Day 4

The rain stops briefly. Well. It slows down some. I choose the benches on the covered overlook for my sit spot today.

Forty-six Tundra Swans resting here tonight:  they’ll be gone tomorrow.

One Red-winged Blackbird announcing his territory:  he’s here to stay for a while.

A Muskrat playing hide-and-seek in the brush: he’s a permanent resident.

Audubon

Day 3

If yesterday’s theme was water, today it must be mud.  My boot tugs back as I coax it from deep puddles and ruts and it complains with that mud suction sound.  It is cold.  Too cold to just sit.  The thick, gray clouds are blocking, more than filtering light.

I’m lugging my camera but I am not hopeful that I will turn much up.  I decide to challenge myself… to see what I can find to photograph.  I look for small things.  Bits of color or texture.  Exercise for the longest setting on my zoom lens.

Time slips away and my memory card fills up.  The forest is filled with endless subjects to challenge me.  Why did I doubt?

Bergman Park

Day 2

Have you ever walked forest trails that look like dry creekbeds? Today I walked those forest trails and they were  not empty; they were not dry. Water. Water. Water.

It gushed out of the ground and ran down the hills, gathering volume and strength.  Gurgling.  Sputtering.  Gushing.  Water.  Water.  Water.

The air was thick with fog and mist.  Water.  Water.  Water.

We lunched in a Hemlock Grove beside a creek that overflowed it banks.  Water.  Water.  Water.

The skies opened and a gentle rain began to fall; eventually it drenched us.  Water. Water.  Water.

Allegany State Park
North Country Trail

Day 1 – Starting Again…

The top layer of leaves has thawed enough to provide a soft cushion under my feet, but I can feel that the ground below the leaves is still frozen.  The air is warm and misty.  I don’t need gloves or a hat, but I wear both.  I am in no hurry as I pick my way through the woods allowing whatever catches my eye to captivate me.

At the half-way point, I sit on a log in Cavity-Nesters Paradise.  I notice several trees with holes.  Some of these holes appear to have formed naturally – the scar from a lost branch perhaps.  Others were obviously excavated by woodpeckers.

I listen intently trying to identify birds by their songs.  Black-capped Chickadee.  White-breasted Nuthatch.  Tufted Titmouse.  Red-bellied Woodpecker.  I spot most of these, as well as a Downy Woodpecker.  There is another song that I don’t remember ever hearing before.  I strain to find the source, but I am not successful.  I hope I will be able to find this bird another day… before the branches leaf out.

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My hike in the woods today inspires me to do the Sit-Spot Challenge again.  I will do it differently this time…  I won’t use the same Sit-Spot every day.  I will go outside every day to sit, but the location may vary.  Today it was the woods behind Bergman Park.

Day 30

Sun’s shining.  Snow’s melting.  Water’s running.  Gloves are in the pockets.  Jacket’s unzipped.  Sunglasses are on.

Birds are calling.  Gulls of all things.  Also titmice, woodpeckers, crows.  Strangely silent are the nuthatches and chickadees.

Even WinterWoman enjoys the change of the season.  As I sit, I wonder what flowers will bloom here.  Wild Geranium, certainly.  Jack-in-the-Pulpit over there.  And just down the path that huge patch of Mayapples.  Soon enough…

 

I take the long way home and am treated to a demonstration of how Pileated Woodpecker searches for food.  (It was interesting to see Monarch’s video, but to see it in person is even better.)

When I emerge from the woods… Killdeer!  They’re back!  It must be spring.

Lolli will need a bath.  Mud season is upon us.

Day 29

Every colored object absorbs the sun’s heat and reflects it back to melt shapes into the snow.  Trees grow from cylindrical wells.  Leaves are recessed in perfect custom-shaped frames.  Twigs lie at the bottom of custom-shaped troughs.  A steady, gentle rain does its part to remove the snow or at least attempts to.

Day 28

Missed yesterday.  Ran out of gas.  Literally and figuratively.  Thanks to Glen:  he gets hero points for rescuing me.

Today, I lie on my log and take silly upside down and crooked photos.  I don’t know what it means.

Analyze me.

Day 26

Three fingers fit between the sun and the horizon.  Forty-five minutes until sunset.  Falling temperatures are turning the perfect snowman snow crunchy on top.  Tufted Titmouse sings me into the woods.  If other birds are still singing, I can’t hear them over the crunching of my boots on snow.

When I settle into my Sit Spot, White-Breasted Nuthatch’s nasal “pent” sounds a few times before he goes silent.  Downy Woodpecker’s calls sound panicky and he seems confused as he flits from this tree to that.  Crows caw loudly, distantly as they settle into a roost somewhere.

I review this excellent day that started in fog, then burned into bright sunshine.  As I take the long way home, I notice the sky has turned an unnamable color.  Not cream or yellow.  Not orange or bronze or copper.  Similar to the dry Beech leaves that still cling to the trees, but not that either…

Day 25

Gray dusk.  Lifeless time.  Diurnal animals have bedded down.  Nocturnal animals have yet to rise.  A light snow falls.  Some flakes are individual.  Many band with others into clumps.  The breeze is strong enough to wiggle the leaves, but not strong enough to rustle them.  The only sound is that of snow falling on snow.

Oh yes.  It makes a sound.

Day 24

Fresh powder stopped falling in the middle of the night.  Since then squirrels, chipmunks and a fox have been here.  Look there:  a subnivean traveler was forced to surface where human footsteps have compressed the snow… but he disappeared beneath the snow on the other side of the trail.

Shadows dance across the fresh canvas in synch with the dances of clouds above.