More mid-summer thoughts ... there is so much going on in the natural world right now, so many different flowers blooming, so much leafy abundance, that it's almost overwhelming. But then again, it's meant to be !
We now have roses on the land and lilies on the water, -- both land and water have done their best, -- now just after the longest day. Nature says, “You behold the utmost I can do.” HDT Journal, June 26, 1852
June 21, 2014 - Summer Solstice Orra Phelps Preserve, Wilton, NY and Moreau Lake State Park, NY
To begin this summer, Jackie and I planned one more full day of walking. It was a Saturday, the Longest Day of the Year, and I had all day to ramble ! In the afternoon we would visit Moreau Lake. For the morning, we both signed up for a walk led by Linda Eastman, a nature photographer from Broadalbin, New York. The walk took place in Orra Phelps Preserve, where paths wander through lush shady woods along the Snook Kill creek.
Linda started right at the beginning, with a discussion of the basic concepts of photography, and shared some practical tips as well.
She also had worksheets for us to take, with practice exercises to do on our own. Those of us who participated may have varying levels of experience, and own cameras of all sizes and shapes, but we seem to have one thing in common -- we are all hunters of the beautiful.
Forest Tent Caterpillar
Along the campground road in Moreau, several cars slowed down" to help," but Jackie was only checking out the cool liverworts we found !
Thanks to Linda, for sharing her wisdom with us, and to Saratoga PLAN for organizing another great excursion. And now to go forth on a summer’s day, with a particular Journal entry tumbling around in my head:
I wish to begin this summer well; to do something in it worthy of it and of me; to transcend my daily routine and that of my townsmen; to have my immortality now, that it be in the quality of my daily life; to pay the greatest price, the greatest tax, of any man in Concord, and enjoy the most!! I will give all I am for my nobility. I will pay all my days for my success. I pray that the life of this spring and summer may lie fair in my memory.
May I dare as I have never done! May I persevere as I have never done! May I purify myself anew as with fire and water, soul and body! May my melody not be wanting to the season! May I gird myself to be a hunter of the beautiful, that naught escape me!
And so the seasons went rolling on into summer, as one rambles into higher and higher grass. -HDT, Walden
The third and last day of my vacation, I planned to walk with Jackie
up to the Spring Overlook, which has become a sort of Solstice tradition.
The skies were full of gentle sunshine and small clouds, so
typical of a June day.
Before meeting her for our walk, I made a stop at the powerline easement at Mud
Pond, to check for Wood Lilies in bloom.
Two years ago-- before some major clearing and herbicide spraying occurred here -- we had
counted over 80 lilies in one short section. Last summer, we saw but a handful.
Today, I was hard-pressed to find ten rather small plants. The effects of the spraying seem to last for more than a year ... must be pretty nasty stuff !
All were still in bud. They are
blooming later than usual, as are many other plants this year. On the way back to the car, I almost stepped on this one – in full bloom.
Glaringly bright and beautiful…
yet I had walked right past it on the
So basically, my day was complete: I’d seen a Wood Lily on Mid-Summer Eve. Anything else would be gravy.
There’s a section of easement on the way up to the Spring
Overlook too, which was part of our plan. That’s the first spot we had seen
these lilies, a few years ago.
We started up the Spring Overlook trail, and after a short
time walking through the woods, reached the easement crossing. Lots of careful searching revealed oceans
lots of whorled loosestrife, and deer tongue grass -- but no lilies in bloom.
We did find one lily plant in bud, about 8 inches high,
tucked in among the ferns.
At that point, Jackie suggested a change of plan. Well, we
had all day -- why not?
She knew of another section of easement, a mile or two to
the east, and it led up a ridge that had intrigued us for a long time. Jackie
had gone partway up this ridge, back in the fall.
Not only could we check for lilies there, she said, there would be fine views
of the river valley as well.
So we returned to our cars and drove back to the other easement.
View from the road
Only problem was, there was no trail. Whatsoever.
From a distance, it looked like easy walking, but soon we were waist-deep in
ferns and brambly brush. Uh… I muttered to myself … there’s not enough tick
repellent in the world to protect you in a place like that !
As we worked our way up, the walking would get easier, at openings in the
brush, then harder where the plants surged
taller again. Shady woods bordered the
easement on both sides. But the
plants we sought would be out in the open -- so through the ferns we went.
Then I heard a noise, like a large dragonfly a-buzzing. It got louder and louder, and I looked down at
the river valley to see a little black helicopter, flying along the powerlines, just above the tops of the metal
And it was heading our way !
“Hey, er …. let’s go into the woods till they pass by,” I
suggested, thinking of how we were, technically, trespassing.
“Nah,” said Jackie. “We’re
just looking at flowers.”
I started searching for an easy way over the woods, as the chopper noise got
louder. There were piles of slash here and there, from previous clearing work.
“Oh !” she suggested.
“--maybe they are SPRAYING”
– at which point, I lept like an spastic deer, over to the edge of the woods.
There I stood under the trees, knees shaking.
The buzzing was a dull roar now. I could see Jackie standing in the
clearing, her bright pink shirt shining in the sun, giving a friendly little
wave at the sky.
It sounded as if the helicopter hovered in place for a moment -- (although I’m not
sure, since I was cowering in the woods, thinking of those Vietnam movies where
the platoon leader yells,
“Don’t look up !”)
Of course, the chopper did nothing; it moved on, whirring its way up and over the
ridge on its maintenance mission. Jackie did NOT collapse, clutching her
throat from herbicide exposure;
and I regained my composure enough to venture out into the open expanse again.
We walked some more, and stopped for lunch in the shade of the woods’ edge. (That’s probably where we picked up all
the ticks- not in the brush. We found a bunch of them on
our clothes, back at the cars. Surprisingly,
they were wood ticks, not deer ticks.)
After lunch (during which the helicopter came back down the slope !) we resumed our upward walk, not going very far before looking up to see a decidedly steeper section.
It seemed best to call it a day.
I think Jackie would have gone for it, had she been on her own.
The view on the way down was fantastic – you could see all
the way upriver to the Dam.
It's that little blue line just under the horizon
Jackie added two new plants to her life list – which is remarkable,
since her list is very long.
My life list gets added to almost every time we go a-botanizing together.
To float thus on the silver-plated stream Is like embarking on a train of thought itself. You are surrounded by water, Which is full of reflections; And you see the earth at a distance, Which is very agreeable to the imagination. HDT Journal, August 14, 1854
The second day of
my small vacation promises to be clear and sunny, with less wind in the
I hastily fetch my boat from the storage bin, and am on the waters at The Fen
by 8 a.m.
The Fen is hardly wilderness; it’s right off the road to
Glen Lake, and within earshot of the Northway.
At its southwest end, it brushes by a huge amusement park.
Later in the morning you will hear the muffled roar of roller coasters, and
faint screams carried on the wind.
But at this hour, I have the marsh all to myself.
Among the Leatherleaf and grasses at the put-in, a tiny spark
of pink catches my eye - a Rose Pogonia! This one is still curled in sleep and covered with morning dew.
I’ve seen this small and elegant native orchid in places further north – is this
just a fluke, or are there others back in the fen? I vow to keep an eye out for
more of them.
Pushing off – ah that moment when gravity drops away, and I am
floating. The still water reflects the clouds, and the boat is a bird in the
It’s early yet; the white water-lilies
are still nodding their little heads.
When morning sun shines upon the water, they awake,
One can never take enough photos of water-lilies. I am strongly attracted to my name-sakes. Each one
seems more beautiful than the one before.
A superb flower, our lotus queen of the waters. How sweet innocent, wholesome its fragrance. How pure its white petals, though its root is in the mud. HDT Journal, June 26, 1852
Paddling against the sluggish current, I pass several small forks in the stream. I take one of them back into a wider pondy section.
Suddenly I see more Rose Pogonias, blooming delicately amid
Leatherleaf, Bog Rosemary, Water
Willow and all sorts of grasses and reeds.
Another bit of color are the dainty beaks of cranberry-flowers.
Sprinkled here and there, floating on underwater leaves full of tiny air-pockets, is Common Bladderwort.
The young leaves of Pickerelweed poke up out of the water, but there are no
flowers yet. When they bloom, the shore will be lined with purple.
Arrow Arum is not blooming yet either, but the foliage has a splendor of its own.
On little islands, the flower-stalks of Pitcher Plants stand
alert like so many pinwheels.
I float along, hearing the creech of a Broad-Wing overhead
and the sad whistles of an Oriole from the oaks above the cove.
I'm sad too, to find a little orange symbol flashing on my camera, telling me it's time to replace the battery - and the spare battery is back at the car !
Not until I turn about for the return do I meet
anyone else. I can hear them long before they come around the bend. It's the happy chatter of three friends who are out paddling the Fen for the first time. I
show them where to find the Rose Pogonia.
They never knew that orchids grow in New York, and are delighted to see it.
This is a good time to come here. Soon there will be many more lily-pads
stretching across the narrow channel, making it too difficult to paddle.
I drift back slowly. There’s time to think, and not-think.
The sun’s glare coats the pads with silver, and lights up the lilies like
Many a forenoon have I stolen away, preferring to spend thus the most valued part of the day; for I was rich, if not in money, in sunny hours and summer days, and spent them lavishly; nor do I regret that I did not waste more of them in the workshop ... HDT, “The Ponds,” Walden
Last week, I had
three days of vacation, and thoroughly enjoyed each one.
I was never more than ten miles from home, but oh what glorious days.
The first day, a
Wednesday, was more cloudy than sunny, but it was all mine. After about two months of working on the
new day schedule, I’ve been missing that morning air.
I drove over to
Moreau Lake State Park and spent hours walking around.
No particular plans or destinations.
At trail junctions I would pause, then take whichever fork took my fancy.
I wandered along the edge of Odonata Shore, stirring up
dozens of damselflies.
The irises stand elegant at the water’s edge
and attract butterflies.
The breezes kept any mosquitoes at bay, so even the deeper woods were a
comfortable place to saunter.
Moments of bright sun alternated with shade. The cove was sprinkled with Water-Lilies.
Also in bloom were Daisies, Fleabane, Blue-Eyed Grass and the tiny Racemed Milkwort.
There was time for a mid-morning snack.
Looking across Back Bay Cove, I saw Dave leading a school group on a hike along
the Wetland Trail.
This flower always makes me think of Thoreau, when he wrote that he'd finally realized that the Year is a grand
“Now I am ice, now I am sorrel.”
I made a circle of my own, walking around Mud Pond. Even with the sky clouded over, it looked
There the Frostweed was blooming its first flower of the year. It will bloom again, with a smaller flower, and then in November with curls of frost.
When I got back to where I had started, I still wasn’t ready
to come in.
The Big Beach was pretty popular, with picnic tables, snack bar and lifeguards; so I went over to Little Beach instead. Just an empty stretch of sand across the way.
I sat on a log at the water’s edge, dug my lunch out of the pack, and dangled
my tired feet into the lake.
Fourteen thousand steps today ! And none of them hurried.
Most of the photos on this page were taken with with a Canon s95 compact camera, which I am still learning how to use. I also carry my trusty old Panasonic Lumix FZ35, a wonderful lightweight superzoom camera.
Click on any photo in the left-hand column to view it larger.
All photos and text are copyrighted by Sue Pierce and can only be used with her permission.