Walkabout in the cities

You can't escape nature, not even in the city

I was tired of the swamp and the woods today and decided to drive north to Houghton and Hancock to run errands, buy organic food at the co-op and indulge at the coffee shop.  Today’s outdoor adventure would be a walkabout around the two cities.

For all you non-Yoopers (Yoopers are folks from the Upper Peninsula), Houghton houses about 7,000 residents and Hancock 4,323 as of the 2000 Census, at least according to Wikipedia.  You might not even want to call them cities.  You could call them large towns.  But for folks who live near the really small towns (or in the woods) we think these cities are really big…

Downtown Houghton

Driving around Houghton these days keeps one alert and focused.  If you haven’t visited recently, there’s new routes and roads and pathways to follow. The city is doing a streetscape project for the next several months, tearing up the main street and replacing it with brick pavers.  New sidewalks, street lights, and water/sewer pipes will grace the downtown. 

The above photo shows the initial construction which goes south from the bridge for a couple blocks.  I heard rumors they dug up old streetcar or trolley tracks beneath the pavement.  Isn’t it fascinating to think of the history which might be uncovered digging down through the layers of soil?  Years ago I spent a week on an archeology dig in the Ottawa National Forest.  It’s so interesting (well, and sometimes a tad bit boring) to sift through the dirt, finding recent and prehistoric treasures.  Seems like we found a chipped prehistoric stone tool on that dig, if my memory is even slightly accurate.

Slant of sun through an alley

After wandering around Houghton, I attempted to follow the directions to cross the bridge to Hancock.  Mission:  a success!  It really wasn’t hard, once you figured out where to go.  I parked the car at a great little bookstore, Northwind Books, and started the walkabout through this city.  Wanted to wander through a neighborhood and see what interesting photo opportunities presented themselves.  (Believe me, lots presented themselves.  Fifty photos were uploaded, just to prove it.)

Cool picket fence

It was really hard to decide whether to post the picket fence photo or the gate photo.  Or the step photo.  Or the bench photo.  Or the Yooper snow scoop photo (every backyard had one to help them shovel out the 250 inches of snow each year).  Or the raven sitting on the phone wire.  Or how about the guardrail with this most magnificent plant/weed growing upward near it?  I’ll tell you, deciding which photos to post is a real challenge.

Fire escape at the old Hancock school

For some reason, this fire escape really looked interesting.  Doesn’t it just look like you can keep walking up into the sky from it? 

After the walkabout, one more stop beckoned.  Time to go to the Keweenaw Co-op.  It’s a regular stop.  Best place in town to buy natural food, organic produce and all sorts of cool eclectic healthy products.

They feature panels of hand-painted murals on the side of the building.  For your viewing pleasure, here’s one:

Art on the co-op wall

I wish you all could have enjoyed the luscious piece of melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate and the cool berry ice tea.  Very delicious.

A delightful walkabout in the cities!

Mother’s Day in the swamp

Budding open

I went to the swamp today.  It started out as a morel mushroom hunt, but forget them.  Official tally (from two trips):  Morel mushrooms 3, Wood Ticks, 19.  Or something like that anyway.  Looks like the Wood Ticks are winning.

It sometimes takes a long time for the Mind to settle down when you’re out in nature.  It’s still having conversations with people, thinking of chores which need tending, perhaps even writing a blog.  You have to wait until the Mind settles down.

Then you can really begin to see what’s in front of you.  Before that, you’re still lost in the world of Thoughts.  I like it when the Thoughts begin to dwindle away and you’re truly present to the sweet call of red wing blackbirds, the cooing of mourning doves, the drone of swamp-life. 

Beaver-chewed tree in swamp

There’s another thing which keeps us separated and apart from being present in Nature.  We’re waiting for something exciting to happen.  Where’s the ducks?  Where’s the turtles?  Where’s the beaver? 

It takes a long time, sometimes, to stop anticipating and wanting excitement.  Whatever is in front of one’s face is what’s happening.  Don’t be looking for those bear or moose or wolves.  Just look at what’s present.  I guarantee you’ll feel much more peaceful and content.

Three bugs on a tree

It took me about twenty minutes to settle down and just be, watching the swamp.  They say it takes twenty minutes of meditation before your brain waves actually change (perhaps to Theta?)  It’s always good to give yourself twenty minutes of being present before moving on. 

Lots of trees have been gnawed off and carried away by industrious beaver to create a dam.  You couldn’t see the dam from where I sat.  There was a small fiddehead fern almost ready to unfold.  It looks very tender, doesn’t it?

Fiddlehead fern ready to unfurl

On the way back to the car I found a young deer skull and bones.  You can tell it was a young ‘un by its teeth.  The older does and bucks have worn teeth.

Deer skull

The phone is ringing like crazy tonight so will sign off now.  Hope everyone had a wonderful Mother’s Day!  And I hope Mama Earth had a good day, too.  Let’s not forget she’s one of our most favorite mothers…

Shadow Play

It’s the Blossom Moon

No wonder they called it the Blossom Moon

 The Annishnabe called the May moon “The Blossom Moon”.  Some other Native American names for this month include When Women Weed Corn, When the Ponies Shed their Shaggy Hair, Idle Moon, Planting Moon (or literal translation:  Putting it in a Hole Moon), When the Horses Get Fat, Migratory Geese Moon and the Moon when the Little Flowers Die.

Our Little Flowers are just sprouting up every place you can imagine.  I’m wondering how they’re enjoying the weather today.  IT SNOWED!!  Twice.  Once this morning, about 10:30 a.m., as we were sitting around the kitchen table.  We looked outside and, sure enough, flakes of snow drifted lazily to the ground.  And then not so lazily.  But they weren’t easily photographed, so you’ll have to take my very sorry word for it.  The thermometer lingered in the 30′s all day and I wanted to stay inside again.  But found the warm coat and ventured outside and of course it proved enjoyable.

Burdock burs...Nature's own Velcro

I loved this photo of the burdock prickly burs taken on the leek-hunting day.  They seemed to shimmer in the sun.  They’re not so fun when they stick on your pants, your shirt, your boots.  Some of them caught in my sneaker shoelaces and this morning it was necessary to pick them out.  I don’t know if anyone has eaten burdock root?  It’s an extremely healthy addition to soups and stews when chopped fine and simmered a long time.  (especially good in vegetarian split pea soup where it imparts a smoky flavor.)

Dandelion greens

Speaking of wild edibles, the above dandelion greens were dinner.  In addition to a few other dishes.  Barry was kind of wrinkling his nose, as our dandelions last year proved a tad too bitter.  But we simmered a bunch, salt & peppered it, and prepared to eat our vitamins.  When…surprise!…they were mild and delicious.  We’ve even decided to harvest more for tomorrow night’s dinner.  (If you can pick them young enough, they still taste mild.  If they’re too old…wait til next year.)  They provide incredible healing power, energy and cleansing after a long winter and should be eaten by all.  Yep.  That’s what I think.

Old Oregano and New Oregano

Continuing on the food theme, I’ve begun cleaning out our oregano patch.  You have to break off all the old stalks and clean up leaves and toss everything in the woods.  I was carrying the stalks off to discard when this sweet duo appeared.  Dried oregano flowers, pressed in heavy books, can also be glued onto card stock to make pretty greeting cards.  My mother-in-law even framed her oregano card!

Rock with green grasses

This grey rock with the deep rich green grasses sweeping upward along it seemed somehow artistic.  Or poetic.  It was a good break from cleaning up the perennial flower garden to admire the rock. 

And finally:

Baby blue robin eggs on the garage windowsill

Looks like flowers and shrubs aren’t the only things blossoming!  We’ll be seeing baby robins in the nest one of these days.

Listening in the woods

For the last several days I’ve been listening.  Lots.  Closing my eyes and tuning into the orchestra of sounds playing through the woods.

We’re such a visually-oriented species.  Or, maybe I should say, I’m such a visually-oriented person.  It’s interesting to contemplate how we would navigate through the world if blindness limited our sight.  Would our listening deepen, our touch become so much more vital, our smells intensify, our taste expand?

Would our world be less rich, just because we couldn’t see?  I think, in some ways, we might learn to experience perception in a more visceral way.

So I’ve been listening to many, many sounds this week.  On Day 139 of this outdoor commitment, it’s good to be listening.

About two or three nights ago, I listened to music wafting through the trees from down on the Huron Bay.  Water magnifies sound, and haunting lyrical melodies sometimes entertain us in the evening.  This time it sounded like country music.  Perhaps coming from the tavern across the bay.  I can never determine where the music originates.  Because we’re at least a half mile from the bay, it’s not quite clear.  Hence, the haunting sound.  I get shivers sometimes just listening to the musical strains, whether it’s Kenny Rogers or classical or rock.  Fascinating.

Here are some sounds heard recently:

• wind blowing.  Amazing that the wind sounds different near the ground, in the different kinds of trees, near buildings.  You might think all wind sounds the same.  Not at all.  Please listen!
• trees cracking. 
• birds chirping, singing, cawing.  It’s a jungle out here, I tell you!  Try to write down the bird calls.  chee chee chee chee.   me-me-me-me-me-me-me!  mip-mip-mip.  tweet-tweet. (I swear one really says tweet-tweet.)
• steady pulse of our electric fence around our garden.
• distant rumble of thunder.
• clicking of wind turban on the roof of our house.  (And to think I was sitting next to it the other day on the roof…)
• distant drone of cars, trucks, motors.  Very hard to distinguish from the wind when it’s windy.
• rustling of dried leaves fluttering everywhere.  rustling of chipmunk, robin, other small birds.
• bbbbrrrrr of bird wings flying by.
• faraway whine of chainsaw.
• drilling of pileated woodpecker on nearby tree. Sounds like:  bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup-bup…
• tree falling in the woods ( a small one)
• neighbor’s rooster crowing.  Yes, they have chickens.
• flies and wasps droning by.
• patter of raindrops on roof, on grass, on dried leaves (all different sounds.  Who ever said all rain sounds the same?  Not so!)
• grass growing.  Honestly.  You can hear grass growing.  I was totally amazed the first time I sat in the woods and heard the crackle of grasses and plants growing up through the dried-leaf undercover on the forest floor.  Anyone else ever heard this?
• LOUD thunder overhead!!  Time to run inside!!

(Sorry, no photos today.  It’s not THAT kind of blog.  We need to give our eyes a break and listen instead.  Blessed are the sounds of the world…that’s what I’m thinking today…)

Marsh marigolds, morel mushrooms, snake & a golf ball

First sighting of marsh marigolds

Everywhere you go in the woods today there’s an explosion of color, of growth, of spring-time energy!

After months of white, white and more white (oh, add in some gray and black ) it’s FINALLY bursting!  You can’t walk two feet without seeing something new and interesting and sprouting and growing.

I could type for 3,000 words here and never cover half of what happened today outdoors.  I had an entirely different blog planned at 10 a.m.  But today took off on its own direction and revealed its own treasures.

My friend Michelle asked, “Good Morning Michigander!  Those morels out yet?”  and all the previous plans were immediately scrapped.  It was time to find out.  Were the morels poking through?  Pretty please, were the morels growing? 

Time to visit the Special Spot and see.  Unfortunately, the Special Spot was not-so-special last year.  It proved a disappointment.  We harvested, maybe, 20-30 small mushrooms last year.  We have eagerly been awaiting this May to saute those lovely ‘shrooms in olive oil and season with perhaps some thyme and marjoram along with a dash of sea salt. 

I probably need a new Special Spot.  But local people don’t share that information willingly.  Heck, I don’t share my information at all.  What comes around, goes around.  Therefore, you have to pray and search the woods for just the right conditions and maybe you’ll find a golden circle where the delectables are growing.

It looked like it might rain.  But the temperature lingered near 70 degrees and, hey, that’s the best hunting weather.  It’s suppose to drop into the 50′s by the weekend.  Time to hunt.

So you traipse through the woods with a camera, looking at all the interesting sights every two steps.  When suddenly, peering low, I saw:

What is that buried in the old rotting log?

Lean down close and scrape away the debris to figure it out.

Can you guess?

You have to remember I’m walking way back in the woods, fifteen miles from the nearest real town, nowhere near a real house.

It's a golf ball!

You have to wonder:  where in the heck did that golf ball come from?  How many years ago did someone knock it inside a tree?  Then the tree falls over, begins to rot, and eventually the golf ball begins to reveal itself once again.  Mom and Dad, do you want me to bring it home for you? 

Back to the morel hunting expedition. With the thunderstorm coming in.  But wait, what’s that wiggling just ahead?  Could it be the season’s first snake?

Common garter snake. Can you see it?

I tried to lean closer to that snake to get a good portrait pose, but it wiggled its body out of there fast as the lightening starting to crackle on the horizon.  The wind started blowing and the thunder rumbled ominously.  Oh no.  It was probably time to return home, morels or no morels.  But instead I sprinted forward toward the Special Spot.

And, lo and behold:

The first morel mushroom (may there be many more)

Total find for the day:  two morel mushrooms. They’re soaking in salt water right now.  Hoping for more in a couple days.  If not, we’re frying these two up and eating them anyway!  Two is better than zero morels.

P.S.  only nine wood ticks returned home from this trip.  Is it too personal information to share how many wood ticks one had crawling upon them after every woods-visit?  Should we have a daily count?

The recipe for Wild Leek Soup

Let’s say your mouth is watering for some spring wild leeks.  Let’s say you’re dreaming of Wild Leek Soup. 

What to do?  First, one must locate the wild leeks.  This is not necessarily an easy task.  I’ve hunted the woods near our house for years, and have never found wild leeks growing nearby.  Doesn’t mean they’re not around.  Just means I can’t find ‘em.

So you have to get clever.  Ask around, casually.  “Anyone know where there’s some wild leeks?”  And of course people know.  But the good growing spots are always halfway across the county, on somebody else’s property, or on a two-track that’s almost impossible to find.

So you get really crafty.  You find a spot, I’m not telling how.  I’m sure you’re all as crafty as I am.  You’ll find a good leek-picking spot, if you keep looking and asking and looking some more. (Latest theory:  I think they grow near rivers, streams and wetter terrain.)

The first glimpse of the wild leek

So I stumble through a swamp, get lost…surely you don’t want to hear all the sordid details..and finally determine it was all an error of judgment when…YES!  Look at those beautiful green wild leeks! 

Of course there’s only a few, so one must dig carefully.  Only take one here, another there.  Remember that we must be conservationists.  The Native Americans counsel to remember reciprocity and leave a gift when you harvest wild foods.  So I said thanks and offered a pinch of sage to the earth as she yielded her first two marvelous leeks.

Troweling up the first wild leeks

You dig carefully.  If you’re too quick, you’ll injure the slender roots and then forget about your leek bulbs.  They’re actually quite similar to green onions, for those unfamiliar with the wild variety.  They can be quite slender…or they can be as thick as a cultivated green onion.  The smell is quite unique though!  I can’t describe it.  Aromatic tang of onions and soil and a sharp pungency that overwhelms.  In a good way.

So you’re cultivating carefully and trying not to take too many, when suddenly you look far in the distance and see what appears to be a field of green.  A FIELD OF GREEN?  In early May?  So you wander over and gasp in disbelief–

Field of leeks, oh my!

So you pick until you think you have enough, without getting greedy.  Only you will know what “greedy” means in your kitchen.  You drive home near ecstasy with your precious find and dump them in the sink.  Now comes the oh-so-tiresome part.  Cleaning ‘em.  Sorry.  It must be done.  Hopefully your husband will not feel a need to photograph you at this task.  And insist it should be included in your blog.

Cleaning the leeks

Then comes the part we’ve all been waiting for.  EATING the wild leeks!  I don’t recommend eating them raw.  Some people may…but they’re much more luscious cooked.  Here is my made-up recipe for soup.  Hope you find some wild leeks so you can try it.

Wild Leek Soup (serves 2)

1.  Make some vegetable broth if you want really good veggie stock.  I took some celery, an onion, 1 carrot, a bay leave and 2 dried wild mushrooms and cooked it for 15 minutes.  Then blend it in the blender.

2.  Cut up 1 cup of wild leeks.  Use mostly the white bulb part, but add in some of the green.  Saute them in some olive oil (1-2 teaspoons) sprinkled with some salt at medium heat for a couple minutes.  Reduce the heat to low and continue to cook for 15-20 minutes stirring regularly.

3.  Add some stock.  Oh, you’re going to want amounts.  Gosh.  How about 1-2 cups of stock.  Then 1 cup of milk or soymilk.  (We use soymilk.)  Now those of you who have some white miso handy, dissolve a tablespoon or two in some of the stock.  Stir it back into the soup, mixing well.  If you don’t have white miso, don’t worry.  Add salt and pepper to taste.

4.  If you don’t want to be a purist, you can add some diced celery and potatoes with the stock mixture and cook til they’re soft.  But really…it is quite gourmet in its simplicity without the additional vegetables.  Or you could add other herbs.

Bon appetit!  You are now a gourmet wild leek chef.  Honest.

Wild Leek Soup

A bouquet of wildflowers & a snapping turtle

The first wildflower near our house today (looks like a Canada Violet?)

So you know how intently I’ve been searching for the first wildflower, right?  And how we spotted that dandelion up in the Copper Country last weekend…but couldn’t decide if a dandelion is a “real” wildflower.  (I am of the opinion that it is.)

Well today there’s no more need to keep the eyes peeled 24/7 looking for wildflowers.  They’ve sprouted!  They’re blooming! 

The first one announced itself early this morning in our yard.  I’ve tentatively identified it (above) as a Canada Violet.  All flower identifications in this blog come from the handy field manual “Michigan Wildflowers:  Includes Upper and Lower Peninsulas and the Off-Shore Islands” by Harry C. Lund.  Any mistakes in identification are all mine.  I’ve stared at the photos in the book, eyes scrunched up, comparing, comparing.  But some of them are really hard to give the 100% stamp of identification. 

Thinking this one is Bloodroot

Today I had the most lovely adventure, of which you’ll hear more tomorrow.  But tonight it seemed important to dedicate an entire blog to the elusive wildflowers which we’ve so longed to see spreading their delicate beauty on the forest floor.

Broad Leaf Spring Beauty

There seems to be more wildflowers near the river.  Except for the violet yawning in the morning sun near our house, all the rest of these photos were snapped in an area near the Huron River.  The trees were old-growth big trunks, and there seemed much more space in between them to let the wildflowers reach their blossoms toward the sun.  At least that’s my theory right now.

Pretty sure this one is Dutchman's Breeches.

OK, you’re wondering about that snapping turtle, right?  You’re wondering if a snapping turtle is a kind of flower…no, just kidding.  Here’s what happened.  About two days ago I thought, “It’s really time to see a turtle.”  And kept the old eyes peeled for one in the marshes and swamplands.  To no avail.

Until today, heading over a small hillock, I almost crashed into the most magnificent fella.  He eyed me with his majestic eyes, his head barely sticking out.  Then I sat very still a long time next to him, admiring this calm feeling of wisdom which seemed to be exuding from him.  It’s hard to describe.  It was an honor just to spend time sitting near him.  Asked his permission to take his photo, but don’t remember his reply.  It must have been yes.

Snapping Turtle

I never once thought it was an actual snapping turtle.  Wasn’t even thinking along the lines of identification.  Until Barry saw the photo later and announced, “It’s a snapper!”  Although he recommended googling for better identification.  Upon googling, sure enough, it looked like a snapper.  Although I am not sure of any identification in this blog.   Maybe should have left it with “A bouquet of wildflowers and some sort of turtle.”

Oh, and another view of the turtle, in case you’re interested.  I’m kind of glad I decided not to touch his shell.  Although maybe we had bonded enough so he wouldn’t have snapped off my finger?

Looking straight down on turtle. Look at that webbed foot!

Look closely at the forest, then let the forest look at you

And so it begins...greenery bursting forth everywhere

There are many ways of being in the woods.  Today I thought about two different ways of interacting, of seeing, of exploring the outdoor reality. 

One:  you approach the outdoors with focus.  You’re taking photos and looking for that perfect shot.  You’re hunting for mushrooms.  You’re searching for wild leeks.  You’re picking wild blueberries.  You have a purpose and you know what it is. 

Ladybug

There is value in focus.  We see the little details, even the tiniest of ladybugs lounging on the lawn chair of her branch.  We peer in close at the newly sprouting green buds.  We often look with a purpose (“Now where’s that wintergreen?  C’mon, where are those morel mushrooms?  Where are the feathers near that nest?”)  You can even lose a sense of time while wandering in this focused world.  It’s a great world.

Fan-shaped leaf in forest pond

Sometimes, however, I get tired of focusing.  Don’t you? 

Then there’s another way of being.  One simply is.  Instead of planning or focusing, one walks without intention, without design, without aiming for a result.  One wanders for the sake of wandering.  What a lovely expansive huge world opens up when we’re not seeking an outcome.  We’re just letting our feet guide the next step.  And the next.  We’re not actively looking; we’re allowing the world to come to us.

I love that kind of expansive world, too.  You can always tell when it’s time to switch from the focused seeing to the expansive seeing.  You suddenly feel head-achy, or uncomfortable, or somehow incomplete.  Then it’s time to quit looking and maybe just sit on the forest floor and watch the tree branches sway, if that’s what happens.  Instead of directing the show, let the forest guide you.

Or, sometimes, a partridge bursts out in front of you in a flap of wings and indignation.  That’s often enough to wake us up out of our focused reverie.

...and a partridge in a spruce tree...

Today I was feeling a bit too focused, taking photo after photo, eyes always searching for the next strange and beautiful shot.  After awhile, it just felt wrong.  It felt like I was missing the forest for the trees.  Or some such analogy.  It reminded me of certain morel mushroom hunting expeditions where you spend the entire hunt with your eyes focused on the ground.  By the time you get home you wonder…what kind of day was it?  was the sun shining?  were there clouds?  what about the apple blossoms?  But you don’t remember, because the morels held you enraptured the entire time.

The season's first beefsteak mushroom

Speaking of mushrooms, I was reclining against a stone under the oak tree (after realizing it was time to turn off the focus-mode for awhile) and stood up finally to walk right by the first beefsteak mushroom of the spring.  You know what it means to find a beefsteak, right?  It means the tasty morels will be soon heralding their arrival.  YES!  However, this year I am determined to notice the sky as well as the mushrooms.  Assuming we have a good mushroom season this year.  Last year’s harvest was awful around here.  Although people across the bay found lots.  Maybe I need a new special place to pick…

Almost looks like a stained glass leaf

Back on the roof–time to clean the chimney

Chim Chim Cher-ee!

And today’s outdoor adventure was…cleaning the chimney.  Which involved getting up on the roof once again.  You dedicated long-term readers may remember last January when I overcame my fear of heights and went atop our roof while Barry shoveled the deep snow. 

Once each year we (um, I mean he) cleans the chimney.  You have to do that when you burn wood.  Creosote builds up in the chimney and you need to lower a stiff bristly wire brush down and scrape off the excess flammable tar.  If you don’t…well, your house may just burn down.

He strongly suggested I join him on the roof for today’s blog.  Errr….  I mean, don’t you think ONCE was enough?  Hadn’t I “overcome” the fear already?  Why do it again?

But I’m a sucker for a dare, so up we went.  He ventured up first with all his chimney-cleaning tools.  I wavered on the tall ladder, legs shaking, trying to overcome this fear of heights with mind-over-matter.  You know how you keep repeating to yourself, “Don’t worry. You won’t fall.  You’ve done this before.  Keep moving.”

I froze near the top of the ladder but he reached down and grabbed my hand to help me up and we carefully navigated across the roof.  I straddled the top with one leg on each side while he did the real work of cleaning in the chimney.

Down, down go the pipes with the wire brush attached

My job was to cheer the chimney-cleaner on.  To peer across the landscape.  To listen to the birds chattering and flying around below us.  To breath deeply sitting atop the roof shingles. To not panic. 

Looking down on the garden (which soon needs to be planted) and the garage

My other job was to take pictures.  To document the exciting event.  It looks like it’s a challenging job. The stomach muscles are especially engaged as one pulls the brush back up the chimney.  I would not want to do it.  Barry said it’s one of his least-favorite jobs.

Down in the basement, emptying out the creosote from the bottom

After the exciting chimney-scrub, Barry took my hand and led me back toward the ladder.  And down we went!  And I survived the climb down. But the job was not yet finished.  First, we ventured into the basement to clean out the bottom of the chimney.  Then, we (um, I mean he) took apart the pipe which leads to the woodstove and brought it outside to clean with a tootbrush.

I am not kidding about the toothbrush.  Except it’s a giant toothbrush we (he) made several years ago to help with the job.  You scrub the pipe with this brush and attempt to get the innards spic and span.

And finally, the toothbrush finishes up the job.

So now the job’s done for another year.  And–hopefully?–I don’t have to go back on the roof again this year!!

P.S.  Our daughter is going to trapeze school tomorrow in New York City with several of her co-workers.  I don’t suppose she would have any trouble going up on the roof… (I am trying not to think of her swinging up there in the air…but at least there’s halters and nets in case anyone falls…)

Halloween in May

Spooky old tangled undergrowth

Today I convinced Barry to explore a haunted and overgrown stretch of outdoors in the Copper Country.  Old crumbled buildings sink into the earth, and tangles of brush and trees rise everywhere.  The earth smells different here, as if memories of yesterday still linger in between the old fallen rock walls, in that silent building, beneath trees which keep long secrets.

You walk quietly among the old ones, never sure what might collapse beneath your feet.  Caution keeps one alert.  The steep slope of the hillside also makes you sure to stay balanced and upright.

Oh how fascinating everything was in its spooky aged splendor.  How I wouldn’t want to be here under a full moon on Halloween Eve!

Tumbled-down old wall

We bickered back and forth about who got to carry the camera.  Each of us kept deciding such-and-such angle looked more interesting or provocative.  It’s amazing how two people can look at the same landscape and see different angles, different shots, different perspectives. 

And then…and then…are you ready for this?  In the midst of this barren and desolate and decaying place we saw…the first wildflower!!  After weeks of studious hunting, there she was in her blooming glory:

A dandelion

Barry countered with the idea that a dandelion wasn’t a “real” wildflower.  “A lawn weed” he called it. I was terribly insulted on behalf of the dandelion and demanded an apology.  He is under the–mistaken–impression that “real” wildflowers might be varieties such as wood anemones, lady slippers, violets and forget-me-nots.  I wanted him to get closer and examine the delicate floral essence of the yellow wildflower.  I don’t know why people become prejudiced about dandelions.  I would like a whole lawn full, thank you!  They are awesome!  And, by the way, it’s time for all of us to eat some of the spring dandelion greens, as well.  Yes, they can be a tad bitter.  But they’re a good spring tonic.  Yep, that could be a new blog topic coming up soon…

The dried leaves of this tangled undergrowth were dotted with very strange fungus-like black spots.  It makes one wonder why.  What created those black stains?  Human-made by-products leaching on the soil?  Or something else?

A strangely spotted leaf

The trees in the woods around our house are not usually covered with vines.  Therefore, when one spies a vine-covered tree it becomes utterly intriguing.  It’s as if the undergrowth attempts to merge with the tree.  It added to the mystery of the place.

Vines and undergrowth snaking up a tree

Just as we were discussing the spookiness of this place, a crudely scribbled message appeared on a brick, sending shivers up my spine:

Who Killed Amanda Palmer???

Barry said, “Oh!  Look!  A perfect picture for your blog!”  and I said with a hushed voice, “No, you have to be kidding, what if it’s a local girl who was murdered?  What if she was murdered…here?” 

Well, I’m here to report that we googled it and Amanda Palmer was not a local girl.  It’s a play, a book, alternative punk-flavored music.  You may even have seen it playing around the country.  In fact, we may be the very last people on the planet to have heard about Who Killed Amanda Palmer.  But we’re educated now.  Barry, in a classic rock band for 20 years, found the pounding piano-driven music refreshing! It certainly wasn’t hip-hop and it wasn’t country twangy–and it wasn’t rock. But who killed the girl, anyway?

You just have to wander around outside in spooky overgrown areas and…you never know what you might learn or discover. Something new every day.