Walk a Mile in My Shoes . . .

. . . more precisely, three miles.

I was lost. I could hear voices and I knew “kinda sorta” where I was, but, lost none-the-less. Not-to-worry. I was safe, had my cell phone, and this gaping natural marker to lead me back to where I needed to be.

My proclivity to veering off-road once again steered me into an adventure – this time in Lyman Woods. In my defense, I was scoping out the location for a possible field trip for our garden club. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it. These woods are in plain sight on a fairly well-traveled road. I had visited once before, discovering a charmed woods and a Little Free Library, which you can find more information about here.

So there I was, on my way home from church, when my car impulsively turned into the parking lot of Lyman Woods and onto the path to the William F. Sherman, Jr. Interpretive Center which has a green roof and is on a plot where one of thirty or so houses once stood. While visible from the street, it does not have the look of most nature centers in this area. I find it not only refreshing, but, forward thinking in its purpose and style.

This is the walkway up to the Interpretive Center, from a parking lot that cautions visitors to not let their cars idle, a sign of caution and care for the environment and the preserve I was about to enter.

The roof is carpeted in prairie plants and serves several environmental purposes, including reducing storm water runoff. Here’s another look as well as the interpretive signage. The center hosts a variety of programs for children and adults throughout the year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From beekeeping, to habitats for butterflies, hummingbirds and hummingbird moths, migratory birds, deer, coyote and more, these woods are a substantial refuge surrounded by well-travelled roads, a university, a large hospital complex, high-rising business buildings and luxurious home

Before I got lost in the woods, I was lost in this garden plot, packed with flowers and vegetables, beehives and scarecrows! I stood for quite some time, and I hopped about in my happy dance as goldfinch flitted about and a hummingbird rested upon a wire. The bee population was active, as were several hummingbird moths. I would love to try the honey harvested here and will go back and look for some in Autumn.

 

 

 

 I decided to take a short walk after a delightful couple and their small child showed me to way to the marsh telling me to “just follow the path then turn right and then left and there is the marsh where migrating birds come“.

I passed the tree with yawning stump, taking some photos  – just because – and wandered about, a leisurely stroll on a warm Sunday afternoon, the canopy of trees sheltering me and a soft breeze to keep me company.

I found a bench looking out toward the marsh, but, no pathway to it. No matter, I kept walking, and walking and walking. A stout rabbit watched me along the path, hopping into the brush when I got closer, surely wondering what this lady with a camera was doing. Well, taking photos, of course, along the prairie teeming with life and woods with their primal sounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I passed the back of the university and doubled around (or so I thought) past a wetland and then reaching the very end of the trail. Not THE END, of course, for I needed to work my way back to the beginning. Good thing I took so many photos. They became my Hansel and Gretel breadcrumbs as I wandered past the wetland and university’s back yard, the bunny path and the prairie. I heard the wail of siren bringing someone to the nearby hospital and saw the lush view of the marsh, made a slow turn at a junction, walked a bit more and then, there it was, the stumpy foot of the tree that seemed to be spilling out words to me “oh, hey there, lady wanderer, here’s the way back” – and it was!

I love these simple moments of discovery and adventure and respect those who have found ways to save these living sanctuaries.

How about you? Have you wandered somewhere new lately – or somewhere familiar that rides the tides of time?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sprung

Spring has sprung!

We have been enjoying some bright, sunny, warm days and pleasant nights for sleeping with the windows open.

Robins have constructed a nest in the crook of the gutters, Mr. Woodchuck made a brief appearance, the spring peepers have performed with a great deal of gusto, Mr. and Mrs. Mallard have returned from their winter down south – and I saw an owl, perched upon a dead tree, seemingly directing traffic on a busy route.

Life is good.

I took some time to walk about at the Sagawau Canyon Environmental Center; a slow walk with the sound of songbirds, the babble of a brook coming tumbling out of the canyon. At first, I thought this was a bluebird oh, how I hoped it was!  He sat on the pole for the longest time, serenading with all his might, then, suddenly swooping into the cerulean sky, his true love joining him in a a dance of love.

I never, ever tire of this, dear reader; this primal rhythm of love and life and nature with the slow pull of wonder that leads me to wander about my garden, into the woods, across the arboretums and conservatories and lands that have been wisely conserved for generations upon generations to enjoy.

I “get it”.  I think I understand Mr. Emerson’s words that “earth laughs in flowers”.

There have been several days of hard work in the gardens, for sure. Two beds are now raked clean of winter’s wrath, three more beds still sit await, including the swath of prairie we have been slowly developing. There is a bit of a story of our little prairie that I will try to share in another post. Let me just say that where there is smoke, there is fire (and not-to-worry, all’s well that ends well).

Along with my “walk-about”, there is “here-about” the tender emergence of Mayapples, brunnera, and celandine poppies. Lily of the valley are pushing through, as are lungwort and feverfew, marjoram and lavender. Siberian squill is abundant – and then, there are the sweet violets that I first noticed while walking the grounds on my mother’s birthday.

Ma’s name is Violet.

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