Round-lobed Hepatica, Rue Anemone, Partridgeberry

I headed out today with a specific mission: to hike to the lower portion of Meetinghouse Creek and draw the Round Lobed Hepaticas that grow all along the edges, on both the east and west-facing slopes. The day was warm for March (over 80 degrees) and even though there was a cool breeze from the west, it passed way over my head as I sketched beside the creek, and the sun shining straight down on me made me feel rather toasty. On the other hand, I was cooled by the damp, black loamy soil, revealed as I slid slowly downhill and scraped away the leaf litter, which allowed my jeans to soak up some of the moisture.

The plants above are growing on the east-facing side of the creek, in a steep bank of moss along with many dainty Rue Anemones, Partridgeberry vines, and lots of violet-shaped leaves about the size of my pinky fingernail. Butterflies fluttered past: a Tiger Swallowtail, Mourning Cloak, Spring Azure, and three Folded-wing Skippers. A fat, black fly buzzed around for a while, and had the nerve to land on me. Daisy explored for a while, and finally took a nap. This is not her favorite kind of hike.

Nappy-time!

Last year's leaves plastered to a rock in the creek

Carolina Jessamine vs. Japanese Honeysuckle

Today Daisy and I spent several hours hiking, heading first to Lawson's Fork to see what early wildflowers might be blooming. Last year I found a large patch of Rue Anemone down there, and since they are definitely blooming over on Meetinghouse Creek I assumed they'd be out. But just because they are blooming in one place, it doesn't mean they are blooming elsewhere, even in the same neighborhood!

We wandered the shore along the creek, keeping an eye out for blooms. We found none, but Daisy had a fine time jumping onto the muddy bank, into the water and out again, and it was beautiful - twisting Mountain Laurel trunks, arching branches of Dog Hobble, the gray haze of pre-spring hardwood forest. But no flowers yet, no unfurling fern fronds.

We finally settled next to a pine close to home to draw our official state wildflower, Carolina Jessamine, the vine growing from the base of a pine and intertwined with the invasive Japanese Honeysuckle. The tangle gets even more involved around the other side of the tree, where Coral Honeysuckle joins the fray. A Dogwood is in bud beside it all, and at some point in April, all of these plants will be in bloom.

Mountain Laurel and Dog Hobble along the river

Mountain Laurel Trunk

Sycamore Seed Ball

By the time I'd finished my work today storm clouds and strong winds had arrived in Middlewood, causing treetops to swirl and occasional pine boughs to break loose from branches and fly out onto Old Thompson Road. Yikes! I knew Daisy and I shouldn't go far in case the rain came earlier than expected, so we headed down to Meetinghouse Creek to draw the flowers of a Tag Alder that hangs off the bank and over the water.

But right at the steepest part of the hill that drops to the creek, I passed a bunch of Sycamore balls that the wind had finally worked off the towering tree at the edge of the woods. Some were still whole, but others had broken open to scatter their little tufted seeds to the wind. Crouching to inspect one I noticed the hollow center and the neat honeycomb pattern inside. I decided to draw that instead. Down in the somewhat protected spot I received only occasional wind gusts... in fact, a few irritating bugs came to visit, reminding me of the other side of warm weather - the side I often forget in winter.

On the way home the sky was getting darker and more ominous, and pushing into the wind felt very... well, beachy! I stopped to check on the opossum skull I have hidden half buried at the edge of the field so the ants can clean it up for me (it's still not ready), and stopped again to take this photo of a different Sycamore, also with the few remaining seed balls dangling from the tree and swinging wildly this afternoon!

Back at our hill Daisy and I sat on the bench to revel in the weather and the site of Daisy's long hair blowing in the wind, but within five minutes a tornado warning siren blasted out from the two fire stations within hearing range of us, Bethesda Road and Glendale, which forced me home against my will.

Sycamore with seed balls and storm clouds

Vines Along the Creek

Today the woods were full of silence. As Daisy and I headed downhill towards Meetinghouse Creek I stopped occasionally to listen for sounds. Once, I heard tiny clicks in the leaves and my first thought was - rain? It was overcast, but rain was not in the forecast. I listened harder. No. Not rain. I decided it must be an insect or young anole moving among the leaves. Daisy smelled three deer (we did not hear them) and took off to chase them downhill and back uphill and into the woods. Even her mad dash seemed to make no noise.

I hiked on down to Meetinghouse Creek and turned left along the creek bank, ducking into the tangled vines and pines that grow along the sunny edge of the pipeline. By this time Daisy had lost the deer and returned to follow me. From a distance, this area of the woodland floor looks like it's covered in a smooth green carpet of Running Cedar (also known as Fan Clubmoss - Lycopodium digitatum), but as you get closer, the beautiful branched leaves take shape. Daisy walked through the green and down to the creek. I followed.

Vines grow thick all along the creek here. At one spot I noticed all these vines climbing trees (Poison Ivy, Partridgeberry and Cross Vine) or dangling down from branches (Wild Grape, and honeysuckle) or climbing up other vines (Carolina Jessamine). I settled on the edge of the small ridge above the creek to draw. It was still quiet, but a woodpecker was knock-knock-knocking on a tree a short distance away. Daisy came and sat so close she was leaning on me - I could feel her warmth, which is very comfortable and snuggly, and one of the best reasons to be a dog person.

After about an hour I packed up and Daisy and I headed out of the woods. By this time the sun was breaking though the clouds and warming things up. The birds seemed to like this too, so birdsong was everywhere: Goldfinch, Titmice, Crows, Cardinals, Kinglets, Chickadees, and Red-bellied Woodpecker.

ps: the green, thorny vine is one of the greenbriers - I think Common Greenbrier, or Smilax rotundifolia.

Turkey-tails In Love

I tried hard to find some flowers to draw for Valentine's Day by hiking up to the ridge and around in the woods, looking for the Trailing Arbutus I discovered in December. It's supposed to be a very early bloomer, and was the only flower I could think of that might be blooming. Alas, not this early! The flowers were no different than the last time I saw them - still spiky little buds. However, on my walk I'd noticed a log along Meetinghouse Creek full of richly colored turkey-tails. I went back to it and found these that are heart-shaped and squeezed together in a hug. They're even better than flowers for all you lovers out there! I sat right down and got to work.

So, today this goes out to each of you, Middlewood Journal readers all. I hope you have a wonderful Valentine's Day!

Daisy helping me search for Trailing Arbutus...

Found it! But look at the tight flower buds...

Cinnabar-red Polypores (Pycnoporus cinnabarinus)

These tough, slightly dimpled polypores were growing on a dead tree trunk resting on it's own branches about 2' off the ground. It might be a cherry tree, but the bark was peeling and so covered in various mold and lichen it was hard to say. What is easy to say is how I happened to notice the polypores as I hiked past. The shocking cinnabar polypore against the black, moldy trunk called to me from afar. "Paint me!" it said... "paint me paint me paint me paint me!"

Once I settled in front of it with my back to the warming sun, journal and pen in hand, I noticed lots of other interesting things happening on that log. For instance, check out the pale orange "ribbons" of orange polypore that snake just below the tree bark, like runners. I didn't notice the bent grass stem and its shadow until after I'd almost finished drawing the largest polypore. Later still, the white strips of lichen along the bottom of the log became glaringly obvious - each with it's own blackened crack down the middle of it. Which came first, crack or lichen, I wondered. Peeling bark... a mini volcano-shaped knot at the bottom...and more! Finally, I just had to stop drawing. The sun was getting low and the wind quite cold. Brrrrr....

On the way home I found the remains of a box turtle shell scattered in the winter-tanned grass on top of the high hill with the view to the mountains of North Carolina. I'd walked enough to warm a little so I sat down to draw, this time in a larger book of watercolor paper. This will definitely be a long-term project... like I have so much extra time! More on that later.

Turtle Shell Hill

Cranefly Orchid, Cross Vine, Rattlesnake Plantain

It was a lovely Sunday afternoon to be outside, especially after running errands in town during heavy rain on Friday, and social activities all day Saturday. Daisy agreed (because she'd missed out on hiking too) so we hiked to the lower Meetinghouse Creek. I went there intending to draw the liverworts that grow in the damp shade along the north-facing bluff, but I was distracted by a beautiful Rattlesnake Plantain plant that was shaded by the leaf of a Cranefly Orchid. Next to them grew a Crossvine seedling with purplish leaves. As I settled in for my drawing session, I gently moved some oak leaves away from the plants so that i could see it better. Curious Daisy came over to see what I was doing... and like all dogs, the best way to explore something is to sniff it. She edged close to me as I perched on the edge of the small bluff, and poked her nose around. "No, Daisy... Move, Daisy.... Oh, Daisy!" Naturally, she stepped right on top of the plants and broke two leaves off the Rattlesnake Plaintain.

I dug around in my pack and found peanut butter treats to distract her, and decided right then not to try to draw the whole plant (which considering the complex pattern on the leaves would take quite a long time) but to show leaves of all three that were growing together. Luckily, Daisy eventually lost interest and left me for long enough to get these leaves drawn.

In our later explorations I discovered several new clusters of Round-lobed Hepatica in rocky, shady places. I'll be keeping an eye out for their early spring blooms!

Oak Leaves on the Rocky Ridge

I found these leaves on the rocky ridge above Lawson's Fork while hiking with my hubby and Daisy Sunday afternoon. The lacy pattern on the post oak leaf was quite striking, noticeable even mixed in with all the other leaves. The other leaf was obvious because of the Polyphemus Moth cocoon. I've never seen one of those cocoons attached to a leaf - always a branch or twig. The day was warm - almost 70 degrees - and sunny, making it the best kind of winter day to be wandering in the woods.

It was nice having company on the hike! Here is a shot Ben took while we were resting on the rocky ridge above Lawson's Fork. I'm giving Daisy a yummy home-made peanut butter treat.

Later we went down to Lawson's Fork to let Daisy play on the little islands there. She loves playing in the water.

The weather has turned cold again since then - I've had my silk long underwear on today and sleet is clicking against the windows tonight. And even though the warm day was nice, I love winter! I love the naked trees and seeing the lay of the land through the hardwood forests. Plus, I am still hoping for one more beautiful snow storm before spring... just one.

Beechdrops, Heartleaf, and Tufted Titmice

If you sit long enough and are very quiet, you get to see special things in nature. Today, for example, I finally settled against an oak tree to finish the sketch of the Beechdrops (above). It was about 60 degrees, warm for January, and a soft breeze blew through the treetops, Daisy slept beside me. As I sketched - scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch - I heard birds about, some closer than others. But they got closer and closer, and louder, until I realized that a mixed flock of birds had come to Meetinghouse Creek to bathe. My friend Susan and I have experienced this before and have read about this common practice of birds... but every time it happens it's amazing. Today Robins, Tufted Titmice, Yellow-rumped warblers, Chickadees, as well as Goldfinch, and a Downy Woodpecker perched above and around me, flying down to the water in the shallow pool behind a fallen log in the slow-moving creek to splash and wash, then fly back to a branch to dry. They're very vocal during this - I imagine them telling each other, MY TURN! MY TURN!

I went back to my drawing but kept my binoculars in my lap and used them to watch the Downy Woodpecker work on a dead branch. After a few minutes I found myself watching two Tufted Titmice in a Beech tree. They would land in the crotch of the big tree, and I could have sworn they disappeared, but I was looking into the sun, so the little birds were nothing but silhouettes when they landed. I turned the page of my journal and grabbed a pencil to make a quick sketch of the tree they were in. Something was going on up there, at least 30 feet up in that tree (maybe more) and I had to know what it was. I packed everything up and hiked to the other side of the creek and UP the steep bluff to a point where I was even with the spot (the crotch of the tree) where I might see the birds from the opposite side. It was no surprise (and yet I was so pleased!) to see a small hole in the scarred crotch of the tree. (see sketch below) I didn't stay long enough to see birds land...the sun was setting and by this time the birds were gone anyway... but as soon as I got home I looked up "nesting habits of Tufted Titmice."

"Titmice will build nests in various types of trees including elms, maples, oaks, pines, and beech. A cavity nester, the Titmouse builds its nest in tree holes using a variety of materials that include dead leaves, moss, bark strips, grass, hair, fur, feathers, string, cloth, and snakeskin. Tufted Titmice want their nests mounted up high, like 32 to 36 feet above the ground."

This is information I will never forget because I learned from experiencing it. What a thrill!

Cordyceps capitata on South-facing Slope

The steep slope Daisy and I explored today faces south and drops down to Meetinghouse Creek at its confluence with Lawson's Fork. We crunched through the brown leaf litter that covers the hillside, and although Daisy bounded up the hill without a pause, I had to take careful steps so I wouldn't slide, and grab small trees occasionally to pull myself up. Boulders large and small are scattered about, some making ideal resting spots with a great winter view! From there, through naked trees, you can see across Meetinghouse Creek to the other high, rocky ridge. Also, through tall mountain laurels, you can see Lawson's Fork and across to the ridge beyond.

While resting I noticed a wildlife track leading up the hill at an angle, so I followed it. We topped the ridge and I was about to follow Daisy into the mountain laurel thicket when she stopped short and started barking like crazy at something I couldn't see. No telling what it was - I've seen her bark like this at strange dogs who've wandered into her territory, but also at a bag of garbage I put beside my car to be taken off. Anything "new" that she's not expecting. But I trusted that there was something there, so I turned around and headed back to the creek.

I discovered the tiny black mushrooms growing along this ridge. While investigating I brushed the leaves away to expose strange yellow stalks, the larger only 2"long. I read later in my field guide that they are Cordyceps capitata, common name Headlike Cordyceps, and they arise from an underground, truffle-like fungus. Interesting note: these are hallucinogenic mushrooms, used by shamans in Mexico for divining the future!

No luck in identifying the leaves without a flower to help. I'll keep an eye on them this spring.

Lawson's Fork - looking downstream

Dogwood Leaf and Downy Woodpecker Feathers

What a weather day! We woke around 5 a.m. to thunder and lightning - such a treat in January. Around breakfast came pouring rain that later in the morning slackened to drizzle and fog. After lunch the rain stopped, but left behind dark scudding clouds flying overhead, parting occasionally to reveal tiny patches of blue. By the time I put on my hiking shoes (2:00) and headed out the wind had picked up and the sun shone brightly.

Daisy, anxious to be off, dashed away down the front path followed by Atticus (our neighbor-dog), our old Calico cat named Cookie (who acted very nonchalant and only half interested in what was going on), and me. We wandered through piney woods until the wind rose high enough to break a branch and send it crashing down. Yikes! It's hard to know which trees have pine beetles and are apt to fall at any time, so we hurried on, passing by the big rocks at the sharp bend of Old Thompson Road, and a big flat stone covered in shockingly bright green moss. Close to the stone, under years of leaf litter, lies a rusty metal bumper of a car. For all I know the whole car is down there, having missed the curve many moons ago. I know it's possible, because not far from this spot, in the woods beside a sharp curve of Emma Cudd Road, lies the bent and rusted carcass of a '59 Chevy!

My little party stepped out onto the pipeline and headed in the direction of Lawson's Fork. Along the edge of the pipeline I noticed a dogwood leaf (above) that was stuck on a small branch of the tree. The leaf shimmied in the wind but even in the gusts, never seemed in danger of being lifted off the branch that so neatly fit through the tiny leaf-hole. I wondered as I drew - which came first? Was there a hole in the leaf that just happened to fall exactly in the right way to land on the small branch? or did the leaf fall onto the branch, which punched the hole, and held the leaf as it dried? I know, I know....this is certainly not one of life's biggest mysteries, but I wonder just the same.

Daisy chased Atticus around in the sun while I drew, Cookie the cat purred and rubbed against tree trunks in the small parcel of woods between two pipelines. Meooowwww! Once I finished we continued on, passing through an old homesite with moss-covered bricks and a rusty wire fence growing into an oak trunk, and on down, close to the river where there is a huge fallen tree covered in Stereum ostrea, or False Turkey Tails, and Stereum complicatum, Parchment Fungus. The tree proved to be a perfect stage for Cookie, who strode up and down, showing off her beauty.

Truly one of my favorite kind of days!

Moss

False Turkey Tail tree before Cookie became interested...

Cookie modeling on the False Turkey Tails.

Parchment Fungus

A fence has become part of the tree at the old homesite.

Yucca filamentosa

I've been fascinated for years by the native yucca plants that grow on the ridge above Lawson's Fork, so I decided today to hike there and draw one. It was cold, so it helped knowing that top of that ridge is sunny in mid-afternoon in winter, and that the bank of Mountain Laurel on the north side of the hill would block the chilling breeze.

Once there I wandered around to find an appropriate sized plant to draw. The big ones are, well, um...way too big and complex; the tiny ones, you guessed it, are too small. This plant's strappy leaves had enough curlies to be interesting and were about 8 inches long - a good size for an hour-long drawing session in a small journal.

I love the curly filaments that decorate the sword-shaped leaves. They make me wonder how and why a plant develops in this way. Do the curls have a purpose? If so, I can't imagine what it would be, but usually obvious features such as these have a function of some sort. Also, I have never seen these plants bloom, yet there are all ages represented up on the ridge, from tiny 3" leaves to the long 20" ones. Obviously some propagation is going on.

Daisy is not at all interested in the yuccas. She wanders while I draw, out of site but not out of hearing. When I get too cold to continue drawing, all I have to say is, "Daisy, come," and she is there to lead me out of the woods.

~~~

This shows how the yuccas grow in and around the rocks...

One of the big plants, taken last winter ...

The rocky ridge where the yuccas grow, taken last winter after a sleet storm.

Virginia Pine Cone

At 3:00 when we headed out it was 36 degrees and getting colder. Brrr... Daisy and I warmed up by hiking straight uphill into the mowed kudzu field, over the top of the hill. It's amazing how warm you become when hiking steeply uphill! We headed down the steep, old road to where there once was a small dam and a pond, at the headwaters of Meetinghouse Creek. On the way down we were in the shade, where the morning's ice crystals still jutted from banks of red clay. We left the road and hopped down the steep bank to the creek, following its winding bank all the way through Coon Hollow (named by me because of all the raccoon tracks we always found in the sand there), past two sunny pipelines, to the last, where Daisy and I finally settled in the sun to warm up. I'd been attracted to the daisy-like pinecone on this branch and picked it up, along with a deer vertebra, and some river birch bark. I thought I would draw all three, but when the sun dropped below the pines on the hill above us, all good intentions of "sticking with it" even in the cold, left with the sunlight. It immediately turned miserably cold. We immediately headed for home!

Parmotrema Lichen

The woods were cool and bright this afternoon as we hiked around in the crunchy, dry leaves, and stepped over numerous dead tree branches full of lichen. On one small branch near Meetinghouse Creek grew this beautiful Parmotrema perforatum lichen, covered with little brown-velvet-lined cups. Each cup had a little hole at the bottom. I sat on the ground and leaned against an oak tree for an hour or so to draw the small bunches of lichen. A Red-bellied Woodpecker chattered and chirred nearby, and a Blue Jay called his name somewhere across the pipeline, otherwise it was silent. Daisy slept beside me. Her friend, Atticus, who had hiked to the creek with us, became bored with me when I stopped to draw and took off on an adventure. He returned as we headed back uphill, toward home.

Life under the Snow

Nine days ago we had over 6 inches of snow, topped in the final hour with a crust of freezing rain. Unlike our usual southern here-today-gone-tomorrow snow storm, this one was followed by days of unusually cold weather, so it stayed and stayed and way overstayed its welcome. When the days finally warmed a little, it would melt the top layer of ice or snow, which would refreeze in the night. Our schools were closed for the whole week due to icy roads. And, even though I walked some, it was very difficult out here were there is no flat surface. I'm either hiking uphill or downhill, and the slick layer of ice that cracked with each step to let you sink 5 inches, made walking on it a joke. Even after clear spots of ground appeared, days of melt turned the ground to mud. I took a few walks, and some photos, but never did get to sit down with my journal.

So you can imagine how happy I was to look out the windows this morning and see that the snow was finally gone, washed away by this week's rain and warmer temps. The birds were singing like it was springtime. It was foggy early, but the sun burned it off in late morning and the temps rose to around 50 by 1:00. So nice. Daisy and I headed out for a hike on almost-dry ground - at least it wasn't muddy - and ended up sitting on the south-facing hill in the sun and drawing the tiny plants that I think are dormant this time of year. On that warm hill, watered with all the good nutrient filled snowmelt, some plants are already gearing up for spring.

Partridgeberry

Today was beautiful! Too bad I had to take down the Christmas tree and do a general post-Christmas cleanup. My goal, however, was to take Daisy on a walk at about 2:00, which I did.

We came upon horseback riders on the upper pipeline, so to keep Daisy and Atticus (Daisy's friend from across the street) out of the horses way, I called them and we crossed through the piney woods between the different lines and headed into the low land alongside Meetinghouse Creek. Lots of moss and lichen down there, and trees covered in polypores. It was cool in the shade of the steep rocky ridge that rises on either side of Meetinghouse, so I headed up to the high land of the native Yucca - a beautiful plant with strappy leaves edged with curling, peeling strands along the edges. I decided the Yucca needed more time to draw than I had today.

The Partridgeberry - a dainty little vine - was growing at the base of an oak tree near Old Thompson Road. There was an old rusty container that looked like it once held cigars - it was about the right size- and leaned against the tree, almost as if someone leaned it there intending to return.

Daisy and Atticus curled up for a little nap while I drew.

Winter Stems & A New Year's Resolution

We drove home from out of town today thinking the weather at home would be similar to where we woke up - sunny, temps almost 70. As we cruised up I-26 however, my incredibly smart phone told me that the weather at home was more like 52 degrees and foggy. No way! We were only 60 miles away, it couldn't be that different.

Oh yes, it could. Dense fog and damp chill welcomed us at the county line. So much for my plan of cutting back and cleaning out the perennial garden. The reports promised rain was close, so after unpacking, I slipped out for a walk with Daisy.

How I love the heading out part of our walks - the breaking away and putting real life on hold. It's such a free and peaceful feeling, and slowing down is the only way I have found to truly see the natural world. So today, while I wandered around the foggy woods and hilltop, I decided my New Year's Resolution for 2011 is to make that happen more often. It's difficult, even for me, but I challenge everyone reading this blog to think about a similar resolution for this new year - to get outside more, and to take intentionally slow strolls just to look around and see this amazing planet we live on. You don't have to be in the woods, you know. It could be your back yard, neighborhood, city street, a nearby park, maybe the grassy swath around your place of work during lunch hour. I can be done... try it.

Today I was only out for 30 minutes before the raindrops came. I'd worn a raincoat so I didn't rush back, but walked slowly, continuing to admire and pick the dried stems of many wildflowers, such as the whorled coreopsis (above) that grows in the woods and along the shady edge of the pipeline, as well as spiky thistle heads, fluffy dog fennel, and the twisty brown and white fuzzy leaves of rabbit tobacco. Daisy inspected each stem, as well, and pranced like a small horse when the cold drops started falling. We came in and made a fire to help dry us. All in all a great way to start the year.

Trailing Arbutus

On my hike today I heard raucous crows in the woods, fussing up a storm. This usually means a hawk or owl is in their territory, so I hurriedly slipped and slid down the still-snowy hill, hoping to see what was happening, or at least get there in time to see what it might be. As I approached, the sudden scream of a Red-shouldered Hawk echoed from the crow-crowded spot. Over and over he shrieked, while the crows screeched and cawed and flew out from a pine tree and back again. Their mobbing was such a noisy affair... the hawk must be in that tree. As I crept closer, and at the same time held Daisy to keep her from racing ahead, the crows saw me and flew away, squawking. After a moment of silence, the hawk flew out from the pine, still screaming. He landed on a bare oak branch very close to me and kept screeching, over and over and over. What is he so excited about? Is he fussing at me? I wondered. I also longed for my camera. The bird was close now, and was perched at a great angle for photography. Through binoculars I watched him cry out continually from the branch. About two minutes later, he flew screaming back into the pine and then... out of the pine flew a huge, dark and silent Great Horned Owl. The noisy hawk was on his tail as they flew off into the treetops.

Thirty minutes later I found these small, evergreen plants (above) on the steep north-facing hill above Lawson's Fork. I poked around under the leaf litter and saw that they were trailing plants, and then I saw the flower buds so I knew it would be an early bloomer, but I still didn't know what it was. That means research! One of my favorite things about wandering the woods is finding something new, and then digging into my field guides to identify it. Turns out they are Trailing Arbutus plants that bloom in early March with spicy, scented flower heads in pink or white. I've heard about them, but never seen one.

On the way back home I came face to face with a deer antler wedged in a small tree.... probably exactly where the young deer stopped last spring to rub his antler, and then lost it and left it. A fun find.

Later, I looked up the Red-shouldered Hawk and found this fascinating mention of what I'd seen in the woods:

"Although the American Crow often mobs the Red-shouldered Hawk, sometimes the relationship is not so one-sided. They may chase each other and try to steal food from each other. They may also both attack a Great Horned Owl and join forces to chase the owl out of the hawk's territory."

www.allaboutbirds.org

(Cornell Lab of Ornithology)

What a day!

White Ash & Tulip Poplar Seeds

I headed out around noon today, with only a two hour window to walk Daisy and draw in my journal. The shade felt cold, but on the sunny side of the pipeline it felt warm. In fact, by the time I'd hiked to my favorite winter-afternoon spot, I was hot and had to take my coat off.

After twenty years of hiking out here, I've found the best place to sit this time of year is on the far side of Meetinghouse Creek, where a steep hill facing south rises from the creek. You can settle there between noon and about four o'clock and receive full winter sun rays, the north wind is blocked, and radiant heat rises from the earth around you. It is heavenly on a cold day like today. The only problem... today the warm sun also awakened a few ants, who proceeded to come pester me. They weren't fire ants, but it is still disconcerting to feel one walking on your skin.

I drew small things I found on the ground around me. Daisy slept nearby.

Jamboread Poster

This is what I've been working on this week instead of journaling (I still hiked with Daisy, but no dilly-dallying)...I finished up my 10th poster for JAMBOREAD! - our county library system's reading festival for children. The image is my idea of what would happen to a book if a dragon read it.... but what book would a dragon want to read? I think this one. If you haven't read it, you should! Jamboread is the first weekend in March. Come see us!