In Pursuit of Wonder

May 1, 2023

Nothing changes a whole lot in the winter months other than how much snow is on the ground. Sometimes March is the same way, though it used to be a roller coaster, bouncing between winter and spring but the last couple of years that has been pushed to April. May, though, that’s when things really begin to happen, when there can be visual change inside a day. I love winter, but I also love watching life burst forth in May in all its glory. Today, I went to the woods on my usual route, across the backyard, along and up the gravel road, down into the ditch, open the pasture gate to step through, left turn down the hill, open and close another gate, along the pasture lane, past the peninsula of trees, and pause under the cluster of walnut trees on the wood edge. I could no longer push the barbed wire down to step over the fence, Jesse had turned the power back on to it. So with care, I crawled underneath, avoiding being pricked and poked by sticks and brambles. Once in the woods, I immediately noticed the stinging nettles. Last week, they were barely out of the ground, now they were in full leaf and several inches tall – large enough I could have harvested them to eat. The trees were still waking up, stretching and yawning, very few buds opening and leaves beginning to unfold. The little plants, close to the ground, were where the change was really happening. Garlic mustard was everywhere and ready to harvest. I noticed a few waterleaf plants. 

Down into and up out of gullies, over logs, and under branches, I moved deeper into the valley between the bluffs. I paused at the ravine as it meandered, no longer parallel to my path but crossing it, neither wide nor deep in this spot, well perhaps five to six feet wide but only inches deep. A log stretches across it. Not out of necessity but fun, I stepped on to the log and traversed it to the other side, and ducked under branches to step off of it. Exploring the woods in May is a grand adventure, you never know what new things you will find; especially if you look down and take in the smaller things. 

The steep bluffs grew taller and taller on either side, the farther onward I moseyed. In some places the valley in the middle of them was quite open – grasses, sedges, wild parsnip and garlic mustard thrived in these areas, greening the landscape. Down and up another ravine, around a leaning boxelder tree, and over several logs, I arrived at the magic spot where the emerald umbrella plants clustered. – This is the only spot I have seen them so far. They are beginning to open up. I wonder what they are – they aren’t in my wildflower field guide. But they are so fascinating with their umbrella leaves and thick, nearly translucent stalks. There are grass, violet plants, garlic mustard and waterleaf tucked in among them. Moss grows at their feet. I look straight down on one, which is open the furthest, almost star-like in shape from this perspective. I stepped carefully around the umbrella patch, ducked under a low-hanging branch, and halted at the temporary waterway, its banks muddy. I took several steps to my right, and out onto stones in the waterway and across. Then I ambled up the bank, and followed a deer track. I walked along, on top of a log, using it to get further up the bluff side. I jumped down and climbed a little more before reaching my tree bridge. I crawled up onto my bridge and sauntered across, enjoying the elevated perspective. Getting down on the other side took more care so as not to fall. By going along the east side of the waterway, I avoided a thick patch of brambles, which would have been unpleasant to wade through. Green was pushing its way up through last year’s dead vegetation. The trees cast shadows across the valley. I took in some of the plants at my feet, wild geranium and perhaps wood nettles or spotted dead nettle. 

Usually, I climb up the hill from here, but today, I decided to follow and then walk in the ravine/waterway. I paused to enjoy a decaying log that appeared reddish in the morning light. I bent down to look at some plants, wild parsnips and waterleaf. I stood up and approached the ravine. In this spot it looked like a wild mountain stream with the water flowing past rocks. A little further down, and the ravine was nearly dry. I walked in it, following its meandering path. Soon several dead trees lay across it at various angles. The first one I came to, I climbed over the top. The second was actually a tangle of fallen trees and their branches stopped my progress for a moment as I puzzled how to proceed. Neither going around nor over was a viable option. With some difficulty, almost getting stuck, I crawled under the mess of branches. I came across a cluster of chickweed. I came to another log across the waterway and moss covered stone slabs made up the floor. I ducked under the log and realized where I was; here were the stones making the waterfall the week before. It was fun approaching it from a different direction. 

I ambled down the rocks, roughly waist high on me, and continued onward down the ravine. Delighting in the various trees as I passed them and enjoying the exposed bedrock along the way. I paused to take in white, thin, fan-like mushrooms growing on a fallen tree. Then I spied red orange among the moss, another orange peel or scarlet cup mushroom. Mushrooms/fungi are so cool. All of a sudden the ravine becomes deep on the western and northern sides. On the west, the bank is mostly moss covered rock and at least ten feet tall, probably. Ahead, north, is steep and even higher, above that bank, is the highway. A couple of garlic mustard plants are growing on top of a small, moss covered boulder. I ducked under and climbed over a couple more fallen trees. This spot is incredible! The exposed rock stirs my heart and uplifts it. The layers of rock are clearly visible. Boulders, some large and others small, litter the bottom of the ravine. There’s a section where the floor of the ravine is stone steps, huge slabs climbing up. I love it. I paused here, soaked it all in for a few moments. I contemplated going further, turning left at the road, following the ravine at an almost ninety degree turn, but I decided it was time to head back. 

Before the bedrock of my miniature and temporary waterfall, I turned left, and scrambled up the steep slope. – Roughly following my trail from all my earlier walks; going across the hill part way up. Rather than going back down toward my tree bridge, I continued onward, walking several feet below the rock outcroppings. Slowly, meanderingly, I made my way down the slope back to the bottom of the valley, and up it, back to the walnuts. I crawled under the fence and strolled back through the pasture lane.

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