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

Deer Story

I have given this Canon Rebel XTi quite a workout in the five months I've had it. I've worn it so often over my shoulder that I no longer even notice its weight. It lies against my hip, always ready, always on, asleep, but ready to awakened in an instant. I keep a spare battery in my pocket all the time; I live in fear of laundering it.

I was immersed in warblers when something moved in the corner of my vision field. A big doe was coming out of the woods just across the road from me. A strong breeze was blowing from the east, bringing her scent to me, though I couldn't discern it. She could smell nothing of me, and being a doe, she moved closer to investigate.


An old deer hunter once told me that a buck won't do that, and I have found it to be true, even in fawns. Bucks who move closer to a strange object often get shot for their curiosity. Does let it all hang out, the desire to know what they're seeing overpowering their fear. They are Science Chimps, too.

She moved on an oblique angle toward me as she continued to cross the road. She couldn't make out the details of my face, covered as it was by a camera. She hesitated, and watched me.

Over her head, I could see a couple approaching, walking the road near their cabin. They had a Norwegian elkhound with them, and the man, sizing up the situation, stopped to put her on a lead. Thank you. The doe still hadn't perceived them. Oh, this was good.



She tilted an ear back. Someone was coming!Tearing those curious eyes away, she turned to look. Ruh-roh. No curiosity about this! She made up her mind quickly.
I was gratified to see her choose me as the lesser threat, as she wheeled and ran toward and past me and into the safety of the woods. I felt I had done something right. Stillness is to be desired in the pursuit of beauty.

I'm writing from North Dakota, where we spent most of the day on unbroken prairie, watching upland sandpipers, vesper sparrows, soras, and magnificent bison rolling like dark boulders over the hummocked hills. I was overcome by emotion several times, thinking that this is how it all looked before we broke it. I'm grateful to be here, to show it to my children, to be able to play music with my husband, to share what I can with everyone here. I love North Dakota, and the strong, self-effacing people who hang through her winters and bask in her short, ravishing summers. Thanks for all your good wishes. I'm feeling fine and soaking it all up.