Wetlands are important habitats that tend to disappear as humans move into an area. Natural wetlands actually help the surrounding area by slowing runoff and filtering water. I am glad Boone created this beautiful site for walkers to observe.
Wetlands play vital roles
Wetlands includes many plants that serve as food and shelter for wildlife in the area.
Boone has created a wetlands habitat along its walking trails so that the plants and animal inhabitants can be viewed up close.
I was thrilled to hear and see a pair of redwing blackbirds when I visited the area last week.
Redwing blackbirds
This is a great way to encourage wildlife to live in the area and control water runoff and possible flooding. These signs help visitors identify the inhabitants in the area.
I look forward to watching this area change throughout the spring summer and fall. Stay tuned.
I needed to go to a place that grounds me. These are shaky times and I needed some mental mooring. I went to where I always go when I need peace.
Tuesday morning, I was shaken by the unthinkable. War.
Evergreen Island
I went to Evergreen Island to clear my head. By some strange miracle, I was the only person there. This has never happened before. I guess folks were at the polls or watching the war unfold.
Stone wall full of life
I do not take my safe life for granted. I am disturbed by the unrest everywhere. Humans baffle me. Nature makes more sense. I brought my camera with me especially to photograph this stone wall.
Fern, lichen, algae and moss coexisting
I have studied this wall for years. It brings me peace to see a mix of species living together in harmony.
Foliose and fruticose lichens among moss
There is moss, ferns and lichen living on these old stones. There are forms of algae, fungi and bacteria that cannot be seen. I also see signs of animals living inside the wall.
A hole in the wall home
These living things coexist and share nutrients, space and moisture.
The stone wall plant and fungi condo
This symbiosis between species has taken thousands of years of adjustments to attain balance.
A heart in the wall
I wonder how long it will take humans to learn to live together?
My plants that got moved to the mountain have been in a slump. I have been puzzled by their lack of progress. I water and feed them consistantly, but no new growth had shown up for months… until lately.
Limbs in limbo. Ho hum
Three weeks ago the Night Blooming Cereus started sending up some little flat blades. Sprouts started sprouting!
Sprouting
The Queen of the Night started putting out new leaves and stems. I was happy to see anything new. This plant has doubled in size! The lovely baby leaves are soft, bright green and shiny.
More green on the Queen
Then the leaves elongated and put out leaflets.
Leaves and new leaflets
Even my new starts sent up shoots. What inspired this development?
New stems.
I know the days are getting longer. I choose believe this is my first sign of spring coming.
The Cereus seems to suddenly be serious about growing. Let’s hope they get this excited about blooming.
I am not one to stay inside. The weather on the mountain has been a bit harsh lately. When the ground is slick with snow and ice I have to stay on the porch with my new hips. The decking out there still has streaks from my pacing with my walker during my months of convalescing.
When the storms come from the north, I can pace out on the porch and not get wet. Weather from the west is a different story. The wind blasts across that porch like a freight train. If you get near the railing at the western end you feel like you could almost be lifted off your feet.
During some of the snowstorms this winter, I actually sat on the porch in my coat and watched in silent wonder. That did not happen during this last winter blast that rattled the screens and made me thankful for the brick walls. My neighbors lose siding during these hell benders. They call me ‘ The Third Little Pig.’
This morning the weather has finally settled and I felt the need to go out. The porch in front of the door and to the east was still covered in snow. No problem. I now have a racy red Valentine shovel delivered to me by Mr. Flower. Don’t judge ladies. He also brought flowers and chocolate. LADIES, he has had forty years of training, so curb your envy.
MEN just because you covet every tool does not mean your sweetie wants a vacuum cleaner for Mother’s Day. Yes, you got away with that with your adoring mama, but do not try to pull that two-for gift crap on your wife. If she needs a vacuum cleaner let her pick it out. What do you know about it? She’s not surprising you with a weed-eater.
I digress.
This morning hauled my Valentine shovel out to that porch and cut me a walking path heading west.
Now I can pace on half the porch when the ceiling gets on my nerves. I am grateful for this gift. My other snow shovel was a bent wimp. The flowers will fade and the chocolates will be eaten, but my love shovel will endure!
I went to the place that my Daddy wanted his ashes spread yesterday. I took my lunch there and ate in my car. I got out and took some photos. It is peaceful, private and conveniently located near their house. Daddy was always thoughtful like that.
Daddy’s chosen resting place.
The plan was for the whole family to gather at this location. We were instructed to play his favorite hymn sung by his favorite soprano. Mama negotiated the length of her speech, three minutes max per Daddy. Then we were to take turns silently sprinkling his ashes. I found a blue heart dish with three circles just for this part.
This ceremony has not occurred yet. It has been hard to get all of us on the mountain at once. When we finally all got there, the weather was bad. I had nightmares of Daddy trying to sleep in snow. So we postponed the event until spring. Then Mama died. There went three minutes of the ceremony.
Now we have two urns full of ashes. Daddy’s is bluebird blue and Mama’s is pink, of course. Mama claimed she wanted to be sprinkled with her sister’s ashes at a different, less convenient, location. Did she mean this, or was it the dementia talking?
My daughter, Rose, gave me a pep talk about letting the ashes go last night. They wanted to be set free and sprinkled in nature she said. I know they liked this idea. I do too, on beautiful, sunny days.
For now, I will sit quietly with the blue and pink urns while I remember my parents. I am not ready to let the ashes go.
Pink and blue. What would you do?
What will we do with the urns then? Store them to wait for the next dearly departed. That’s as creepy as keeping a coffin at the ready in your garage. Yes, we know someone who got a good deal on one!
I do not know when I will be ready to let the ashes go. I will continue to visit the spot to acclimate myself. My sister will have to make the call on Mama’s sprinkle site. She haunts me enough already. I don’t need anymore guilt with her name on it.
I missed Winterfest here because of a snowstorm. By the time the ice on my road had melted enough for me to get downtown, only the giant demo ice sculpture in the park’s gazebo was left. I saw it shining in the sun as I got out of my car.
Ice bird after melting.
The gorgeous upper wing looked like glass. The big bird was surrounded by water from its melting. I stood with a young mother admiring what was left when she asked, “What kind of bird is that?”
Big wing, small beak
The details of the wing made it look strong with long feathers like an eagle in flight, but the beak was thin and pointed. The head looked more like that of a dove. The beak was not the hooked, flesh-tearing shape of a raptor.
Pointed head and beak like a doves.
So after days of melting in the warmth of the afternoon sun, this bird had its details softened. The wings still looked big and strong like an eagle’s, but the beak looked thin like the dove of peace without the olive branch.
This hybrid ice bird made me ponder America at this point. Can we be both strong like our national bird the bald eagle and still be a symbol for peace like a dove?
What will it take for this country to morph into something both strong and peaceful? I hope we figure that out.
FLOWER
The link below is from the town’s facebook page so you can see other sculptures including a smaller version of the bird in question.
I am skeptical about everything. I collect information carefully and take notes and pictures. I did these things when a video popped up about a new treatment for dementia, Alzheimers and Parkinson’s disease.
Dementia will likely be my fate, Parkinson’s is my friend’s. I desperately search for anything that might interfer with the progression Parkinson’s symptoms and memory loss.
We slowly lost parts of our mother over many years. It was heartbreaking to watch. I do not want to drain my family’s energy and resources by becoming a burden. We have worked really hard for what we have.
The video included two famous doctors that I respect. It also included a mention of indigenous population with high dementia incidences in Guam. Two famous actors were interviewed who claimed they had been helped by the supplement.
The cause of supposed memory decline was caused by numerous pollutants, especially cadmium chloride. Cadmium is a toxic metal. The video claimed the metal could be removed by a special honey and damage restored by an herb. Too good to be true!
Then a white and purple bottle appeared. I took a screen shot of it. Thank goodness I did this. I tried to save the video, but it disappeared. I sent it to my sister.
I searched for the bottle on the internet. The purple and white bottles looked slightly different than the photo I took. The fake FDA sticker strategically covered the brand name.
I have been spending alot of time in one of the chairs we call ‘Daddy’s Chair’ by the window in my parents’ bedroom on the mountain. More snow came last night. I watched a firetruck and ambulance drive by with lights on. There was a car slid off the slick pavement in the curve up the road. I could see the flashing red lights through the snow and passing cloud. It was getting dark.
Traffic lined up in the white and darkness waiting to pass. The emergency vehicles finally left, but the line of traffic stayed. Two big dump trucks went around the line, on the wrong side of the road in the dark. They must have had a mission involving the mishap.
I kept leaving the window to do chores and coming back to check the line of stopped cars and trucks. Some turned around and left. Others pulled up to wait. This went on for over two hours.
I washed dishes. They were waiting. I took a shower. Still waiting. I read a chapter. Still out there. Were they cold? Hungry? Tired? Probably yes to all three.
On the community website folks ask about the safety of those involved. No complaints or whining. Just concern and sharing information. Communicating while patiently waiting.
I saw it all from my daddy’s chair by the window. His morning lookout. Daddy would sit here to drink coffee in the mornings. My sis and I would sneak in with our own cups and sit on the edge of our parents’ bed. Sometimes our poor mom would still be in bed and have to scooch over to make room for us.
We would discuss what Daddy had seen out the window and what he hoped the day would bring. We would catch up on the neighborhood news. Swap stories and quietly laugh as others slept.
I thought about those times as I kept coming back to that chair to peek out the window into the darkness, hoping not to see a row of lights still stranded out in the cold.
My being here on the mountain keeps my parents near me. Especially when I sit in my Daddy’s chair by the window.
floweralley 