A Little Bit of Us All

Hello dear friends! The longest daylight of the year is here and the sun is out. Whoop! We are grateful for the heat that arrived with the Summer Solstice. This spring was too cold, too insectless, too quiet. A catbird celebrates in his own way, singing. Beautiful, beautiful singing. The sun and warmth always bring song. Bird, insect, tree. Have you noticed how the cottonwood sings too? How they dance? How they sing the music of water and wind?

What beauty there is in this world!

When insects couldn't move because of the chill, we helped. I imagined this moth's "thoughts" - I opened my wings in May. I lived in the forest. I felt the rain. I felt the cold. I wondered. We wondered: did they accomplish their mission? 

Polyphemus moth

When the flowers bloomed and the insects weren't present. We mourned. We despaired. And yet, we also still loved. It's easy to look away from the pain, the wrongness, but if we do that, how do we change? Move forward?

Willow

Eastern Redbud

American Plum

Little precious lives live everywhere, even in nonabundant times and those lives we sought ardently. 

Harvestman sp. (spectacular!!!)

American Mink near the compost pile

Beaver tail

We hiked along floating bridges made by incredible humans so we could witness the lives of beaver up close and personal.

Cliff Run Nature Preserve

We quieted our minds and exercised our bodies healing land, adding diversity back. 

Winterberry Holly and Bladdernut

We pilgrimaged to witness the early wildflower blooms in Eastern Deciduous Forest. A not to be missed event. 

Shooting Star

Wild Leek, Spring Beauty, Cutleaf Toothwort, Trout Lily, White Oak

We marveled at the return of woodland wildflowers to these 3.5 acres in Morrow County, OH all because of our commitment to share space and plant it back.

Twinleaf, Trillium, Stonecrop, Mayapple, Wild Leek

The rain created the perfect conditions for beautiful fungus.

Dead Man's Fingers

Dyer's Polyphore

We excitedly awaited the emergence of periodical cicadas in parts of Ohio in May and we traveled to live amongst them and their song for a bit at Persimmon South, in Highland County, OH. We rejoiced in their resiliency in the coolness and wetness. 

We insect watch. We bird watch. We plant watch. We continue to work to learn the language of others - to understand, to learn, to appreciate and to marvel.

17 Year Periodical Cicadas Brood XIV

We imagined their "thoughts" - I lived underground for 17 years feeding on tree roots. In sync with my relatives and friends, I crawled out of the Earth and sang. My babies are now burrowed in the soil to start the cycle anew.

We observed their favorite singing and sleeping spots at Persimmon South close to the sun in the tops of a lingering white ash and a tall tulip tree - where they felt the first heat of the day and the last heat of the day.

Recently we learned Persimmon South is loaded with native sedges and grasses and were reminded that so many diverse plants are already there. We need to observe and learn and listen before we use a heavy hand on this land that is already handling the return of the biological community.

Twisted Sedge (maybe)

Fowl Manna Grass

Less than a month ago, as we sat in long sleeve shirts and pants day after day we sought any and all signs that the 20 degree below average temperatures would go away. This feather, right by my chair told me life was still happening. Keep going. Other feathers told me life was around. Keep going.

Red-shouldered Hawk 

Barred Owl 

Eastern Bluebird

On warm and warming days, the insects started to show up in small numbers.

White-striped Black

Swift Feather-legged Fly

Lettered Sphinx caterpillar

Isabella Tiger Moth Eggs

Speckled Sharpshooter

Amidst the challenge of spring weather, a mama stray cat had her kittens in our south facing window well under a slanted board. She did alright until the south rains came and the board fell on two of her kittens. We got the board off much to her displeasure. Were we there to help or hurt? She moved the kittens that night and we didn't know to where. We put food out for her and she relied on us immediately. 

It took us awhile to find where Bibs, the mama cat, moved her kittens to and we finally found them in a south facing spot under a large clump of grass. A tree was to the northeast of this spot. Very good...close to us for protection and food and very hard to find.

We knew they needed help so we helped and eventually got the family moved into the chicken coop minus one kitten that must have died.

We imagine mama's "thoughts" - I am Bibs the cat and I have three kittens. I am only 1 year old and I am thin as a rail. I had a hard start to life, living outside in polar vortexes, eating potatoes and anything else in the compost pile I could find. I sheltered under the chicken coop when opossums and raccoons and mink weren't under there. I trust humans now. I am so grateful for shelter, food, water, play and this amazing thing called love from my human allies. I am a good mom and I need a home. My babies need a home. I need you. Jennifer and Steve need you.

Amidst the cat chaos, more plants began to bloom and we showed up to revere them and thank them and tell them to not give up on the insects. Three bad springs in a row is hard to recover from.

Four-leaved Milkweed

Common Milkweed

Wild Yam

During all the coolness of spring, native fruits grew. Some way less than normal due to lack of cross pollination or pollination at all, but others grew abundantly.

American Plum

Lack of a late freeze let a persimmon at our place put fruits on for the very first time. You read that right, an American Persimmon at Persimmon North is FRUITING. 

American Persimmon 'Yates'

After the cool, and before the hot, hot heat, the rain turned off, the smoke haze arrived and the soil dried. Leaves turned red, leaves dropped and we began watering. It's a disrupted, unsettled climate. One we've played with far too much and one we can still play with again (in a very different way!) and restore to a good friendly system for all. Don't look away. Engage with us, with your human and nonhuman community. You matter.

And please never forget, because it's the one thing that will keep us all going...we are united! 

Amidst everything, we explore, we love, we heal land.

Recommended Reading:

Medicine Wheel for the Planet by Dr. Jennifer Grenz

Inspiration:

Young Protestor

Sound Tracks:

Wolf Like Me - Lera Lynn

Say Goodbye, Tell No One by Kathleen Edwards

In Sleep by Lissie

Record Collector - Lissie

Jade Bird @XPoNential Music Festival 2024

Already Free Ruth Moody

Marveling, Just Plain Marveling

The warmth returned just like that, overnight, and we flew out of doors, shedding layers, shedding clothes, embracing the sun on our skin, the wind in our hair, the smells in our noses. I emulated the winter fireflies and oriented south, not missing a moment. 

The frigid, teeth-rattling, snowy days of winter ended.

The hermit thrush who sheltered out the south door, under the steps, depuffed and went back to their private habits.

The rafts of ducks concentrated on the nonfrozen water moved on. 

The bird-flu killed waterfowl, dead and frozen on the ice, sank and returned to Earth.

The killdeer stopped skating and started running again. 

Then, the rain fell and we knew it was going to happen. The forecast was perfect: rain, warm rain, warm rain at night. What a recipe for amphibian magic! There were already a few early arrivals in the watery pools on this 3.5 acres: western chorus frogs in the frog pond, one or two wood frogs in the vernal pool.

The rain started slow and steady as the day shifted to night. I sat on the floor, cross legged by the open window, both elbows on the sill and listened to the music of spring rain. All I could think about were these little porous bodies that weren't yet in the pools, but were instead in the forests and fields, their main homeland, feeling the rains and feeling the pull to the pools. The pull to go. The pull to the present and to the future, to make more frogs and salamanders; utterly linked to this watery world. In my mind's eye, I could see the salamanders put one leg in front of another, all four of them, marching forward purposefully. Tails dragging on wet leaves, over wet logs, across roads. Spotted salamanders, unisexual ambystomid salamanders, tiger salamanders. Swaying, swaying, making their way.

I could see the wood frogs hopping, the spring peepers hopping, the western chorus frogs hopping... feeling the wet on their bodies. This is their world, their element, their perfect moment. What must it be like after that long journey, over logs and branches and leaves and stalks and fruits and pinecones to finally slip your body into that pool of water? 

Winter cold water. The water which is essential, which pulled them there. They slip in and suddenly they are right there, in the moment and they might swim to the bottom doing little dances, laying spermatophores, picking up spermatophores, or floating on the water, clinging to the edges, singing and singing. The females are there too. It's a ritual, a sacred ritual and the union comes naturally. The egg laying is natural. The egg laying is ancient. The future all secure right there in that watery pool. That one pool that was the birth place to many who returned. The draw of the home land that strong. There are the travelers though too. Always the travelers. Those keeping species diverse and rich and always alive with new ideas and ways of being. 

Western-chorus frog egg masses:

Again, what must it feel like? That first dip in that pool? It makes me smile just to think about it because it must be wondrous. Like the journey was worth it. As I sit here and listen with the open window, the wood frogs sound louder. Maybe more have joined. The perfect night. The perfect amphibian night. 

Bullfrog, year-round resident:

Life goes on and I hope to meet them once again as they wander far and wide this summer. 

Spring Peeper during summer resting on White Ash:

Wood Frog during summer visiting a bird bath:

In his song, Hypersonic Missiles, Sam Fender asks: "Can I say that I've lived my life?" This is not a new question in the human world, but it struck a chord in me when I heard it. I reflected on the question and I quickly knew, YES! I've lived my life by loving. Especially by loving outside of my species, Homo sapiens. I love the caterpillars, the woodland wildflowers, the insects, the frogs, the salamanders, the trees, the shrubs, the squirrel tucked away in the soffit of our house - the underrepresented, the non-included, the non-mentioned lives amongst much of humanity. By unconsciously opening my heart to all these brilliant, beautiful lives, I've lived my life. What a great realization. What a great life. 

We observe nonhuman life in a marveling sort of way. How is this world so magnificent? So beautiful? So receptive to love and care?

From our home to yours, we wish you warmth.

We also wish you much joy and marveling at the world we live in and on. All we have to do to witness is go outdoors and open our hearts. Even when it's freezing.

Happy Spring Equinox dear friends!

Wild yam emptied seed pod:

Snow trillium:

Highland County field station, where new land restoration magic is happening. More next time!

Soundtracks:

Let Things Go - Caamp

Go - Indigo Girls

F***** Up - Macklemore