Looking for Morels, Which We Didn't Find

Oh, the things you find when you go into the woods.

Looking for morels, which we didn't find

We found other things.
A whole new patch of pawpaws in a place I hadn't looked


Dangling bloody blossoms, calling flies to tickle and play



So that from this strange bell a fruit will form



Banana custard, pulp and seeds in a soft yellow skin.

We'll come back in September.

Looking for morels, which we didn't find

I stopped on a hillside to watch a cardinal build her nest

Followed her to a honeysuckle tangle
And there found a butterfly
never before seen on our land

The round rings on its wings rang a distant bell.
And there in the woods I combed the books of memory
Found the answer waiting, struggling up through the pages and the hard cover of time



A Harvester! Fenisecus tarquinius
Only the second seen in a life of looking for butterflies
And here! on our land, not one but two.


Its caterpillar, the only predaceous one, spurning leaves for aphids.

Number 73 for the property.

But I digress. Numbers are not poetry.

Walking a little farther along, the first turtle of spring
Frozen, watchful



I pretended not to see him. He never pulled in his head.
A victory, however small.

And farther along the same slope
I stop, become still
A crunch of leaves, almost inaudible
I focus like an owl on a spot yards away



Where the second turtle of spring
has drawn in its foot

That sound enough to betray its presence.



Its eye an angry garnet
Discovered but resolute.



Looking for morels, which we didn't find.



Serendipity is the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely. The word has been voted as one of the ten English words that were hardest to translate in June 2004 by a British translation company--Wikipedia

"In the fields of observation chance favors only the prepared mind." Louis Pasteur

Harvester, Fenisecus tarquinus, #73 for Indigo Hill, Whipple, Ohio, April 26, 2009

Box Turtles, Busted and Otherwise

Bill brought home a box turtle he found on a nearby country road, seeing that it had been injured, but quite some time ago.

When we find such a turtle, we bring it home to evaluate it and see if there is anything we can do for it. A car had run over its hind end, and cracked the plastron near both hind legs.
A rear view showed that, despite his injury, the turtle was fat.Fat is good where box turtles are concerned.

Overall, he looked pretty darn good. He didn't move much, but some turtles are intimidated by carpet and linoleum. He could move if he wanted to, but I suspected he just didn't want to. I sent pictures to an expert turtle rehabilitator in New York, and she confirmed my thoughts that this injury was healed probably as much as it was going to heal, and he was better off in the woods.

Meanwhile, Shelly, the year-old box turtle we’ve taken on for headstarting, is proving to be quite an eater. Here, she tucks into the first baked butternut squash she’s ever encountered.
It’s made with brown sugar, butter, and vanilla extract. Who wouldn’t love it?

Phoebe got the honor of taking the injured turtle back to the woods where he was found.He seemed a little shell-shocked to find himself back home. (Sorry, couldn't resist).As we often do when we're messing about near Buck's pasture, we ran into one of the Warren boys, this time Jay. Every time Jay sees Chet Baker, he sings a few bars of "My Funny Valentine." Chet Baker loves Jay, and Jay lets Chet wash his face all over.I love this picture.

Scenes from a Country Road

Mini-update: Mandated X-ray showed no kidney stones. Well, good. They sent me home empty-handed. I get to feel like twice-baked crap for another day, then I have to go back into town tomorrow to be told what I already know: I have a kidney infection. No duh. NOW can I have my antibiotic? That's what I get for assuming it was an open-and-shut case of complain, get scrip, gulp pills, move on. Self-Diagnosing Science Chimp, struck down by hubris. Never get sick in August. The doctors are all on vacation, and the nurse practitioner doesn't have time to talk to you.

There are at least two Lebanon, Ohio’s. This is not the big one. Most people never pass through this Lebanon, unless they’re heading to Rolling Ridge Berry Farm. Ever notice how places named Lebanon and Bethlehem and Bethel and Sharon--all those holy site names--seem to be heartbreakingly beautiful?

I wonder if they still repair RCA televisions at Hamilton’s. I’m thinking not, but you never know. You could probably buy Slim Jim’s there, though. You don't see many asbestos shingles any more...not that I'm nostalgic.

This little building, with its lilac sentinel, pulled at my heart. I thought of Kate Wolf’s 1977 song, The Lilac Bush and the Apple Tree:

A long time ago we were planted by hands
That worked in the mines and the mills,
When the country was young and the people who came
Built their homes in the hills.

But now there are cities, the roads have come,
And no one lives here today.
And the only signs of the farms in the hills
Are the things not carried away.

Broken dishes, piles of boards,
A tin plate, an old leather shoe.
And an Apple tree still bending down,
And a Lilac where a garden once grew.

thanks to Mikey DG for the lyric link and the CD!

After we picked berries, we wound back down the country roads, seeing wonders all along the way. First was some Queen Anne’s lace, fiercely backlit by the dying sun. Light is everything, everything, everything.

An odd-colored cow stuck her tongue out at us when we implored her to raise her head.

A thin bay horse raised his for a moment, then went back to grazing amongst the Queen Anne’s lace. No wonder he’s thin—the beautiful weed was thick in his pasture, and nobody likes to eat it.

I was so enthralled with the photo opportunities along the township road that I went too far and missed my turn on the county road. I think it must have been Fate’s hand, because I was able to help a box turtle finish crossing the pavement before I discovered my error. He had been manhandled years ago by a car, a coon or coyote; you can see the asymmetry of his spinal ridge toward the rear, and the chewed spots on the fringe. It’s hard to find an older box turtle around here who doesn’t tell a sad story with its shell. But he was heavy and bright and could close up well, so I left him with dinner, safe in the woods.

As the evening was dying and we neared our home, we spotted a neighbor, out with her baby. He looked so happy to be alive, and he gave us a goofy wet smile, kicked and wiggled, smooth and plump as a blueberry. He reminded me of a card Ruthie the NatureKnitter sent (along with a hand-knitted bison wool neckwarmer!) that said,
"I hope that I never become so used to the world that it no longer seems wonderful."**

**I would like it even more with drugs.

Reason to Believe

I am thankful for Tennessee warblers

And for the Cape May warblers that pass through here in the fall.

I'm thankful that some of them stop in the birch to look at the bubbling water
and sometimes take a bath.
I'm thankful for the box turtles that roam our land, and glad they keep trying to nest here.

I'm thankful for small dogs and redheads.
I'm thankful for jasmine on the nightstand.I'm thankful for tuberoses, and for flowers that can give off fragrance in the darkest nights.I'm thankful for Fuchsia magellenica, that lives through the winter right there in the garden and explodes like a pinata in late summer.I'm thankful for morning mist, and for the mornings when I have had someone with me to walk Phoebe and Liam out to the bus stop.
Someone like you
Makes it hard to live without Somebody else
Someone like you Makes it easy to give
And never think about myself

Tim Hardin, "Reason to Believe"