The Traveling Time Machine

I have been in Maine a week, waiting the arrival of grandchild #3, and although at times it feels like a scene from “Waiting for Godot”, (Beckett’s existential play where two people wait on stage for someone that never comes), it has been grand to watch spring replay itself here.  Here in northern Maine, at the end of May, the lilacs are in full, glorious, sweet- smelling bloom.  The black cherries are just putting out there white wands of flowers and the crab apple trees have left carpets of pink on the sidewalks after the rain.

 Nesting is in progress with a robin choosing an easy-to-spot nesting site in a lilac tree by the garage.  She “perp, perp, perped” at my grandson and I as we happened by, giving her location away, and now we have a way to keep track of her progress.  No yammering fledglings yet so we must still be in incubation mode.  Rather like my daughter now that I think of it, still in incubation mode.

But when I left Texas it was, of course, summer; it is almost always summer in Texas.  The   wildflowers weren’t entirely gone though and the first day of travel had the road lined with the reds, yellows, and orange of Indian blanket and coreopsis which gave way in Eastern Texas to the all white of the largest Queen Anne’s Laces I have ever seen. Everything’s bigger in Texas.  And here I thought the Queen was absent from the TX scene, but not here in the panhandle; here she rules the highways, not in August as I am used to, but in May.

Arkansas had its hedgerows covered in honeysuckle, which made me keep the windows rolled down and made the whole world smell like July to this New Englander.

  But still it was mid- May.  And who knew they grew rice in Arkansas?  Perhaps everyone but me.  Fields full of twisting dirt mounds with sluiceways cut through them; it looked like something you would see on the side of a U-Haul.  “See the mysterious snake mounds of Arkansas”.  Rice fields, or paddies not yet planted and, had the highway not been backed up for about 5 miles with some unknown traffic problem, I probably wouldn’t have gotten off and seen them. Definitely, this is the plus side of traffic.  Often the “real state” is just a few miles away from the uniform state you see from an Interstate.

Tennessee was more than the “greenest state in the land of the free”.  Both the Black Locust and the Black Cherry were in bloom with their hanging white clusters of flowers so the roadsides were a blend of white and green.   Plus that purple Paulownia was in bloom, a tree from China, an escapee from suburban yards looking for color and a fast growing shade tree. 

  In Virginia, it was time to roll down the windows again for the Russian Olive perfumed the air.   Another invasive that surely has taken over the roadsides but the least they can do is bring something to the table, and the Russian Olive brings spring perfume. 

I interrupted all seasons to be back in “Little Italy” in Baltimore with my daughter.  The aromas of Italian kitchens mark each season here.  Ah, to wake up to garlic and sauces and baking bread as the restaurants gear up each morning, gets you out of bed and thinking of things grander than cereal to eat.  And yeah, the twitter of chimney swifts has returned to this enclave completing the image of a poor mans trip to Rome.

But at the moment, I am hearing the twitter, not of birds but of a grandson already present and wanting to get up.  I know this chronicling of what was blooming where, isn’t edge of your seat stuff, but so often the point of my writing is just to get it down as my own memory, for memory is already getting to be a fleeting thing.  Bear with me then, personal chronicles will continue for awhile.

Rain Will Make the Flowers Grow

In Texas, praying for rain is a national pastime or, in this case, should I say, a state pastime.  When it does come I get as excited as I did for snowstorms on the Cape.  Yay, plants that won’t need watering for a while but, when I am traveling, not so much.  And yet it seems to be a recurring theme with me, that whenever I launch off for some long distance adventure, I seem to take a major weather system along with me.  And this trip has been no different.

I am heading to Maine, for the birth of grandchild #3, due on Memorial Day.  How festive and how perfect for this New Englander to have the great fortune of being called in for Nona-duty in the month of May.  Could there be a more beautiful time to drive through this verdant country when everything is in bloom and the greens are at their greenest?  No, and I have been treated to the lush views of waist high grass, an abundance of flowers and crops that are up and looking extremely healthy.  But I also have also been closer than I would want to be to the other harbinger of spring, tornadoes. 

Leaving my daughters house in Killeen before dawn, the radio crackled with news of “first responders” and “devastation” and “watches for the following counties….”.  And here is a serious pet peeve of mine, could they just once mention town names for we travelers who haven’t memorized the counties of the state we are passing through?  Or just give us a hint, north Texas or western Arkansas or something a little more descriptive.   Not knowing if I was in the county they were talking about but having a black, black sky at my back with lightning shooting out of it, helped me keep my pedal to the metal trying to stay ahead of it.  No dice though, each day, this storm has caught up with me while I slept and watching the weather forecast for VA today I see, what a surprise, “thunderstorms, rain, heavy at times”. Of course. 

However, I could look at another way.  I hate the heat, I have a “might work, might not work”, air conditioner in the car, but with all these storms I have been kept cool.  Cool to the point of putting on a jacket at times, a jacket I thought I wouldn’t need until I reached Maine.  While meanwhile, back in Texas they are breaking records for heat. My husband claimed it was 105 in San Antonio, I think it had been 70 the day I left.  So, I won’t complain about the rain.

And the other plus side is, when you go to take a gander at some famous spot, you just might have it to yourself if it is pouring; just me and the spirits of the prehistoric Indians at the Toltec Indian Mounds outside of Little Rock.  They are kind enough to lend out umbrellas but after mine turned inside out for the third time, I thought I just might as well get wet.  It was a warm gentle rain and the swallows were swooping over the open field searching for sodden bugs and when I got my sandals covered with mud there were plenty of puddles to wash them off in.

It poured so hard in Nashville where I had stopped to see, not the honky-tonk bars, 

 but Vanderbilt, that I decided spending an hour or so in Starbucks seemed a better idea.  Lovely.  Just the break I needed from looking at the world through swishing wipers. 

 And last night, I decided against one motel, for it was on the top of a hill and just as I pulled in, a bolt of lightning came down so close that I thought I might see this place go up in flames. I quickly turned the car around and found a better choice on lower ground. 

Now, as I write this, the Weather Channel is on and the map is dotted with bright red and orange splotches.  The poor folks of Kansas and the entire Midwest look like they need to seek shelter. 

 But my route?  That would be, you guessed it, rain and thunderstorms.  Still I see temps in the 70’s while Texas goes for more record highs.  So, again, I won’t complain. For that matter, if I want to look at this biblically, I could take the role of the Israelites being led by the Shekinah glory, a pillar of cloud that kept them cool by day. 

My destination today, Baltimore and my youngest daughters lovely apartment in Little Italy, where with some imagination I can pretend I am in Italy, right down to the ringing church bells and by this time of year, swifts swooping over chimney tops.  And rain did make the flowers grow but that is a story for another day.  Now, back on the road, singing to the tapping of the wipers. 

"The Glory of the Lord Shone Around About Them"

 I know I have mentioned in the past, that I have a hard time keeping track of the seasons in Texas, but I am not so confused as to be thinking it is Christmas.  However, on a ride north through the Hill Country to see my daughter last weekend, that was the verse that kept jumping to mind.  “The Glory of the Lord” was truly shining all around us.  For it is spring, and in the Hill Country of Texas that is synonymous with “glory” as flowers carpet the fields and the highways are a palette of color; blue, gold, purple, red, yellow, orange, pinks and on and on.  Glory.

We were stuck in a traffic jam outside of a town that was running a marathon and chose to give the runners/walkers full reign of the road and, what might have been pretty annoying, was a chance to get a good look and finally ID the flowers that were too hard to see clearly at 60mph.  But at 5 mph you can practically see them down to their pistils and stamens.  One tall, white, omnipresent flower was driving me crazy because it was EVERYWHERE yet no one seemed to know what it was called.  Yet the one place it wasn’t, was anywhere near my house, or at the nature center or somewhere I could see it at less than 60mph.  Finally, with the traffic jam I could hop out and get a better look and, Aha, it is called Prairie Bishop’s Weed.  Now I know, and can tell others if they ask, not that they are likely too, but all the same, it is just nice to know. 

And, just for fun, I will share with you the description in the book.  Remember, I am not bonafide botanist, just a curious naturalist, so the terms that they use in identifying these things always seem the most amazing mouthful to me.  Here is how part of the description reads,   “Its stems are striate.  The glabrous leaves are up to 2” long, and are three times pinnately divided into slender, threadlike filaments.  A few entire to pinnately divided linear bracts lie at the base of compound inflorescence.”   

Translation: Its stems have fine grooves along the ridges, the leaves don’t have hairs, and they have 3 pairs of opposite compound leaves, the leaves that are on the bottom of the flower are also compound and the flower itself is a collection of compound flowers.  Ok maybe it was easier to say their way but harder to get the picture if you are a novice.  Guess we all need to study our glossary more.

What also crossed my mind that day is how lucky I have been to have driven so many roads where the “Glory of God” indeed shone all around me.  Pick any back road in New England in the fall and it will take your breath away. 

 

  Drive the ever-twisting Rte 1 along the California coast where ocean and cliff, surf and soaring birds and, in the right season, a chance to see spouting whales, makes it nearly miraculous that you don’t go over a cliff yourself while looking. 

  My own beloved back-roads of Cape Cod are also full of “glory”, especially in June when roses climb through the trees like a bridal bower, or past salt marshes so green they seem the very definition of chlorophyll.

 

 We all have these images, tucked away, kept forever in some neuron bundle in our brain, to pull out when perhaps we are not in such a lovely place.  At least I hope we do.  And in a matter of weeks, I shall be hitting the highways again, driving to Maine in May for the birth of grandchild #3 and I know more glory scenes will be added.  And, it is a good bet; I will be sharing them with you. 

Flying with Scissors

Running with scissors may not be the best of ideas, but on my commute to work at the Nature center, I get a chance to see that flying with scissors can be a very cool thing.   I travel along a straight road with pastures and fence-line trees on either side and the ubiquitous telephone wires, preferred perching spot for so many birds, today, were featuring those fabulous birds of the southwest, Scissor-tail Flycatchers.

These birds have the most outlandishly long tails, the males tail is almost twice as long as the females.  All the better to dazzle her with, with his mating ritual known as a Sky Dance which has him climbing upwards of 100 feet to hover, then swoop down into a barrel roll making crazy kamikaze sounds as he does it!  Wow!  And they say "texting" while driving is dangerous!  Being wowed by antics such as these will have you in a ditch in no time!  Lucky for me the roads are straight in this section.  I have read that they can do a reverse summersault as they dive which would be cooler than cool to see, but I feel lucky just to have seen this one crazy wild dive.  

These birds are in the Flycatcher family and in the past I have seen them fly off their perch to snatch a bug midair, or hop to the ground to get a grasshopper and even that is cool to watch to see how their tail fans and snaps together to help them swerve mid-flight.

 

  I have read that they have the pugnacity typical of the Flycatcher family. A favorite of mine from Cape Cod was always the Kingbird (Tyrannus, tyrannus) that would chase off any hawk or crow that dared to enter its domain.  I hear the Scissor-tail does the same thing, only, where I am, there aren’t too many hawks about to demonstrate its bravado on.   Chasing vultures might be impressive though, especially as they are always about by the dozens.

Their preference for eating agricultural pests like grasshoppers and crickets makes them a favorite with farmers and, now that hats aren’t festooned with their feathers, they are doing fairly well as a species.  This fall I will have to keep an eye out for the roosts of these birds that are said to number in the 1,000’s as they prepare to migrate to southern Mexico and Central America.  I love this- a group of Scissor-tail’s can be called collectively, a “pinking, a snip or a zipper”!  This fall, then, I hope to see a “zipper” of Scissor-tails.

Oklahoma has not only snapped up this bird as it’s State bird, but has built the Sky Dance Bridge in  Oklahoma City which emulates the bird in its design and is considered one of the top 50 art projects in the country.

 And in case you are wondering, the young don’t come instantly equipped with the long tail, or how would they ever fit in the nest. It comes in gradually over the first year. 

 So, flying with scissors, totally recommended.

The Secret Menu

I am not claiming to be one who is well versed in the ways of dining out.  99% of the time, I am the chef and the menu items are whatever I can cobble together at the last minute when, as if by surprise, another meal is expected to appear.   However, I remember hearing a broadcast on NPR about the rising interest in “Secret Menu’s”.  The idea was that people in the know, knew that there were some things they could order that were not on the menu- people on the inside, hip people. 

Well, clearly, the wildlife that frequents my yard in search of handouts, have their own idea of what is available on the  “Secret Menu”.  And these menus are so secret; even I didn’t know I was offering them.  For instance, I put out plenty of sunflower seed and suet, which is enjoyed by so many birds but especially the Golden Fronted Woodpeckers.  They dine on them regularly, but they also partake of something that is featured on the SM- my deck.  I have not seen evidence of insects in this part of the deck, but clearly something yummy is worth hammering it to smithereens for. 

I used to allow the squirrels to feed on the deck from an open plate of seed, but that finally was just too messy, so I have a platform feeder and even one of those cones that holds the dried corncobs, but that isn’t good enough for them.  They too, chose from column A of the Secret menu- my deck.  A patch of scratches I was blaming on the feral cats, turned out to be the work of squirrels and an entire wooden post has been devoured in one exuberant tooth sharpening exercise.  Clearly, it is every bit as yummy as the corn.

 

I have three hummingbird feeders full of sugar water that is the number one item on the hummingbird menu, but the ants, bees, hornets and once again, the Golden Fronted Woodpecker chose this item over several others.  The woodpecker is pretty comical as he tries to hang upside down, balancing that large body of his precariously and lapping away at the sugar.  When he lets go it’s a free fall tumble for a moment. 

The hornets were a true problem at the feeder last year, keeping the poor hummingbirds at bay.  I remember my mother-in-law kept a hornet blaster near by and blasted anything that came near but I am a little more reticent to be spraying chemicals about.  She also was fearless and had long, spear-like fingernails that could impale an unwary hornet.  I am not that brave, nor are my fingernails long and sharp enough.  I resorted to one of those hanging traps that also have sugar water that draws them in but they can’t get out. Half the time I would feel guilty, walk the trap far from the usual space and let them go.

 However this year, I must have put it out too early for who did I find paddling for their life, but the very honeybees I keep hoping to lure to my fruit trees.  They chose to ignore the true menu and go for this “secret menu”, to their peril.  I have since had to remove it for the guilt of killing them would be too much.

Ants too are gumming up the works.  I have an oriole feeder, oranges and more nectar with nice big holes that clearly the ants like to dive in and them come a cropper when they can’t get out.  I always wonder if in their dying act they release any formic acid for once there are enough ants floating belly up the hummingbirds leave it alone.  And, of course, not a single oriole for which this menu item is intended, has deigned to show up.  The ants have another secret menu item.  Not my deck, but my small pavilion- yum. They step right over the ant baits and plunge into an ever-widening hole that soon will have the columns toppling over. The deck is, naturally, on the termite’s main menu, I just hadn’t meant to offer it.

So what is an Italian to do? Keep offering my daily specials and just accept that these savvy diners will be choosing from their own well-circulated secret menu’s, I suppose.  Mangia, everyone, mangia.

More Questions than Answers

I know I have mentioned several times that I am NOT an entomologist, and having lived in Texas for only 15 months, neither am I a Texan.  Perhaps then, being stumped by this spring’s lack of insect life, that I clearly remember covering the porch, front and back, last spring, isn’t that surprising.  I also remember looking forward to learning “what happened when”, so that I could begin to anticipate a repeat performance this year.

 I should have known better.  First, I always say, “You can’t guarantee nature”.  What you are fortunate enough to see one day, you may never see again.  I always site the year we saw a chipmunk swim across a salt marsh creek.  Chipmunks don’t hang out in salt marshes so one could only wonder and be thrilled to have been at the right place at the right time to see it.

Last winter, I don’t remember seeing a single Pine Siskin.  Yet here I am, months later, still trying to convince the hundred or so that are calling my oaks their home, that for heavens sake, they should be heading North to where actual PINES are and leave the expensive seed to those Lesser Goldfinches who should be nesting here.

But the most stunning change is this lack of arthropods covering the deck.  I remember being wowed by the hundreds of “harvestmen” (daddy longlegs) who were under the blanket that insulated the well when we arrived in January.  That crowd moved to the deck in late winter and made every corner of the covered porch look like it was sporting a beard.  This year, nada, not a one.  I remember being bowled over by the size of walking sticks that also hung out in any corner not covered by harvestmen, but they too are MIA.  So far, no paper wasps building their starter nests, no caterpillars crawling over windows, some of which still have the trails of hairy spines on them from last year.

Some of these I know were here in March, but maybe I am jumping the gun on others.  All the months sort of run together, so maybe I just need to be patient.  I did stick to my “Everyone is innocent until proven guilty” theory, so at least I don’t have any insect “blood” on my hands.  For that matter, I remember priding myself for having left the food chain intact.  Considering the immense number of caterpillars I had, moths did not overwhelm me.  The wasps, the “caterpillar hunter” beetle all must have done a good job. 

So, I have questions: did the wetter spring last year, cause the difference?  Possibly.  They say it was a warmer winter, but I have a hard time convincing my three-time-frosted-and now-about-dead, Crossvines that that is true.  Perhaps that altered the arrival of things.  The Red Admiral butterflies that covered my set out plates of smashed bananas aren’t here yet but I HAVE had constant Pipevine Swallowtails that I think showed up more in the summer time than spring.  Go figure.  As I said, more questions than answers.

Some things had the decency to show up when expected.  Flocks of Cedar Waxwings dip and fly than swoop into the trees like fighter pilots evading the enemy.  Those great Black Bellied Whistling ducks fly over the yard in the early morning going, well, wherever they go and the hummingbirds are back and doing their roller coaster courtship displays for unseen females in the trees.   

 So, I have the occasional joy of going “Aha, I thought you might be coming.”  Of course, this is what makes enjoying nature so much fun, you just never know; even when you THINK you know, you really don’t know. Does that make sense?

I will just have to keep watching, and tucking away new impressions that will all probably be completely altered again NEXT spring.  Job security, a naturalist’s job is never done!  May your spring be as unpredictable and thereby as entertaining, wherever you are! 

Triple Whammy Joy!

It is safe to say, that generally, when I am not in “Blog” mode, it is because I am happily involved in “Full-Time Life” mode and that was particularly true this month of March.  This writing finds me in the midst of “Triple Whammy Joy”.  On March the 4^th my middle daughter returned safe and sound, in body and mind from another tour in Afghanistan!  Thank you God, thank you God!  So, early March was filled with the unbridled joy of having her back home and laughing and delighting us with her presence again.  Birds, bugs and butterflies have abounded but I have been too busy rejoicing and “killing the fatted lamb” to have actually written about them.

The second, over-the-top, joy event, followed a week later with the arrival of my oldest daughter and her family.  It was the first visit of our grandchildren here and it couldn’t have been more perfect. The weather was in the low 70’s, the sun was shining, the omnipresent deer were visiting the front yard and the Longhorn, which appear in Spring then disappear for the remainder of the year, timed their arrival with my grandchildren’s arrival.  This caused every meal to be interrupted by me yanking a child out of their chair and carrying them down the bottom of the hill so as not to miss a single sighting. 

  We took then tubing on the Comal River, canoeing on the Guadalupe and catching tadpoles on the Cibolo Creek.   

Texas looked like a grand state to live in indeed; at least in March and especially when you are winter-weary coming from Maine.   I was so sad to see them go, for now, who will tend the fairy houses they made?

However, a third happy event is on its way, the arrival of my youngest daughter for Easter and a grand reunion with her sister.  Of course we want to do everything that went over so well with all the others, so: saddle up your horses, take out your tubes for the river then head to the nearby Natural Bridge Caverns which really lived up to its name of one of the most “decorated” caverns around.  We have been to many a cave in our day, but this one, was reminiscent of a Rococo cathedral, not a single space left “undecorated”:  stalactites, stalagmites, flow stones, “fried eggs”, fairy castles and much of it sparkling,(of course, EVERYTHING sparkles in TX, even the caves!) with calcium calcite which made it all pretty breathtaking.  So, let the “triple whammy joy” continue!

Ah, but will there be time to write about it, even when everyone has gone back to their own homes?  Hardly, for today I went back to Wildlife Rescue to work and in the last two weeks their baby opossums went from 18 to 57!  

The “Outdoor Classroom” is in full swing at the nature center that I volunteer at, and there is still so much yard work to do. All those cute little plants that were so easy to buy but now will take dynamite to plant, to say nothing of the vegetable garden that is supposed to be in by mid-March!  So, if there is a paucity of blogging going on in the near future, you will know why.

Meanwhile, I have seen one, and only one, Monarch that has come safely over the border from Mexico and is winging its way north. Pipevine swallowtails are omnipresent and the many insects that covered the patio last year continue to be a no-show, so my learning curve of “what appears when” continues to curve out of my reach.

 The hummingbirds just returned yesterday and found the sugar water waiting for them and the Pine Siskins STILL haven’t left, though I remind them daily that it’s a long way to their nesting grounds in Canada.  So far, they have refused to take the hint.  And the bluebonnets popped up almost the moment my daughter’s plane lifted off for Maine, of course.

Well, Happy Spring to you all, many of you weary of snowstorm after snowstorm. Wishing you all a Blessed Easter and the ultimate joy it brings, that “Get out of Jail Free” card for us all!  I began this blog saying thank you God, and may I finish with the same sentiment- Thank you God for a life that has joy and has it in abundance!