Last Day of Freedom

My 6, 000, six week sojourn, is ending.  I am in a low-rent motel in Arkadelphia, Arkansas and, if the car continues it’s southerly progress without a hitch, will end the day with my daughter in Killeen.  Then, it is but a hop, skip and jump to be reunited with husband, home and hound early Mon morning.  How grand it has all been, but I need to be home.  Like Old Mother Hubbard my husband is declaring the cupboard is bare and, as most men won’t stop for directions, this particular model won’t stop for groceries either.  So, it is time to go home.

I left in spring, but am returning to the full blown, record-breaking heat of summer.  On my way north I went off the beaten path in Arkansas and discovered it was a serious producer of rice. The fields  hadn’t been planted yet, but the snaking mounds of dirt with sluiceways cut through them were the tip-off that, these would be rice fields.  And now, 6 weeks later, they are filled with water and the rice looks to be a foot high.  Who knew that Arkansas was so boggy in this part of the state?  Not I, at any rate.  So, I have been gone long enough for rice to be planted and grow to a decent height.

I have also been gone long enough for the flowers of spring to turn to the flowers of summer.  The trees that were identifiable by their blooming flowers are now just shades of green and leaf shape would be the ID of choice.  Roadside flowers have turned from spring varieties to summer chicory and the omnipresent oxeye daisy, and Queen Anne’s lace that started us off in Texas is now blooming in TN.  Monarch butterflies are in Kentucky and the milkweed of Michigan is getting ready for their arrival. 

Seasons change and changing latitudes through a changing season has been wild.  Remembering how the leaves withdrew back into their buds as I headed to Maine, and how I needed to pick up warmer clothes when I got there, to now, wondering what is the lightest possible clothing I can wear as I head back into Texas.

I am in store for some re-acclimating once I get home.  A neighbor has warned me to steel myself for plants that look less than perfect.  No rain, and no person at home to prop them up, must mean I lost some.  My husband did what he could, I am sure, but he works and really, a home and yard is a job unto itself, and its main employee had skipped town.  The price of all this joy and beauty I have experienced may be some dead plants.  Oh well, this is how we achieve xeriscaping.

I have mentioned before that I hope I can carve out time to write about all I have seen, so expect some “run-the-tape-backwards” blogs in the ensuing days.  But if it takes awhile, you will know I am consumed with giving CPR to plants and home alike or playing with grand nephews and nieces in the Guadalupe.  The best surprise of Texas were the cold, clear springs that exist nearby and although the air temperature is hovering at 100 the water is in the 60’s and staying submerged is a wonderful option.

But now, the road awaits; time to check out, put Willie Nelson on the radio and get myself into a Texas groove again.  “My hero’s HAVE always been cowboys” (and I am just old enough for that to be true) and “On the Road Again” will set the mood.  As has the background of Baroque music as I write this; thanking God for Pandora. It has replaced the cheap motel mood with that of a Renaissance courtyard. Also, I thank God for an imagination that can alter reality by a simple application of music. 

 So, stay cool everyone, till we meet here again, I leave you, the traveling naturalist.

So many "Blogabilities"

It has been almost 6 weeks since I left Texas, and over that time, so much joy has accumulated, so many beautiful things have been seen; such a variety of nature has crossed my path, that the array of potential blog topics seems a bit overwhelming.  I am in a hotel as we speak but will push on for Michigan in a few moments for a friend that has been a constant in my life since the 5^th grade. 

Seeing friends and family and regaining my “sense of place” has been the main point of this “after the baby” part of the trip and what I have sensed is that you could have plunked me down in any part of New England and I would have been a happy camper.  I have loved the traveling and sampling of the world the life of an Army wife has given me, but I also can see that my DNA would have been right at home with the earth mothers of Maine, or the fairy- loving folks in New Hampshire, or the back-to-nature world of artists and writers you find in the Berkshires where my brother is.  Joy and beauty is what I seen in all those places and lucky are those who have made it their home.

But, speaking of back to nature, when I was staying at my friend’s cottage on the lake in North Falmouth, the “seashell cottage” as my granddaughter calls it; I made a quick list of nature things that caught my eye while I was there.  Snippets of bird life,
the abundance of blooming plants in June, frog calls, nesting turtles, etc. and the list went on for over two pages.  So now, I hope to revisit those impressions and make them the backbone of blog topics over the next month or so.  The one snag is always the time to write them. 

I am currently waiting for summer traffic to subside in Niagara, before I launch across Canada for MI but perhaps, when I am back in Texas, where it will be too hot to be out much, perhaps then, I can recreate in my mind the lush green that was ever before me, and the chorus of dawn birds that were so familiar to my ear on the Cape.  That’s the hope; the reality will be, as always, the “tyranny of the urgent”; a house that has been neglected for 6 weeks, a dog that has been missing all that daily TLC and a husband who must, by now, be tired of eating all the frozen meals left for him. 

My hope for all of you is that your summer has begun with some chance of beauty filling your field of vision.  My favorite, much-thought-of, childhood rhyme of Robert Louise Stevenson always comes to mind,  “The world is so full of a number of things, I am sure we should all be as happy as Kings.”

Layering On Joy

I have often made mention of the fact that I am so thankful for being given “the simple touch of getting joy from nothing much”.  It’s a gift that has enriched my life from childhood to this very day.  If you sifted through my DNA, I am sure you would find only trace elements of say, the “shopping gene” or the “fashion gene” but what would be present, is an overabundance of the “go out and play gene”.  If you have followed this blog, you know from, “Still Swinging at 60”, that given an opportunity to start my day sailing over a pond on a Tarzan swing, I will take it.  Clearly the “Peter Pan” syndrome isn’t relegated only to boys.

So, picture the joyful circumstances I find myself in at the moment:  I am back in New England, in beautiful, blooming-with-lupines Maine, I am with my grandchildren so I have a mandate to play every day, and now I have a new grandson, fresh out of the oven, smelling of baby and sweetness, to rock and to kiss on the top of his baby head.  How much joy can one layer on?!

And, while we are counting layers, in my side panel biography here, I know I explained the double pleasure I get, not only being a naturalist who revels in the world around me, but as a firm believer in the One who made it all, the “double wow” of seeing it through the lens of the Glory of God all around me.  Now, add grandchildren who are willing to tiptoe up to nests quietly to watch a patient mother robin, sitting on her eggs, still waiting for her “due date” to come, or don’t mind braking for every beetle or ant that passes by. And there you have it, another layer of joy added on.

The cast of characters here are a four-year-old granddaughter; a confirmed bibliophile already who will weave any story she is reading into the world around her, who thinks and breathes fairies and who is the best audience for a silly Nona.  Then there is a 2 year old grandson who, at his height, is fully aware of the presence of any crawling bug and, along with Nona, loves to stop and watch them, and bless his soul, not the type, (yet anyways), to want to stomp them.  Birds captivate him as they do me, and a crying spell can usually be averted if we head to the bird feeder to see who is dining. 

He is just coming into his own in the world of words and “blue sky”, “chickadee”  “butterfly” and “wind” (I am always spouting a poem about “My lady wind” and he has picked up on it) are some of the things he likes to comment on.  Although his true “go to” phrase is BIIIIIGGGG Truck, and any ride in the car is all about the “hunt” for BIIIGGG Trucks.  What an easy layer of joy that is when we find one.

And now, the newest edition is only 4 days old and, at this point, hasn’t a clue that there IS a world around him, but when he does discover it, you can bet his Nona and his brother and sister will be more than eager to share it with him.  So keep those layers coming.  And may you, unknown reader out there, have your own layers of joy to revel in and be thankful for.

Thanks for putting up with a purely crowing, “Nona blog” this time: back to nature the next time.  The mystery of, what was that huge bird I saw with the white tail?

 Think bald eagle, I know they can take up to 4 years to get their white head and tail but don’t they come together, not a white tail and purely brown head.  Hmmm, can White Tailed Eagles that live in Greenland get off course and end up over a river in Maine?  Inquiring minds wish they knew, but again, that is for another time.  Meanwhile, I hear the sound of waking children, time for another grueling day of play!  The proverbial, “tough job but someone’s got to do it”!  “Nona’s coming”…

" I Must Go Down to the Sea Again"

 “I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, 

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.”

Excerpt from John Masefield’s poem “I must go down to the Sea”

My sentiments exactly; I MUST go down to the sea again, and after a week of waiting for the reluctant-to-be-born grandson, I took a “Nona holiday” and headed to Acadia National Park which is only a little over an hour from my daughter’s home.  The “grey mist” was in place, a steady drizzle and low clouds concealing the smooth granite mountaintops of Cadillac Mountain and all the other famous peaks on Mount Desert Island. 

But I wasn’t here for the mountaintop views anyways, but to “go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky”.  Considering it was Memorial Day weekend, it wasn’t exactly a “lonely sea”, however the clusters of hardy tourists who braved the rain and the cold temps, I think it was a high of 50 that day, seemed content to visit only the high points and skip the trail that connected them.  From Sandy Beach to Otter Cliffs there is a fabulous trail that takes you along the headlands, and offers many chances to leave the path and head out over the granite cliffs themselves.  I took every one. 

The island is primarily composed of granite, which isn’t so easily weathered, ergo the proverbial “rock-bound cliffs of Maine”.  Walking on the edge was beyond exhilarating, especially after a year’s absence   from the ocean in Texas.  It’s been storming all week, so the ocean was whipped up, the tide was coming in and the surf was crashing as dramatically as advertised.   No amount of wind or mist could dampen my spirits; it was all exactly as it ought to be.  Of the many things I have missed over the year in Texas, one of them is getting to see sea ducks that find life at its best when the waves are crashing around them.  But the most prevalent birds I saw that day weren’t sea ducks, but rather, cooler yet, members from the Puffin family, Black Guillemot’s.

The dramatic thing about Guillemot’s is that they are circumpolar birds found in the largest numbers around the Arctic, but the southern end of their range is right off the coast of Maine, so much cheaper than a trip to the Arctic, you can see them right here in Acadia.  And, whereas you really need to take a boat out to see the Puffins, which I can’t wait to do someday, the Guillemot’s have found the pickings easier for their fledglings here, close to shore; so, especially during the months of May and June they are easy to spot.

They use their wings for propelled swimming and can dive down 165 feet and stay down for 2 minutes as they search for the bottom dwelling fish they dine on.  I can vouch for their breath holding, for my binoculars were getting soaked as I awaited their “pop-up” return from the bottom.

 Everywhere I spotted them, they seemed to be in pairs so it seems a good chance their nests were nearby. 

 At the bottom of these rocky cliffs perhaps, which is one wild place to have a nursery.  Whereas puffins are likely to raise just one chick, these birds have 2, which may seem like a small clutch compared to other species.  Considering they have to feed their young about 20 fish a day each, and do that for 30-40 days, well,  you can bet they won’t be buying into the theory of “cheaper by the dozen”.

Part of the trail took me through the woods, which smelled intoxicatingly of balsam firs, and the mosses and the reindeer lichen completely coated the ground.  Half the time the trail was a stream

itself for it had been raining for days, and with the island being mostly granite the rain runs off, rather than soaks in, so waterfalls abound and my toes were completely pruny by the end of the day.

 The area is famous for warblers this time of year and I was lucky to see some of the more common ones; Myrtle and Yellow Throated and Black and White, but I could hear more than I could see.

 

 

In the end, it was the sea I had gone to see, and it was grand, but the best part is, with a daughter that lives here, I can take my time, and go again and again.  I shall take in the views from Cadillac Mountain on a clear day, and hike to the glacial ponds, and admire the hanging glacial valleys or look for the 500 types of wildflowers that grow here in this wild blend of habitats.  God-willing, there is so much more to see.  But now, back to that 3^rd grandchild waiting in the wings, our own nesting season is about to begin and I had better turn my mind back to that.  But thank you God that I did get to “go back to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky”.