Wallerin' in Bluebells

I hunkered down to fully appreciate the bluebells; I waded up into them as best I could, without stepping on them. The eye looks for anomalies, and I found plenty; some that were fully pink, a luscious contrast to the masses of sky-blue blooms. The mutation seemed to travel in patches, making me wonder if bluebells spread vegetatively, underground. I’m thinking they do, and that these pink sports are genetic copies vegetatively propagated under ground, rather than seed-generated.  

Pink is wonderful, but it's hard to beat the wild type blue. Here, highlighted against the artwork of a pileated woodpecker, I made a souvenir of the day.

Finally I came upon a sign, and smiled to see The Athens Conservancy had had a hand in asking American Electric Power to help them make a preserve of this magical place: 64 acres of diversity and beauty. I spoke to The Athens Conservancy this past winter, and a warmer, lovelier, more dedicated group would be hard to find. It was good to be here where wild 

things are safe; where the heartbreak of finding them devastated or gone on one’s next visit is held off by a pact. There are few such pacts in my part of Ohio. 

I watched people making the pilgrimage to this place, two women laughing as one kept wading in for photos. I spoke with several people, and all were happy to be here, too. There is no way to put a value on a place like this, on knowing it’s there to be resorted to, to be shared with those who may never have waded in bluebells.

 As I turned back toward my car, the light finally fading, I heard a man singing to the ringing tones of a twelve-string. He was good, too. He wasn’t playing “Wildwood Flower,” my father’s favorite to pick (one of only two he knew), but he might as well have been. Imagine living amidst drifts of bluebells! Oh!

These folks were making the pilgrimage. I knew, but I asked anyway. Yep, they were good for the mile-plus walk to see these plants putting on their best show. And the dog, to my surprise, wasn't one of the oh-so-popular designeroodle mixes--she was an undiluted standard poodle, apricot, and she was lovely.

This outfit would stop my Costa Rican co-leader Mario Cordoba's heart, should someone wear it on one of our birdwatching hikes. Big birding no-no, those flourescent colors. Good, I suppose, if you're working or running along busy roads.  Otherwise, leave it in the drawer, or get used to watching birds flying away from your screamin' neon shirt.

A funny perspective on a bull, looking uphill.

  And his ladies.

This place has so much, and it's so easy to access. I highly recommend it. Mark your calendar for next April 10, and maybe I'll see you there. If you get on the bike trail between Athens and Nelsonville at Hamley Run Road near Chauncey Ohio, and head west toward Nelsonville, you'll find it.

You'll know when you're there. :)

The titmice will be peter petering. 

The bluebells will be tripping over blue-eyed Mary on their way down the hill, going pink with embarrassment.

When I finally made it to the parking area, the sun was setting, striking the plump flanks of a muddy-billed robin. I thought about all the things I’d seen on this blessed day, things common and rare, and I felt very lucky to be able to go seek them out, to know where to go and to be able to take the time to do it. 

I believe spring ephemerals should be treasured and sought out; that we should all grab a day somewhere in mid-April, or whenever they’re blooming, and pay tribute to this show that, whether we know about it or not, is going on under the budding trees, in the rich humus of moist forests. Giving thanks for these things, going out of our way to find and appreciate them, is part and parcel of being alive and aware on Planet Earth. 

 Do click on this one! It looks like nothing until you do.

Imagine--that sea of leaves around the lone bluebell clump is all wild geranium (cranesbill). Not a noxious exotic. Native. It'd be in bloom right now. World enough and time to go back and see it, that's what I lack.

Blue-eyed Mary says "See ya next year!"

And a white trout lily Erythronium albidum, rare and wonderful, waves me goodbye as the sun sinks low.

Wildflowers with Dog

It starts with the domestic phlox in the cemetery. When it blooms, we know to look for the wild kind of phlox. 

We've selected the tame creeping phlox for brilliant colors, that groovy magenta. But oh, look at its long-stemmed cousin, the wild blue phlox, Phlox divaricata. 

You can see where we got the colors. There are hints of rose in these. 

Others, a pure innocent lilac blue.

Shila and Diane, who is visiting from Nashville, have joined Chet Baker and me on a wildflower safari, taking a time-honored route carefully chosen for maximum flower and beat-up-building potential. The date: April 21, 2013. Yes, I've just gotten around to grabbing these photos. It's been quite a spring.

Oh how I love the Church in the Wildwood with its belfry worn slightly cocked.

She's still being cared for, though nobody can afford to do much with her siding and paint and roof.

My father used to sing "Church in the Wildwood" when he took us driving in the country around Richmond when I was growing up. You never knew how many "come's" he was going to sing. 

"O come come come come come come come to the church in the wildwood

O come to the church in the vale.

No spot is so dear to my childhood

As the little brown church in the vale."

That, and his arrhythmic style, made it a real challenge to harmonize along with him. 

but we tried. And always laughed when he'd sing a few more "come's" than we were ready for.

It was good training for later...

Chet Baker makes a full site inspection, including the iris bed still surrounding her foundation.

He crosses back over the stream just above a little waterfall

and realizes partway through that the water's deeper and colder than he'd thought it would be.

Ooch, that's freezin' the pork and beans!

 Brr! Glad to be out of that!

Time for a sultry dog yoga stretch in the sun.

He kicks out and holds for a few magic moments, first one leg, then the other...

then accompanies Shila in search of perfect gauzy spring light. No matter, I've already found it. I'm blown away by the budding elms and amused by the greens in this photo. Who ever decided on that particularly icky pthalo green for road signs? A color certainly not found in nature.

Ahh, spring. This has been my favorite spring in memory. Long and cold and slow, none of that 90's in March stuff we endured last year. And no warmup and budburst followed by April snowstorms. No feeding baby bluebirds in the boxes because their parents can't find caterpillars in the snow.  Everything coming out when it's supposed to, maybe a week or two late, but what's wrong with prolonging such a beautiful season? Yes, it's been an exemplary spring. And I'm enjoying every minute of it.

Turned the air conditioner on yesterday afternoon. I guess it's over now. These next few posts will take us back.