My guy was on an unexpected road trip all weekend and didn’t arrive home until lunchtime today. So, while I waited for him, I did what I do best–stalked the garden.
I’m not sure I ever noticed this black and white bee previously. Its hairy body shimmered in the morning sun.
At the same time, the great golden digger wasp moved quickly about, using its jointed antennae to search out nectar before it honed in on the sweet stuff.
In a similar manner, a thread-waisted wasp also visited the mint flowers.
As I made my rounds, I was thrilled to find turtlehead about to bloom. This late-blooming flower is one of my favorites (turtle theme), and I’ve watched it move from spot to spot in the garden. This year, it’s plentiful in a shadier place than usual.
While the turtlehead sported new life, the black-eyed Susan spoke of days gone by. But even still, I think it’s stunning.
On the deck I noticed a cricket. Really, they are everywhere right now and sing all day and night–thus the reason we named our homestead Cricketchirp Farm. Don’t get it wrong–we don’t farm–we just live in an old farmhouse. Our best crop–insects.
And then I noticed I wasn’t the only one doing the watching. The red-legged grasshopper broke through a spider web and turned its head to keep an eye on me. Nice lips.
Finally, my guy was home and eager to stretch his legs. So I convinced him to explore several properties in the Oxford Hills region with me. Our journey began at Ordway Grove.
The trailhead is located on Pleasant Street in Norway and begins beside a quaint shed. Though the trail isn’t long, its history is worth reading on the Norway Historical Society’s Web site.
This is land where large red oaks are supported by much smaller beech, and . . .
towering white pines speak volumes about the last few hundred years.
The trail includes a few peeks at Lake Pennesseewassee, aka Norway Lake. Our only disappointment–signs of man’s disturbance, aka trash and some graffiti. Why?
After we completed the loop walk and stood in awe among the giant trees, we continued up Pleasant Street to the trailhead for the Witt Swamp Trail owned by the Western Maine Foothills Land Trust. At the kiosk, an attached note provided warning. The register was a bit destroyed–perhaps due to a wasp encounter. It was cold and breezy when we arrived so we didn’t see, hear or feel a single insect.
The beginning of the trail leads through a variety of youthful evergreens including red and white pines, balsam fir, hemlock and cedar.
Because they are saplings, I was able to take a closer look at the cedar leaves. Can you see the oil glands that give cedar its aromatic smell when the leaves are crushed?
My eyes were constantly drawn to the waviness of cedar bark, which creates a pattern not equaled by others.
Cedar works and . . .
cedar legs speak of their family genes–cedars are members of the Cypress family.
Two trees and a few signs encouraged us to pass through–so we did.
Other signs also indicated the direction to follow–this one much like an oversized arrowhead.
Not to be left out, a hemlock hugged the rock and itself.
After another rather quick journey, we drove to Paris Hill. Our destination: Cornwall Nature Preserve, a 147-acre tract donated to the town of South Paris by Alice Cornwall. We decided to follow the wide white-blazed trail toward the purple trail leading to the Ice Pond.
We found the old dam, where water trickled through the rocks, but didn’t realize that somewhere in this vicinity we missed what may have been the ice house–or perhaps a rock foundation of sorts. Now that I know we missed it, I’m eager to return for a closer look. Back in the day, ice was cut and probably stored in the ice house. As a kid growing up in Connecticut, I recall going to an ice house on Route 1 in Clinton. Ice blocks stored in an insulated icebox kept perishable food chilly.
We did see a few mushrooms here and there, but this summer’s drought means a low amount of mycelium’s fruiting form. A few artist conks made themselves known.
Without field guides, I think I ID this correctly as oak fern. Though similar to bracken, its stem was delicate and its height low. I should have looked for sori, but only had time for a quick shot–I was with my guy, after all.
Again, there were stonewalls throughout the property–this one covered with moss. Like much of Maine, this was once farm country.
The Cornwall Nature Preserve has a variety of trails, but no maps other than the one at the kiosk. We figured out the layered trail system and encircled most of the outer part of the property. Much of it seems worthy of further exploration and enchantment.
We certainly felt enchanted to finally celebrate an afternoon Mondate.