I'm baaaaack!

The Cool at the Pool

Reentry was always predictable—
compose a one-page piece entitled How I Spent My Summer Vacation.

And as the expected assignment was handed out to an audience of less-than-enthusiastic students upon their return to school each fall, part of me wondered if the intent in giving it was greater than its simply being an exercise in the retrieval of rusty writing skills.
The stories that must have been told…
the secrets shared…
the places traveled to, or not.
In truth, there was no better way for the teacher to acquaint herself with the students in her new classroom than to discover how each had chosen to spend that precious time away.

The Cool at the Pool

Not surprisingly, mine somewhat resembled an upstate New York version of Tom Sawyer, sprinkled with liberal amounts of Little Women, as the neighborhood matured and real-life replaced real children’s dreams. There were frogs and kickball, frogs and fireflies, frogs in the cool, clear Adirondack lakes and tents full of giggling Girl Scouts. There were fishing trips at dawn with my dad, days of building forts, after-dinner bike rides, nights of cartwheels on the lawn.


My time away may be from things which are different now.
But I find that I still have filled it with the very same--
play, friends and family.
And, yes, even now….frogs.

American bullfrog, female

American bullfrog, male

This photo is slightly fuzzy, but it shows how the size of the tympana (external eardrums, flat disk behind each eye) differ in male/female frogs. The tympanum of the male (photo left) is larger than the eye; whereas in the female (photo right) it is equal in size or smaller. This quick visual can be used with several species of frogs, including American bullfrog and northern green frog.

Relatively similar in appearance, green frogs can be distinguished from bullfrogs by the presence of a dorsolateral fold, a lengthwise ridge of skin on the back extending from the tympanum 2/3 the distance to the hind leg. In the above photo, the male is clearly a green frog. But what about the female?
Frogs will readily clasp just about anything that comes into contact with them, if in the mood. I've even held hands with many frogs that don't understand that, although I love them, it wouldn't work--we're just too different.


Coming soon...more of How I Spent my Blogging Vacation...
West Virginia New River Birding and Nature Festival
More of Michigan
Killdeer Plains OCVN Workshop, look here and here

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Summer secrets

Eastern Bluebird at nestbox

I love the golden woods,

where, even on the dimmest days,

what little light there is seems more.

And boughs barely seen under splendid array,

stretch long and lean toward the sky.

Eastern box turtle

Now, are summer’s secrets revealed.

American beech leaves

Turkeytail fungi

White-crowned Sparrow

The falls on Avey's Run
Cincinnati Nature Center

Under Cover

A little too close, and the thick, cool mud quickly creeps past the lip of my sandal, painting my big toe boldly brown, revealing the truth I had hoped to keep secret—
I’ve been straying just a bit from the trail.
But from beneath this brush, the view is quite different. Where, stepping carefully past the tangle of vines and squatting low on the bank, I can look out across the surface of this little pond—quietly watch with the others…and disappear.

American Bullfrog, male (large tympanic membrane)
Rana catesbeiana

Beside me at the edge, sits a very large Bullfrog, chin deep in cool water, not moving a muscle. And as footsteps approach from the trail behind us, I hope he has not chosen this moment to launch himself noisily into the basin, announcing to all our perfect location--this cozy corner from which we wait, hidden.

Damselflies on American Lotus leaf

Dragonfly wings clatter loudly overhead. This water has unleashed them by the hundreds into the sunshine—skimmers and dashers, clubtails and darners--hungry and seeking mates in the open space carved from the woods by this small pond.



The tall sedges stretching up through the constant green of the water in front of me are covered in damselflies, linked in tandem, male and female pairs, almost silhouetted against the reflective surface, broken only by the circles of waxy blue, floating shoulder to shoulder.

And, as others pass, giving warnings of the poison ivy to one who might consider stepping close, I’m glad that, having carried a camera here, I have reason to inch yet a bit further.

This front row seat is worth muddy feet.

Damselfly pair on sedges (above)
and in mating wheel (below)

Northern Green Frog,
Rana clamitans melanota

A goose on the roof...

I love games.
Not so much the ones of turns, passed again and again around a board,
but those of thought, often labeled, “skill,”
that leave, more than talent-- laughter.

When our family was young, each day ended in games, a reward for that day’s efforts. Around the kitchen table or cross-legged on the living room floor, smiles and giggles… and then, up to bed!

Years later, still, the games are a part.
And though the players have changed,
the laughter from those early years is the same.

From behind your laughing eyes,
the child I remember.




One of our family favorites is Wise and Otherwise--a game of creatively completing half-written statements, little known proverbs, seldom heard words of wisdom.
I could not help but think of it when I found this goose on the roof.
I am sure you can finish the statement,
"A goose on the roof,..."

Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscope:

A toy consisting of a tube containing mirrors and pieces of colored glass or paper,
whose reflections produce changing patterns
that are visible through an eyehole when the tube is rotated.

In all the ways and places
a flower might rise, stand,
and turn face to the sun,
most marvelous are the very first.

Those bold of color and heart,
as if to say to all others waiting, hesitating,
“Lift your head, lean this way,
for on me shines the sun.”

Magnolia

Glory of the Snow, Chionodoxa forbesii

Star Magnolia, Magnolia stellata

Virginia Bluebells, Mertensia virginica

Lenten Rose, Helleborus orientalis

Squill, Scilla sp.

Lenten Rose, Helleborus orientalis

Because the Cincinnati Nature Center has evolved, partially, from a large tract of land that was previously a home with extensive plantings, many non-native species adorn its sprawling grounds. Of those pictured above, only the Virginia Bluebells are native, with all others originating in Europe, the Mediterranean and Asia.

View more ABC Wednesdays here!

Birdwatching

Canada Goose, watching

I woke and went out Saturday, to join others on a bird walk.
This early morning, straddling both winter and spring, I set out in wool socks and heavy jacket, left hat and mittens behind. And found that what normally is the perfect layering combination for this cooler weather, at our slow pace, soon gave in to shivers and a chill.
Birding is more about the watching—less about the walk.

But from a few well-placed blinds along the trails, we were able to settle in quietly, and watch--the cool morning air, bright and crisp, reaching through the small slits placed at eye- level around the small shelter where we sat.
Beyond the wooden walls, feeders--with all attractions to bring them close enough to view.
One by one they resumed the morning feeding frenzy.
Every so often, turning back to the shelter to watch the fourteen eyes, black binoculars, and camera--
quietly watching.

White-breasted Nuthatch, watching

American Robin

Pine Siskin, watching

American Tree Sparrow

Pine Siskin, watching

Pine Siskin and American Goldfinch

American Tree Sparrow and White-throated Sparrow, watching

Tufted Titmouse, watching

Life's a Beech

A walk through the winter woods reveals them with ease.
The beech trees, Fagus grandifolia, whose plain and smooth gray bark sets them apart with an elegance most others lack, furrowed and scaled. So vulnerable to those wanting to leave their mark upon them for the ages.
The sweetest leggy one, like the unblemished face of a slender, young girl, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose.

American Beech, Fagus grandifolia

Yet holding last year’s leaves, now faded and lightly golden, a sheer paper rustling with each breeze though these woods.
I love the beech trees.

Beech drops, Epifagus virginiana

Beneath them, barely seen against the russet tones of sugar maple, tiny Beech drops, Epifagus virginiana, grow, literally, "upon the beech."
With no leaves and no green coloring, living off the roots below as a parasitic plant.
For them, indeed, “Life’s a Beech.”