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| Trout Lily |
All along the little spring-fed creek at Prairie Pond Woods and the larger Hickman Run that it flows into, wildflower ephemerals are announcing the season of spring is here. First came the Trout Lilies and Bloodroot. Now the Rue Anemone, Purple Cress and Jacob's Ladder are in bloom. Next, Wild Columbine and Hepatica will cover the rock outcrop that shades the spring creek.
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| Pennywort |
I know there are nature preserves or even private properties where large patches of these wildflowers dazzle the beholder, and I'm glad they exist and are protected. But I get as excited about my little patches dotting the land here and there, as I do the spectacular ones. I brim with joy at the first Moneywort (especially since I rescued several from an ATV trail) or the first Cut-leaved Toothwort, even if it is standing solo among the other vegetation.
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| Rue Anemone |
I'm thrilled because these are WILDflowers...and each holds potential for the spectacular. They are feral. No one planted them. Who knows how old some of these individual perennials may be? These, or their offspring, are the ones that survived logging of the forests. These are the ones that have been quietly cloaking the forest floors for decades and centuries.
They need nothing from us. No cultivation. No fertilizing. No pampering (except for removing alien species on occasion). They are right where they are supposed to be, needing nothing but the soil, the light, the rain and insects for pollination. When their petaled performances are finished, they will release their seeds or spread out their roots, and the show begins again next spring.
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| Wild Columbine |
My only mission at Prairie Pond Woods is to let them flourish. Let them perform their encores year after year. Let them fill as much space as the space will hold. To simply just let them be.
There's a Bar & Grill in Adams County about 15 minutes from Prairie Pond Woods in the middle of nowhere. We used to pass it on field trips to a local nature preserve or when my husband and I would take the back way to Route 52 along the Ohio river. I often wondered what it was and what went on in that mysterious, half-dilapidated building.
It looks like it was converted from a big, old white farmhouse about 30 years ago...and it appears that absolutely no updates have been made outside or in since then, except for current beer logos on the back-lit signs and the "juke box." There are several pool tables, but it's so dark inside I don't know how anyone could see the balls. The country music is loud, when someone eventually moseys over to put a few quarters into the high-tech music box/photo booth that hangs on the wall. And what eating establishment in the Midwest would be complete without a big screen TV with football and NASCAR on every Sunday.
My husband and I affectionately call the place, Lolo, the town where the McLean boys would go to a dingy, backwoods speakeasy in the movie, A River Runs Through It. Probably not very gracious, but it's what came to mind for both of us the first time we went. One of our neighbors solved the mystery, after telling us about "best place to get a steak in Adams County." For my birthday last September, I suggested we go there just to check it out and do something different. We sat in the dirt parking lot (in a Prius, of all things), staring at the house-turned-bar wondering which door to go in. Front door? Side Door, with its kennel full of twelve-pack Bud Light cartons (yes, an actual 4x8 chain-link dog kennel)? Was there a back door? And would we be shot should we choose the wrong entrance? Finally Craig spoke. "Now, I would be more than happy to take you to a nice restaurant for your birthday."
"No way, I said, let's go in." We approached with caution.
Like Lolo, this place seems to function off the radar. People smoke inside, like the outdoor grill cooking up steaks in the back, even though lighting up in a restaurant is now against the law in Ohio. And even though Adams is a dry county, they were either grandfathered in, won an appeal on a township technicality, or somebody is just looking the other way. I'm not sure. Either way, they raise their Budweiser freak flag strong and proud, and would probably blow smoke in your face if you questioned it. Last Sunday between 1:00 - 2:00, at least 4 groups of people came in to buy a 12-pack of Bud. So, why do we go there? People are not friendly to us at all. People drink a lot...or already had before they got there. Most look like they just rolled out of bed. No doubt they are all packing heat of some kind. And the owner doesn't show up to cook until he wants to (anytime between 12-1:00 has been our experience).
But we like it because on Sundays you can get a really good steak or ribs or Adams Co. farm-raised shrimp in season. The couple that owns the place also has a farm we pass each time we drive to Prairie Pond Woods, so we see the pastured cows and the pond where the shrimp are raised. You would pay twice as much at a city restaurant for the size of the meat, potato and salad you get there. We make four meals out of it. And it feels good supporting some kind of local mom and pop place...even with all its quirks. So far no food poisoning.
We also like the cultural shock we get (and probably give) when we go there. Its a reminder that not everyone is like us. It challenges us. It makes us wonder what kind of life the petite, white-haired lady with missing front teeth leads...good or bad? Is she happy? She seems to be some kind of Matriarch in the bar and laughs readily. And what about the guy who burped out loud seven or eight times while he sat at the bar or milled around. Is he struggling in life? Or does the fact that he felt no compunction to muffle them or excuse himself just make make him enviably freer than most? Or does he feel as though he is with family...except for us.
We notice the community that seems to gather on Sunday afternoons, lined up on stools in a horseshoe around the bar, taking communion with their aluminum cans. Their relationships and interactions are puzzling. Often they will just sit and stare, their drinks on the counter, no one speaking to another, like a Quaker meeting gone bad. Occasionally, someone cracks a joke at the expense of another and laughter quickly rises and falls. Then someone walks in the door. If they are known, the crowd greets them like Norm walking into Cheers. If they are strangers, like us, we are looked over but not greeted, or maybe just the slightest nod to acknowledge our existence if they make eye contact. They take our order. They serve us. There are precious few pleasantries. We leave. We are the outsiders, and this is not Carvers.
It is a glaring illustration of the cultural divides that exist, and probably always have. I don't understand their world any more than they would understand mine. I'm filled with suspicion and I judge their imagined lifestyles on what I see on the outside I'm guessing, by the cool responses we get, they are suspicious of us. They probably imagine we are uppity, and would not understand why my husband and I are having a deep, theological discussion in their bar on Easter Sunday!
We will continue to go back now and then. I'm hoping on one of the visits, we can experience a moment when all the guards are down...maybe around a football game, the Great Uniter. Or maybe one of them will greet us in a friendly way and we will respond in kind and a bridge will be formed. I'd like to know what they think about things. I'd like to know who they are and what draws them to this oasis. I'd like to find out if we are really that different deep down. I'd like to share a great steak with them...and a laugh.
I ended up only going for two very brief walks this morning in between thunderstorms. The folds of clear blue-gray clouds, outlined in back-lit sky, kept rolling in then clearing out, leaving only the dirty white rags of full cloud cover. I'm hoping these next few days of rain will bring out the morels! I'm ready to go hunting because it has been slim pickins', especially after one huge harvest a few years ago when I caught the fungi fever.
When I sat down to record my morning sightings/hearings in my phenology journal, I noticed how different the years have been on April 1. Today, the only plants I could add to the two bloodroots from yesterday were one other bloodroot bud and one anemone in bloom along the spring. I compared that to April 1, 2012 and 2007, when it appears everything was in bloom: columbine, purple cress, violets, Virginia bluebells, golden ragwort, dogwoods and redbuds, etc. 
Yesterday, two chickadees spent most of the morning and into early afternoon flying around in the garage rafters, I assume trying to find a suitable cavity to nest in. Finally, after a few hours of puttering and loudly listening to The Signature of All Things on audiobook, they left and haven't been back. Evidently, not literary avian. And this morning two rust, white and black Eastern towhees spent a good deal of time duking it out in the blue spruce tree out front for the affection of their duller-in-color female counterpart. Actually, you'll notice a fair amount of territorial defense behavior going on all over the place if you pay attention. Some years flora and fauna can be predictable and some years not. I love recording it in my journal and comparing it...although sometimes my documentation skills can be just as sporadic as spring flowers. But one thing that is fairly predictable and heartwarming in my life is my dog's nap time. Cyon paces and hints by walking over to the basement door. I check my watch-usually between 10:30-11:30. I let her inside. She gives me a "see you later" look, and immediately lays down on her blanket. I tune in NPR on my I-Pod and she falls fast asleep for an hour or more. Just enough time to write my blog posts...
I TOOK A WALK TODAY... For me, April 1 is Opening Day. For my baseball-loving husband it is on April 6 this year. But every April Fools day, Prairie Pond Woods opens its doors and invites all the Nature Fools, Spiritual Fools and Creative fools to come immerse themselves in the outdoors, in the Spirit or their own artistic endeavors. You know who you are...you're the one everyone else thinks is way too into the environment, way too intense about Life or way too "flaky" or esoteric.But you're also the fool who knows that going against our fast-paced, left-brained and nature-deficient culture is how truth, beauty and wisdom can be found. So check the Calendar and contact me to see if we can set you up for a few days of utter foolishness! And don't forget, the Bird Watching as Meditation retreat is coming up soon. Registration Deadline is April 11...you can register online HERE or click on the button in the upper left corner. How convenient!
On the walk today, either I was being stalked by one Pine Warbler or there were many trilling in different parts of the property, which is wonderful! I also heard or saw Phoebes, a Kingfisher, Brown-headed Cowbirds, Eastern Bluebirds, a Red-shouldered Hawk, American Goldfinches, Chipping Sparrows, and a Crow clicking away under the walnut tree. And the Juncos are still around. 
It was a bad winter for Pines along the path. The Refresher Course had no less than 5 Virginia pines, both dead and alive, blocking the trails and making future work for my poor husband. But maybe not. Perhaps Wisdom is suggesting we create some new paths and let the old ones recover and regenerate...and truly what wisdom there is in that!
Sometimes we need to seek out new paths on our life's journey...especially when there are obstacles that don't allow us to go forward...and this is true for me now in my life. It is a win-win situation most times, really. If I stop walking (and mowing) the same old paths, plants that have been stunted will begin to flourish and reproduce. And if I choose a new, wise path (maybe cutting right through patches of invasive deer tongue), plants or seeds that have been struggling in the shade might bloom along the edges, as they are now allowed to soak up the sun's light and warmth. Something to ask ourselves...are we walking the same old routines, patterns, habits, jobs or relationships that don't really move us in the directions we want to go?
Oh, and I pulled the FOY tick off the front of my neck, which hurt like you-know-what! Spring is here...
