Tag Archives: Carrying Place

Harbingers of Spring – the first wild-flowers of the year

Coltsfoot
Coltsfoot

As an immigrant from the UK, initially the delicious, slow unfolding of the English Spring – Snowdrops in February, then Daffodils and Primroses, and Bluebells in April – was one of the few things for which I felt a nostalgic yearning. In Toronto, I blinked and missed the greening of the trees. Trilliums enchanted me, but I had to go look for them.

Living here, I’ve learned Spring’s more subtle nuances, and that the more you see, the more you see!

When the Coltsfoot turns its yellow face to the sun, I feel the excitement of beginning. In our yard I’ve pulled much of it out as a non-native invader but I admit to delighting in its radiance along the roadside.

Bloodroot
Bloodroot

Soon after, I check the bank in our woods for Bloodroot, like many of the Spring ephemerals a dainty flower that opens to the sun and closes at night. As the term suggests, Spring ephemerals are seen only briefly as the canopy’s rapid greening blocks out the light. Many disappear completely, hiding beneath the forest floor ready to grow back next Spring. I think part of the pleasure I now feel is in knowing when and where to look, an appreciation of their transience.

Great White Trillium
Great White Trillium
Red Trillium
Red Trillium

Already, I see Trillium leaves, though the flowers will take another week or two to appear. I love the purity of the Great White variant but covet the Red Trillium too.

Dutchman's Breeches
Dutchman’s Breeches

Dutchman’s Breeches always make me smile, the name so apt yet somehow comic. It seems as if each year they carpet the woods along Pine Point more densely.

Now we’re really getting started! As I walk, I look for Sharp Lobed Hepatica and Virginia Spring Beauty, tiny but so pretty. There are swathes of Long Spurred Violet as well as patches of Common Blue Violet. For the first time, I also spotted a Downy Yellow Violet and a patch of Pussytoes!

Spring Beauty
Spring Beauty
Long Spurred Violet
Long Spurred Violet
Hepatica
Hepatica
Downy Yellow Violet
Downy Yellow Violet
Pussytoes
Pussytoes
Common Blue Violet
Common Blue Violet

I’m less happy to see Siberian Squill. Whilst its blue flowers may be attractive, it is another very invasive non-native that can crowd other plants out. And, however much it reminds me of my grandmother, I’ve removed Lily of the Valley from my list of desirable plants for the same reason.

Siberian Squill
Siberian Squill
Lily of the Valley
Lily of the Valley

As I write at the beginning of May, the Trout Lillies are adding their dainty yellow blooms to the mix, and the Large-flowered Bellwort are also beginning to open. It brings me special joy to see these abundantly intermingled with Trillium and Spring Beauty.

Bellwort
Bellwort
Trout Lilies
Trout Lilies
Trilliums, Spring Beauty & Trout Lily
Trilliums, Spring Beauty & Trout Lily

We are fortunate that some of these first flowers of the year occur naturally on our land. But I am gradually adding more under the trees and at the wood edge. I am excited by the first flowering of the Hepaticas I planted last year. And I am loving the combination of blue Virginia Bluebells and yellow Wood Poppy, both native though not local.

Virginia Bluebells & Wood Poppy
Virginia Bluebells & Wood Poppy

In this beautiful rural setting, wildflowers can be a wonderful addition to a garden. And, by definition, native plants once established tend to do well with very little attention, as well as benefiting the local ecosystem.

Written for the Dog & Cranberry Lake Association Newsletter, May 2023

Stories in the snow – tracks

I’ve always been fascinated by the stories of lives otherwise unseen that winter reveals. So it was a real treat, on Saturday March 5, to join Shirley French at her property on Cranberry Lake as she led a session for DCLA (Dog & Cranberry Lakes Association) members on Tracks in the Snow.

Illustration of animal tracks

I  think someone must have had what my grandfather used to call ‘a hotline to the clerk of the weather’! Certainly, we were blessed with an almost perfect day – snow fresh enough for distinct tracks, cold but not too cold, dry, and reasonably bright.

A group of a dozen or so intrepid trackers, including two delightful young girls bursting with enthusiasm and curiosity, gathered on Shirley’s land for an initial briefing on what we might find. Helpful illustrations of the tracks we were likely to see supplemented what we had already gleaned from a video of winter visitors that Shirley made available before the event.

Intrepid trackers

A story of a fox, a weasel, and a snake (and other animals)

Unsurprisingly, the first tracks we spotted were those of the ubiquitous white-tailed deer, as well as squirrel and rabbit.

However, there was real excitement when we spotted some intriguing tracks leading up over a rock. Of course, we had to investigate! Skirting carefully up the slope behind the rock we discovered the partially eaten remains of a snake, likely a water snake. Who dragged it there? At the time, we didn’t arrive at a clear answer. But later Shirley went back and measured the footprints on the rock. The narrative that emerged was that it was a fox who left the snake’s remains. The fox likely stole the prey from a weasel, an animal that could access a snake hibernaculum, perhaps in the side of a small island just offshore across the ice.

The ongoing story, as captured by video footage in the days that followed, included visits to the snake by a leery crow and a nibbling racoon; fox and porcupine also passed by.

It’s worth noting that this rock was already of interest as Shirley had previously identified a mink den beneath it, sharing some lovely footage of their comings and goings in her preliminary video.

Further explorations

We continued our explorations, edging out towards the lake and clambering up rocky paths, all the while noting the evidence of abundant life written in the snow. The distinctive tracks of porcupine often include the sweep of their dragging tail alongside their clawed toes – four at the front, five at the back. Turkey tracks are like direction markers, though they point back in the direction they’ve come from rather than forward to where they are going! We saw both of these.

It was truly exhilarating to forge a path through the snow to one of the highest points above Cranberry lake. What a view!

What a view over Cranberry Lake!

Many thanks to Shirley for her leadership, the sharing of her knowledge and the invitation to walk her land and to all the participants, especially the youngest ones, who helped make this a captivating and magical experience.

Written for and published in the Dog & Cranberry Lakes Association Newsletter, June 2022

Last year for the DCLA Newsletter I wrote about my attempts at getting to know our trees in The Year of the Trees

Carrying Place Photo Gallery

Photos from the first month in our new home.

The next chapter: moving rural (1)

A good friend asked for my first impressions of this new stage of our lives. If I had to choose one word, it would be ‘blessed’.

Homecoming

For me there is a real sense of coming full circle, of ‘home’, of ‘returning to the land of my soul’[1]. Although I have tried throughout my life to live authentically, have enjoyed each new stage and adventure, all the riches of experiences and connections, in returning to rural life there is a feeling of re-accessing a true, deep part of me that I associate with my childhood and teens. I was a child of nature, integrally connected with the rhythm of the seasons, with a strong link between external and internal realities. I have at times struggled to find that link amid urban overload. Here it is a sweet, familiar melody running through my living.

Always the lake . . .

As each day dawns, I am excited to experience anew the beauty of ‘most this amazing day’[2].

 

Cranberry Lake, a cranberry bog flooded during the construction of the Rideau Canal, is what I see when I open my bedroom curtains; it takes my breath away every time I glimpse it. In a house with more windows than walls, it is a constant presence, the backdrop to our lives.

Some days, the water has been sprinkled with diamonds or fine, powdery glitter. Then there are the times of mirror calm, when every island become a Rorschach inkblot, or of grey shot with silver, of rising mist heralding the mellow mornings of Fall; and, to start and end the day the sun (and sometimes the moon) throw fire into the lake, painting it in reds and golds or soft pinks and purples.

 

I have always loved the wind, but until now I had not begun to understand its subtleties; the lake shows me how its tendrils touch and change things, shows me the quiet spaces where the wind is not. I notice which way the wind is blowing – usually from the south east; even through this hot August, colder when from the north.

 

The lake roots us in change, it is never quite the same as it was. Out paddling in the flat calm of early morning, I understood both that that calm is always present beneath the water’s every mood and that in those moments of absolute calm it is can most fully reflect back the light – it is truly magical to watch it ripple on a leafy overhang.

[1] A reference to a lovely song I know through Neshama Carlbach, ‘Return Again’ 

[2] e.e. cummingsI thank You God for most this amazing’