Just Step Outside

A world of wonder awaits. More Joy.

Quaking Poplar Grove

Dear Readers,

I just erased almost this entire post because I realized (thankfully) that I was going on and on about something that I’d already talked about in my last post, Joy and the Red Chandelier.

The bugs.

Frankly, I’m tired of talking and writing about them, and I imagine you might be, too.

And so, I have edited this to share just a few things that have happened lately, because I am braving the great outdoors despite the little beasties.

If I didn’t venture outside, I wouldn’t have noticed that there is a baby Quaking Poplar/AKA Quaking Aspen grove growing right next to the path in the woods on the way to the Pond! See photo at top.

I swear, every time I pass by them now, I can see another little one popping out of the ground.

This may look like a nothing burger to you, but because my writing home here is called The Quaking Poplar, seeing them every day gives me a dose of Joy. And I think of all of you. I’m excited to watch them grow tall. They look very healthy!

If I had stayed in the house, I might have missed this dragon cloud on the brightest of blue sky days.

Or this Eastern Phoebe on my rock wall when I returned from a walk. Turns out she’s the one living by my back door.

I might not have ventured over to Gone-Away Stream to visit my giant stone friend, She Drinks From the Stream.

Or to the Beaver dam, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of these master builders.

If I stayed inside all summer, I wouldn’t notice all the plants making their return appearance. Like Milkweed, who is prolific and healthy-looking so far and will be food for the Monarchs (who in turn will eat the bugs!)

Have you ever smelled a meadow full of Milkweed? I am waiting for her to burst open and release her intoxicating scent.

I could go on and on.

Queen Yarrow seems to have returned in abundance after last summer’s odd disappearance.

Daisies are everywhere, and who doesn’t feel a bit of Joy when they see a Daisy? Or Queen Yarrow?

A cup of Daisy/Yarrow tea, anyone?

Well, now, I’ve saved the best for last. I am still processing what I witnessed last week. Wednesday, June 10th, to be exact.

It was early evening, and I stepped onto my little patio. There, under the picnic table, was a very large mama Snapping Turtle.

It’s egg-laying season for Turtles here in the Northeast. I happen to live across the road from a Wildlife Sanctuary with abundant water. Believe it or not, the Turtles come out of the water, make their way across the (thankfully very lightly traveled) road, up the hill, where they search for a safe place to lay their eggs. Preferably in sandy soil, which is abundant here.

I’ve seen them a number of times, and the first year I was here, a mama laid her eggs in my little herb garden by the house. Unfortunately, a predator got to the eggs (I think it was Chip!), and so I never witnessed any little ones.

This time, I said hello, told her she was safe, and went inside to give her some privacy. I watched this ancient-looking mama Turtle start to dig a hole on the edge of my patio, literally right in front of my door. I sat on the floor for 90 minutes, witnessing the digging, the laboring, the laying of eggs, and the final covering with dirt. It was dark when she began her long journey back down the hill, across the road, to her home.

Turtles do not watch over their nest. The hatchlings, if they are lucky enough to survive predators, will (I believe) make the same journey that their mother did - all by instinct.

I had read that it’s a good idea to gently hose down the area to disperse the scent of the birth and avoid attracting predators. I kid you not, the minute the mama turned to head home, a gentle rain began and continued all night long. I don’t doubt for a moment that she knew it was going to rain.

I am singing to the little ones every day and keeping an eye on the nest. So far so good. I will keep you posted.

I marvel at so many things.

That I stepped outside at that moment and saw her.

That she chose that spot knowing how close I was.

Did she know of my deep relationship with Turtle?

How effortlessly she moved the earth with her claws.

That her offspring are buried underground for many weeks. How is this possible?

Many people at this time of year will witness these ancient beings, and so I know that I’m not alone. I wonder if everyone feels the sacredness like I did. And still do. It will forever be stored in my mental folder of Turtle memories. I have written a lot about them - if you’re interested, go to my Home page and put “Turtle” in the Search bar.

Here she is. In all her Mama Turtle glory.

Much Love,
Barbara