with a camera in our hands.  We have special visitors today that have called us to this very spot, sailing along on the pond.  Three magnificent trumpeter swans dropped out of the blue sky like a gift this morning and have been biding their time here for several hours.
 

I can't tell what the swans relationship might be to one another, but my hubby thinks that possibly they are siblings,  two young females and one male, the male acting as somewhat of a leader of the trio.  The leader, who is a little larger than the other two swans, has more of a dusty, pinkish-brown neck.  The swans aren't feeding as we watch them now, but simply drifting along, perhaps resting, and they don't seem to be too alarmed at our observations of them.

It's about 78 degrees, the winds are blowing lightly from the west and keeping the bad bugs at bay.  We can hear robins, red-winged blackbirds, catbirds, Baltimore orioles, and song sparrows singing all around us in the trees.  A few frogs, maybe bull frogs, force out a dull croak now and then from the pond.

As I write in my journal, a later omitted side joke about the swans, a wood tick casually strolls across it's open pages.

Suddenly, three more visitors come trotting up the dike heading right toward us.  A doe and two young fawns, as shocked to see us as we to see them, panic in search of a proper direction to continue their journey.  One young fawn passes directly in front of us while the other pauses briefly beneath a small pine tree at the pond's edge.  Another photo shoot quickly ensues between my hubby and I.

While the trumpeter swans still drift about on the pond, now taking turns tucking their heads down to nap, the deer family swiftly retreats into the shady woods near Tom's Creek.

I will cherish these moments today, the gift of the trumpeter swans on the pond, and the deer family at our feet.  I also am feeling appreciative for the freedom that we have on this Memorial Day.... and remembering my husband's Great Uncle Thomas, from Wisconsin, and my Great Uncle Daniel, from Iowa, who both lost their lives in service during World War I. 

THE BUTTON

My eyes became fixed on a small round shape, with four holes, nestled atop the sand and pebbles on the dried up shoreline.  Stained from years of immersion, worn by the waves of time, a simple button off someone's shirt or dress revealed itself to me as I slowly walked toward the dam this morning.  A tiny button, that could have been here for many years, reminded me of how things change, and yet, how they stay the same... comforting thoughts.

Today I'm journalling on the Point at Sherwood Lake in southern Clark County, Wisconsin.  As I ponder about all the changes that will soon be taking place here, with repairs to the dam and dike this summer, I'm excited to know these changes will give this dried up lake a new beginning and kids will once again make great memories here, just like I did.

This sunny, breezy, blue-sky day is worth remembering.  I can hear red-winged black birds, kill deer, and several other song birds singing all around me.  Behind me, in the shallow water and what's left of the old swimming hole, a dozen geese or more are soaking up the warm May sunshine.

On my short walk to the Point, I watched a small muskrat swim in the muddy water near the cracked and rickety old dam.  A large brown snake slithered quickly under the piled up rocks on the former shoreline when it saw me approaching and a snapping turtle swam out toward the Hay Creek channel lifting it's head briefly out of the murky water.  Wildlife abounds, even in a dry lake bed, if you open up your eyes and look hard!

 

As I sit here in the shade on the west edge of the Point, the grasses now growing across what was once a lake full of water, wave peacefully to and fro in the wind, while clumps of fuzzy pollen float carelessly through the air.  Soon the dam at Sherwood Lake will be repaired and the lake will fill to the brim with fresh rainfalls.  Once again the water's surface will sparkle and shimmer in the sunlight and share with us it's amazing reflections of red and orange sunsets.  We've been waiting for all these things since the spillway failed back in February of 2014.

It won't be long until a fish bites again on someone's baited hook and quickly sinks their bobber out of sight... and sooner or later another button will pop off someone's shirt and slowly drift to the bottom of the lake, nestling itself amid the sand and pebbles.   Time changes things, but some things never change, and the thought of it all makes me smile!

MAY FROST?

Apple Blossoms in front of the Moon

 

This evening I'm sitting with my journal on the bistro bench by the pond wondering if we'll have a killing frost tonight in central Wisconsin.  I'm thinking about our apple blossoms, tender young oak leaves, and wild blueberry blossoms that I passed by on my walk here, and how vulnerable they all are tonight.






  As the sun sets after hiding all day long, a little blush of pink appears in the western sky.  The red winged blackbirds are still singing in the tree tops, both adults with their pretty trilly songs and young ones with their simple peeps.  The frogs are silent tonight, too cold to make a sound except for a few hearty souls in the sheltered marsh far to the west.





I am wearing my down filled winter coat from Gloria, hood up, stocking cap atop my head, and a pair of warm gloves.  I do think it will freeze tonight, but the world will carry on anyway.  Grandpa Adam often said to wait until after Memorial Day to set your garden plants out.  Even if the earth is warmer nowadays, Grandpa is still right on.

I keep my ears open for the owls and my eyes open for the wolves that have been wandering around here lately.  The cold doesn't bother me; I like the way it makes me feel.  For me this cold spell slows time.  It slows down spring, the ticking of the clock, and the arrival of summer.  Summer can wait; I'm in no hurry for what summer brings.  Today is a perfect gift in itself, freezing cold with a little snow, it's all good and teaches us patience and appreciation for the moment right now, just as it is.  Colder temperatures are easier to take when the outdoor world is green again!

Next month, next year, five years from now... don't talk to me about the future.  I'd rather talk about today because it's grand just the way it is right now. As I close my journal and head back to our warm cabin,  I watch the daylight fade and the woods grow dark.  A woodcock peeps toward Tom's Creek.  He likes this cool weather too!

GREEN

If there's a color that I've ever craved, ever longed to see more than any other, that color would have to be "green".  Today, May 1st, this color surrounds me at home and makes me feel good.  It's nothing to do with John Deere tractors or paper money.  It's all about the greening up of the world outside my cabin door.

It's the return of green needles to the tamarack tree, green blades of grass shooting up along the creek bed, green leaves on the willow trees, green may apple leaves, and green dragonflies flitting atop the water's surface around the pond.

If it wasn't for the bare and sometimes gray, cold Wisconsin winters, I would not miss green colors, but would take them all for granted.  That's another good reason to love each season.

I'm sitting on the bank of Tom's Creek this afternoon soaking in all this new greenery with my eyes.  In the distance I can see the once again green tops of the tamarack marsh.  A great blue heron takes off from a little bend in the creek, heading northwest in flight.  A light breeze keeps gnats from pestering me since they made their spring appearance a few days ago.

It's a perfect spring day with temps near 60 degrees, a great day to celebrate the return of springtime and all things fresh, new, and green!

Two days ago, my hubby and I visited the Listeman Arboretum in Neillsville, Wisconsin, and took a short walk on a nature trail off 2nd Street, following it to the Black River.  This 50 acre parcel of wooded and undisturbed land was donated to the city of Neillsville in 1966 by Kurt Listeman.



Wild flowers, 128 species as mentioned by the brochure at the trail entrance, abound throughout the parcel, and springtime is a great time to view many of them.  A hiking trail follows the Black River north of Highway 10, and meanders into a shady wooded area with tall trees like river birch, aspen, elm, oak, maple, and ironwood, and you can also view rocky outcroppings near the river.

The Listeman Arboretum is a great gift to the public and with the generosity of the late Kurt and Marguerite Listeman, through the longstanding Listeman Foundation, this family keeps on giving to many local projects in southern Clark County.  The Arboretum is a great place to see "green".

May Apples at Listeman Arboretum

Trilliums at Listeman Arboretum

Happy May Day!

APRIL WILD FLOWERS

Marsh Marigold

Instead of rambling, I've decided to post photos of the wildflowers near my home that I captured with camera today.  Marsh Marigold or Cow Slips, as my family calls them, bring back fond memories of the marshy area near Grandpa Adam's cabin where I grew up.  One of the earliest recollections of my childhood was of springtime and Aunt Susan carrying me to the marsh when she came to visit so she could see the cowslips blooming.  The marsh was a sea of yellow...  I can still see it in my mind.

Violet

Hepatica

Spring Beauty

Wood Anemone

Adder's Tongue or Trout-Lily

I have to admit the yellow trout-lily is one of my favorite wild flowers at home.  Today was the first day I saw it in bloom at the edge of the woods.  I don't recall ever seeing this wild flower where I grew up just a mile or so south of here.  I find it interesting how wild flowers can appear year after year in one place and never in another that is not far away.

The white trillium is not quite blooming yet.  We only have a few of these flowers left.  Years ago they were thick at the wood's edge but I believe the whitetail deer have eaten most of them off through the years.  When I was young, people said it was against the law to pick trilliums.  Maybe through the years they have come and gone, depending on the deer population.  I'm not really sure.

I hope you have a chance to get outside and enjoy the wild flowers near where you live. They come and go quickly.  Spring is a special season.  Heck, in Wisconsin, all seasons are special!

Just before I took this picture sitting in my "click, click, click, until you get it adjusted the way you want it" old lounge chair... a chickadee woke me up from a nap when it landed on my left boot.  I fumbled with the camera, trying to grab it from my pocket, but I was a little too late.

SITTING GOOSE

Have you ever heard the phrase, "sitting duck"?  It refers to someone who is vulnerable because a sitting duck is an easier target than a duck in flight.  After last night, I'd say a "sitting goose" is more vulnerable as well.

We've had a pair of Canadian geese nesting on our pond for a couple of weeks now.  They have nested each spring for several years, in about the same spot, on the inner dike.

When my hubby went for an early morning walk today, he thought something was amiss when he noticed a large amount of feathers near the goose nest at the pond's edge.  Taking a closer look, he found all seven eggs, unbroken, still lying in the nest, but no mother goose anywhere nearby.  Many small feathers were scattered on the ground with a few more strung out along the dike.

 
We have noticed a large mink frequenting the dike in the past several days.  It looks like he got what he was after.  My hubby thinks the mink may have tucked the goose carcass in a muskrat den along the water's edge, for safe keeping, as we could not find it and there were few large feathers.

As I sit on the bistro bench writing in my journal this morning, I hear the gander quietly honking across the pond near the nesting area.  He appears to have no interest in sitting on the now abandoned eggs himself.  He drifts back and forth across the pond letting the wind choose his destination.

I don't know how long the gander will remain here, on guard, watching and waiting for his mate to reappear.  I 'm not certain how long it will take him to accept what has happened.  I will curiously watch and see how nature handles this process, but I'm sure our lone male goose will be back next spring with a new little mate.  As Aunt Lydia C. says, "Life is for the living."

Mr. Mink will grow bigger and fatter now and perhaps he will contemplate how to pull off something even more grandiose!   That's just nature, that's the way it is.

VISITING THE WOLF TREE

It's been a while since I wrote a post, excuse my slacking.  I've had a busy couple of weeks spending a lot of time coughing with a few days wasted in the hospital.  I've had plenty of needles poking me and enough malfunctioning IV pumps beeping at me to last for a long time.

It feels great to be out in the fresh air journaling on our forty by the wolf tree, as my hubby dubs it.  Unfortunately it sits in the middle of deer tick haven, but I've got my trusty little bottle refilled with sweet smelling wintergreen rubbing alcohol ready to give ticks a bath, like the one I just found on my jeans.  It's against the law to "flick a tick" at our place, all ticks go into a bottle like this that we carry with us in a pocket whenever we're outdoors. 

Our wolf tree is a big old maple.  It has the prettiest red leaves in autumn that stand out among the other trees across the pond, sometimes reflecting itself beautifully in the water.  This tree is full of branches that spread out and shade everything around it.  The branches make it less desirable for lumber, but that's o.k. with me.

A little sunshine now and then and patches of blue sky are perking me up, but the west wind feels cold with a temperature of about 40 degrees.  A lone mallard duck quacks overhead as it flies above me toward Tom's Creek.

I spotted a pair of geese swimming in the high water of the creek, rising again from yesterday's heavy rainfall, as I made my way to the wolf tree.

A bone from an old deer carcass dangles from a small white pine tree along the trail near me, a plaything for a squirrel most likely.

I'm surrounded here at the base of the wolf tree by many red pine trees that my husband planted about 20 years ago.  Most have a diameter at the base of 4 to 6 inches, some still sporting a ring of fencing around them to keep the bucks from polishing their antlers and killing the trees.  Most of these red pines are 20 to 30 feet tall now and it won't be long until they can start whispering.  That makes me happy. 

Just being outside makes my day because I know I am where I'm supposed to be again!