Enjoying Little Things in Nature

Yesterday I began a third round in my chemotherapy journey, a new cocktail - one old drug and one new old drug, standard treatment for someone with a recurrence of ovarian cancer symptoms.  This time it's especially bothering the lining of my stomach, but enough of that.  I made it through my first of six treatments without a reaction so I'm off to a good start I think.

Post chemo meds have me feeling perky enough today to find a spot for journaling on the bank of Tom's Creek, near our tamarack stand.   I chose this place to write, when I noticed an otter had just made his entrance under the ice along the creek's edge, after this morning's fresh dusting of snow, but not before leaving a pile of scat just above his entrance.  Was he marking his territory?  I'm not sure.  I'll sit here a spell and see if he pops his head back out of the hole.

Otter scat up on the bank

I'm immensely enjoying "little" things in nature today, as you all should when there aren't any "big" things at your feet, or in your eye or earshot. Mr. Otter might be disappointed in hearing me say this.






On my walk here I noticed a surplus of snow fleas all along the foot path we share with the deer, that leads to the creek.  At 33 degrees, it's a snow flea kind of day. 

My boot, next to several snow fleas, hopping about atop the melting snow

My appreciation of something so seemingly insignificant as these tiny snow fleas reminds me of a book I am reading now from my friend, Leslie, called "The Sound of a Wild Snail", by Elisabeth Tova Bailey.  It's about a young woman who travels abroad and acquires a terrible virus that leaves her bedridden.  A friend brings her flowers and she finds a snail living in the terracotta pot atop the soil the flowers are planted in.  The snail, as tiny and insignificant as it might seem, becomes so important to the woman.  Eventually someone brings a terrarium for her to keep the snail in, and because of her weakened condition and lonely lifestyle, the snail becomes a sort of pet and obsession that helps the woman cope with life.

These tiny snow fleas also remind me of Frank Krueger, a subject in my nonfiction book, "The Wisconsin Krueger Family Tragedy", who is imprisoned for 16 years, in part due to draft evasion during WWI.   One day Frank writes home to his mother about a singing cricket that appears in his jail cell, leaving him with feelings of nostalgia and homesickness.  Sometimes little things in nature might be all we have to look at, but they can still be fascinating, comforting, and special, if we really think about how marvelous and delicate they are.

It's a calm and beautiful Wisconsin winter day with a light breeze swaying the brown marsh grass to and fro, where I sit.  The sun, and a bit of blue sky, occasionally peak at me from beneath the dark gray clouds.  I love it when the clouds break apart, allowing rays of sunshine to poke through them... like right now above the white pine trees that line the banks of Tom's Creek. 

 

 

O.k., Mr. Otter.  

Since you're obviously not going to show yourself, it's time for me to head back home!

JANUARY'S LAST DAY

It's the last day of January and to complement the day we experienced a nice January thaw.  Temperatures near 40 degrees, with bits of blue sky and sunshine this afternoon, made it grand, and a remarkable sunset with pinks, oranges, and purples, topped it off.

A Wisconsin January thaw, back in the old days, was both welcome and necessary for one's sanity.  Years ago when wintertime was harsh, often filled with Alberta Clippers, three foot snowfalls, and the need to put charcoal under the car engine to get it started, a January thaw was great medicine for cabin fever.   It also gave us hope for spring.  Today we kind of take January thaws for granted. 

On a short walk this afternoon across Tom's Creek, and over wintergreen hill, I observed four gray squirrels chasing each other up and down the towering aspen and maple trees.  I think they were in the nesting notion.   A few insects were out and about; one that reminds me of a large sluggish mosquito, and snow fleas, springing about atop the melting snow, in their glory.

I could hear water trickling under areas of shallow ice as it wiggled its way down the creek.  I noticed my own melted tracks on the creek bed from yesterday's walk.  Two weeks ago this same path was filled with timber wolf tracks, one week ago deer tracks, and this weekend, just my own.   The turquoise blue sky reflected its colors onto the new standing water atop the creek ice.

There are only two days until the ground hog reveals to us his weather prediction, but either way he'll be causing us to start thinking and talking about spring.  I think we'll make it through the winter!

JANUARY WOLF KILL

The snow has settled down to a depth of four or five inches so walking in the woods today is easier than it was a few weeks ago.  At 28 degrees this afternoon, it feels like a heat wave.  I've picked this spot on the bank of Tom's Creek to sit and write in my journal today, as just a few yards to my right, lying on the ice in the middle of the creek bed, are bones that tell a story.

One week ago today as I walked to the creek crossing, covering my cheeks with my mittens every few seconds to stop the sting from the midday sub-zero temperatures, I noticed something out of place just a few yards downstream, tucked up along the bank.  A young doe, dead and stiff, laid there with it's hind legs parted, chewed open from the neck on down to the hind quarters.

Crow tracks peppered the snow everywhere around the area for many yards distant, and as I looked closer I noticed fox tracks.   I quickly snapped some photos to show my hubby and headed back down the trail, mittening back up my frozen fingers.  On the same path that I had already walked on to get to the creek, I spotted a large wolf track that I had overlooked on the way there.

The next day I came back to the kill site and the deer carcass was gone.  All that remained near the spot where I found it was the stomach, but wolf tracks were everywhere up and down the frozen creek bed on the light skiff of snow.  The creek banks were dotted at random with sprayed areas of yellow snow in both directions, wolves marking their territory.  It was clear that a pack of wolves had returned the night after the kill to finish eating their prey together.

Today I don't see any new wolf tracks in this area, only fresh deer tracks instead.  If I hadn't noticed the dead deer last Sunday, I might not have seen the few remnants left behind today. There's a light wind blowing and gray clouds cover the sky.

The woods is silent other than a few blue jays singing far to the south as I sit here and ponder about wolves and the love/hate relationship people have for them today.  I, myself, feel neither love nor hate for wolves.  I just know they are here and will probably be around for some time to come.  It's a different time here in central Wisconsin than forty years ago when I was young.  Life and nature keep changing and in many ways, to me, that makes the world we live in more interesting!

Wolf tracks on Tom's Creek, now a frozen highway for wildlife, as creek beds often are this time of year

FIVE JANUARY CROWS

I'm sitting on a small pile of brush, leaning against an oak tree along Todd Road, with the north wind blowing in my face.  This is the only dry spot I could find to park myself today.  It's 28 degrees, somewhat of a mild spell, and what I perceived to be a good chance to journal out of doors on this mid January day.  Faint peaks of blue are jutting out between the puffy gray overcast sky that has dominated so many of our short and dark winter days lately.

When I first came to this spot I caught a glimpse of five crows soaring high up in the sky, flying swiftly to the east and cawing loudly to one another.  In a short time they disappeared into the tree lined horizon.  Perhaps the crows symbolized the five critters that I noticed had walked across my path down Todd Road before I came along.  One of them colored the snow yellow!

Whitetail Deer

Rabbit

Red Fox

Partridge

... and Timber Wolves Marking Their Territory

 
Admittedly I'm freezing as I push this pencil around with my bulky gloves on.  My "Eskimo like" attire is failing me despite the balmy temperatures.  The chill of the wind and the dampness in the air is passing right through.  Time to head back home and settle in at the cabin where it's warm and cozy before the nocturnal wolves step back out to pee again.

PUT THE BRAKES ON!

It's a mild January day, in fact we're having a good old January thaw.  I had almost forgotten the excitement that a January thaw used to give me because this winter has had so many days with temperatures above freezing.  It's 33 degrees right now and the snow is packing.  I need to remind myself to appreciate such a warm day like today and put the brakes on!

Winter can bring dark and gloomy days to Wisconsin but those gray, cold days give us the opportunity to reflect on forgotten indoor projects and think about what to plant in our gardens next spring.  Winter is a good time to slow down a bit, like nature itself, and enjoy a little down time.

Although I haven't seen much wildlife activity in our woods lately, the nocturnal deer have been leaving their tracks everywhere on our driveway and in our woods.

Mourning doves roost in the treetops near the pond, landing by the open water from our aerator to catch a drink, especially at down and dusk.  Their calm and quiet whistling sounds are music to my ears as they gently glide through the air.

As I stand under a jack pine along Tom's creek and scratch these words in my journal, I find delight in the sound of the trickling water flowing gently downstream.  There are still openings in the ice allowing the critters to come by for a drink and me to hear the beautiful sounds of the moving water loud and clear.

Today a young deer visited this spot in the creek before I did...

and she put the brakes on too!

WINTER IS HERE!

I forgot how it feels to trudge through seven inches of fresh snow.  Guess it's been a while and I'm getting older as I find myself waddling slowly through the woods with my winter boots and snow pants on this afternoon, the third to the last day of December.

Today is the day after the first real snow storm of the season, and I think our woods needs a visit.  I make my way along the trail to Tom's Creek and then over to the northwest passage where I plunk myself down under an old red oak tree near the edge of the tamaracks and pull out my journal and pencil, with camera on call.

The most striking thing that I notice while sitting here is the sheer calmness that accompanies this new blanket of pure white snow resting on the ground and the evergreen trees.  A few tiny snow flurries land on my coat and amaze me with their intricacies, but the storm has been over for several hours.

I spotted one set of fresh deer tracks and one place where a squirrel had been scratching for acorns in the snow on my way to the creek, but this is undoubtedly a day when most critters are yet bracing themselves for an adventure in the new fallen snow.

Three partridges take flight as I frighten them from nearby spruce trees while I make my way back home toward the cabin.  I look forward to the day when I can capture an elusive partridge on camera.

Bits of blue sky reveal themselves above the thin layer of gray December clouds.  If all goes as planned, there will be a beautiful sunset this evening, at least that's my plan... and I'll be ready for it.

 Although the whole sky didn't light up, I wasn't disappointed this evening with the sunset, a nice way to end a winter's day!

Happy New Year Everyone!

DECEMBER SURPRISE!

I spent a good deal of time today reflecting on the passing of a friend, Angel Gnau, from Portland, Oregon, who lost her battle with cancer yesterday.  She was my mentor for three years since my own cancer diagnosis.  I was sent her way by a group that she volunteered with called "Breast Friends", based in Oregon, through my local clinic here in Wisconsin.

Angel was a nine year survivor of ovarian cancer.  I never met her in person, but we corresponded with email and she was always upbeat and ready to answer my questions and give me tips on how to cope.  You never would have known how she was suffering if you didn't ask her, as she never complained and was always full of hope.

On my way home from a walk down the road this morning, after watching the water trickle through the culverts, I was thinking how empty the world seemed, no squirrels, no deer, no birds singing or in flight.  It seemed too quiet, but I guess that's the way it is in December in Wisconsin. 

This year with the mild temperatures and lack of snowfall it's a little different though, and if you really open your eyes you might be surprised at what you see.  Just after feeling overwhelmed with emptiness on my walk, I spotted a robin in a neighbor's yard!  It was the first time I have ever seen a robin here in December.  I suppose this poor bird never migrated, but then again we can imagine that it did, and since it has now returned, winter is just about over.  How fun is that!

After taking a few photos of the lone robin, I spotted a banded woolly bear caterpillar crawling down the road not far from my driveway.  I picked it up carefully, watching it coil up in the palm of my hand, and placed it in the road ditch so it wouldn't get run over.

Seeing the robin, just five days before Christmas, gave me new hope.  Although December can be a quiet time, this year it is different than any I remember.  I am thankful for the chance to observe the little things in nature around me this month, and I'm thankful that I had the chance to know Angel.  She not only helped me in my struggles with cancer, but so many others as well, and I won't forget her, or the December robin.

Indian Fall in December

I asked for ideas on my Facebook page the other day on what to call the mild weather we are having in Wisconsin this December.  It's been milder than I can ever remember this late in the year.

Earlier in the fall, after a hard frost, when nice weather comes upon us for a brief visit once again, we call it Indian Summer.  It's surely too late for that now, and although fall hasn't officially ended, for the most part it would have been long gone by now here where I live.  This resurgence of mild weather, the kind that makes you feel good in spirits, needs another name as it is also certainly too early for spring fever.  Eric, our friend and neighbor, was the winner when he suggested calling this weather, Indian Fall.  I feel as if we've had a second chance at fall this year for sure.


Our pond is once again completely open, we had thunderstorms last night, and the grass is green;  it's been such odd weather for mid December in Central Wisconsin.  I keep looking for a blooming May Flower in my yard, but I haven't found one quite yet!

Today I thought it would be nice to take a road trip and visit a river somewhere so we headed to Black River Falls.  We stopped at the Bruce Cormican Memorial Canoe Landing on the south edge of town and walked along the Black River for a spell between the rain drops.  The first site my hubby and I encountered when we walked down to the river was a man extending his landing net at the shore to retrieve a walleye, just border line legal at 15".  He released it, but he was smiling.  We asked if he'd ever remembered fishing open water this late in the season and of course he said no, but the weather was just what prompted him to come here and fish today.

I noticed so many green plants along the river bank and kept my eye out for blooming wild flowers but I didn't find any.  Some tree branches had buds that were slightly swelled.


We also ventured over to Perry Creek to a county park that bares its name just south of town.  There is a swinging footbridge there that leads to a waterfall along the beautiful Perry Creek near where it runs into the Black River.   The creek bank is dotted with large white and red pines and river birch.

The rain held off long enough for us to get a short walk in and enjoy the greenery along Perry Creek.  Ferns and moss on the logs and rocky outcroppings along the river were just what I needed to see.  The damp misty cool air reminded me of a trip I took to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State a few years ago in the month of February.  There were not many tourists out and about at that time of the year, but oh was it green and beautiful there!

I don't know if we'll ever see another December like this one in 2015, but it's been grand.  The rain and the cloudy days don't bother me as long as the temps are mild.  Winter will be so much shorter this year, thanks to our Indian Fall!

Me looking for rocks at Perry Creek

CALM BEFORE THE STORM

A gloomy and cloudy, gray morning is upon me today.  It feels like the calm before the storm.  As I step outside the cabin door the sulfury smell of the paper mill, thirty some odd miles to the east of us, permeates the air.  That's the way it's been all my life.  My Grandfather, who lived a mile south of me as the crow flies, always said in the 1960s, "I can smell the paper mill.  It's going to storm."

I hastily walk around the pond dike, dipping into the thick woods near the creek and nestle up against a big oak tree.

All around me are signs of those who were here before me, just days or weeks ago.  I notice two small maple trees rubbed by a buck's antlers and a large scrape on the ground not far away.  The regular whitetail gun deer season ended yesterday and the woods is quiet as it waits for the impending storm to arrive.

A few raindrops land on my journal...  and then stop, as if beckoning me to write faster.  I can occasionally hear in the distance the three birds that seem to follow me this time of year in our Wisconsin woods; crows, chickadees, and blue jays.  None of them are in sight.

I'm likening the weather today to my own mood.  I've just finished six months of chemotherapy, my second round of treatments.  Now I sit and wait... for a recurrence that will most likely come quicker than the last one.  I'm facing reality and my own "calm before the storm".

It's difficult trying to sort out the best way to cope and enjoy this time I've been given to the fullest.  Should I spend it gathering up firewood and stacking it up before the snow falls, or stashing acorns in every hollow tree like the squirrels, or maybe flying south like the trumpeter swans to avoid winter's snow and cold.

My breath is visible as the wind begins to pick up a little, but the rain and ice are waiting for me to finish writing in my journal.

I think I'll not worry about gathering firewood, stashing acorns, or getting rained on.  I believe I'll just keep sitting under this oak tree and allow myself to get soaked... and enjoy every minute of it!  It's just rain, on the last day of November in Wisconsin, and it's both frightening and exhilarating.

p.s.  I'm not saying Grandpa was wrong, but the rain never did come this morning!

FIVE THINGS

5 THINGS

If I could only choose five things in nature to heighten my senses…

Just five little things to keep me sane,

It’d be easy for me to decide.

I’d pick wild roses to smell...

Wintergreen berries to taste...

 Trumpeter swans to hear...

Cardinal flowers to see...

And pussy willows to touch...

What five things would you choose?