Beyond My Garden

Stepelia Swelling

2013-10-02T12:35:00.000-04:00

Things are starting to change

The upper bud is swelling

As is the lower one.

But notice that all the rest are shrinking away.

I wonder why. Did it need more water? More light? or does the plant just pict the biggest and strongest?

The last time it bloomed there was only one flower but the plant was about half the size. It only consisted of the part that you see inside the smaller blue planter that sits in the middle of the larger terra cotta one.

To read the beginning of this series click HERE.

Dangerous Calm

2013-09-18T08:50:00.002-04:00

This past week I traveled down the lower New River to where it merged with the Gauley to become the Kanawha River. Well, to be more specific, I was traveling by car beside the river. Above me, to the south, (yes you read that right) the New River is a boisterous galloping waterway throwing itself over rocks and boulders as it hurls water toward the Ohio Valley. In contrast, the Kanawha is quiet, tamed by locks and dams as well as a much more gradual grade.
Such tranquility is obvious in the photo below.

Or is it?

Something seems odd about the shore line on the opposite side but I'm not sure what.

And what about those red balls floating across the river?

We should probably look a little closer

Hmm.m.m. . . ? that shore line does look strangely out of perspective - especially toward the right shore.

The trees seem to be cut off at the bottom.

Oh my!

That's quite a drop off.

That looks man-made, but why?

to the right of the small dam, above, the water appears smooth but something is definitely out of kilter.

Maybe that building by the road is a clue.

Back in my car, I drove down the river, past the buildings, to investigate a little deeper.

The white trimmed, three-story building is the Glenn Ferris Inn. Just beyond that is a park with public access to the river.
The building is an old power plant. The dam we saw above funnels water toward the plant turbines. Recently the plant has been under renovation. I pulled in and parked beside the a couple pick-up trucks whose recent occupants had were now hoisting fishing poles over head as they took turns casting into the water below the building we saw in the photo above.

Or watching others fish. I'm not sure just what is in that basket at the end of that woman's pole.

But we came to look at the water, not people fishing, didn't we?

So what happened to that calm, serene plane of water we viewed upstream?

What happened is that the ground below the river cracked and fell eons ago, forming Kanawha Falls.

If you weren't cautious about scouting the river, that sudden drop would be quite a surprise after quietly floating downstream thinking that the excitement of the wild Gauley and New rivers was behind you.

Such a beautiful day. Seems like a nice place to swim rather than fish.

Well, maybe not. Let's just enjoy the rough, tumbling beauty a moment more before we head on down the river toward home.

To go with me as I visit the Sandstone Falls on the New River you may click HERE or to join me to pay a visit to the New River National River visitor center click HERE.

Stepelia - post 2

2013-09-17T10:17:00.000-04:00

Not much change yet in our Stepelia

The two buds, the one far right and the one far left, each look a bit more swollen. What do you think?

Hopefully there is more to come. Stay tuned!

2013-09-12T09:50:00.001-04:00

Stepelia gigantea

Facebook is fine for short, "live in the moment" conversations but I'm asking you to stick with me while we see what happens to this Starfish cactus. Watch with me as, over the next few weeks, our Star cactus or Stepelia gigantea is transformed. At least that's the plan. I am hoping that these buds don't shrivel up as others have in the past.

Other common plant names are South African star flower or Carrion flower (for reasons we'll understand later). It is even called a Giant toad plant. It is native to the dry arid parts South Africa, Botswana and Zimbabwe though may be found in some surrounding areas as well.

Today as I sit here on a humid, hazy day in the Ohio Valley, a day that feels more like August than September, I think that Stepelia is out of place here on my porch. Yes, I think that . . . but I know so little . . . for here it thrives as long as I don't water it too often and I take it inside before frost.

Like several of my garden's residents, this plant came to me from Maxine Plum. Maxine & Jean. While visiting her one evening, she said, "Here, I want you to have this." She then, promptly, cut off a "leg" with a little dirt, wrapped it in plastic and sent me home with s tiny plant. the one above is a baby from my original gift.

Here is its mother.

See how the limbs swoop down, grazing the ground? Those "legs" will put out roots and form a new plant.

So, come back next week and see what has happened to our Stepelia.

My Call, Part Two

2013-08-11T03:36:00.000-04:00

To continue from YESTERDAY yesterday why haven't I been answering that call to wander and to write.
Yes, I've been busy but it is more than that. The woods have changed and may soon change even more.
I feel a bit like a person who is getting ready to die. Perhaps comparing things more to a move would be a bit less morbid but the death metephore feels fitting.
The first wound came when the government needed to do some work on our land. Back around the turn of the century the hilltops and hillsides aroundWaverly were covered with gas wells. There were enough of these wells that many of them were connected by long continuous belts or cables that turned gears. A gear at one well turned the belt that then ran to another well and turned its gears which were connected to another one. I am starting to tell more than I know so I'll stop. Just understand that there were many, many wells up here on these hills. Eventually the wells were abandoned, the woods grew back in around the well sites and nature took its wondrous course.

Then the trucks moved in.

One problem is that as these old wells and their accompanying storage tanks aged they began to disintegrate, leaking natural gas onto the ground and into our streams. That isn't good for anyone.
So the government of West Virginia has contracted a company to go into the woods, cap the wells and remove the old tanks.

Yes. it needs to be done but you just can't cap a deep well in the middle of the woods and remove tons of metal without also moving a lot of trees and dirt. No matter how careful they are about restoring the ground around the site, the land owner is left with a large area in the middle of the woods with no trees and soft ground planted with sparse grass. A place that won't be welcoming to wildlife other than browsers for several years.

Now comes the question of how to treat this new grassy plot in the middle of the woods. I forgot to mention that this plot also has a soft, grassy, yet muddy road leading to it.

You may think, just leave it to grow up but that means that invasive plants will grow up first. If you are lucky it is just Multifloral rose mixed in with the blackberry briers but you are also likely to have a good crop of Tree of Heavens (Ailanthus altissima) a horribly invasive tree that takes over the woods, growing from its roots as well as from the thousands of seeds that it produces.

That's if you don't mow. So maybe you decide to mow. Now you have a sunny spot in the middle of the woods that changes everything around it. More sun comes in more briers grow around the edges. The deep woods plants disappear. The whole environment changes. There is no reason to walk to or near the area. If not covered with briers, it is too muddy to walk over and besides, there is little to see. Not yet brush for the birds or small animals - not inviting. . . not calling.
What were nice, narrow, shaded, woodland paths are now wide, sunny, muddy swaths of sparse grass. Hot in the summer; dull in other seasons. There is little chance of sneaking up on a turkey or deer or anything else as I walk through the open squishyness.
A side effect of all this mowed area is that since we are out there mowing, why not mow more.

The Meadow I wrote about last August became chopped weeds this fall.
The butterflies that filled it last September as they migrated south or laid eggs to winter over went somewhere else this year.

So how is my response like someone waiting to die? I've read that when a person thinks they may die they begin to cut ties so less people will be hurt. For me it is the opposite. I have a strong desire to cut ties so that I won't be hurt. Caring is hard. If I no longer care then I can't be sad when it is gone. If I didn't care about the Jack-in-the-pulpets, the Goldenseal, the Wild oats, White violets, Wood poppies, Solomon's seal, Bloodroot, Squirrel corn and the oh-so-many ephemerals that inhabit small pockets of dark shady woods then I wouldn't mind so much when they are gone.

A final blow came this fall when the owner of the land next to ours passed away. I didn't know her but I did know that she didn't want her land timbered. It was a strip of woods that had gone un-timbered longer than any section on our hill. Hers was the woods that had the most rare and endangered plants. Her woods also provided the shade that was allowing these same plants to slowly creep onto our land.
A relative now owns the land with plans to have it timbered. He needs a place for his grandchildren to ride four-wheelers. That's his right. It's his land and that is how his family has fun.
But the sadness is enough to bring a depression that begs escape. If I disconnect now to the land I won't mind so much, will I? Maybe this is a good time to move.
I know my writing isn't important. It mostly exists for my own enjoyment.
Just because I feel called into those woods doesn't mean I have to go. If my friends called me to jump off a bridge I certainly wouldn't do that.

painting: My Open Heart by Mary Howard

So this is my quandary. I miss it so that my heart breaks - but only a little at a time. I still hear a calling. It follows me into my sleep and sends me flying over soft valleys of ancient trees
A recent beautiful day drove me into a dark cave of grouchiness. That is when I think about what I'm missing in my attempt to drone out the voice I hear.
To be free I may be compelled answer this call that seems to be written in bold font across my heart; answer it without fear, without regard for my own sadness - or my own anything - just leap out there and follow.
So we'll see.
If it is God with an intellect, intent on calling me than She must help me soon. I could go as I might go to a sick friend. I could try to be better company, hiding my sadness ignoring my breaking heart. I will try to enjoy what is still beautiful . . . to close my eyes to the scars and open wounds . . . to open them, accepting what I am given.

The Call Part One

2013-08-10T04:00:00.000-04:00

It is unbelievably hard to write again since it has been so long since my last blog post. (Yes, I know I posted two "shorties" but that was just to get me going again.) So many reasons, including a schedule that has almost overwhelmed me. First, work pulled me in several directions then family commitments insisted on my attention and probably most importantly I felt general disappointment with the "natural" area surrounding my home.

How could this be? How could the woods and path on which I have walked and about which I have written for the past three years become a hinderance to writing.
It concerns my call. Like most of us I am the subject of many callings. I have always had a call to care for my family. I also have heard a call to understand God and serve the Church. Sometimes these two collide and conflict but I have usually been able to work out and conflicts between the two. Sometimes my family has been neglected and sometimes God has received the short end.

The last few years, though, I have heard a third call. I would name it,

"the call of the Wild," but that has already been used. Perhaps it is the call of Nature . . . well, no, that doesn't sound right, does it? It is definitely the call of the woodland area around my home. Sometimes it called before daybreak; sometimes well after the sun had set. The call was strong and it included the post note, "Oh, and be sure to bring your camera." I obeyed this call as much as possible and came to hear it as yet another call from God.

I don't know how you see or how you name God. It could be Allah, God, Jesus, Lord or some subatomic string-like name. Perhaps you don't name it at all. Yes, I say "it" because I don't see

God as male or female. God is so much more. The "godness" that I am talking about is the force that is responsible for all the stuff I see, hear, touch, taste and feel. (and probably several other senses that I don't yet realize). This God is the "something" that connects us all - to God and to each other. I believe that it connects us to each person, animal and tree. It connect us to every living thing, even to the ground on which we walk.

We may differ on how much intellect or on the degree of intention that emanates from God or how much God is involved in our lives but most of us feel that there is something. Even folks who claim no religious beliefs at all are learning through science that there is something that connects us. Again it is the degree of intent and intellect we attribute to that connection that leads us to - or not to- call it "God."

So back to my calling. It is this connection that calls me. I yearn to know how the bird is connected to the seed and to the moth larvae that it finds on the tips of evergreens in the middle of a cold winter.

What drives the flower bulbs to begin to swell during the coldest darkest time of the year; to push up through still frozen ground toward the sun that will begin to warm them long before true spring has arrived?
What will a male Eastern box turtle do when it meets a female Eastern box turtle? And is it really just by chance that they meet?
How do the coyote, the skunk and a dogwood adapt to the behavior of each other and how do they each react to me and my messy habits?
This is what calls me out of my snug home. It is what calls me to grab my camera and walk familiar paths over and over again. I want to see how they change with the seasons. I like the feeling I get when I notice something new in a direction that I have looked dozens of times before.
I like seeing something that was there all along but now I see it differently.
Like God.

God, Natural Law, the Uniting Force, the String that attaches us all together in an, as yet, unknown way, is out there. God looks different in different seasons.
Looks different according to my moods or my interests. God also looks different according to my ability and desire to see. God, God's natural laws, are unchanging but what changes is our reaction. We can change the creation but we can't change the laws about how it all runs - that which connects us. We can't change God.

Twenty-Eight

2013-08-09T03:07:00.000-04:00

Familiar, yet far, the luminous orb returns.

Its regular visit welcomes me to the night.

I enjoy her company

and enjoy her light.

As she slowly hides her face

I say good-bye

knowing

I will see her again.

I shall count on it.

Sitting

2013-08-08T13:53:00.002-04:00

I may think too much about sitting in my garden.

36 th wedding anniversary gift from Jeff

I know I think about it more than I used to.

But, heck, I have been building this garden for about twenty-five years. It's high time to sit, right? Besides, Jeff put so much work into cleaning and painting that beautiful red chair - and its twin, below.

But there's more! I couldn't refuse this curvy, flowery white set when my dear Mother-in-law offered it.

It has been a good summer for sitting.

I'm sure that is what shade is for.

Stepelia gigantea

2012-10-29T06:00:00.000-04:00

A new bloom appeared on our library porch this week.
Stepelia gigantea or Starfish cactus finally bloomed.

The bud has been growing since early September and I thought it would never open.

Maxine Plum gave me this plant. This is the same Maxine who has given me other plants throughout the years.

Another common name for Stepelia gigantea is Carrion flower. There is a good reason for that. If you look closely into the elaborate center of the bloom this is what you see . . . Yes, those are flies. By-the-way, while you are looking closely you should be holding your nose because you'll be smelling the same thing the flies are smelling - rotten meat!

But is you have been smart enough to keep it outside then it isn't so bad. I have chosen to write on the front porch this week instead of on the library porch. I will stand back and safely admire the beauty of Stepelia gigantea.

The weather is supposed to get down to freezing again this week. I am hoping not while the flower lasts because that is one flower that will NOT accompany the plant inside.

To read about my connection to Maxine Plum, please read Maxine & Jean.

Sandstone Falls

2012-10-24T13:44:00.000-04:00

Nestled in the narrow valley near the beginning of the New River Gorge National River and ten miles down a narrow country road is Sandstone Falls.

At the park entrance, just off the parking lot is a boardwalk trail that takes visitors out into the river channel.

The day we visited was a beautiful fall day with sunlight bouncing off leaves that glowed in shades of red, orange, yellow and green. As we walked along the board walk we caught glimpses of the falls framed by the trees.

A fine mist formed above the water as water spray and condensation met the cool Autumn air.

We walked through and above the Appalachian Riverside Flatrock CommunityAppalachian Riverside Flatrock Community, an area unique to the New River Gorge. Here the riverside is intermittently visited by the river as its channel changes through the years. Flat sandstone gradually becomes covered in soil, which eventually supports plant growth whole root systems hold more soil allowing even more growth until the river floods or the main channel moves in reclaiming the area under a shallow depth of water. Elsewhere, other rocks are left exposed where lichen will grow and start the process over.

We slowly moved on enjoying the serenity.

Sandstone Falls is more than one waterfall. It is series of drops changing with the seasons and with each flood.

Across the river, high up the mountain is an overlook that looks steeply down upon the falls but here we are part of the view. We are those small dots that folks see from above.

The sun sets quickly in the steep valleys of the the New River. It is a mountain river and mountains are stingy with the daylight. Soon shadows begin to compete with light for our attention.

We turn around and start walking back to our car, taking time to quietly watch a Great blue heron fishing for its evening meal. Can you discern the heron from the rocks and leaves around it?

I marveled at its patience as the heron moved closer to the water with movements that were almost undetectable.

We left the heron to its fishing but a few moments we saw it again.

It flew overhead, landing on a river boulder,

then on up to a dead limb overlooking a pool.

One last look and we returned to our car to continue on to Bluestone Camp & Retreat Center . . . but more about that later.

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The books linked below are about the New River. Follow the River is about Mary Ingles' escape from the Shawnee Indians and her trip up the New River to return to her home at Drapers Meadow Virginia. For more books or maps on the New River, click on the tab at the top of my blog, My Amazing Store," go to some of my favorite books and then to "New River Gorge."

Slow Speed Ahead

2012-10-19T11:02:00.002-04:00

Speed? Forget about it.

The fast lane? I don't think so.

There is but one lane on the river today.

There is no room for speed.

Dashing and Darting have no place here.

It is autumn.

Life on the river slows

as we contemplate the winter ahead.

Big boats replace the small ones.
Swans and Geese float gracefully
where jet skis and tubes
competed for space a short season ago.

The carnival tune of a calliope

may now be heard in the distance

accompanied by the call of geese

who gather in flight

They call us into the calm

into a quiet slowness

that allows us to join them

on the river.

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Click on the tab, "My Store" above to find a book on the paddlewheelers or click on one of the books below (there are more at the store site)

MEET CHARLIE

2012-10-18T10:01:00.001-04:00

I've been away from blogging over the summer. Many of you can understand why. There is summer mowing, weeding, traveling and . . . .well . . . you know all the excuses. Let me just add that I was also making some new friends. I wish I could let you meet them all but I ask you to be satisfied with just this one.

Meet Charlie.

Charlie is a little bit shy

but not too much

Like me, Charlie likes to spend time in my garden. For her it is a jungle of greenery that provides great cover. Like me, she understands how within the garden she may find protection from the outside world.

Like me she likes it best right with a thick blanket of mulch tucked in around the plants.

Mulch is so easy to tunnel into.

Beneath the ground stays moist. It makes a great place to snuggle on a sunny day.

But there is also work to be done. Charlie spends much of her life gathering food. Once I have started feeding the birds I am also feeding Charlie.

She particularly likes black oil sunflower seeds.

She spends several mornings scurrying up and down the feeder pole

or filling her jaws as she forages through the grass

Soon, her chipmunk cheeks will be swollen to capacity and it will be time to take all those seeds back to her home for storage.

Without her tail as a balancing rudder I am afraid she would topple forward.

Time in the open is dangerous. Charlie studies the distance then darts off at full speed.

She slips under the garden fence and returns to the jungle

to transfer her harvest from her cheeks.

Then its back to the feeder to forage.

After some exploring Charlene found some seeds I had spilled around the can in which they are stored.

This time she ate what she found. With her stomach full her activity slowed. You know the feeling, don’t you? I know I do. So full. So tired. Arms heavy. Hard to move . . . eye lids getting very heavy . . . so-o-o-o . . . grhghgghrrr.

Every nap must end and there is nothing better to get Charlie awake than a nice bath.

Have to get all those hard-to-reach places

Even elbows

and between each finger

Once she feels totally clean it is back across the yard, under the fence and back into my (her) garden.

Evening Walk

2012-08-23T08:41:00.000-04:00

C'mon! Let's go! Oh wait, you want to know where we are going? I suppose you should first know when we are going. Alright. It is June. We are escaping the dry doldrums of West Virginia August. Here, in June, the garden is still luxuriant. It is evening.

My garden is quickly becoming dark. Oh, and that is where we are going. We're going into the garden this glorious late spring evening. Let's take one last look before the night claims the garden for her own. The silver Lambs ear, (Stachys byzantina) glows in the remaining light sharing its space with deep red Astilbe. The ground is speckled with the fallen blossoms of a large Sourwood (Oxdendrum) tree blooming overhead.

Squeezed in within the boughs of Sourwood and needled branches of a Red spruce is Cornus florida, Dogwood. From its branches we find blossoms of another kind, formed by human hands and hung by me. Green mirrors reflect the remaining light as they flicker on their strings.

Underneath, Wood poppies (Stylophorum diphyllum), known to some people as celendine poppy or poppywort, have mostly finished blooming. Here they are nestled among Wild ginger, Wood anemone and False rue anemone

Further on a patch of purply blue shines from still moist mulch shines. (Remember we are in June. In August from which we left that mulch is dried and home to more than a few weeds.)

One last look but this time we need the flash to keep from bumping into each other.

That's it. Go back to August with me. I think I will do a little watering before all is lost.

Kroger Wetlands

2012-08-22T06:00:00.000-04:00

My friend, Janice, and I decided to make a trip to the Kroger Wetlands since neither of us had been there. This 14.5 acre wetland is located on Acme Street in Marietta Ohio.

While situated right behind the Krogers grocery store the one-mile walking trail around the wetlands is very secluded. To me it seems like a place a woman shouldn't walk alone.

There are advantages to this seclusion. While Janice was walking in front we heard a commotion right at her feet just as she crossed a small bridge. Do you see what caused it in the photo below?

Let me crop it to zoom in.

That young raccoon was one of three that we almost crashed into. I loudly whispered, "Look! Raccoons!" Well if you want to watch raccoons, it is better that you don't panic and loudly exclaim. The youngsters clambered over each other as they retreated, one up the back of a tree, one quickly up the creek and the last one hunkered down in the weeds before they all disappeared from sight.

It is funny what adrenaline does to our human brain. While I almost forgot that my camera was in my hand, Janice kept thinking, "Raccoon! What's a raccoon? What's a raccoon?" Her mind grappled with whether or not to tell her feet to run. We thought it funny. The raccoons might not have seen the humor.

We eventually regained our composure and continued our walk, having no idea how long the trail was. Most of it skirts the wetland pond. Every so often there are short paths where you can walk out to view the pond. At one point we crossed a wooden footbridge where a small creek empties into the pond. Here we saw several muscles resting on the mud.

We then continued walking the day became hotter. Poison ivy densely lines the trail, in some places waist high. I would suggest wearing long pants and a long-sleeve shirt then taking a good, soapy shower afterwards. I had on shorts and anklet socks. When we came to the observation deck we stayed land bound for several of the boards were broken or rotting through. From reading a newspaper article written in July of 2010 I see that at that time boards were replaced at this same observation deck. Obviously a wetland is a hard place to keep wood from decaying. It takes many hours of building and upkeep to provide public access to such wetlands. I am thankful for the folks who have the time, inclination and willingness to do this work.

At the end/beginning of the trail is a small meadow area.

This woman-made meadow area includes native plants and is a nice addition to the Kroger Wetland project, inviting insects to visit. The day we were there many species of butterflies joined us though they didn't seem to notice a prominent Butterfly weed.

We circled the meadow once more and happily returned to our car where the air conditioning was quickly turned on.

Cheers to all the people who have donated and worked to make the Kroger Wetlands accessible to the rest of us.

Courage at the Pool

2012-08-21T06:00:00.000-04:00

Each of us sits on our chosen rock

deep in the shade

beside the spring

that drips consistently into a pool;

calming us both with its sound.

We watch in stillness.

I admire the chipmunk's courage

as well as its beauty.

I think, "Just what does it see in me?"

nellie Howard, august 20, 2012

Dry Summer Color

2012-08-20T06:00:00.000-04:00

July was dry. Very dry and hot. Just as buds were forming many of my garden's flowers didn't get the water they needed. But such is the way of gardens. Next year will probably be different.

As is often the case, the strong have survived.

This is a time of yellows in and beyond my garden. Yes, yellows predominate but the late summer purples are also starting to make their color statement.

The Liatris, below quickly faded after I took this photo.

These bees made good use of the short bloom time.

These Monarda are blooming for a second time this season.

Every morning finds Goldfinches feasting on the many seeds that our wildflower patch has to offer. This one has found one of the few remaining daisies.

I am glad. There is plenty for us all.

West Virginia Power Outage

2012-08-19T18:03:00.001-04:00

Summer responsibilities have kept me from writing here lately and the following entry is long overdue. Though late, It needed to be written and I needed to publish it as you will see.

Friday, June 29, 2012 started out good. My sister, Mary and her husband, John, were visiting. It was hot, the car thermometer registered 102 degrees. We all went to the Wells Inn in Sistersville for afternoon tea with Jeff's parents then just hung out in Mary and John's motor home, relaxing while sipping on a gin and tonic. So nice. We watched out the large motor home front windows as the sky darkened. A slight breeze rustled the leaves in nearby trees.

We could see the storm coming across the Ohio River heading straight for us. The winds picked up. The motor home started rocking. Garbage cans flew by followed by chair cushions and other unidentifiable stuff. Trees leaned, stretching their noses toward the ground. The motor home rocked more as the electric went out. A nearby roof started coming off and then it was over.
We had heard to expect 50 mph winds though we later heard they were closer to 80 mph. Jeff and I decided to go home to check on our own electric, having no idea the extent of the storm that would continue to roar across West Virginia through the evening, ignoring the usual barrier that is the Appalachian Mountains. Winds left West Virginia and went on across northern Virginia, through Washington DC.

Waverly Road - this is one of many many fallen branches. By this time most were off the road.

Moving roughly across the land winds grabbed hold of trees, trampolines and whatever else folks had that wasn't well attached to something solid.

On our way home we had to stop three times for Jeff to clear our driveway of fallen limbs.

Neighbor's home. the tree destroyed a small front porch but left the double-wide home intact.

When we arrived things looked dark. Yes, our electric was out. After he walked the length of our electric line Jeff's report was that at least three poles were broken. I quickly called Allegheny Power and reported the lines down. My call would followed by thousands of similar calls.
Across the river Ohio was in a similar predicament. Our local ice cream and hot dog spot lost its shelter. Marietta, Ohio was shut down as folks were asked to stay home.

Cone-N-Shake in Marietta Ohio

Cell phone towers were damaged. Those that weren't were stressed as residents all over West Virginia and Ohio used their cell phones. Many of our land lines were done.

By morning work crews were spreading across the land like a welcome plague of locust. Chainsaws and chippers were devouring fallen limbs at an astonishing rate but there were so many. Neighborhoods and country hollows echoed with the high-pitch roar of sawing for everyone who owned a chain saw became part of the clean-up.

Like many, we stayed home and concentrated on getting through each day. My ingenious husband soon filled up a large tank with city water, parked his truck at the highest point near our home and ran a hose from the tank to our outdoor cooking area which includes a gas grill, 4 gas burners and a sink.

Another hose ran from the tank to our outdoor toilet. We also had a shower that worked by gravity with water from a passive solar black plastic barrel that fed both the shower and sink. Compared to many, we had it made. A large shady porch and a good attitude meant that there was no need to feel uncivilized.

By day two, Jeff remembered that we had a small generator in our camper van. We had seldom used it and knew it might not work. After a couple hours of "tinkering" with it that loud "Chump-k-Chump" generator sound that I usually find extremely obnoxious. Not now. Now it meant that our freezer and refrigerator worked. We even plugged in a fan during meals and gave our electronic chargers a turn at the generator.

Everywhere generators were sold out and the gasoline that fueled them became valuable. Without electric, pumps could not pump, ice machines could not make ice. Popsicles and frozen chickens melted on store shelves.

Most of us thought hard about our existence; about what was important. Food and shelter were high on that list but so were neighbors and family. Townspeople returned to the front porches that had comforted their grandparents and great grandparents. People visited (or met) their neighbors. Without air conditioners, it was no longer so important to stay inside. Life was different and it wasn't all bad.

Still, up on our hill were glad to see power line crews.

First it was a couple men to see what kind of equipment the job would take

Then came the big trucks. They brought three new poles.

But wait. These aren't Allegheny Energy Trucks! These trucks say, "Toledo Edison." It's a long way from Toledo Ohio to Waverly, West Virginia. Yes, Our state had been invaded by foreigners. Like a liberating army these "foreign" power workers were welcomed with open arms. In particular, Toledo Edison not only fixed our lines but those all around Waverly and our end of the county.

These men had left their own homes and families to do a job that brought them to our homes and to help our families. Everyone we met was polite, and quick to inform us of what they were doing; how long it would take.

We thanked them as they left, that army of skilled workers who did what we could not easily do for ourselves.

Our thanks didn't seem like enough.

And that is why I have written this blog entry. It has nothing to do with my garden. It has nothing to do with the woods or even about nature. Well I suppose, actually it is nature. This entry is about electrons; about how they travel back and forth along a tiny wire. This blog entry is about carbon; old, compressed carbon. It is about diatoms that became oil eons ago. Oil that was processed and used to fuel the grill, the gas stove and the generator that carried us through the days after the storm and propelled the trucks of Toledo Power; the trucks carrying workers who drove across the land making things, once again, right.

Thank you Toledo, Ohio for sending us your sons and fathers. Thank-you for living without them for the weeks that they spent in West Virginia. Yes, thank-you Toledo Edison. Thank-you for turning the lights back on.

Visitors

2012-07-11T08:38:00.000-04:00

An interesting family recently came to dinner.

They weren't much trouble. In fact, I didn't have to fix anything. The whole family wanted only what we had lying around - grubs, bugs and other beings.

I really hadn't expected them and was very surprised when I ran into the skunk family.

The children were beautiful. dark black with bright white stripes that started with a large head spot. Each had a blaze marking its forhead. Mom, like many of us moms, was a bit haggard looking with hair that had bleached lighter. Her white was not as bright. They weren't too camera shy - at least I didn't think so.

I've written here before that skunks aren't too scary as long as they aren't startled or feel threatened. I try to keep talking when they are nearby so they will know I am there. (much too easy for me to keep talking, my friends would say)

Evidently this mother and her two youngsters didn't here me because as they closed in to within a few feet of me I said, "You guys do know I'm here, don't you?" That got their attention. Tails went up, (not a good thing when it comes to skunks) Mom turned them away from me, I backed up quickly . . .

. . . then, watched as they quietly humped their way out of sight.

Wildflower Trip, Again

2012-06-22T08:37:00.000-04:00

I have finally put up the next leg of our wildflower tour. Let's dispense with words. I'll just let you see as I saw. Enjoy your visit.

For an extensive selection of wildflower identification books by state, region and trail, click on my store at the top of the page.

Wildflower Trip Part One

2012-06-14T09:56:00.000-04:00

Here is a story that I have not yet had time to tell. In May I went to visit a wonderful road for viewing wildflowers with my friend, Kitty and our husbands.

Rough avens (Geum Lacintatum Murr.)

Some of the plants I am familiar with but others I have seen but have never learned the names. I've worked pretty hard to identify them for you but if you disagree, please let me know and I'll check again. While not a fun, pretty book, the best book for plant identification in my area is Flora of West Virginia by P.D. Strausbaugh and Earl L. Core. It is very scholarly, full of latin and scientific words, only line drawings and very precise in its description of plants with all the variations. Flora of West Virginia is 1079 pages, counting the index and large glossary so this definitely is not a pocket field guide. It is one you should have in the trunk to make sure of your identification if there is any question. (By-the-way, it's available at my Amazon Store at the top of the page. I try to put any books I talk about up there. Some are just books I like.)
Below is a probably a Jacob's ladder (Polemonium vanbruniae) Though its sighting almost always produces an argument of Jacob's ladder vs Greek valerian. Both are in the Phlox family and are very similar. Greek valerian (Polemonium reptans) may have fewer leaflets but the numbers overlap a lot. In Jacob's Ladder the stamens protrude below the flower as can be seen in the flower at the top right of the photo below. Other marks made me think it might be a Greek valerian since it doesn't have as many leaflets as some plants. I really don't know for sure but I am going with Jacob's ladder for now. One year I went with a group of experienced wildflower people who all had field guides and Flora of West Virginia. We never reached a consensus after spending 1/2 hour with this one plant alone. Feel free to add your own identification theory.

Polemonium - either vanbruniae or reptans

This white one below is Spring Cress (Cardamine bulbosa)

Right beside it was this Large-flowered trillium. (Trillium grandiflorum) While the petals are bright white when it first blooms,

they fade to a lavender-gray or pink as the bloom matures

Mixed in with them all were Painted trilliums (Trillium undulatum) in the photo below. Notice the Jacob's ladder or Greek valerian around it. Trilliums are in the Lily family. All have 3 leaves on the plant and 3 showy petals on the flower. Though they usually bloom early, before the overhead canopy is too thick, the flowers petals take a long time to fall off and the leaves persist well into summer storing valuable energy for next spring's show.

All these plants were within a 20-25 foot area along the road. Kitty and I didn't even have to get our shoes dirty to find them though John's shoe did get pretty muddy when he sacrificed it to a wet ditch in order to check out a plant a little more closely.

I'll have several more days to show you this fruitful wildflower trip so come back tomorrow.

Father

2012-06-12T06:00:00.000-04:00

You are no longer new. Some say you are dead.

But when I look,

there you are

still alive, with me. Now.

Life's twists and turns

worked on you

making you

who you were -

who you are;

making me

who I am.

When your body

is dust,

Life still wins.

I will remember.

Then, when my memory fades

turning to dust of its own

you will remain.

Generations wil be who they are

because you were

who you were.

To Nevada

2012-06-09T13:44:00.001-04:00

Today I posted on my travel blog. Just click on the tab at the top of this page. Thanks.

Last Wetland Post (this week)

2012-06-09T06:00:00.000-04:00

A slight movement caught my eye and made me look up. I barely saw it. Do you? It is a Flicker feeding its nestlings.

Very well camouflaged and barley discernible against the in the bright sunlight the Flicker was working hard.

I left it to its family and continued around the wetland's path.

Weather Report

2012-06-08T08:03:00.001-04:00

Dense fog is what was projected.

I would have to admit that this time they nailed it.

Briefly the world darkened.

From my chair on the library porch

my eyes left the screen

my fingers rested on the keyboard.

I watched tiny drops of moisture float past,

briefly coating my teacup.

Soon it lifted and the world returned.

More sights at the Williamstown Wetlands

2012-06-07T17:06:00.003-04:00

Here are a few more scenes from the Williamstown Wetlands a few weeks ago. When I look at the date on these photos, it is more like a month ago. My, how time flies. You readers have probably noticed that I've been visiting these wetlands more and more. It is a great place. Easy to park and not a big hike, just a short comfortable walk to the observation deck. If you are ever near Williamstown, WV, send me an email and I'll be glad to meet you there for a visit.
Today, a Red admiral butterfly (Vanessa atalanta) found itself a meal.

Peeking through the grass I saw a female Wood duck but is she hiding something?

Oh, yay! there is a family. It will be fun to watch them grow through the summer.

Overhead a Red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) chortles.

I decide to sit for awhile, enjoying the day. As I do a Mallard floats by.

In the bushes to my left a sparrow eyed me suspiciously.

The sparrow must decided I wasn't too threatening for it soon began to sing, flitting from branch . . .

The bird eventually left then so did I. I was no longer alone. Another of my species was also enjoying this beautiful day.

See you tomorrow. Please don't forget to check click on the tab at the top of this page for Waverly to Tahoe if you haven't checked out my travel blog lately.