… I think he’s handsome. A painted turtle I crossed paths with this summer in the Pine Barrens. I wish I knew more about turtles and saw them more often. Other than this type, or the Diamondback Terrapins that turn up once in a while in a crab trap, or the cranky Snapping Turtles I see in local ponds – I know nothing of turtles. They seem pretty likeable and don’t mind posing for photos, either.
Hurricane Hanna
I was hoping some of these (beach plums) would be ripe for picking this weekend…
but the ocean looks like this and I’m hunkering down inside instead.
Anyone else having a hurricane party today? Any good beach plum jelly recipes to share? Stories? Storm jokes?
😉
Skywatch Friday
The view from the top of what I think is Bobbie’s favorite NJ lighthouse – Twin Lights in Highlands, NJ. Sandy Hook, the bay and the Atlantic are there in the distance.
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Luka’s latest
Chewing on a discarded water bottle on the bay at Sandy Hook. What is it with dogs and plastic bottles? Do they like the crunch or just the way we chase after them?
Where have I seen this?
I’ll fall out of my chair if anyone can guess correctly. Though I suppose there’s a few people who could exploit their local advantage. Anyone?
September’s Certainties
There are the certainties of September, a month by grace of the calendar but a season by its own insistence. Now comes the time of pause and slow transition, a time neither new nor old, growth nor completion. Summer nor Autumn.
There is the certainty of fire in the maples, now evident in the coals and brands of the sumacs. The coinage of October is now being minted in the elms, and the ripeness of the grape is forecast in the big New England asters, purple as amethysts. The certainty of Indian Summer’s mists is there in the thistedown and the finespun silk of the milkweed. The frosts to come are foreshadowed in the froth of small white asters at every roadside.
The crows now know the certainty of their own tenure and proclaim it loudly. The jays no longer make any secret of their presence or their coming inheritance. The cricket and the katydid tell the darkness the certainty of time and its implacable demands. The whippoorwill and the owl exchange confidence in the night, reluctant companions in the slowly shifting eternity of starlight.
There is the certainty of sun and evening light, which mark the time of change in the breadth of a shadow, the depth of dawn and dusk. Two more weeks and the compass can set its needle by the morning sun. Yesterday’s new moon will wax toward the fullness that will double the certainty of the equinox.
September makes its own commitments, abides by its own inevitabilities in the decisions of time.
–Hal Borland, Sundial of the Seasons
If I were to make a short-list of favorite nature writers, Hal Borland would probably be at the top of it. I love the way his writing so often sounds like poetry, yet gently teaches me things about astronomy and botany and phenology.
Do you have a favorite nature writer? Can we share short-lists?
😉
A day on the river
Okay so… this whole boat thing is kinda novel and the learning curve is pretty steep, too. Sitting here typing, I still feel myself rocking back and forth, kinda like you feel after a day spent rollerskating. Very disconcerting. I almost think I may be seasick. Is that even possible or did I just get too much sun?
😉
Mention a boat and my brother Brian magically appears. Our idea today was to do some crabbing, so Bri found himself in charge of cutting bait, which I learned he’s pretty good at.
I also learned he’s really squeamish about these worms… nasty things he was using for the fishing poles. They made him squirm like a girl. Very funny.
I really need to do something with my hair. Could it maybe stick up in one more different direction?
I was surprised (boo hiss!) to find mute swans on the river…
Nice, though, was this oystercatcher feeding near a sandbar. They are such cool birds. It’s very hard to take pics on a rocking boat… though at this time we were almost stuck on that sandbar.
😉
Have I mentioned that my brother is a total goofball? You’re suppossed to stay in the boat!
So… we didn’t catch many crabs at all, but Bri did the goofy fisherman grin anyway. A bad day fishing…. (you know the rest)
He got the pretty blue claws, but I got this tiny little calico crab that didn’t even try to bite me.
😉
Change is…
This monarch caterpillar had been struck with an idea; uncomfortable in its own skin, it turned itself and its life upside down and waited for the inevitable.
By the next morning, the transformation inherent in that idea had begun; in order to gain the wings, the caterpillar had to lose the teeth and the fuzz and let go, trusting the process.
Ten days later found it still waiting, but showing outward signs of the body doing just what it should, unaware perhaps, of any memory of that earlier idea and the life it had shed.
I’d like to think that same intelligence, whatever it is that makes the monarch grow and change and fly, is at work in all of us.
From handsome caterpillar… to jade earring dotted with gold… to the most beautiful mosaic of colors enclosed in the thinnest of skins… to shutter-like wings flaked with fire, waiting on the warmth of the sun. The change complete… beauty to beauty.
A butterfly idea… what could be smaller or more frantic? Or more improbable in the mind of a caterpillar?
Does the butterfly wonder how or why or should I as it readies itself to fly away helter-skelter on new wings?
These pics are from a couple summers ago; I’m just as amazed with the process now as I was then, watching it day to day. Miracles like this play themsleves out everyday all around us. Sometimes we’re lucky enough to have a ringside seat. I’ve not found any monarch cats in the garden since that summer, but this one continues to inspire my dreams for daring in the face of certain change.
Skywatch Friday
The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever. — Jacques Cousteau
This weekend marks the ‘official’ end of the summer season here at the Jersey Shore; after Monday, the beaches will be free: free of outsiders and free of daily fees. People begin to flee. They leave the summer rentals towing their sailboats behind them. Birds flee; shorebirds depart as migrating ducks begin to arrive, egrets find maps in their pursuit of summer to the south.
We breath a sigh of relief because the beach can be ours again; ours for a quiet sunset walk along the bay or a day spent oceanside soaking up the September sun. After Labor Day is the best time here. Warm days and cool nights.
Horseshoe Cove at Sandy Hook is one of my favorite places to watch the sunset over the bay. I have hundreds of sunset pictures from there. That trio of similar forms silhouetted against the setting sun is what remains of one of the many coastal defense fortifications from WWI that dot Sandy Hook. In summer, there’s always a tern or two perched there and some cormorants or gulls. Off in the far distance at the horizon is the pier at Naval Weapons Station Earle. There’s often a battleship there on the bay.
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Never try to outstubborn a bunny
Everybunny here is shedding like mad or, as we like to tell them, “all your stuffing’s coming out!” None will sit to be brushed though… not without lots of foot flicks.