Encountering Earth

  Sunday was a glorious ski on the Foxy Brown Trail in Piseco. The day brought a bright blue sky and bone-chilling temperatures of zero degrees. The winter woods is a mystic place. Snow and ice crystals clung to the trees and were dazzling in the sunlight.The earth is blanketed and slumbering.  Animal tracks tell stories in the snow. I got to see some otter tracks - a first! The creature walked a bit, dragging its tail, then slid in the snow. Otters are so playful! There were also tracks of mice and rabbits. It feels like you can enter their world and walk with them on their journeys.                                                             Silent stories in the snow of mice and men and creatures in between. Common tales of tiny prints, seeking shelter, seeking food. Long shadows cast: tree and...

I spent time with my family in South Jersey over Christmas week. We were greeted every day with huge flocks of "blackbirds" mostly grackles. When I googled this phenomenon I found that this massing of the birds happens regularly. The birds are on their way south but stay around until snow cover prevents them from feeding. The grackles did make a din. Their wing beats and movements created a constant swishing sound. They chattered and then fell silent. Thousands of them. They moved to the oaks in my sister's woods, to the cornfield behind my other sister's house. The black cloud rose in a swarm depositing birdie "gifts" as they flew. People were amazed, but also fearful. There was real annoyance over the droppings on cars and decks and steps. Folks said it was eerie and reminiscent of the movie, The Birds.  Some folks shot off guns to scare the birds away. I enjoyed the movement, the murmurations. I enjoyed seeing a huge flock of wildlife, perhaps like thin...

Yesterday I experienced my first Christmas Bird Count right here in Schenectady. I have always wanted to do this because the data that is collected is so important in protecting birds and their habitat. An expert birder who has been doing this for many years initiated me in the Count. We walked one site after another listening and looking for signs of birds. It was cloudy and cold, so we were challenged to stay with it for over 5 hours.  It was very exciting to go on the "hunt" for birds. We really wanted to find a great horned owl, but no luck. We did see 5 species of woodpeckers: Downey, Hairy, Piliated, Yellow- Bellied Sapsucker and Red Breasted. That was a real treat. At one site we estimated a mob of 250 crows - American and Fish. They were making quite a din! That always means something is disturbing them; they are the sentinels of the forest. In this case, they had spotted a coyote! We counted many other species. I loved the mallards and common mergansers by ...

Sorry, it has been a month since posting. I have been having computer troubles! Yesterday, December 2 I went to 5 Rivers Environmental Center in Delmar. I was "celebrating" five years of my mom's going home to God. I always go to the woods for healing, solace, celebration, reflection. There I find peace, comfort, joy... Yesterday was cloudy but pleasant. The December woods are stark but still alive with tales of life and promise. The brown fields, the crunching leaf litter, and the soft, piney duff speak of things that have passed. Woodpeckers and crows were still busy. Deer in their dark winter coats came out to feed. Nature has no problem letting go and falling asleep after a job well done. Spring will come, green will return; songbirds will sing again. All that spoke to me of my mom and how I know I will experience the fullness of her presence once more and have the pleasure of her company, face to face!

Yesterday I hiked in the Northwest Bay area. It was a gentle four mile hike with some longtime hiking buddies. The day was crisp and needed layering. The woods were in the in-between of November - in between all the leaves down, all the plants brown with frost. The fern was luciously green. The moss, swollen with water, soft. I sunk my fingers into the sphagnum and club moss and touched a deep inviting world.  Humans belong in the woods. A magic comes over us. We seem alive, curious, ready to play and share. We are subjects among subjects - kin to the trees and fern and moss. We don't need to own and hoard. There is enough of the coolness of moss, the music of flowing stream, the green of fern and foam flower, the tangy smell of duff and dead leaves, the rich ooze of mud. There is more than enough. And we rejoice! 

Over the weekend I went to Hampton Bays on the Long Island Sound for a workshop. Saturday morning I watched the sun ease into the sky and throw a walkway of orange light across the Sound. It seemed that I could step out on the water and take a stroll. Swans, gulls and cormorants were more practical as they tended to breakfast. I walked the beach looking for the remains of stories. Moon snails, quahogs, slipper shells, razor clams, bay scallops, hermit crabs were all eager to share tales of arrival on the beach. Some were harrowing tales of predator's meals; some were stories of being cast upon the rocks. Now the shells would delight beachcombers like me or return to the beach as sand. I inched down the tideline, a place rapidly changing and so full of wonders and mysteries. A cormorant waddling along the beach caught my eye. Walking, not diving or flying - strange. Then I saw why - a large fishing sinker swung from its neck. A noose which condemned the bird to land, not to fl...

Last weekend I joined a couple of friends to do the Walkway Over the Hudson in New Paltz. The walkway, bikeway, skateway, strollerway is an ingenious bridge created on the bed of an aging and abandoned train bridge that once linked  Highland to Poughkeepsie. Our day was blue-skied and warm for October. The leaves were still teasing us with only pockets of color - single candle trees of orange and red. Lots of yellow shimmered in the October sun. The Hudson danced below. Spread out in shining waters to the bends of the River that Flows Both Ways, as the Mahicans called her. There along the banks were stories - nature and human told. Cliffs rising above the river. Trains on each side - west for cargo and east for passengers. Promises of mergansers and sturgeon and cod were whispered by the waters. Everywhere there was delight. The humans on the bridge, many with their dogs, mirrored the delight of the day. People of every color, shape, fit, ethnicity ambled, ran, talked a...