A Restorative View

Through a window I can view subtle changes in the garden with seasons and the weather as I complete my morning ritual. I notice when the leaves hang on longer in an unusually warm autumn.  And when the leaves have fallen I see a distant knothole through tangled branches of sassafras and dogwood. It is a hole in the bark of an oak where a branch used to be. I wonder what might live or seek shelter in there. Throughout the winter months I search for clues in the bare canopy. Could it be a downy woodpecker, a tufted titmouse or a black-capped chickadee? I often see these birds as they perch in the sassafras to hammer open a sunflower seed they have taken from the bird feeder.

When snow falls the trees have sleeves of white and frozen fluff settles in crooks and elbows. As birds flitter about they release clouds of white powder. Squirrels sit all puffed up against the cold, front paws curled as in a muff, their tails a fur wrap held close to their backs. When snow melts on a bright cold day in February, I notice the patterns in grainy bark and swelling buds against a pale blue sky. During a rain shower in March, gray-green lichen brings color and every twig glistens with water droplets. 

In April there is a red blush in the canopy as maples bloom. Mid-month a strong staccato warble can be heard. The house wren returns to claim its territory amongst the flowering boughs of dogwood and lime green sassafras blossom. The woodland is colored with unfurling leaves and the soft browns, beiges and ochre of oak. I witness avian drama in May. A great crested flycatcher dive-bombs the window from the sassafras tree. Is it fighting its own reflection perhaps? The wren builds a nest in the nesting box. This fierce little bird scolds marauding blue jays. Its mate is seen frequently returning to the box with caterpillars in its beak to feed a growing family.

The leafy green of summer is a restful backdrop to my ritual. The canopy closes in and blocks much of my view. The wren’s family fledges and sometimes it makes another brood. It seems that the Carolina wren sings more stridently once the house wren has flown south. The dogwood tree turns first in fall. A mauve seeps through its leaves and grey twigs hold next year’s flower buds, which remind me of Hershey’s Kisses. Peak fall color is heralded with the oranges, pinks and yellows of sassafras leaves.

Often in the fall, the drone of a leaf blower disturbs my meditation and I wonder why anyone would blast away leaves that sustain such a beautiful natural cycle. At the very least, a view through a window affirms my faith in nature. 

May Day Greening

Sassafras Flowers

I celebrate this day of fertility rites, workers rights, May queens and maypoles by embracing all that is vernal in my tangled wood and garden: the large bumblebees that roam for nectar; the promise of herbaceous perennial shooting skyward; fiddleheads and knobs of ferns as they too awaken; bird sounds all; dried oak leaves to crumble; spicebush and maple-leaf viburnum defying ivy.

The woodland canopy is colored with green unfurling leaves and the soft browns, beiges and ochre of oak flowers. The house wren has returned. It has been singing loudly and can be seen flitting amongst the lime green sassafras blossom.

 The storm-damaged dogwood tree seems more fragile than ever. But its boughs will support the nesting boxes for at least another year. Its emerging leaves appear v-shaped amongst tentative flower bracts. Springtime brings me hope and energy. 

Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida)

A Battle of Natives

I endeavor to keep a woodland clearing free of invasive plants hoping to build a pond in this partly sunny area. Gone are the multiflora rose, English ivy, and oriental bittersweet, although the wisteria vines are still persistent. In their place there is pokeweed (Phytolacca americana), Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) and young sassafras trees (they grow so fast!). This time of year when the pokeweed towers above me I am goaded into action with fork and shovel to dig up its thick taproots before the flowers ripen to berries and spread the plant even more. I actually love this plant in the fall with its vivid pink stems and dark blue berries, which feed migrating birds. I let it go in other areas but here I need to keep it under control or it will be impossible to dig for the pond. It seems that when land is cleared of invasive plants the natives take over with exuberance. Virginia creeper is providing a thick ground cover and will even climb up the pokeweed. Nearby is broadleaf enchanter’s nightshade (Circaea lutetiana), which is another tall native perennial weed that forms dense cover. On the underside of its leaf, amongst the white fluff of woolly aphids, I came across a strange looking insect I have never seen before. The case bearer leaf beetle (Neochlamisus sp.), a larva in this instance, covers its body with its own fecal matter and it appears as a large blob of insect frass on stumpy legs. 

Cicada on "vacationing" Sansevieria

To herald in the season of chirping crickets, strident katydids and buzzing cicadas, I found a cicada resting on a mother in law’s tongue plant (Sansevieria) that is “vacationing” on my front porch. This was a good chance to get up close and personal with an insect I usually only hear as its sings way up in the tall trees on a hot summer afternoon. This was a fresh unblemished specimen, with huge brown eyes and margins of emerald green on its wings matching the plant’s stiff leaves, from which also dangled the dried brown case of its previous skin. Houseplants can be habitat too.