Orange you glad it's Summer? #phenology

While out cutting grass (and weeds) today we saw what we think is the first monarch of the year. It may have been a viceroy, all we caught was a quick glimpse as we ducked some tree branches to avoid getting knocked off the tractor. We've got lot's of milkweed on the property, most about knee high and starting to develop flower buds. We're also pretty sure we're not near the Northern edge of the monarch's range, so we're a little confused about the relationship(s) between local appearances and milkweed development. The Better Half claims to have seen one or more monarchs within the past week or so, but we don't believe those sightings were local.

monarch butterfly on Northern Plains  Blazing-star

Photo by J. Harrington

There's a patch of boneset and some other wildflowers at the North edge of the back yard, being encroached on by our feral oregano. (What, other than humans, eats oregano? Chickens? The Better Half wants chickens. Here's a potential use for the oregano that's trying to take over the planet from our yard.)

roadside daylilies

Photo by J. Harrington

Day lilies are beginning to flower. We have some wild strawberries and raspberries that we're trying to avoid mowing or pulling in hopes we'll be able to harvest some fruits.

The male Baltimore oriole shows up at the grape feeder. Hummingbirds are using all three feeders, joined on occasion by orioles and downy woodpeckers.

Blueflag (wild iris) and swamp milkweed, plants we started a few years ago around the back yard "wet spot," and thought had been lost, are now blooming (flag) and coming into flower (milkweed).

“Wild Strawberries”

- Shel Silverstein

Are Wild Strawberries really wild?
Will they scratch an adult, will they snap at a child?
Should you pet them, or let them run free where they roam?
Could they ever relax in a steam heated home?
Can they be trained to not growl at the guests?
Will a litterbox work or would they leave a mess?
Can we make them a Cowberry, herding the cows,
Or maybe a Muleberry pulling the plows,
Or maybe a Huntberry chasing the grouse,
Or maybe a Watchberry guarding the house,
And though they may curl up at your feet oh so sweetly,
Can you ever feel that you trust them completely?
Or should we make a pet out of something less scary,
Like the Domestic Prune, or the Imported Cherry,
Anyhow, you’ve been warned and I will not be blamed
If your Wild Strawberry cannot be tamed.

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Democrats: scorpions, or frogs?

Our interest in myths and folklore has returned and been growing over the past few years. Aesop has a tale which we believe is highly relevant to the conundrums we face these days and how we might want to act in light of them. Here's Aesop's fable of:

The Scorpion and the Frog

  A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the 
scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The 
frog asks, "How do I know you won't sting me?" The scorpion 
says, "Because if I do, I will die too."

  The frog is satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream,
the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of 
paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown,
but has just enough time to gasp "Why?" 

  Replies the scorpion: "Its my nature..."

There are several ways to respond to the nature of a scorpion, but first one needs to face the reality of such an arachnid becoming president. It seems to us that too many Democrats have been behaving like frogs for entirely too long. Although not a perfect fit, the phrases "aiding and abetting" and "unindicted co-conspirator" come to mind.

frog, contemplating carrying passengers for hire

Photo by J. Harrington

We don't think Aesop created a fable about what happens when two scorpions try to negotiate a peace agreement. We suspect we'll get to see how that turns out over the next several months or years. However, that will still leave us with a major concern. Can we expect to neutralize a scorpion by electing a majority of frogs to congress? Is there a Plan B?

Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now

Matthew Olzmann

Most likely, you think we hated the elephant,
the golden toad, the thylacine and all variations
of whale harpooned or hacked into extinction.
It must seem like we sought to leave you nothing
but benzene, mercury, the stomachs
of seagulls rippled with jet fuel and plastic.
You probably doubt that we were capable of joy,
but I assure you we were.
We still had the night sky back then,
and like our ancestors, we admired
its illuminated doodles
of scorpion outlines and upside-down ladles.
Absolutely, there were some forests left!
Absolutely, we still had some lakes!
I’m saying, it wasn’t all lead paint and sulfur dioxide.
There were bees back then, and they pollinated
a euphoria of flowers so we might
contemplate the great mysteries and finally ask,
“Hey guys, what’s transcendence?”
And then all the bees were dead.

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Voting one early Spring #phenology

Happy Valentine's Day. In addition to flowers and candy and cards and poems and all that stuff, some of us were lucky enough to be able to go and vote in a Special Election because our former Republican state representative was found to not live in the district he was supposed to represent. The district went heavily for #45 during last November's elections so I'll be fascinated to see how this turns out. We were represented by a Democrat two or three terms ago.

I'm not going to try to explore any phenology themes about Spring versus Autumn voting patterns, but I will share the following observations:

• Despite our extended spell of unseasonably warm weather, goldfinches haven't yet taken on Spring colors.
• There's no open water yet in the Carlos Avery Sunrise River pools. This weekend may bring that about.
• A small seam of open water has developed at the pond north of the house.
• There's no sign of red-wing blackbirds yet.
• I tried a Google search about triggers for Spring waterbird migration (ducks, geese, cranes, etc.). There seems to be very limited information about whether our "early Spring" may trigger early migration. If photoperiod is the major trigger, then arrival dates shouldn't be much affected. We'll watch carefully this year.
• A more likely event would be the early emergence of skunk cabbage in the wetlands west of the property. We'll look for that late this week or the coming weekend.
• Another sign of Spring did arrive this week. The county has started this year's road repairs. I think they're working on a number of bumpy frost heaves across on of the major east-west thoroughfares.

skunk cabbage, early April 2015

Photo by J. Harrington

Thinking about phenology and migration, I don't recall reading much about how, if at all, migration patterns fit bioregionalism patterns. Time, perhaps, to research how much of that may be either known unknowns or unknown unknowns.

Lines Written in Early Spring

By William Wordsworth

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And ’tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:—

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,

If such be Nature’s holy plan,

Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?

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'tis the season to green

Several times this past week, I've wondered why some local farm fields had such tall lumps of soil. Each time those soil lumps moved and magically became sandhill cranes. In most of the pictures I take, I try to be sure that the subject stands out from the background. I need to rethink that approach since it's not always accurate, such as with "soil lumps." There's a sandhill crane, maybe two, plus a tree stump, in the midst of the marsh grass in the photo below. They stand out more against the background than cranes foraging in plowed cornfields do. I'll see if the cranes and the weather and the farmers cooperate and try to get a photo of those tall lumps of dirt that become cranes.

one, or two, sandhill cranes plus a tree stump in marsh grass

Photo by J. Harrington

Fortunately, the rain we're getting helps "green up" the fields and reduce the danger of grass fires. It's also bringing the green back to the tamarack swamps we have in the neighborhood. Their soft green is incredibly pretty this early in the season. Some years ago, I picked up a little book of artist's colors.

the early Spring pale green of tamaracks

Photo by J. Harrington

The shades of greens it lists that could match the tamaracks are:

• saffron (I have no idea how "saffron" became "green")
• lime
• bright(green)
• light (green)
• yellow-green
• cinnebar

few, if any, of which match the colors in this green color thesaurus that we've mentioned in previous postings here. Maybe poets, rather than visual artists, can help us sort out our colors. To start with there's D.H. Lawrence on Green or Laurie Allmann on The Color of a River.

Green

D. H. Lawrence, 1885 - 1930

The dawn was apple-green,
The sky was green wine held up in the sun,
The moon was a golden petal between.

She opened her eyes, and green
They shone, clear like flowers undone
For the first time, now for the first time seen.

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Spring --> #phenology and poetry

Yesterday I hiked out to the wetland to our west to check the status of skunk cabbage. As you can see, from the two purple splotches [upper left, lower right] and the small green spike in right center, it's just starting to emerge in our neighborhood. There's no sign of wild flower blossoms and the forsythia by the driveway hasn't even leafed out yet.

skunk cabbage just emerging on March 31

Photo by J. Harrington

bare forsythia twigs on March 31

Photo by J. Harrington

Once again we're into the kind of bipolar, manic-depressive, Spring weather pattern I've become all too familiar with in Minnesota. We were "blessed" last night with a light dusting of snow and more's in today's forecast. April Fool's day can come on any day in April when it comes to our Spring's progression toward Summer. Fortunately, from my perspective, April also brings in National Poetry Month, this year celebrating its 20th anniversary. Here's the poster for this year:

And here's a link to the poems featured in the poster.

Later this month, Minnesota's trout season opens. Orvis today sent out an announcement today of some fantastic new waterproof tweed waders they've developed. What with the phenology of Spring, celebrating national poetry month, and the delightful distractions of fly-fishing for trout, we're doing a phenomenal job of disproving good old T.S. Eliot and his "April is the cruelest month."

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Spring, pond

I hope you had a great Earth Day yesterday. Today we've made it to day 23 of National Poetry Month. On day 22, there was a bluebird sighting on "The Property." Also, in anticipation of some much needed exterior rehab, a bird's nest that's lived above the front door for many years was evicted. There remain several patches and piles of unmelted snow, but Spring continues its inexorable dance to Summer. The local pond is (once again) ice free. Upstream of the pond a Canada goose was sitting on the stream bank with his/her head tucked under his/her wing so that I wouldn't be able to see him/her. Silly goose! Sleepy goose?

ice out (again) at the pond             © harrington

While standing near the pond, I listened to the sounds made by a variety of frogs and or toads. From what I've read, each species of frog has a unique mating call. That would make sense. What was a major surprise was that the Internet, the compendium of all human knowledge (but very little wisdom) doesn't seem to have a listing of names for the variety of frog sounds/calls. I found croak, peep (Spring peepers), harrumph or ribbit (bull frog?) but few other frog call sounds listed by name. Here's a link to a site with recordings of frog calls. I think I was hearing a lot of green tree frogs yesterday, to me they sound a little like grackles. The bull frog sounds like the didgeridoo I heard in a Crocodile Dundee movie, and I'm pretty sure the southern leopard frog was part of several Tarzan movie soundtracks. This could become a Summer project, naming frog call sounds or, we could just accept Jack Prelutsky's assessment.

My Frog Is a Frog

By Jack Prelutsky 

My frog is a frog that is hopelessly hoarse,

my frog is a frog with a reason, of course,

my frog is a frog that cannot croak a note,

my frog is a frog with a frog in its throat. 

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Wading into Spring

© harrington

Yes, Virginia, there is open water. Hi! Thanks for stopping by. The photo was taken this afternoon just up the road. The snow highlights the remaining ice cover, which accentuates the open water. We're getting there. I can't decide whether we're sneaking up on Spring or it's sneaking up on us. While walking Franco, the rescue dog, on the way to take this photo, we saw a pair of sand hill cranes fly by. Franco seemed unimpressed. I, on the other hand, seem to have caught crane fever from my wife. In honor of cranes and open water, today let's visit Mary Oliver's Blue Iris, Poems and Essays in which we find:

Grassy Pond, Which Really Is a Swamp

Although it was
   as level
      as anything
         could be

it seemed
   a thousand
      black mirrors
         were trying

to hold me;
   I imagine
      it was just part
         of a swamp's

stickiness
   and general
      entrapment,
         why else

would I have enjoyed
   so much
      sinking
        so deeply

into the mud,
   imagining
      what beautiful baskets
         someone could make

from the rushes,
   why else
      would a bird
         rise up

at just that moment
   white and shining,
      lover of swamps
         with feathers like floss,

looking,
   though long-necked
      and long-winged,
         like a basket
            of flowers?

Oliver: nature literate, place? Clearly. Coyote and bear as totems? Transformation of birds into baskets of flowers, enjoying sinking in mud? Yes. Flowers or egrets as totem? Works for me. Take another look at Snyder's points and see what you think of the rest of them. Thanks for listening. Come again when you can. Rants, raves and reflections (sometimes on open water) served daily here at My Minnesota.