Easter 2025: An Interwoven Weekend Celebration

April 21, 2025April 21, 2025 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

Hindsight being what it is in offering 20:20 vision, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised at how this weekend played out, but going forth without expectation always offers the best of the best.

The weekend began on Good Friday, when after completing some errands, I wandered along a local trail for far longer than I intended, and in fact, had to pull myself away to get home in time to attend a Taize service at church.

Walking alone gave me time to reflect on the past and be present in the moment.

And that’s when I spotted my first Painted Turtle of the season, who offered a reflection all its own.

I still have some of the man-made Turtles I collected as a kid, but love when the real deal presents itself. And by traveling alone, I wasn’t making much noise, and so the Turtle didn’t suddenly plop into the water and disappear.

Along the same trail I nearly stepped upon another Painted Turtle, who immediately pulled its head into the shell, as only this species can do. It was in a spot where cobblestones cover a culvert, and I decided I should help it cross to the other side.

But first, I insisted that it pause for a selfie. Based on the length of its nails, being on the shorter side, and flat bottom shell (plastron) as opposed to the concave bottom of a male, I decided this was a female.

And a beautiful female at that–in color and pattern and texture. Amazing.

It took her a few seconds to decide the world was still a safe place, but once she started to move, it was a quick journey to the water before she swam out of my life, and I wished her well while giving thanks for our short time together.

Once I cued in on there being turtles in this place, I quickly realized they were everywhere. I counted eight on one semi-submerged log. And in this photo there are two.

Can you locate the second one?

And then I had another surprise, and this was the main reason I probably overstayed my welcome.

At first I thought it was a beaver, until I looked at its thick rounded tail and knew I was in the presence of a Muskrat.

Usually Muskrats disappear in my presence, but I think again, because I was willing to stand still and be as quiet as possible, this one did not dart off.

It did, however, dine in places where I came to appreciate its camouflage coloration.

Other times it was in the open so I could better watch as it munched on vegetation, holding the plant matter with both small front “hands.”

As I finally walked back to my truck, I stopped one last time, to admire the buds of Trailing Arbutus, on the cusp of blooming.

And then on Holy Saturday, My Guy and I returned to the same trail system because when I’d first arrived on Friday I ran into a former colleague who mentioned an adjacent trail and I wanted to explore it.

It’s actually part of the snowmobile system, and if you know where this privy is located, then you know where we were. Together we covered a lot of ground (as in 9 miles) and got a better understanding of the area and local ponds and wetlands near the privy.

But even better than that– (remember yesterday’s buds ready to burst?) another first for the season that again seemed apropos for the weekend: the first blossoms of Trailing Arbutus. So sweet and tender and fragrant.

Maybe instead of being known commonly as a Mayflower, this year it should be an Easter Flower.

On Easter, we had a late start for adventure and actually, we chose Plan B for our hiking destination because of the time–since we’d attended church in the morning and then dined at a local restaurant with three generations of our family, minus our two sons, their gals, and a nephew and his gal.

At the summit we did what we always do and waved to some friends who have a summer place on the pond before our eyes. And expressed our sorrow that they won’t be heading north this year. We can only hope that future plans include a return trip.

The wind was wild and brisk, but we took time to also admire the beauty of another pond and Sebago Lake in the distance and shouted, “Happy Easter, Alleluia!”

Eventually, we had to backtrack along another trail upon which we’d started our hike, and though we love loops, I also like it when we follow the same trail back because sometimes you see different things you missed.

Such was the case.

It had been a few years since we’d followed this trail named for a local brook, but it wasn’t until the return trip that I spotted this Scouring Rush. Again, it’s a case of structure and form and color and design and texture. The stem reminds me of an accordion and the top a cone. Or even Cancer Root. Just wow!

And then today found us exploring yesterday’s intended Plan A, where we circled a river for about 2 miles, enjoying the sounds as the water flowed and splashed and sounded so life giving–as it should because it is.

Our chosen spot for today’s lunch was upon steps after we crossed the river to head to a connector trail.

And it was there that we had a most pleasant surprise: a woman rode past on horseback. I only wish I’d been quicker to snap the photo.

Our other surprise in this spot was the knowledge that this past winter a Ruffed Grouse had roosted overnight right here based on the pile of scat it left behind–which is its habit.

My Guy sat upon the rock above and I cautioned him about setting down his water bottle or sandwich.

And in a super sunny spot nearby, the first False Hellebore leaves of the season, at least for me, showed off their bright green and pleated presentation.

After crossing the connector trail we reached a pond with the mountain of our destination serving as the backdrop. I love it that often, even if there is a breeze, and slight it was today, this pond offers the most glorious reflection.

While we paused, we spotted two people fishing, but also another who had the same finned meal in mind, a Common Loon. We didn’t see another, and if memory serves me right, it’s rare that we’ve seen a pair on this pond.

I can only hope memory doesn’t serve me right this time.

Within the shallow depths there were also huge Bullfrog tadpoles and teeny tiny minnows. And probably so much more, but I didn’t look any closer.

Another fun find reminded us that we will return to these trails in another month for the Lady’s Slippers that call to My Guy will make their usual request for a count.

Finding the capsule is so rare considering that there are hundreds of Lady’s Slippers that bloom just along the trail, yet we only spotted two of these structures, which would have contained thousands of dust-like seeds that dispersed through the split sides.

Similar in shape to the capsule, but of a completely different origin, we found two piles of Moose scat–deposited possibly two winters ago based on its formation and the dried leaves and other debris that had landed upon it.

As we continued along the trail beside the pond before climbing up, we knew to look to the ledges for a rare sighting. It’s up there, but you may not see it until I share the next photo with you.

Do you see the cross? How apropos for Easter Monday.

The question remains for us: How did it get there? Or is it a natural formation? We know that we would not have the heart to climb down to that spot and install it, but perhaps others did.

Actually, we don’t want to know how it got there. It’s enough for us that it is. And persists.

And even more important today, the fact that we didn’t get here on Easter, but instead hiked this way on Easter Monday, the day Pope Francis died, one who cared about those marginalized and the Earth. All of Creation matters.

Our time at the summit of the mountain was brief because we needed to get home for My Guy had another event. But it’s never lost on us that the shape of the main basin of the pond is a heart.

Back at the truck, we celebrated the weekend with a treat from Fly Away Farm.

And gave thanks for how all that we saw and heard and experienced this weekend seemed to be interwoven into a beautiful Easter tapestry.

Happy Easter 2025!

Eyeing the Ladies

April 1, 2024 ~ lmachayes ~ 3 Comments

We were in the area. It’s spring. (Until Wednesday that is, when winter is scheduled to return, and here’s the latest from the National Weather Service out of Gray, Maine:

…WINTER STORM WATCH IN EFFECT FROM WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON THROUGH
LATE THURSDAY NIGHT…

WHAT…Heavy snow possible. Total snow accumulations greater than
18 inches possible. Winds could gust as high as 55 mph.
WHERE…Portions of south central, southwest, and western Maine.

And so we headed to Wolfe’s Neck State Park this afternoon cuze we kinda have a love affair with this place in Freeport, Maine.

It’s a place where the forest meets the sea, or at least Casco Bay, and so it brings our two loves together and always gives us a chance to refill the innermost recesses of our lungs with salt air, while still enjoying the woodland trails.

What immediately became clear, however, was the extent of damage the coast has endured this past year due to intense storms. Erosion was evident in so many places. Sadly.

The landscape was also ransacked by the force of the wind. Trees were uprooted–some falling south, others, east, a few west, and even north. We could almost feel the harsher than normal gusts even though we weren’t present for any of these episodes.

And the trails are scattered with pine twigs and needles, which though they soften each footstep, really just bring the destruction closer to our eyes and minds.

There were some, however, or perhaps many, who took advantage of the uprooted trees as great places to think they were hiding from us–the great predators that we are.

Those who work for the park have had a lot of work “cut” out for them and they’ve cleared tree after tree from blocking the trail and our kudos to them.

In almost five miles of hiking trails, we only found a few obstacles, this one being the most difficult to conquer. And really, it wasn’t that difficult, but more inconvenient. And we know that they’ll take care of it soon. They probably just need to give their chainsaws and muscles a brief break. Really. I cannot explain the amount of devastation. It happens every year, but I don’t think we’ve ever seen it to this extent.

But there were other things to notice, such as this Red Squirrel midden that must have been an incredible cache back in the fall, and I wished I’d seen it then.

And the sweet buds of Trailing Arbutus waiting to make their 2024 debut.

But our best sight of the day: Lady’s Slippers in bloom. Oh my. Everything is early this year, but we definitely didn’t expect to find these friends so soon.

Eyeing the ladies is something My Guy loves to do.

Oh, we found a few seed capsules along the way.

And we did see these flowers . . . on the kiosk.

But the photo I took of a Lady’s Slipper dates back to last spring. I hope I gotcha for a moment.

Happy April Fools Day 2024!

Whispers Along the Trail

April 18, 2021April 18, 2021 ~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

“The way to be heard isn’t to shout,” said the Reverend Dr. Sam Wells of St. Martins in the Fields, London. “It’s to whisper.” But who are the whisperers?

Listen for the slightest murmur of Trailing Arbutus’s delicate blossoms beneath its leathery leaves.

Hear also the soft words of a rattlesnake-plantain explaining that its striking veins may suggest “checkered,” but it actually goes by “downy” in common speak.

Take notice of an old beaver wound upon a hemlock healed in such a way that it could be a snake embracing the trunk.

Be attentive to hobblebush no matter how much it makes you hobble for it always has more to offer including corrugated leaves unfurling and a flowerhead silently forming.

Give audience to Rhodora’s woody structure of last year before her magenta flowers soon distract.

Concentrate on the red back of the Red-backed Salamander before it goes back into hiding beneath a flipped log.

Heed the ruby red lips and hairy lining of a Pitcher Plant’s leaves as they invite all to enter . . . and never leave.

Pay attention to the male Hairy Woodpecker who speaks in hushed pecks as two females squabble for his attention.

Give ear to otter scat full of scales that mutter the name of its last meal.

Tune in to the secret hieroglyphic message a beaver leaves in chew sticks left behind.

Remember to keep your voice low as you spy the first crosiers of those most sensitive.

Walk in silence through the forest and wetlands while listening intently to all who whisper along the trail. May their hushed voices shout from every corner and uplift your spirits now and forever.

Spring In Our Steps

April 16, 2021April 16, 2021 ~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

Early spring, that time of transition when it feels as if the world has slowed down, is one of my favorite times of the year. Oh, besides all my other favorite times that is–like tracking time and dragonfly time and stalking insect time and . . . and . . . and.

These days it seems my day often begins with a certain male visitor.

No, it’s not my guy, but another handsome fellow named Jake. At least I think that’s his name, based on the length of his beard, short conical spurs on the backs of his legs, and light red and blue head, which would be much brighter for his elder named Tom. It doesn’t matter for in the morning sunlight he gleams and makes me realize that he embodies every color of the rainbow.

We typically spend a few minutes together before he departs and I know that means it’s time for me to do the same.

And so this week it’s been to vernal pools and rivers that I’ve explored, sometimes with others and other times alone. Dipping containers into the water is part of the fun topped off by identifying the find based on its idiosyncrasies such as the larval form of a Predacious Diving Beetle who is known to wait for prey such as tadpoles or other insects to pass by and then grab the victim with pincers before injecting a digestive juice into the meal, thus killing and partially digesting it until its tenderized tissues can be extracted and consumed by this fierce predator.

To ensure there will be more of these little water tigers, I discover two adults canoodling.

For a while they stay nearly in one spot, all the while flaying their hairy yet powerful back legs about in the act.

In its adult form, the beetle backs up to the water’s surface and captures air under the elytra, or firm front pair of wings where the spiracles or respiratory openings are located. (Think external pores) The challenge is to carry enough air to breath, but not too much that might cause them to sink. That said, I frequently watch them surface and then swim off after an oxygen grab, but storing that air for at least ten minutes serves them well while mating for they certainly don’t have a plan to rise for a refill.

If you’ve never watched a pair of Predacious Diving Beetles mate, this is worth the eleven-second clip. It was a first for me, and what a frenzied time it was.

Ah, but there are other things to look at in a pool and so I pull myself away from the canoodlers and begin to focus on the result of some other interaction, this being egg masses of Spotted Salamanders. One evening in the past week, a male Spotted Salamander deposited spermatophores that look like tiny pieces of cauliflower on the pool floor. A few nights later a female picked up sperm from the small structures and internally fertilized her eggs, which she later attached to the small branch in the water. If you look closely, you might see the gelatinous matrix that surrounds the mass.

Likewise, Wood Frog egg masses have also been deposited and their overall structure reminds me of tapioca. In no time at all, the embryos began to develop, but it will still be about three weeks before the larval tadpoles hatch.

Because I was looking, I had the good fortune this week of spying another tiny, but significant critter swimming upside down as is its manner–a fairy shrimp. Fairy shrimp don’t feed on the embryos but rather filter algae and plankton with eleven pairs of appendages, which they also use for swimming and breathing.

Similar to the Predacious Diving Beetle, in order to digest food, a Fairy Shrimp produces a thick, glue-like substance to mix with a meal. My awe with Fairy Shrimp remains in the fact that after a female produces broods of hardy eggs called cysts, they lay dormant once the pool dries up and don’t hatch until it rains again the following spring or even years later.

I could spend hours searching for Fairy Shrimp and other insects and in fact, do even marvel at the Mosquito wrigglers as they flip and flop their way around.

You, too, may watch them by clicking on this short video. And remember–they eventually become great bird and insect food.

By now, I suppose it’s time to honor other more beautiful sights of spring, including my favorite first flower of the season, the tiny spray of magenta styles at the tip of Beaked Hazelnut flowers waiting for some action from the male catkins.

And yesterday’s most delightful surprise, the first blooms of Trailing Arbutus on the forest floor. Known as Mayflowers, they usually open in April. Just to confuse us.

Standing for a while beside a river rather than a pool, another of my favorite sites was an abundance of Painted Turtles basking. No, they aren’t sunbathing to get a tan, but rather to raise their internal body temperature. Being cold-blooded, their body temperature is determined solely by the temperature of the surrounding environment.

In the same neighborhood a pair of Belted Kingfishers could be heard rattling as they do in flight and then seen preening and it seems that love is not only in the water, but in the air as well.

Likewise, a Song Sparrow or two or three trilled their lovely notes to announce their intentions to any who would listen.

And then today dawned–and with it a spring snowstorm graced this part of the world and all who live here, like this Sheep Laurel with buds still tiny.

Back to the pool went I, where the only action seemed to be snow striking its surface and creating rippled patterns in constant flux.

Some of the snow drops were so large that bubbles reflecting the canopy above formed. Under water, I couldn’t see any action and finally turned toward home, trusting all the swimming critters were tucked under the leaves in an attempt to avoid the rawness of the day.

There was one more stop to make, however, before I headed in. On December 1st, 2020, upon this very same tree, I watched slugs for the last time last year as documented in a post entitled “My Heart Pines.” It was a squirrel midden that had attracted me to the tree, but so much more did it have to offer on that day.

Today, as I searched for slugs, I was equally surprised for just as I found last year, once again the froth that forms on pines as the result of a chemical interaction when rain drops pick up oils and air in the bark furrows bubbles through that oily film and the end result is pine soap never ceases to amaze me. Even in snow, I learned, it can occur. Plus there was a subtle rainbow of colors.

Ah, but it certainly didn’t match the colors Jake displayed.

Today’s snowfall will melt by tomorrow and only be a memory of that year it snowed on April 16. We’ve had much bigger April storms than this one turned out to be and henceforth Jake and I will walk with a spring in our steps.

Shrouded By Fog

April 20, 2019April 20, 2019 ~ lmachayes ~ 3 Comments

“It was a dark and dreary day.”

Like a thin veil, this morning’s fog attempted to hide Miss Spring.

But instead, it revealed her nuances and enhanced her being as the birds sang and amphibians added their voices to the chorus.

As I listened, I peeked through the thinnest of openings to see what the world wanted to reveal.

Weaving all of life together were the silken lines of spider webs.

Beads of water enhancing their forms.

And the creator turned out to be the most minute of beings.

Flowing forth the remains of melting snow, the stream spoke of nourishment.

Its action creating frothy suds that cleansed.

And within its bubbles the world above was reflected.

The surrounding landscape was mirrored in the drips of raindrops.

Everywhere, there were treasures indicating what is to come . . . in the form of Hobblebush buds growing more global;

Trailing Arbutus showing a glimmer of new life;

And Beaked Hazelnut presenting its most subtle, yet exquisite floral presentation.

As I continued to look about, something different caught my eye.

A moth recently emerged from its cocoon* spoke to another form of new life.

What I learned today is that one needs to watch.

Wait.

And be ready.

Though she has been shrouded, her veil is slipping away. I was grateful to discover that Miss Spring surrounds us when we make the time to look–even on dark and dreary days.

*The moth–I knew it was such, but didn’t know what kind. Upon arriving home, I did some research and the best I could come up with was the worst–Operophtera brumata, or the invasive Winter moth. But . . . I wasn’t 100% convinced of my ID so I reached out to fellow Master Naturalist Anthony Underwood. This was his response: “Don’t panic yet, Leigh. I’ve seen this before. It’s a newly eclosed moth, yes, eclosed. Probably a Sphinx moth. I wasn’t familiar with the term until I encountered one for myself a while ago. Your vocabulary is likely more extensive than mine but just in case I’ll clarify by explaining that it means that it has emerged from its winter cocoon and is looking for a place to pump its blood into those wings and expand them for first flight. Good find!

April Showers bring . . .

May 8, 2017 ~ lmachayes

May showers!

v-green yard

It feels like it has rained every day for the past week, but the grass is certainly green.

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And the vernal pool full. Between today’s downpours I visited it a couple of times, so excited by my findings.

v-wood frog eggs developing

The wood frog eggs had turned green with a symbiotic algae and I could see the tadpoles developing inside.

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The green coloring made the their eggs contrast with the salamander masses. I was thrilled to see movement among the green and realized that . . . drum roll please . . .

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my babies were slowing hatching. Of course, they are mine–even though the frog pond is located on a neighboring property. I’ve been an expectant mother for several weeks, and now . . . I’m nervous about the future, as any parent would be.

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Will my babies survive? Will they have an opportunity to transform into their terrestrial forms?

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Or will the pond dry up too soon as it has the last few years? I guess I’ll be forced to continue to stop by. Oh darn! One thing I have noted since the ice melted: I’ve yet to see a predacious diving beetle and there are hardly any mosquito larvae flipping about. That’s good for the tadpoles on one end of the spectrum and not so good on the other. To be food and to eat food.

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I also wondered, will the white and opaque masses of the spotted salamander eggs turn green like they are supposed to–also dependent on a symbiotic algae?

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After checking on my wee ones, I walked the pond’s perimeter and noticed activity at a spot I’ve been keeping an eye on in the southwest corner. Well, not current activity, but recent. For the first time this year, a hole has been excavated.

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It’s the same hole that was excavated last year. Darker debris was piled in front.

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At about three or so inches across, I wondered who owned it. Too small for foxes, and certainly too wet. Too big for chipmunks and a dirty dooryard. Could it be a mink? Do they leave a messy dooryard? I found the same hole excavated last year, but never any other evidence of the maker. I’ll continue to check for any other signs.

v-raindrops

My eyes reverted back to the pool, where raindrops and reflections created an artistic display.

v-maple dust lichen

And then I pulled myself away, frozen were my fingers. The greenness of the world continued to show its face everywhere I turned from the maple-dust lichen to . . .

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young white pines, their candelabras growing long,

v-maple leaf and samara

red maple samaras upon old leaves,

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and cherry flowers developing.

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What do April showers bring? Mayflowers (trailing arbutus), of course,

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Canada mayflowers,

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and garden May flowers.

May I Have This Dance?

April 19, 2017April 19, 2017 ~ lmachayes ~ 8 Comments

Haha. If you know me well, you know I’d rather be a wall flower than step onto the dance floor. I easily managed to avoid all high school dances, except one prom. And then, barely danced at that, probably much to my date’s dismay. After that, so many moons ago, I don’t think I danced again until my wedding–at which time any dear friends in attendance watched with humor at my awkward movements. But today, I felt the rhythm surging through my body.

v-snow on trail

It all began on my way to the vernal pool. Perhaps it was really just a shiver as the breeze blew across the last of the snow, hard packed still along the snowmobile trail.

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Or maybe it was the depression that held the snowmelt and was covered with an oil slick of sorts . . .

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which turned out to be a million springtails bopping to their own tunes.

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It could have been the sudden sight of so many trailing arbutus plants that got me going.

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Certainly I wasn’t the only one excited by those flowers yet to be. (Do you see the springtail on the tip of the bud?)

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Or it might have been the ever shrinking ice cover at the pool that made my feet tap.

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Perhaps it was the fallen beech leaves atop tree reflections that forced me to sway.

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Or the way the hemlock, oak, maple and beech leaves intermingled.

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What I do know is that there was no stopping me once I spotted spotted salamander spermatophores atop leaves in several open sections–the sperm being located at the top of the cauliflower-shaped platforms.

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And then I saw something swim under some leaves that really got me rocking. Do you see the face of the wood frog, hiding as best it could?

v-fox scat beside vernal pool

As I began to circle around the dance floor, I noticed an offering of scat that made me think a red fox had sashayed beside the pool.

v-sharp-shinned hawk feather?

On my own sashay home, I discovered that there were other dancers in the midst–this one possibly a sharp-shinned hawk.

v-woodpecker feather

And after that a woodpecker.

v-junco feather?

And then a junco.

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Along the cowpath, the red maple flowers blushed as I might were I to get all gussied up in a flowing dress.

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Much the way a suitor might wink, so much has happened so quickly. Within the past week the snow melted almost entirely away and winter released its hold on me. Now I’m ready to groove with the choreography of spring’s rhythm. I hope you’ll join me on the dance floor.

May I have this dance?

Paying Attention

June 18, 2016June 19, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

When she invited me to join her for a walk down a dirt road, I knew Jinnie Mae and I would make some wonderful discoveries, but had no idea what begged to be noticed.

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We cruised along at a faster pace than normal as we chatted . . . and then . . . we slowed . . . down. And that’s when the world poured forth its graces.

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Beside a small stream, we were in the land of numerous ebony jewelwing damselflies, their metallic green bodies, beady black eyes and jewel-outlined wings showing brilliantly as they flitted about.

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We noticed Jack-in-the-Pulpit growing strong, proud and tall,

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swamp candles lighting up the water,

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heal-all beginning to bloom,

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and waxy-petaled pyrola flowers with styles curved below like an elephant’s trunk.

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We stopped by a beaver pond and decided they have moved on,

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but their works were still evident.

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Though the lodge may be abandoned by beavers,

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it appeared that someone had stopped by.

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On the other side of the beaver dam, royal ferns decorated the stream in their shrub-like manner.

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Their fertile fronds posed like crowns above their heads, bespeaking their royalty.

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With their unique structure, there is really nothing else that resembles the royal fern.

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Because we were once again by the water, we realized the jewelwings were abundant–though they seemed more blueish in color here than further down the stream. Was it the lighting?

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Beside the tranquil stream, they flittered and fluttered, their wings like sails over iridescent bodies, and occasionally they settled on vegetation for a photo call.

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Others also settled.

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We pulled ourselves away–or actually, Jinnie Mae gently nudged me away and we continued our journey back, certain that we’d see sights we missed on the way down the road. There were Indian cucumbers with multiple flowers–the most I’d ever seen . . . until Jinnie May pointed out that it was really two plants. Oops.

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But still, we found one with at least four blossoms, all in various stages.

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She told me we’d probably see an Eastern black swallowtail.

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And we did.

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Though it’s not time for spotted wintergreen to flower yet,

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we found its seed pods atop tall stalks. For me, this was a plant I don’t believe I’ve ever seen before. (According to Maine Natural Areas Program’s Rare Plant Fact Sheet, Chimaphila maculata is threatened in our state and has an S2 ranking) Will I see it in other places now that I’m aware of it? Time will tell.

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We noticed tender new wintergreen leaves, but it’s the berries that made us turn back for a closer look.

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The scarlet berries matured last summer, survived the winter without being eaten (they taste like wintergreen in the summer, but lose their flavor and sugar count over the winter months) and have now become enlarged.

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What really stopped us in our tracks–trailing arbutus. Last month, we were wowed by its gentle white and pale pink flowers. They’ve since faded to a rusty tone.

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And some have transformed into swollen round seed pods.

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The sepals have curled away to reveal the white fleshy fruit speckled with tiny brown seeds. It was well worth getting down on our knees to look through a hand lens–especially since ants, chipmunks and mice find these to be a delicacy so they may soon disappear.

Paying attention with and without a hand lens on a delightful spring day–we were once again thankful for the opportunity to notice . . . and to wonder.

From Peak to Shining Peak

April 17, 2016April 17, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

Maybe we’re a wee bit crazy. Maybe there’s no maybe about it. My guy and I climbed Pleasant Mountain again, only this time we took a much longer route than yesterday.

p-Bald sign

After leaving a truck at the Southwest Ridge trail, we drove around the mountain and began today’s trek via Bald Peak. It’s always a good way to get the heart beating, but then again, any of the trails up the mountain will accomplish that mission.

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One of my favorite features of this path is the voice of the stream–water rippled with laughter as it flowed over moss-covered rocks before splashing joyously below.

p-Sue's Way signs

And then we turned right onto Sue’s Way. We never knew Sue, but are thankful for this path carved in her honor.

p-Sue's snow on East

Across the ravine, snow still clung to the East slope at Shawnee Peak Ski Area.

p-Sue's porky

Oaks, beech, hemlock and yellow birch form most of the community, feeding the needs of their neighbors–including porcupines.

p-Sue's 2

We followed the trail as it embraced another stream and watched the landscape change.

p-Sue's polypody

Eventually, we were in the land of large boulders and ledges, all decorated with common polypody and moss–an enchanted forest.

p-shawnee chair

At the top of Sue’s Way, we detoured to our first peak–Shawnee Peak.

p-shawnee

Splotches of snow signified the end of a season.

p-Shawnee chair 1

The Pine chairlift silently rested, its duty accomplished until it snows again.

p-shawnee ski chair 2

And in the shack, the back of ski chair spoke of past adventures and adventurers.

p-signs by mtn

From there, we followed the North Ridge Trail to our first official peak.

p-north peak trail ice1

Despite today’s warmth, ice still reflected movement frozen in time.

p-north peak pines

North Peak has always been one of my favorite spots on this mountain. In the land of reindeer lichen, blueberries and dwarfed red pines, we ate lunch–day two also of ham and Swiss. This is becoming as much of a habit as climbing the mountain.

p-Mtn W from lunch rock

When we stood up on lunch rock, our view included the master of all New England mountains glowing in the distance.

p-north peak

In a few months, the treasures of this place will give forth fruitful offerings.

p-ridge line

With North Peak behind, our view encompassed the rest of the peaks.

p-Bald Peak, Mtn W and Kezar Pond

Continuing down and up again, we heard plenty of quaking coming from a vernal pool about one hundred feet off the trail. And then we were atop Bald Peak, where Mount Washington again showed its face, with Kezar Pond below.

p-bald peak causeway

The other side of the trail offered a photo opp of the Route 302 causeway that divides the north and middle basins of Moose Pond.

p-ft again

Our decision today was to hike the mountain in a backward fashion as compared to our normal routes, so we approached the main summit from the Firewarden’s Trail.

p-summit crowd

Once again, many others also took advantage. We did chuckle because except for one guy, of all the people we encountered, we were the oldest. The youngest–a baby in a backpack.

p-SW sign

At the junction below the main summit, we began to retrace yesterday’s footsteps on the Southwest Ridge Trail.

p-SW mayflower

The sunny exposure made this the warmest of all trails and the Trailing Arbutus prepared to make its proclamation about the arrival of spring.

p-SW Hancock

Near the teepee, I felt compelled to capture the ponds again. Another beautiful day in the neighborhood.

p-SW 2

After chatting with a family at the teepee, we began our descent. Of course, someone was mighty quicker than me.

p-SW 3

Where no trees grow on the bedrock, cairns showed the way.

p-SW mnts

Before slipping into the forest again, I was thankful for the opportunity to capture the blue hue of sky, mountains and ponds.

p-cairns final turn

We made our final turn at the three cairns and

p-SW final

followed the path down–though we did begin to think that maybe they’d moved the parking lot.

p-LELT

Over six miles and four hours later, we had Loon Echo Land Trust to thank once again for protecting so much of the mountain and maintaing the trails. We reminisced today about how our relationship began at a halloween party held at the ski area thirty years ago and the number of treks we’ve made along these trails since then. Whether hiking to the ledges or teepee, making a loop or walking peak to peak on a sunshiny day such as this–it never gets old.

May Day Celebration

May 1, 2015May 2, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 10 Comments

And just like that, it’s May. May Day. Memories of our sons quietly delivering flowers to neighbors and friends flashed through my mind this morning. I’ve a feeling they choose not to remember, but at the time they loved sneaking up to doors, depositing small baskets of flowers and then dashing away.

For me, the fun began this morning when I joined a small group intent on birding at the Bob Dunning Memorial Bridge. Chickadees, Red-winged Blackbirds, Pine Siskins, Waterthrush, Mallards, Yellow-rumped Warblers, Goldfinches and a few others were singing and flitting about.

The bridge, itself, is worth viewing from any vantage point.

And then I drove to Sweden (Sweden, Maine, that is) to join a couple of friends on a tramp through the woods.

Along the way, this May Day basket presented itself.

Moss covered rocks and stumps bring to mind my father and his Scottish heritage. The faeries or fair folk, as they prefer to be known, quietly present themselves in areas like this. Some day, I may share the fairy tale I wrote a few years ago.