Tag: flowers

Categories
Nature Writing

Music Without An IPod~

I walked outside to a world powdered over with white, white snow, and a pale blue cloudless sky.

 The day was bight and quiet or so I thought. I didn’t slip or slide when I reached the path, which was no longer muddy, but covered in a thin layer of white.  The mud underneath was frozen it gave slightly as I walked; foot prints from yesterday were set in place. The beige grass waved in a greeting.

 Uriah kept whining at my side until I reached in my pocket and gave him one of his biscuits. Then he heard a sound and took off in the trees.

I walked quickly around the path, alone; my thoughts of a warm cup of coffee waiting for me in the kitchen stopped me from enjoying this moment.

I dragged my feet around trees and under the bushes.  I hurried past the dip in the ground, used as a runoff from flood waters; today it was empty, except for dried foliage strewn around.   Rocks and dirt spilled out of the muskrats burrows, frozen and covered in snow. 

I stepped into a pile of snow covered leaves. Sounds changed at that point. I heard the squeak of packed snow as I walked and the crisp sound of the leaves hidden under that snow.

 I stopped took off my knit hat and looked up into the sky, and listened.

A breeze, soft, and easy drifted around my legs and into the tall grass. Then it rustled along the ground, picking up speed, until the air moved in a sweeping fashion, and shifted upwards.  

My eyes were drawn to the tops of four trees; they still had a few dried leaves clinging to the top most branches. They glistened with ice and rustled, the sound rose, then drifted to silence as the wind moved on across the fields.

I closed my eyes and waited.  Listening patiently for…?

 I heard the wind moving towards me in a billowing roll. It was if the Maestro had walked up to the podium, raised both hands for silence towards the Orchestra.

 Everything stopped! Not a sound! Not a bird!  Not a bit of grass moved. Until his hand moved in the downward beat and the Orchestra started playing.  

Winds rolled over the fields. Sound amplified and increased in pitch. It was if the wind was given instruction to play, and enticed the birds to join in. They fluttered in the trees, waiting their turn. I imagined fairies and gnomes dancing on that wind.  

Trees limbs slipped against each other making sweet, higher pitch sounds of a flute. The sounds whispered, and then stopped.  After a few seconds, a melody was taken up by a small bird. His solo ended and the wind gently rustled the dry grass, applauding.   

I heard the heavy muffled roll, as a new gust of wind traveled above my head bringing everyone into play.

 Then silence…   I whispered to the wind, “Bravo.” 

I heard Uriah fussing about in the trees, I called for him.   “Uriah, you’re that one person in the audience that won’t be quiet”

He ran out at me, and promptly sat at my feet.

“To late the concert is over.” 

I headed back to the house, no longer in a hurry…

Picture from:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Vzevolozhsky%27s_costume_sketch_for_Nutcracker.jpg
Categories
Nature Writing

Moon Phases and Sunsets

 

As I walked out the garage door, and looked to my right. I could see the Waxing Gibbous moon, nearly full, glowing white in the still, blue sky. It was dusk and the sun had slipped to the horizon and was quickly disappearing. Last night the sky was streaked with fury red. Tonight it was a pale defused orange color.  

Uriah and I walked towards the front pond, instead of on the back path. The path was still under an inch of water, and slippery. With the sun going down, I was afraid I would fall into the pitch black mud. Not my idea of a fun night.

 Staring into the blue sky, I found it hard to differentiate between the summer sky at dusk and this sky. There was only one cloud, possibly Cirrus, splattered over head looking very much like a flattened out tornado. Its bottom point aimed at the setting sun, while the large cone top swirled above my head.

Uriah came over and leaned against my leg. He was still nervous from the gun fire all afternoon. I have a neighbor who loves to target shot. For hours… 

“Its okay,” I whispered, as I rubbed his face. “He isn’t shooting anymore.”

At that moment, shots rang out; to be precise, six times the gun, sounded like a 22. Uriah stood up, then sat down and sighed heavily.  

“Come on, boy.” I patted my leg as I walked away from Uriah.  “At least he’s not shooting the big stuff.”

 I really have to learn how to be quiet. Two shots rang out, with an intense deep, BOOM! BOOM! Those shots vibrated through the ground.

I called Uriah to walk around the pond, and gave him a Milkbone dog biscuit, which made him happy. While the there was still light he needed his exercise. I was relieved, when he decided to trotted on ahead.

 A waft of warm barbeque air disturbed the cold, damp wood smell, but only in small pockets. Odd!  I took four steps and I walked into a cold, damp woody smell. Then, I moved forward two more steps, into warm air smelling like hot dogs and summer. It had to do with the lack of a breeze. The air was extremely still.

 All, this was making me hungry.

An angry Cardinal clicked high in the trees; another one closer towards the house answered the first. I wondered if they were upset with me, or whoever had a fire going? More than likely it was the shooting that went on all afternoon.

I turned as I reached the driveway. Now I was facing towards the house. The moon hung in the sky above the roof like the star of Bethlehem.

 The shooting stopped. The birds were still talking in the trees, and the light was fading fast.

My pace picked up as I followed Uriah to the house. I have a piece of pumpkin pie left. I just hope my husband can see my name is written on it…

Picture from –
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Phases_of_the_Moon.png#filelinks
Categories
Nature Writing Poetry

I wanted a bowl of chicken soup with carrots for lunch

I wanted a bowl of chicken soup with carrots for lunch. So, I took an old colander out to the garden. Kneeled, and carefully pulled up the small carrots. Their tops were still green and healthy looking. The Taproot, a tasty dark orange

This past spring, I had planted a six foot long line of carrots. They grew slowly and perfect, except I planted them a little to close together. Next springs carrots will be spaced apart more evenly.

Carefully I wiggled them loose like a child’s tooth. I have only half a foot remaining in the row.

It was easier than I thought to grow carrots.

Water a little,  weed a little, and then leave them alone.

This year, I have sliced them thinly and cook them into canned soups, homemade soups, and packaged dry soups. I have made beef stews and ‘any vegetable on hand’ soup.

I added the vegetables,  the garlic along with the onions and tomatoes, parsley and potatoes. All were grown in my garden.

The potatoes were a surprise. I had mixed in assorted vegetable peels and egg shells from the kitchen.  I was amazed to see potatoes growing with a dozen strawberry plants. I didn’t plant those either! They came from a couple of fresh, rotting strawberries thrown in around July.

Using  tree leaves  I  covered a large part of the garden in preparation of winter. I planned on moving the strawberries to a different section this coming spring. That idea may change; I have all winter to mull it over.

I pulled out two dozen finger sized carrots; they were growing in a massive clump. I broke off the tops and tossed the them in the mulch pile.  I tried and failed to remove all the dirt. I scrapped off as much as I could. I really don’t need to clog my kitchen drains with mud.

We have had a few frosts already. I was surprised we haven’t had a foot of snow. Some of the carrots have some frost damage; they are a reddish orange color. I set those on the side to be mulched.

I creaked and groaned as I got to my feet, looked up at the blue sky and walked into the house to make myself some soup.

Uriah decided to stay behind and started  hunting  the rat that lives around his kennel.

Clean up and sliced carrots

A quarter of an onion chopped

Rive one clove of garlic from bulb

Relish with a Pinch of salt, and pepper

Olive oil to sauté, Swanson chicken broth

Two skinless chicken breasts simmer till done

Carrot picture

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carrots

Categories
Nature Writing Poetry

Peace with nature

Its mid-morning, pale baby blue sky, painted with wisps of white clouds, the air is no longer cold, just cool. On the path the grass is about three inches tall and it shimmered in the morning light. Drew drops were everywhere, glinting along the gnarled fence post, to slipping slowly off bare branches.

If I had to describe this morning with one word, it would be ‘peaceful.’

I watched a family of Blue Jays glide noiselessly through the trees to the North. When I was spotted, a single long whistle announced me as trouble. Very similar to the whistle I use to call for Uriah. I whistled back at the bird, smiled and moved on.

I snapped my fingers at Uriah, and we headed for the path. Uriah ran in circles and headed into up the incline to the south, the scent he caught was over powering to him. He had to find it! He didn’t… I could smell a faint a faint musky order it lingered over the damp ground. I knew the animal was no longer here. Finally, Uriah figured that out and came back to me; immediately he pushed off in the opposite direction when a new smell caught his attention.

 A Red-tailed Hawk screeched in the trees to the north. His call reverberated in the morning air. Blue Jays answered with their danger whistle and the Hawk screeched back at them.

Both are extremely beautiful birds. The bright blue of the  Jays and the intense pride of the hawk, for me, their voices carried the soul of the land.

That may sound corny. Yes! But standing here listening, takes me back to my grandmother’s house, and brought me peaceful feel to the day, to this moment.

Peace is more than a word, a thought, or a phrase. It is a way of living. In nature, animals come together to drink from the same pond without killing each other. Just for the sake of replenishing their thirst…?  Or, is it more than that?

Nature is calling out today! With the same whistles, growls, screeches and yelps as yesterday. A peaceful coexistence, caught in a split second where I can connect with the land.

Tomorrow may rage a storm so severe the trees could be ripped up from their roots. This moment of peace, this moment is all I have right now. I am enjoying it immensely.

I have been playing with acrostic poetry.

 Peace

Place yourself within nature

Embrace your creative arc

Actualize your personal Mecca

Confidence regained in solitude

Enliven a past friendship

 

 

 

Picture from

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red-tailed_hawk

Categories
Nature Writing

Peanut Butter Sandwich

Rain has coated every blade of dried grass, bare tree limb, and still standing stalk of corn.

The color yesterday, was a faded beige, yellowish green and dark browns, today with all the dampness  the colors have changed into a deeper, darker browns, reddish and wet.

Without the over cast sky everything would be shimmering, at least until the sun dried them off.

I could see my breath, the air was nearly cold enough to snow, but just not there, yet.

When I breathed through my nose, I could smell, cool rain, dampness, and trees. I started huffing and puffing, breathing through my mouth and the scents changed. I could taste dried hay, grass, and mold mixed in with the cool, calm air.

Stillness formed around me, anticipation of the next second. I looked up to the sky. The clouds were pretty high, and smooth; those clouds, were there for their aesthetic appeal and to keep the ground air cool.

No! It wasn’t going to rain on me, at least not in the next half hour. The horizon was clear. Right now I could see a line of clouds, very slowly moving in this direction.

I had taken this afternoons walk with my lunch, a peanut butter sandwich. I was driving Uriah crazy; he stayed at my feet drooling. His dog biscuits weren’t appeasing him; he kept crying and wiggling around on the ground every time I stopped. I had a third of my sandwich left when I gave in to him.  

“Uriah, sit!”

Silly thing to tell him he was already seated. I should have told him to stop drooling. I knelt down and handed him the sandwich. He carefully took it out of my fingers and stood there. He didn’t eat it, just rolled his eyes around.

“Well, that’s yours now.”

I patted him on the head and stood up and he promptly turned back down the path and trotted away. He was either going to bury it, or give it away. I wasn’t going to follow him and find out.

At that moment, a small bird decided I was interrupting his day and started peeping at me, over and over. I tried to see where he was at,  but I had left my glasses on the shelf next to the coat rack. Great place for them…

I reached in my pocket. Notepad and pen was also  back at the house.

 After two minutes of yelling at me the little bird flew out of the leafless mulberry tree. Then down onto a corn husk, where he kept watching me, watching him, while he picked at the corn and looked very upset.

 He was nearly vertical on the corn husk. Long and narrow, with light soft grey under belly and a black streak from his head down his back to his tail.

Uriah started a deep throat barking, somewhere in the trees.

 I started to shiver, dampness and cold temperatures, I craved a hot coffee and my wool socks. It was time to go home.

 I turned back to the little bird, and said goodbye. Then I whistled for Uriah, who was racing around the trees and grass, growling and complaining. He more than likely gave away his sandwich and like a child wanted it back.

“Come on Uriah! Leave your friends out here.” I whistled again, and kept walking home.

 

 

With the aid of Google search, I pulled up different bird sites, as I tried to find that bird.

I got lost in, “The Cornell lab of Ornithology-All About Birds” site and forgot what I was doing.

The sound of the Violet-green Swallow was very similar to that small birds sound

 http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Violet-green_Swallow/id http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/search.aspx

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violet-green_Swallow

Categories
Nature Writing

My little mossy friend in hand

moss prettyThis day started out with bright sunshine, and warm breezes. By mid-afternoon the sky was a haze of grey clouds that stretched across the sky and touched the horizon.

I watched the mist, as it rolled across the choppy fields, and felt the air pressure settle in behind my eyes.

With my blurry eyes to the ground I headed back home. Stepping carefully around holes and dried leaves; I noticed the moss growing in the bald areas on the path. The same type of moss grew prevalently in the low areas. It was the only thing that made and attempt to grow while ignoring the on coming winter. It stood out nice, bright Easter grass green.

I stopped and stooped down to get a better look. Uriah wasn’t watching were he was going and ran into me. Then, quickly he caught himself and put his nose to the ground. He looked up at me, when I didn’t respond, then he stood directly over the moss I was examining.

“Hey, Uriah! A rabbit!” I pointed to the tall grass. He didn’t believe me until the grass shook a little. “Thank you chipmunk!” I muttered, as he took off happily. Which gave me a chance to take a good look at the moss.

It resembled fine, green string with evergreen type of leave. I used the end of my ski pole/walking stick and got underneath the patch, I lifted up a piece that fit in my hand. It was a lot easier to look at the moss with Uriah’s nose further away.

I headed into the house with my little mossy friend in hand, and I checked my books. Then I looked on line. I thought my moss might be a “common feather liverwort -Plagiochila porelloides”

I may be wrong. There are over 16,000 Different types. Not all in Illinois and where they grow depends on the soils pH, how acidic or alkaline. Do they like sun or shade?

This section is from a nice PDF, “Illinois Bryophytes” (1)

“Bryophytes, numbering about 16,000 species in three phyla of the Kingdom Plantae, are second only to flowering plants (about 250,000 species) in the number of plant species known to exist on earth.”

I pulled out my trusty notebook and made a notation- to crawl around and list all moss and ferns on my property in the spring. I will check out areas, before the snow hits, that may be inaccessible to me later on.

But for now, that name- ‘The Kingdom Plantae’ sounds like a great start to a story…

 

 

This site shows pictures of different types of moss.. http://www.andrewspink.nl/mosses/thumbnails.htm#l

(1) Illinois Bryophytes
http://bryophytes.plant.siu.edu/PDFiles/Bryo-poster%201.pdf
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Haeckel_Muscinae.jpg
Categories
Nature Writing

Where do the insects go in the winter?

800px-IC_Pyrrharctia_isabella_caterpillarSun is shining! I put on my bright orange, stylish coat and went out for a walk,… and to get the mail.

    I was surprised that there were still a few crickets, and frogs chirping away in the trees and dried grass. I nearly stepped on a few stray grasshoppers. With the weather in the upper twenties last night, they should all have hibernated for the winter, or laid their eggs, larvae, nymphs or pupae.

     The bees and wasps have died off. Well, at least the males and the workers. The females crawl into someplace safe, at least they hope so, until spring.

     All my beautiful Monarchs have flown off to far away places to return again in spring.

     I have been trying to vacuum up and squish all the Japanese beetles and box elders that have been invading my house for the past month. I know that no matter how vigilant I am at removing them, some will have crawled in-between the siding, or find places under the tiles. Others have gotten inside the house hoping to hold out for spring.

     In the middle of winter when the sun beats down on the roof, I will find a fly or a beetle that has a death wish by drowning my morning coffee.

    Some caterpillars hibernate, like the woolly bear caterpillar.  That little bugger is not fun to pick up; I try to avoid it altogether. But, every year I make a mistake and touch it, either with my toes, or while grabbing a hand full of weeds. The sharp, stinging sensation is not a pleasant experience, and they seem to be everywhere in the late summer, early fall.

     I try not to disturbed any insects as they settle in for the winter; except for the ones in my house. The others, the ones in rotting logs and in the wooded area hidden under leaves, I leave them be. In spring I want to see them flying and diving around flowers. I want the bees to pollinate my flowers. I want to hear the summer songs of the crickets and cicadas and katydids.

    For now, as I clean up around the outside of the house. Putting away my rakes, and watering hoses. I hope that all of nature can survive the snows and freezing temperatures.

    That reminds me I need a pair of winter gloves.

Categories
Nature Writing

Have Any Idea What That Plant Is?

 I stopped half way around the back path, while talking to Uriah. He had seen a black squirrel. With high hopes his nose was to the ground and he wandered in circle. We never had a squirrels living in our backyard. Too many corn fields void of trees. As son as the  line of trees from town grew upwards and out, the squirrels used  them as stepping stones, and just last summer they finally reached us.

The black squirrel was startled when I walked on the path with out singing out. He leaped from the smaller mulberry trees into the tall grass and scurried up on one of the older bog willows – Uriah leaped into the grass with his tail wagging. Immediately he was pulled into the hunt.

From my stand point I could see it going nowhere. The furry squirrel was already thirty feet ahead of Uriah and holding onto a much stronger willow. He looked back at us, still not confident enough to chatter his anger in our direction. Instead he leaped again and again from tree to tree. I continued walking. Without a back ward glance I whistled for Uriah, surprisingly he followed.

 When I stopped, I looked out and up to where the land leans upwards, facing away and towards the south. The grass had changed color with the last dip in temperature, so the colors were muted beige, browns, washed out green. Closer to the ground it was very dry beige. What got my attention was a plant that gave me the illusion of a wispy, swirl of green, bright spring green.

When I spotted the sweeping, feathered branches, of what I thought was one plant, was in fact, two growing side by side. The main stem had the look of an asparagus, soft light green; the large plant was three fingers thick. The smaller, its height was the comparable to the first and its stem was only one finger thick. Both grew on a single straight strong stem, side branches swirled downward like a weeping willow.

 Using my ski pole I checked for holes and large spider webs. So each step took a lot longer than just and easy stride into the unknown, fraught with a possible jaunt to the ER.

The plant was growing nearly fifty feet from the path, after my initial surprise at its color, Easter grass green, I noticed the ends looked as though they had started re-growing, looking very feathery, in an evergreen pattern. I touched one of the branches, soft and delicate.

 I couldn’t spot any other plants in the area like these two. I hadn’t noticed it this past summer. It more than likely blended into the landscape, so I don’t know if it had any other type of leaves or flowers. I could see that some of its branches were bare, with points were there should have been something. Similar to a fake flower when it drops off you’re left with a pointed, naked end.

I moved away searching for another like it, somewhere in the trees or out in the open fields I found nothing. Unique plants, like certain people, seem to come out in the open after every one else around them peters out.

I will have to make a note to watch out for this plant in the spring, I would love to find out if it is a wildflower, or a tree.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Squirrel

Categories
Nature Writing

Show Me Your Secrets~

     Early this morning the ground was frozen and the air was crisp, as I headed towards the path. I wondered if the water had receded enough to allow me to walk .

     I was  surprised to see the ground with only trickles of water still running freely.  I carefully stepped on the grass growing along the edges, avoiding low hanging branches. 

     Frost airbrushed the shadows as I moved up and around the trees. I could see my breath added to the morning fog.  I walked quickly.  I was on a mission.   “Walk the dog and quickly get back in the house to a hot cup of coffee.”

     I reached the curve in the path that swings around and sets me on the path home. Stopping I looked up at the flock of birds screaming at me. I really shouldn’t group them together I saw robins, and starlings, doves and finches, woodpeckers and others that flew past so fast I couldn’t recognize them.

I took a deep breath, thanked the earth for the splendor set in this moment. Then, I asked, “Please show me your secrets.”

Nature is full of secret. You just have to slow down and look for them. 

      At that moment, when I looked up and away from my feet, and asked the question, “Please show me your secrets.” The clouds parted above me so that the sun, which was sitting near the horizon, slipped over my shoulders and lit up the farmer’s field.  

      Acre upon acres in front and around me brightened.

     I could only describe what I saw as a patchwork quilt flowing out and across the land. Golden yellow leaves of soy beans, a deep green wave of grass, corn standing tall waiting to be harvested, 150 year Oak trees  their twisted branches touched with that golden light. 

      The sun moved across the fields dipped low then slipped upward.  I smiled and said, “Thank You!” At that moment a large hawk rose from the corn field, turned and flew towards me and landed in one of the larger trees to the south. 

      I took a deep breath, whistled for my dog and moved on towards home and my coffee…

 frosted clovers

Categories
Nature Writing Poetry Rambling

Curiosity can always get to me, and today is not an exception

Curiosity can always get to me, and today is not an exception.

corn 

The farmers haven’t cut down the feeder corn,yet and I find it so mysterious, scary and beautiful all at the same time. When I get enamored by a thought I will end up acting on my curiosity, which is how I ended up wandering around my fallen, barbed wire fence, and standing in the sinking mud to get a, “good look” at the corn field. 

 There are other plants that grow along the edges of a corn field; Milkweeds, Queens Anne’s Lace and a multitude of weeds that as you step past them will deposit burs in your clothing, hair and along your ankles connecting to your socks and shoes making it a treat to remove.

None of that mattered.

  I wanted stand next to the towering rows of corn.

Golden, browns and beiges streaked with green and yellows stood in formation. The large ears of corn still connected to the stalks. Some of the corn had deep orangey, yellow kernels peeking out. This is not the type of corn that if you squeeze a kernel with your nail it will pop a milky sweet juice.   These kernels are hard. They may end up as Ethanol, livestock feed, a starch, sweetener or for use in fermentation.  

 I could see where a passing deer, or a hungry raccoon, possum, or Badger ripped off some ears and carried them onto my property and under a bush to feast. A few kernels were on the ground. I knew from years of walking around here, that tomorrow morning if I were to check they would be gone, eaten.

 Pulling my feet from the mud, with a distinct gooey sound I stepped next to the first row of corn stalks, and looked up, at their waving tops. I tried to focus on the rows deeper into the field. They were so thick I could only see two ahead of me, and then they blended together like a wallpaper field, or a movie set with either zombies, or dreams being chased way.

“Hey Uriah can you chase away a Zombie?” I laughed as Uriah looked around nervously. “I guess not.” I signed as he seemed to take offense by ducking his head and starring at the ground. 

The bitter smell of brown wet leaves, moved around me. Then drifting past as the wind picked up, racing the rain clouds into another county, allowing the sun to spread across my face.  The sky brightened with white puffy clouds and a deep blue sky.

This is the moment I relish! The tops of this corn field wave around me as I stood quietly. Here in my old, mud covered gyms shoes, with wet socks while something crawls down my back.  I am happy.

Corn moves my car…and then

My attitude

Sweetens my dinner… and

My desserts

Then eases through my digestive track

To return

Looking as if it never left

 

 

 

“Illinois Corn”

http://www.ilcorn.org/uploads/documents/uploader/184It%20Begins%20with%20a%20Kernel.pdf

“National Corn Growers Association” 

http://lepton.marz.com/ncga/comm_dev_center/index_PG.asp

“Kane County Farm Bureau”

http://www.kanecfb.com/links.html