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ooops, there goes the bird feeder
Mr. or Mrs. Bear scored a hit the other night. We think it’s the same rather large bear that Barry saw a couple weeks ago at 3:50 a.m. He (or she) swiped the bird feeder. We awoke yesterday morning to this sideways view.
Someone suggested it might be a raccoon. But Barry thinks a raccoon wouldn’t have enough heft to bend the pole at such an angle. I think he’s right! Definitely, it was a bear. (We’ve seen similar behavior over the years in regards to the bird feeder and compost bin…and once we actually saw a huge black bear pawing in the compost.)
Today’s outdoor activity involved splitting more wood. However, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say we finished the un-split pile behind the house (six sessions thus far) and now we’re ready to move to the huge pile in the driveway. Sigh. Seems like most of my outdoor adventures in June will involve some sort of wood splitting.

Aren't they lovely horses?
Since we won’t be talking any more about wood splitting today, can I just show you some leftover photos from the “end May” folder on this computer? Photos not yet posted, but perhaps interesting to some folks.
The above photo depicts our friends Bertha and Bob’s horses. They were casually munching grasses and weeds in the field yesterday while we lingered at their house enjoying a great potluck dinner. One of the horse’s names is Dawn. I believe that’s the white one. I may have even ridden her years ago. The other horse may be named Ben. I am ready to stand corrected on that name. They are good friendly horses. It would have been lovely if they wandered closer, for a better photo opportunity.

Three new spruce buds (or fingers, or whatever you want to call them)
The woods green up daily. When you look beyond our deck, the forest is starting to take on its impenetrable green hue. Look at the growth on the spruce! Who knows, they may even double this size before the growing season ends.

The intimate inner world of ferns

The bloodroot plant
Finally, a garden plant. From our perennial garden, facing the north in front of our house. It is the primrose plant. Sweet with the morning dew, it beams its red beauty into the world. Hoping you’re enjoying all the lovely blooming flowers this season…and hoping bears aren’t knocking down YOUR bird feeders!

Primrose in the perennial garden in front of our house

Remember the "Bud Man"?
Remember the little man-like bud perched on his branch in late April? Today we’re going to be honoring his growth. Perhaps having a coming-of-age celebration for him. We’re even going to be boldly announcing both his nickname and Latin baptismal name.
But first, a second picture of his flowering a few weeks ago. Doesn’t it feel like we’re sitting together slowly turning the pages of his family photo album? Let’s see how Junior has grown!

The teenage years. Bud man grows up.
Yes, there he was in early May in purple seed-like glory. (Why are we calling him a male? He may be a she. Maybe, as a plant, he’s both. Perhaps a botanist could enlighten us. But for the time present, let’s stick with the male metaphor. Get it? Stick? Pun intended!)

In his finest flowering glory in late May!
You can smell the most heavenly scent beneath the blossoms. Oh wondrous! One can feel downright giddy on the scent of wildflowers wafting their perfume through the woods. One wants to capture the fragrance in a bottle and spray it on during nights when the full moon shines over the Huron Bay. That’s how beautiful the fragrance is.
OK, are we ready for the scientific name? Pen handy? Write this down and memorize: Sambucus cadandensis. That’s Latin for you. In modern-day English we call this the American Elder. Or Elderberry. Or Common Elder. The Audubon’s Field Guide to North American trees describes it in less romantic terms. Sturdier terms. It says: Large shrub or small tree with irregular crown of few, stout, spreading branches, clusters of white flowers, and many small black or purple berries. It goes on to describe height, diameter, leaves, bark, twigs, fruit, habitat and range.
I am sorry we don’t have a berry photo to share. Last August I wasn’t thinking of the tree as part of a year-round photo album. Instead, let’s zoom out so we can view a family of elderberry flowers enjoying a Tuesday gray afternoon in the north woods of Michigan.

Family of elderberry flowers enjoying the drizzly day
Like all of us, elderberry trees do grow old and pass on. I wasn’t sure how to say that delicately. But, our luck, the several elderberry trees on our property have blossomed in their glory before toppling over into the soil to become memories for those of us who loved their fragrance, their berries, their blossoms. I am hoping this one won’t die, but as the area succumbs to drought more regularly, the swamp-loving roots dry up and…well, you can witness what happens:

Dead elderberry branches... 😦
The book says: This common, widespread shrub spouts from roots. Elderberries are used for making jelly, preserves, pie and wine. Birds and mammals of many species also feed on the berries. The bark, leaves and flowers have served as home remedies.
Yep. I know that’s true, especially the part about birds eating the berries. We’ve had a race for the elderberries every year and the birds always win! They’re flitting around the berries half-drunk in the sun before I remember that they’re ripe and sweet and ready to make into some jam. Jam sounds good, doesn’t it?
Finally, are you ready for the tree, the whole tree and nothing but the tree? Here it is! American Elder or Elderberry in her spring glory!

Home of the "Bud Man"...the whole tree

Robin male trying to get a little action with the window
Philandering robin-husbands, that is.
We are ready to pull out our hair. Remember that robin who kept pecking at the basement window at the end of April? Well, he’s still at it. At least once or twice a day, he tries to two-time his wife.
He attempts to mate with the basement window over and over and over again. (This is not the faithful robin partners who hatched the babies from yesterday’s post. They are a good married couple. No, we’re talking about the Basement Robin.)
For awhile, thanks to my mother-in-law, I pushed a couch up against the window. He stopped for a few weeks and fell in love with a “real” robin and began to build her a nest. But the minute I returned the couch to its original position in the basement, he started again. I re-blocked the sliding glass door with the couch for another week. He stopped. Finally, I moved it away, and, sure enough…the robin daily re-appears for his daily philandering.

Sulky love-struck robin pouts on bucket back in April
We just grimace these days when the robin begins his daily hammering. We don’t speak too highly of his behavior. Frankly, he irritates us. I know you could turn this around. Instead of looking at him as “unfaithful” we could instead look at him as faithful to his first love. His reflection. But we just want him to get on with his life.
Not only that, he’s made a huge mess of our downstairs doorway, the wall, the downstairs window. Someone is going to have to clean up this mess, eventually. And that someone is probably going to be…me.

The robin's mess
I just don’t want to clean it too soon. Need to wait until he’s done with his wanton behavior.
This afternoon we realized the result of his philandering unfaithful behavior. THE NEST. His BABIES. Oh my goodness. The nest measures only about two inches high. Because he’s been so delinquent, the nest was not properly constructed. The poor babies are practically falling out of their decrepit home. It’s quite sad.

Disadvantaged robin babies
They kept singing and chattering beneath the deck on and off all day. The mama and daddy did deliver worms. And the unfaithful robin only knocked against the window later in the evening, when the day’s feeding chores were finished.
Who would have thought robins deal with philandering? Not me!
Oops! I may have erred scientifically about the motive behind this robin’s pecking at the basement window. Please view the comments to read what flandrumhill has to say about male robin behavior. He may be a family man after all…

Vibrant red maple leaves bursting forth
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted. A time to kill, a time to heal; a time to break down and a time to build up. A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance… (So sayeth Ecclesiastes in the 3 King James Bible, if you care to read the next 18 stanzas.)
I was thinking about this yesterday. Mostly because I wanted to stay home and rest after all the traveling. But the morels might still be mushrooming. So, no matter what a person wanted, it was off to the mushroom-hunting grounds yet again.
When you live close to nature, you realize She’s the Boss. It’s her time table or forget it. You pick mushrooms when they’re ready. You watch all the flowers bloom for several months. You harvest in abundance during late summer and early autumn. You witness the trees in their blazing glory. Then you watch and watch and watch and watch and watch the snow fall for the other eight months.

Sunlight filters through the tiny green growing oak leaves
In the man-made world we can sometimes forget that Mother Nature is the Boss. We think we can walk into a grocery store and buy, say, asparagus, twelve months a year. Fresh raspberries? We think nothing of popping them in our hungry mouths in February. Tomatoes? Of course we’ll eat ’em year round. (Even if they taste like cardboard? For some of us the answer is–Yes.)
When you live close to the earth and the garden and the wild plants you pick and eat everything in season. When the morels poke their heads toward the sunlight, you saute them in butter or olive oil and cook (for at least 8 minutes for all wild mushrooms, or so the rumor goes) for only three weeks in May, max. If you’re lucky.
When the lettuces grow tender from their sprouted seeds, you eat lettuce. Lots of it. Lettuce for lunch and dinner. You’re eating it steadily before it bolts and turns bitter when the sun burns hot in mid-summer. Green beans? Save a couple weeks in late August to become the Green Bean Queen. Or King. You eat green beans until you’re dreaming of them, if you aren’t dreaming of zuchini or beets or cucumbers fresh from the vine.

Bleeding Heart in our perennial garden blooms
An advantage of this eternal timing is that things are spaced out. You’re not pounding acorns into flour at the same time the peas grow fat and plump on the vine. You’re not sweating over canned tomatos when the tiny wild strawberries sweeten your lips. The disadvantage is: sometimes it feels like feast or famine. It’s either all snow or all harvest or all flowers blooming. And I guess we better appreciate it!
And guess what else it is time for–

The baby robins just hatched!
Here is the Upper Peninsula Ecclesiastes: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to shovel snow and a time for wildfires to burn, a time for deer hunting season and a time to pick off wood ticks. A time to watch the Northern Lights and a time to stoke fires and a time to swat deer flies and no-see-ums and a time to eat wild thimbleberries and a time to…. Well, I’m sure you get the idea! 🙂

This photo is dedicated to my daughter Kiah
OK, I’m home. What an exciting time in La Guardia Airport yesterday. I realize it’s an “indoors” experience, but thought you all might want to know. If you decide to fly out of La Guardia, leave some extra time. I arrived two hours early. Good thing. The security line snaked all around inside the building. Behind the check-in, around by the Dunkin’ Donuts, all the way back around, wall-to-wall people snaked toward the TSA folks in their official uniforms so they could scrunch up their faces and study our identification and boarding passes.
I said to the security guy (when finally we peered face-to-face): “Busy day?” and he shook his head, No. Not busy??? No, he said, when it’s busy the line goes way outside.
Fortunately, hopefully, we all made our plane to wherever we were going.

Green chairs in park
I had another blog ready to write. Honest. All about the first day outdoors back in the beautiful Upper Peninsula! The words were ready to spill themselves forth onto the computer. But then I decided to scroll through the photos of the NYC trip, and really really wanted to post a handful more before wrapping up the trip and filing it in Memory’s folder.
Hope you don’t mind… The photos insisted upon their rights. They cajoled. They begged. And I finally succumbed to their snapshot pleadings…

What do you think of this awesome root statue?
I tried to post the following photo five times from Kiah’s computer. It always appeared turned sideways or upside down, and it seemed impossible to re-arrange it. It’s part of a statue down in Battery Park dedicated to the immigrants who settled in this country. The statue is amazing! I photographed little sections of it, as the individual faces and expressions seemed equally powerful as the larger statue. Here is one, hopefully upright:

Prayer of the Immigrant
So the Internet refused to work last night after I returned home. The Marquette Public Library announced brazenly that it closed at 6 p.m. on Friday nights. Therefore, even though yesterday’s blog had been written early in the morning, a challenge existed how to post it. I called Kiah and begged her assistance. Would she please post? She agreed. Yesterday’s blog came to you courtesy of Kiah’s willingness to post.
What possibly could be wrong with the darned computer? It looked like a discouraging weekend. How to post blogs, how to get caught up on computer time, how to play Scrabble on Facebook with my son? Oh the difficult questions of life.
Until we discovered a plain brown box next to the mail. “What is this?” I asked Barry. “Don’t know,” he replied, “it showed up in the door one day.” I unwrapped it, and guess what it was? A new Internet ethernet system, courtesy of the phone company (our Internet provider). Apparently we’re blessed with an upgrade! So we scrambled to figure out how to hook Wire A with Port B. It still wouldn’t work. But later, after sitting out on the deck (having my outdoor experience at 9:30 p.m.) we finally figured out why it might not be working. Success!! Memorial Day weekend could now proceed smoothly, with Internet properly working.

Just look up. and up. and up.
And for you faithful readers who salivated so lovingly over the radish photo from the Green Market in…well, whatever part of the city we were in that afternoon…OK, you can view the asparagus photo. Tonight we grilled whole asparagus on the grill. It was yummy. We even ate outside, although it wasn’t as warm as one might prefer. But it IS Memorial Day weekend! Maybe I’ll post more grilling photos as the weekend progresses. Hurray! Summer is here! (yeah, right, maybe not in the Upper Peninsula…but it’s coming closer every day!)

Asparagus, anyone?
Recipe for grilled asparagus: Buy fresh asparagus. Organic if possible. Cut off tough bottom ends. Drizzle well with virgin olive oil or brush with a pastry brush. Heat grill. Put asparagus on sideways (horizontally, not vertically. Otherwise you’ll lose the asparagus in the bowels of the grill.) Cook for 6-10 minutes. Cook until crisp, el-dente, or cook until the asparagus melts in your mouth. Use a knife and cut off a small portion to determine when the proper moment has arrived. The asparagus will be tenderly browned and oh-so-good.
Promise.

Grilled Asparagus. A culinary delight.

Nature in the city

Fern growing up wall

Beautiful blooms

Typical NYC lantern/street light

Scarves fluttering in the breeze

Fence & garden (Central Park)

Goodbye New York City. Fare thee well.