Natural Wonders Big and Small

The sun rose at 6:14 this morning and we actually saw it today - well, not at 6:14 – but for the first time since our return to the cabin, I could look out our front window and see Woodcock Mountain in full view. The forecast calls for a few more days of sunshine and we will enjoy every one.

Just before lunch I pulled on some rubber boots and an old hooded jacket, grabbed my cameras and binoculars, and headed out to the beaver pond. There was a thin skim of ice that covered the surface, evidence that even though the sun was shining now, the overnight temperature had been below freezing. I was surprised at how low the water level was… the older, abandoned beaver lodge was even out of the water. What are those beavers up to? Looks like they have diverted the stream to a newer pond below this one. I could see fresh wood chips on the ground and a few recently toppled osier dogwood saplings, so I know the beavers are still around. I sat on a fallen tree for a few moments, and heard the high-pitched twittering of many tiny birds, like rustling leaves in the leafless birch trees, or the tinkle of distant wind chimes. They remained an invisible presence, for I never saw them.

While the mountains are magnificent, rising a mile high against a brilliant blue sky like this morning, there is not much else that grabs your attention at this time of year. Other than early crocus, there is nothing in bloom. The trees have not leafed out yet and the meadow is mostly a dull brown. But when I happened to look down at a fallen tree at the edge of the beaver pond, I saw a beautiful garden of mosses and lichen. In shades of red, gold, green and silver grey, the various mosses blended together; fire moss, curly heron’s bill, and others I could not name, the pyxie cup and horned cladonia lichens intermingled. The mosses were in bloom, their sporophytes waving in the breeze. Here, in this tiny spot were the colors and blooms my winter soul searched for. It is a reminder to myself that sometimes I need to stop, sit quietly and look closer at the ground beneath my feet. Surprises await there.

Nature doth thus kindly heal every wound.

By the mediation of a thousand little mosses and fungi,

the most unsightly objects become radiant of beauty.

Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862), Journal, 1845

... P. L. Morningstar