Monday, April 16, 2018

Spring Reveals

If you look through a stone with a hole in it, it's supposed to help you find faeries.

With hoops and hand lenses, I've gotten kindergartners to sit still long enough to watch ants, observing their various behaviors.  One boy, running back and forth, tells me he can't find the ants.  I point to the other children sitting quietly.  Try it that way, I tell him.  He doesn't seem to believe me, but he sits quietly.  A moment later, he exclaims, "I see one! I see one!"


Would that we all have nature reveal herself so quickly!

Taking a moment will reveal more...

This past weekend I visited Buck Wildlife Management Area with the Earthen Fellowship.  

April and May are usually tough months for me.  I keep busy.  I hide.  I don't reveal much.

What does this leaf reveal?  Who chewed on it while it was hidden under snow?

A tree is broken, revealing its insides.  If we could look inside each other, what would we see?

I see something in the trees.  It might have been a nest.  When did you last look up?

These fungi have so much more below the surface, yet 
I am mesmerized by the green coating they wear.

Is this algae or alchemy?

Ever the collector, I find new types of lichen.  So many colors and textures, 
so many faces that quietly, over eons, change the stone into soil.

Can I make a wish?

Sometimes clues are left that there is more than we can see.

If I look into the depths, what will I find?

I find a tiny fish and a fallen tree...

...anther tree downed by beaver.

I would not see the beaver den until I came back that way, 
with a completely different perspective of the lake.

When had these ferns emerged?

Skunk cabbage, a sign of spring.

Atop Jerimoth Hill, we walk between two states, then three.

The usual granite, but marble as well!

Sometimes things just are what they are, without explanation.

Is this cairn to mark a passing?

You can measure time in the rings of a tree, the perimeter of a circle of lichen. 

How long have these been here?  How long are we here?

There's so much I can't say here.  It's too public and there are too many faces that each speak their own language.  There are people in pain, invisible pain, from past trauma, abuse, invisible diseases.  Today a beautiful soul, an advocate to many for human rights, succumb to myalgic encephalomyelitis.    Photos will show a young person smiling to the end, helping others, no symptoms obvious.  There's so much we do not see.