What is Your Legacy?

I wrote this post in my journal several days ago and I don't have it on hand so I'll try to reinvent it today.

I'm not sitting outside where I want to be on this Indian Summer day, beneath a tamarack tree or on a creek bank, but I can see golden oak tree tops through my window.  They glow in the afternoon sunlight prettier than any fluorescent city lights at night.

My title is asking you an important question, one I've thought about often in the last few years.  I believe what you leave behind for your family and friends is so important.  Wealth and material things don't seem to be at the top of my list.  What's important to me is probably pretty clear if you've been following my blog posts.  I'd like to think you're enjoying the vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, and golds of Autumn right now.  I'd like you to find wonders in every season, even small but precious things like drops of dew on spiderwebs, the swirling center of a daisy, bark peeling off a shaggy river birch tree, or as written in my bio, "the moss that grows on the oak tree just down the street".

Why is sharing the love I have for nature so important to me?  I have to dig down deep and pull it out in words, that's kind of hard, but not really.  I think about how so many people go about their day thinking only about their inside walls world.  I feel sad for children who've never picked up a toad or a caterpillar.  Exploring and spending time outdoors can bring you needed inner peace, there may not be a lot of action happening in your back yard or local park, but if you look hard enough and open up your eyes you will see something beautiful in nature every time.  Observing nature is easy to do.  The outside world reminds us how small we are in nature's grand scheme and how miraculous things happen every day.  It restores our broken spirits and makes me step back and realize how lucky I am to be a part of God's wonderful Wisconsin.

When I m gone I'd like to think someone might say, "She taught me to notice the sunsets a little more often."  Yes, that's what I hope my legacy will be and I'd like to think others who come after me will share the same legacy that I do.

Waiting for the Wolves

I penned this post in my journal one week ago and am dedicating it to my friend, Pat, who passed away not long ago, at the age of 92 and loved wolves and autumn.   Thank you for many years of friendship, "East Fork Wolf Woman".

It's almost sunset as we make our way to a spot down the road to sit and wait.  Maybe we're too late, my hubby and I.

This beautiful "not a cloud in the sky" second day of October has filled our eyes with shades of yellows, reds, and oranges from the autumn maple trees.  This time of year is what we wait for, but it all passes too quickly and then our Wisconsin world turns brown and gold, then white.

We're waiting to hear the wolves howl like they did yesterday at sunset, and several evenings before, in the past few weeks.  There's a pack down this way and their eerie sounds catch our ears from a far away jaunt in an easterly direction when we sit outside and watch sunsets at home.

This evening we hear a tree frog and a huge flock of crows cawing madly in the distance.  A few crickets chirp in the marshy grass on the road's north side.  When we arrived here I noticed a clump of sun bleached wolf scat in the middle of the road.  Tufts of hair sticking out from its edges gave it away - deer hair no doubt.

A flock of Canadian Geese, in their "V" formation, sail overhead toward the south, looking for a water hole to camp out for the night.

We sit and wait and watch the sky fade, still cloudless, from blue to white, then pink and purple at the horizon to the east and golden orange on our horizon to the west.

Cool air starts to penetrate, hoods up, and our jackets are zipped up to the chin, as we sit patiently and keep listening.  A lone chickadee sings and then bounces from alder to alder at the road's edge.

Maybe our presence has deterred the wolves from howling, or they have moved on to greener pastures this evening.  Either way, it's the perfect ending to a perfect fall day!

But then wait, oh my gosh, there they go, howling, yipping, shrieking, several wolves at once, farther away to the east then we would have thought, so far away we don't feel threatened.  And then all is silent once again as we climb back into our Sidekick and head home.  Love them or leave them, those wolves sound magical!  A lone star, maybe a planet, and a sliver of the moon guide us on our way home. 

Wolves in our back yard

The Other Side

From my journal yesterday:

Last week we had over seven inches of rainfall in less than two days that left many roads in rural Wisconsin in disrepair and many creeks and rivers swollen.  Today I can walk once again up to the bank of Tom’s Creek but I still can’t walk across it to the other side.  

I’d like to hike on the trail to the knoll and look for mushrooms and smell the sweet pine trees that fill up all the open spaces in the woods over there, if I could just get to the other side.  I’ll have to wait until the water recedes enough to allow my knee boots to stay dry on the insides when I cross it.

I'm sitting on the creek bank on this balmy Sunday afternoon for a little journaling,  I’m enjoying the water sounds and watching the white bubbles flow quickly past me as they swirl around on the water’s surface, ever changing, never staying the same.

I can hear a few crickets chirping but it seems as though they are winding down and not nearly as noisy as they were a few weeks ago.  An occasional tree frog sings by itself in the woods on the other side.  A stiff breeze blows from the west.  It feels cooler now, as if the wind is trying to push the humid air away, like it’s saying “good-bye” to summer and “hello” to fall.

I don’t need to get to the other side of the creek today if I really think about it.  This side is good enough.  You and I need to remember to enjoy whatever side we’re on until the water levels go down and we can cross our creeks once again.  We need to be patient and enjoy what we see today, where we see it, and stop reaching all the time for more, for bigger, or better things, and appreciate what we already have, on whatever side of the creek we’re on right now.

As I made my way back to the cabin a young doe and I stared at each other for a moment, on this side of the creek.

Wisconsin to Montana - Making A Dream

Excuse me for deviating from my blog title... but today I'm going to share a bit about my journey last week to Gold Creek, Montana, at Camp Mak-A-Dream.  I was blessed to be able to attend a unique retreat for ovarian cancer survivors, pleasantly finding myself surrounded by sixty-one women all in the same boat as me, from all across the country.  It is hard to explain the comradery I felt, the friendships I've made, and the beautiful Montana scenery that I relished in.

Camp was a time for healing, for learning new ways to cope, and for celebrating life.  I am grateful for the experience and will never forget the kindness that everyone who attended and the staff at camp showed me.  I found myself quite busy with all the activities camp staff had planned but want to share a bit of journaling and will revert to my notes from September 12th, 2016.

... This is my last day at camp.   I awoke at 6:00 a.m. MT time, rearranged my stuff, and started repacking for the long journey back home to Wisconsin later this morning.  No time to waste sleeping, the sun will soon be rising.

I chose to climb the side of a mountain west of camp by myself before breakfast and trudged slowly up a small part of the "butte" until I came to a corner in the fence line of this 87 acre ranch, and sat down on the dried up golden prairie grass with my journal and pen in hand.  This pen was given to me by a good friend whom I met at a place where I used to work named Artie Hamm, a trucker who always wore bib overalls.  He passed away from cancer of the spine.  I thought Artie would get a kick out of me bringing this pen with his name on it, a sort of Christmas handout, to Montana with me.  

As I looked around at this spot I chose to write from, I found a small bone or shed from an unknown animal, laying on the ground beside me.  It was only about 2" long, but I marveled at it along with clusters of dried up elk droppings on the ground, much larger than whitetail deer scat I am used to seeing back home.  As I look up at the mountains I can see trails where the elk cross to the south of me.

Mountains surround me on all sides.  Black cattle, along with a few brown ones, free range below me in the valley and I can hear an occasional cow bawling in the distance.   

The flag flies at half staff below me at Camp, in remembrance of 9-11 yesterday.  

My journey to this OVC fall retreat has been all and more that I hoped it would be.  It has given me the feeling of being "unalone".  We all have our own cancer journeys that we've been following, but each one of us shares so many similar experiences and feelings; sadness, frustrations, hopes, and dreams.

Pink skies begin to appear amidst gray clouds as the sun slowly rises this morning.  The beauty of Gold Creek is hard to pen.  To complete the scenery, down in the valley below me a train rolls down the tracks and blows it's whistle as it passes by the 150 year old Gold Creek Post Office, open from 2 - 4:00 p.m. on weekdays.  

As I watch the sun pop through the clouds I hear laughter from new friends, climbing the Butte behind me.  With the help of two Wisconsinites, I made it to the top of the Butte Friday morning in the fog.  Including myself, there are twelve women here at Camp from Wisconsin, none I had met before.  

Time to explore and appreciate one last time the rocks, the clouds, the mountains, new friendships, and the beauty of Montana.  I am grateful today for all that has been given to me in this life on earth.  Right now I think it's more than enough to get me through the rest of my cancer journey.

Artist's Palette - Water Shield

When I look at you, I see... an artist's palette.

Today we glided across the pond in our old aluminum Smoker Craft canoe, me up front with a camera and my hubby in back with a paddle.  I was thinking the other day, as autumn nears, that water shield leaves now overcrowding the water's surface in our pond (Brasenia schreberi) are beginning to look like artists' palette's.  I picture in my mind the artist, an elderly gentleman, glasses perched at the edge of his nose, standing in front of his stretched canvas and easel, a wooden palette in his left hand, and an old camel hair brush in his right.  The palette has been his friend for years with layer upon layer of paint, a work of art in itself, coating it's wooden surface.

The water shield plant has small oval shaped leaves that float on the water's surface and grow in places where depth is seven feet or less.  It's leaves are attached in the center to purple stems beneath the surface; both the undersides of the leaves and the stems are coated with a gelatinous substance.  Water shield leaves lack the cut out portion or slit of the larger lily pad leaves but often grow next to one another.  Although great for fish habitat, the leaves can become so dense that they make it difficult to take a cast for fish.  We've learned that water shield plants can be eaten.  Although we have never tasted them, it's comforting to know that with their abundance we will never starve in summertime!

This time of year the colors of the green water shield leaves take on more orange, yellow, red, and purple hues.  The leaves make a great resting spot for spiders, water bugs, and moths.  I love to gaze at the unique swirls and colorations on them that sometimes resemble marbling and agate like patterns.

If you stare at the beautiful water shield leaves long enough they can almost hypnotize you... another wonder of nature often taken for granted that can be seen in most shallow Wisconsin ponds and lakes this time of year.

Water Lily with larger leaves growing amongst smaller Water Shield leaves

Unique Fungi in My Woods

Remember that old song, "Don't sit under the apple tree, with anyone else but me."?  That's the way I'm feeling about my hubby as I sit beside purple or lavender coral fungi on the trail to the knoll across Tom's Creek.  My hubby didn't have time to sit with me though, so he continued on up the trail.

We've found three small clusters of these purple coral fungi on the back twenty so far and I've been enjoying them immensely, so much so that I wanted to share them with you just in case you haven't seen them yet.  This must be the year of the corals, I've seen more this month then ever before.

This cloudy, damp, morning leads me to their growing spots once again to journal and ponder about such rare beauties in nature.  I'm swatting mosquitoes as I pen in haste.

This is a cricket audio morning and the trail I followed to the woods was lined with dewy spiderwebs, the kind with a solitary tunnel near the center that you can look down into with wonder but seldom see the master who created them.

Along with the purple corals, again today I notice white and tan corals in large numbers. I also discovered what I thought were corals but are actually earthtongue fungi  (Thank you, Holly!), in black, orange and yellow colors.  The black earthtongue is growing in my yard and it's the first time I've ever noticed these small wonders.  Orange earthtongue, tallest of them all, extends it's tentacle like branches hither tither toward the sky, appearing like small bursts of flames dotting the forest floor.  The florescent like brightness of the orange color really catches one's eye.

Irregular Earthtongue in bright orange!

The purple coral fungi tend to blend in with last year's oak and maple leaf remnants.  I have to look hard on this overcast morning to notice them.  When I gaze at it, I feel as though a spell has been cast upon me, as if I were swimming across an ocean bottom, sporting a pair of fins and a snorkel.

Tan Coral

Irregular Earthtongue in Yellow

Black Earthtongue

White Coral

This purple coral that I am journalling next to is growing near rattlesnake plantain and several other fungi.  It emerges along the edges of a small tree root.  My photos do not capture it's full beauty.  Like Uncle Axel would say to me, I'll repeat the same words to the purple coral, "I'm glad I got to see your smiling face?"

I hope you get a chance to walk out in a shady woods and see Wisconsin's coral fungi some day too!

Annual Cardinal Flower Trek

I came today to look for the red cardinal flowers at the end of the road where it meets the beautiful East Fork of the Black River, a sort of birthday tradition of mine. 

This balmy Sunday morning left my tennis shoes damp, as well as my socks beneath them, as I trudged through the damp weeds on the trail that leads to the end of the earth like I do every year about this time.

As I approached the river I noticed a pair of pink sunglasses, neatly folded up laying in the center of the wooden bridge that replaced a rusty metal one almost a hundred years ago.  The glasses sat there gazing through their dark gray lenses at the river to the north.  Whether dropped out of a pocket, or neatly placed there for me to ponder about in a blog, ha ha, I'll never know!

I was disappointed because the recent rains and high water appeared to have covered up the cardinal flowers along the river's edge but the Joe-Pye weed that stood tall and graceful, upstream all along the banks, gave me delight, as the morning sunlight focused on lavender blossoms.

As I sat there on the wooden bridge, penning in my journal and swatting mosquitoes, I felt so thankful for another year of enjoying this precious life on earth.  A beautiful blue sky, without a cloud in it, towered over my head, while ripples flowing over rocks in the river below me sang comforting melodies.   I could've sat there forever, yes I could have.

I missed seeing those August cardinal flower blooms but checked carefully in the backed up water's edges on my way home, and I found a few.  My day wouldn't have been complete without seeing them.

The cardinal flower's bright red glow is my favorite color in nature, next to the cardinal itself, or the red glow on the top of a pileated woodpecker's head.

Jared, did you leave the sunglasses for me?  Or was it you, "Orange Truck Man"?

I left the glasses where I found them so they could guard the cardinal flowers and gaze at the moon and stars tonight on the wooden bridge.

Visiting the Oak Tree

Today I am visiting the oak tree that is featured on the cover of my memoir titled, "Gifts From an Oak Tree".  I haven't sat here in a while and today seems like a good day to receive a gift. 

The sun is slowly rising through the oak and maple tree branches this morning, casting shadows on the ferns that carpet the woodland floor.   A cool breeze makes them flutter just a bit.  I hear a woodpecker gently pecking on a tree east of Lindsay Creek.  Song birds are singing softly but a chickadee is the only one I recognize.

Cooler temperatures sent me outdoors this morning, that and my hubby's mention of a huge spiderweb catching the morning sun's rays between a birch and spruce tree in our yard.  As I gazed at the web, minus it's creator, I marveled at it's intricacy, massive size, and delicateness.  The spider who created it was one of the most talented artists I have ever encountered.  This led me to search the woods for more webs.

As I walked along the trail to the special oak tree, I found spiderwebs everywhere, on dead branches, on evergreens, and on the damp grass along the trail.  Many times the web masters were sitting in the webbing, waiting for a meal.  I marveled at the small size of the creators in comparison to the size of their masterpieces.  It's not that I've never seen spiderwebs before, but today I'm appreciating them more than ever.  They are another wonder in nature that we often take for granted.

I'm starting a new journal today.  It gave me a good feeling to fill up my last one.  My mind plays games with me and wonders if I will get to complete this journal too.  Next week I'm supposed to finish up this series of six chemotherapy treatments.  The last two were delayed because my blood counts were too low and I expect this one will be also.  In a way, that's o.k. with me.

The oak tree is telling me to take comfort in the stability of my life, to be thankful I can come back to this same tree and sit here time and again, and ponder.  So many people are on the go, moving often from place to place, creating new webs like the spiders.  I am thankful and content knowing this is where I'll be, as long as I am me, and the web that I have spun, should last until I'm done!   Thank you, oak tree, for helping me to realize how special a simple thing like stability is in my life.  If you have it in yours, appreciate it.

SUMMER BEAUTIES

July is fading fast.  Does that mean summer is half over with already?  No, not by the calendar, but it does feel that way to me.  I'd like to find a way to keep the clock from ticking so quickly.  Lately I've been enjoying the sights and sounds of summer that include lavender colored flowers in my world.  In marshy areas and around the pond, Hardhack (in the photo above), Joe Pye Weed and Purple Vervain are blooming right on schedule.  I look forward to these beautiful purplish pink flowers every summer in July.

Joe Pye Weed and Purple Vervain

As I walked along the northwest passage this afternoon, dodging deer flies and stepping over wolf scat, I came upon a small flock of chickadees in the tamarack trees calling to one another.  Maybe they are getting ready to start a second summer family.

There is so much to observe in nature this time of year that it is hard for me to know where to begin writing about it all!  I am enjoying the renewal of everything that I enjoyed from summers passed, a little at a time.  I hope you are too!  Sooner than we think, autumn leaves will begin to fall and another summer, another chapter in our lives, will close it's pages and remain only in our memories along with the pleasant scent of Joe Pye Weed.                                                                                                                                                          

Jewel Weed or Touch-Me-Not

White Pond Lily

TIMOTHY GRASS - A FULL JOURNAL

I'd rather be sitting where this little songbird is, atop a tall, spindly, spruce tree on this clear, blue sky, summer day, rather than sitting on the ground taking a picture of it... but I'm glad I had that chance, and here's the photo... 

I'm admiring these beautiful spruce trees in a peaceful place amid a sea of timothy grass as I write in my journal.  Did you ever pull up a stalk of timothy grass and pop it in your mouth and chew on it for a while?  If not, I'd highly recommend doing so; it's never too late.  It doesn't give you a buzz, or anything like that.  Chewing on timothy puts sort of a sweet taste in your mouth and makes you feel like you're a kid again and on top of the world!  

I saw a small whitetail buck on the road up ahead of me on my walk here and after finding a place to rest up I'm just biding my time swatting deer flies and mosquitoes and picking off a few wood ticks, nothing out of the ordinary.  Every summer it seems I ask my hubby when the deer flies will let up and he always says the same thing, "Not until later in August."  UGH!  I think the deer was looking for a deer fly escape himself.  

 
Chickadees are singing all around me in the spruce trees near this peaceful and quiet journaling spot.  

Ox-eye Daisies and Common Yarrow are blooming everywhere and most of the Indian Paintbrush (Orange Hawkweed) have started going to seed.  A mourning dove keeps cooing in the distance, but I don't foresee any rain in the near future.

It's the start of a grand Wisconsin summer, the first week of July, so go grab some timothy grass, give it a chew, and forget all your troubles.  It's working for me, at least for right now, and right now is all that matters!  




My ramblings today fill up the last page of my journal, now full.  I am certain, though, that I can find another one!    I'll share with you the first two pages of this journal just for reflective purposes.  I began writing in it shortly after my ovarian cancer surgery and was trying to pull myself together well before my blog posting adventures began...  I think my thoughts below are good advice for anyone, not just myself.   They're kind of the whole gist of the memoir I recently published and what keeps my sanity today.

"Random thoughts in no particular order:  Attitude is everything.  Although a positive attitude may not prolong your life it will improve the quality of life you do have left and make things easier for those around you..."

"Try to find at least one thing each day with a positive spin on it... no matter how simple that thing might be... the taste of food, blue sky, sight of a bird of any kind, a phone call or email from a friend, a call from a book publisher (NOT), the ability to go to the bathroom, a smile from a stranger, even simpler positive things not yet thought of.  See them, feel them, appreciate them, no matter how small they are."