It had started raining on a more regular basis near Boston, so after a few days of warmer than usual weather, spring began to unfold step by step instead of all at once like last year.
The photos below will give you a sense for what I noticed in the last few days of April; new leaves, blossoms, greening undergrowth, and my Katsura maple larger than ever as it goes through its color changes at this time of year.
I like to look around the edges of Hills Pond when the ice is just forming or better yet, when it melts with warmer days and freezes again during the night.
Sure enough, there were crystal clusters and bubbles in the ice yesterday as well as a wonderful curving sculpture.
When I returned the next day, the mushy paths were lit by reflecting patches of ponding water. Snow on the pond had slumped into quilted softness, with all trace of the icy precision gone. I took solace in my knowledge that there is a regular rhythm to it, how the melting feeds the slow unfolding of green on our tilted panet.
The crisp fall air, crunching pine needles, and subtly pervasive fragrance all sparked a powerful wellbeing. Lingering concerns about the latest round of bad morning news did not stand a chance.
And I noticed that this particular glorious day did not hold even a hint of the sadness that autumn can bring. Yes nothing lasts, but that day there was no choice but to join in the dance and to forget all that.
The being alive, just that, and never alone, but held by it all.
Walking along the path toward the pond in Menotomy Rocks Park, ArIington, Massachusetts, USA. I caught a glimpse of orange patches. Coming closer I saw Chicken of the woods mushrooms trooping down a fallen trunk.
There were maple leaves on the ground in that area, with none of the expected oak. Perhaps the nutritious sap of a sugar maple was supporting such an abundant display.
Over several days, I returned to view this spectacle in different lights as the shapes changed and the colors began to fade.
And here is how some of them looked after a dry winter:
Although areas nearby have gotton considerable rain, where I live in Arlington, Massachusetts, USA, we had a whole month of unrelenting dryness. This year there is nothing like the diverse abundance I saw around this time in 2021. Still there were some notable mushrooms popping up here and there. Evidently Chicken of the Woods and Jack O Lanterns produce fruiting bodies even when it is dry.
I did come across some interesting slime molds. Those are included as the last photos below.
I wasn’t looking for them – too early in the season, but these mushrooms could not be missed. They were orange and not just a quiet subtle orange either.
They looked a bit melted in places like what happens with some kinds of soft cookies when they are baking. Note: Don’t eat these Jack O Lantern mushrooms, they are poisonous.
A few days later, the caps had flattened out, and gotten larger with their edges turned up. And additional clumps were growing at the base of the oak.
Evidently these mushrooms are a bit bioluminescent. I went out around 5 am to see if I could capture their pale green glow with my small camera, but perhaps there was too much light as the sky was already beginning to brighten.
A recent encounter with a turtle had me thinking about the fact that many humans walk around with our own invisible protective armor. It is not uncommon for us to pull back rather than risk revealing feelings that might be unacceptable to others or ourselves. And we sometimes carry around quite burdensome assumptions and identities in our efforts to stay safe. My actual encounters with turtles were quite a different story.
The first photo below shows a Russian Tortoise I met at a friend’s house. This venerable fellow seemed as curious about me as I was about him. He would surely have great stories to tell, and he seemed very happy in his luxurious and large terrarium home.
More recently, I came across a snapping turtle who seemed to be digging a nest for her eggs by the pond in Menotomy Rocks Park, Arlington, Massachusetts, USA. There were a number of people circling with their eager dog charges. I felt protective. I spoke to the turtle telling her that I was a friend and wished her well. She paused her insistent digging and looked up at me. It felt like a moment of genuine connection.
A few years ago, someone pointed out a dead turtle floating in the pond. I shared the photo of that turle with some experts and one suggested that it was a rare northern red bellied cooter. As requested, I sent in a report with the date, location and photo to those tracking rare species sitings in my state, and they told me it was actually a red-eared slider which is considered invasive and is not native to Massachusetts.
It is clear to me that I am not the only one who feels increasing awe and wonder at how much we can relate to, feel with and even communicate with other species but it is also quite sad that this growing awareness is happening at a time when so many species, including our own, are at risk.
I love how these tiny plants create a soft carpet in shady places, but sometimes in sun as well. It seems natural to want to reach down and pet them. They also can help us achieve relaxed moods as in this dreamy video created by Jeffrey Klein. The Andante section of a recording of J. S. Bach’s Sonata #5 played by Jeffrey Brody on piano and Andrea Hart on flute (and used with their permission) is a perfect complement to the moss images.
Mosses are often used in Japanese gardens for good reason, and it is a delight to come across them growing wild in a natural setting.
With all the rain lately, moss has been happily spreading in my garden. I was delighted when the tiny plants decided to form a soft green carpet where guests gather on my patio before sharing tea. In Menotomy Rocks Park, moss adorns the forest floor, the bases of living trees, fallen logs and even high up on rocky outcrops. Photos of moss in both settings are included below.
Pinecones were everywhere.
According to Menotomy Rocks Park, A Centennial History by Don Mattheisen, White Pines were planted after a devastating gypsy and brown moth invasion in 1902. It was hoped that the needles would not interest these hungry pests. In any case, no such massive invasion of destructive moths recurred then or now.
As to the unusual abundance of pinecones, recent high winds might have played a role in bringing them down, but could not explain why there were so many on the trees in the first place. Perhaps the White Pines planted in the 1900’s were approaching the end of their natural lives and providing for the perpetuation of their species. Or newly abundant rains the last few years had created favorable conditions for baby trees. Squirrels seem to be going after the seeds already.
There are places in the Park where many young evergreens all seem to be about the same height. I will keep an eye out for more patches of young trees springing up, especially where sunlight reaches the forest floor.
I was walking around Hills Pond yesterday and came across a woman holding a small pumpkin up in one hand. I asked her if she would mind stopping so I could get a photo of the lovely image. She told me she was bringing that pumpkin to mark the spot where Scouts would be leaving 75 other pumpkins for the “Spooky Walk” that evening.
Sure enough, I noticed her pumpkin sitting on a hill as I continued around the pond and decided to return in the hopes of getting a few good photos. A full moon should help even though it would be getting quite dark by the time of the event. I had seen people setting up for the Spooky Walk in a previous year and it looked like it could be quite interesting.
As she had told me would be the case, that “starter” pumpkin had been joined by many others – a back row spelled out “S P O O K Y.” Hopefully, the photos below will give you some idea of the highly creative nature of this home spun event.
As I walked back along the path through the deep woods I was glad that I had remembered to bring a flashlight. By that time, quite a few other points of light were coming toward me along the path. I could hear parents reassuring their children that the pond where the event takes place was quite nearby.
Radiant Refuge 