How to recognise different types of plants from quite close up

Last week I took a couple of short walks. The first was at that retaining pond across the street from Orlando Bell Park.

On the east end of the pond there was a turtle about 10' from shore that seemed to be having fun. It would allow the top of its shell to breach the surface and then it would sink a bit. Repeat. At one point, I would swear it was spinning in place just below the surface as the ripples went from circles emanating outwards to swirls. Sadly, I did not have my camera with me, only my phone, so I wasn't able to capture this.

Next I went over to Heritage Sanctuary to see the trillia.

The birds are always nice and plentiful here and a blue jay decided to stick around and check out the human near the entrance.

Not long after this, a chipmunk ran into the center of the path. It must have been hungry because it was in no hurry to retreat from the human.

The trillia were in full bloom.

I recognized these as mayapples having learned about them on my recent trip to the Chicago Botanic Garden.

I shall have to make a return trip soon as I think they have bloomed by now or shall anon.

The critters of spring

It was a cloudy day so no Technicolor red. Still pretty, though. There was a blue jay nearby but I managed to only get out of focus photographs of its butt.

On a recent walk I spied a chicken in a neighbor's front yard that presumably did its best imitation of The Cooler King.

A red-bellied woodpecker has moved in down the block.

I visited my friend down in Illinois and got to spend time with Chom(p)sky! 

There are some plump robins around. I finally got a photo of one in focus.

Lots of mallards down at Starkweather Creek, as always.

"What are you doing, hoo-man?"

They're here... (2024 edition)

I saw and heard my first red-winged blackbird of the year!

While I certainly welcome their return, I do lament the lack of winter. I miss it. So little snow.

On my walk to the library this evening, I noticed that a new house will be going up soon over at Royster Corners.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 94: Grist For the Blogging Mill

(Watch the prelude.)

(mid-June 2023)

My next destination was Dells Mill, just north of Augusta, a town that I think I visited once or twice in high school but I may be wrong. Truth be known, I don't have any memories of doing so but it's likely I went there for a basketball or football game.

Built in 1864 amongst the dells of Bridge Creek which was dammed to create a pond, the mill ground out flour and feed for over 100 years before it went out of operation in 1968. At least that’s what I gleaned from the historic marker.

Today, the water wheel still turns and it’s a true blast from the past. For a moment, I felt like I was in an old western movie and was expecting Clint Eastwood to ride up on his horse, hitch it to a post, and wander inside where Sondra Locke is hard at work baking biscuits with flour fresh off the millstone.

I didn’t think the wheel was actually attached to a screw or a cog or whatever it is that would transfer that motion to the grinding gizmo. Regardless, it’s hypnotic to stand atop the bridge over the creek and listen to the rush of the water as it falls over the dam and to watch the wheel spin.

Stepping inside the mill, I found a dimly lit antique shop. There were old saws, glassware, clothing, and this fine organ as well.

It looks to have the sheet music for the hit parade of 1925. Never heard of Wilmot Lemont nor Kathleen Lockhart Manning.

There is a gift store at the mill and behind the counter was an Amish girl who looked to be in her tween years. Not surprising as this is Amish country. All of the horse poop that litters the roads is a dead giveaway. While the cash register was strictly mechanical, I wondered how they got away with a smattering of electric lights. Is it OK if someone else turns them on and off?

I rethought my assumptions about the whether the mill is still milling when I saw all of the flour and homemade breads on offer. I bought a small loaf of einkorn bread, einkorn being an heirloom variety of wheat that, to the best of my knowledge, has not been tinkered with at the hands of Monsanto and so it’s more or less the same grain that my ancestors ate back in the day.

I also bought a bag of rolled rye thinking it’d be a good addition to my future loaves of bread. Only $1 a pound.

An Amish gentleman who looked to be in his mid- or late-30s - the girl's father, perhaps? - stopped in the gift shop as I was eyeing the shelves. We chatted a bit and he said that he'd heard that rain was in the forecast. Can the Amish read a newspaper and still remain doctrinally pure? Surely he didn't have the Weather Channel on in the back room. Maybe he cheated on the whole avoidance of technology thing with an old Philco tube radio. Yeah, it's electric but is pre-transistor.

During its heyday, the mill was a big draw and a community sprung up around it. There are newer homes in the area today but the old schoolhouse remains.

It seems to be used for storage these days.

I am not sure when it fell out of use as a school. It got updated with electric lights at some point. Still, heat appears to always have been provided by a wood-burning stove.

With a car full of uncommon or obscure grains, I took off for Osseo. Driving through the town of Augusta itself, I found the main drag was, as expected, very quiet. Perhaps it was the time of day but I suspect that most people do their shopping and take care of other errands in Eau Claire. I was disappointed to not find even a single ghost signs on any of the old buildings. The main street didn't look bad, just a bit lifeless. I suppose not being on the interstate means you don't get a bunch of tourists on the hunt for antiques. I did notice, however, that there is a Bush's Best baked bean factory in town.

My accommodations in Osseo were cheap but they did the job. The Osseo Inn is listed as a 1 star hotel on Google though it was probably at least one more star in quality back in the day when it opened for all of those motorists using the fancy, new interstate highway. Despite being a non-smoking establishment, the rooms still betray the bad old days when smoking was still legal in public accommodations.

Since you cannot light up inside your room, those who indulge gather outside. I've never talked to any of my fellow guests but the people I see out there with a ciggie perched between two fingers usually have a weary look on their faces. A couple of smokers appeared genuinely forlorn. I mean real "why hast thou forsaken me?" kind of looks, their ever-shortening cigarettes their only friends.

Are they traveling to the Twin Cities? Or to somewhere in Wisconsin? Perhaps some of them have just gotten out of prison or simply fallen on hard times and are looking for somewhere better. Maybe I just catch them in a pensive mood and they're really just a bunch of cheapskates like me.

A shower and a little downtime later, I met my pal Jason at the Northwoods Brewpub where we had a ball chatting away into the night. He'd brought our high school yearbooks and I was not surprised at how many people I couldn't recall. Jason went home with a few cans of Nutkrack candied pecans.

The next morning, I made a stop to get some insect repellent. While at the Augusta Wildlife Area, I got 2 ticks on my right leg within 10 minutes and I quickly came to the conclusion that the picaridin in the spray I had brought with me was just not cutting the mustard. I needed deet.

Despite tales of it being a carcinogen and only truly needed by our servicemen and women fighting in jungles far removed from the Upper Midwest, deet is, as far as I know quite safe, in addition to being the gold standard in insect repelling. Poking around the shelf at the store, I saw various cans of repellent. More picaridin. No thanks. I did find a few that were 25% or so deet. Nuh uh. Not good enough. I then spied a rather small bottle. 98.25% deet – now that was more like it! This was not an aerosol can where you just spray the stuff willy-nilly. No, it dispensed the Precious in small doses and you rubbed it on the areas needing attention. A little goes a long way.

My next destination was my favorite hiking spot, the Chippewa Moraine Recreation Area.

I believe I took the “correct” route and went down the path deosil.

The scenery was, as always, just spectacular. It wasn’t too hot out and, besides, I was walking mainly in the woods where it was shaded and cool. And my deet kept the skeeters at bay.

As I approached my favorite bridge on the longest trail:

I heard a woodpecker from across the water but couldn’t see it. Slowly I approached the bridge intending to get a wee bit closer before using my camera to search for it.

My first step lands with a gentle thud on the bridge and I see it take off just to my left where it was pecking on the dry part of a half-submerged log at the shore not 10 feet away. Oops. I guess I need to work on my hearing.

Since I love this spot so much, I sat down on the bench on the other side to take in my surroundings. Much to my surprise, a blue jay landed in the pine tree just across the path from me. I snapped photo after photo but this was the best I could manage.

This photo captured something at just the right angle because it looks like the blue jay has glowing Uncle Boonmee eyes. Lovely bird. But they’re mean SOB’s.

Further down the trail at another bridge, I spied a bird of unknown type that looked like it was in the middle of building a nest as it had a mouthful of dried grass.

As usual, there were many signs of the local beaver population.

I hope to someday witness a beaver actually fell a tree instead of just seeing the results of their nomming.

At some point I ran across this thing:

Part of me suspected there was some banal explanation behind this yellow blob such as that some kid left their Peeps candy on the log while another part of me suspected this was how Invasion of the Body Snatchers really got started.

Having finished my hike, I stopped at the interpretive center. Not only does it have a wonderful view as it’s perched atop a moraine, but there is an array of hummingbird feeders that draws a crowd which makes me insanely jealous as my feeder seems to repel them.

The hum from all of those wings flapping at 50 flaps per second or however fast they go was very loud and just slightly disconcerting. It kind of made me feel like something ominous was approaching. But hummingbirds are gorgeous and it’s fun to watch them dart around from feeder to feeder.

As usual, it was a wonderful hike. There is just something about this place that makes it seem like time stops when I'm out on the trail, makes it so easy to leave the workaday world behind and ignore the cities raging afar. No snakes seen on this walk but more birds. I briefly contemplated walking the two shorter trails instead of the longer one but opted not to. Perhaps next time. 

Now, I won’t lie and say that a 4.5 mile hike through some of the most beautiful scenery Wisconsin has to offer is work. It was a sheer joy. But it did make me thirsty.

********

Bonus photo. Here’s one from spring of Ma and Pa Wood Duck hanging out in a tree on Madison’s east side.

 

 

 (Now listen to the postlude.)

The Corona Diaries Vol. 92: Tintype the Light Fantastic

(early-June 2023)

(Watch the prelude.)

For her birthday, my Frau decided that she wanted to have our portrait, as well as a solo one where she is sporting her fancy new tiara, done on tintype. Tintype is a kind of photography where the emulsion is on a piece of iron. Since the only place in anything resembling close proximity to us that does tintype photos is the H.H. Bennett Studio, that meant we'd be taking a trip to the local tourist trap, Wisconsin Dells. I’d been there many times when I worked for the Wisconsin Historical Society and so I knew of this old-timey photography method but this would be my first time actually having my photo taken with it.

Bennett moved to Wisconsin as a teenager, specifically to Kilbourn City, which is now known as Wisconsin Dells. He took up photography in 1865 and ten years later opened his studio that is now a historic site and where the Frau and I had our tintypes taken. The Dells area became famous, in large part, because of his photographs with the most well-known being one of a boy jumping between 2 tall rock formations.

I just looked this up and discovered that the boy was Bennett’s son, Ashley. Today, Bennett would have been locked up for standing by with a camera while his son casually made leaps where one small mistake, one teensy slip of the foot, would have meant certain death for the boy.

Bennett’s shop is well-preserved and visitors can imagine early Chicago area tourists stopping in to see his work or perhaps for a portrait after seeing his photographs of the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893.

Folks such as the Frau and myself who want a tintype taken are corralled into Bennett’s studio with its windowed roof and paucity of artificial lighting.

The camera is very basic – it’s a wooden box mounted on a tripod with a primitive lens.

All focusing and shot composition was accomplished by moving the camera. Talk of such luxuries as digital zoom and auto-focus would have been sheer madness in Bennett’s day. The photographer threw a black cloth over the apparatus and slid a carefully prepared sheet of iron into a slot in the back.

The Frau chose our background, we sat, and were very still for about 15 seconds. We were told that it was fine to breathe normally but I held my breath anyway. Can't be too careful, right?

With the exposure done, the plate was removed and placed in a tray where it received a bath of some magical developer elixir. Before our very eyes, the image of Madison’s premier power couple faded into being.

********

Since my Frau developed her mystery allergies/illness, she’s been spending much more time at home. Not only has her condition prevented her from working, but her social life has been severely interrupted. It has made me very sad to witness her go from being a social butterfly to a recluse. Well, not as bad as someone like Paul of Thebes, but she just spends much too much time at home these days.

One thing she’s done to occupy herself is to litter our deck with plants. Look at this coleus! Or is that two colei?

And that exhausts my knowledge of flowers here. But there are more photos.

Forgot. She grew a chili plant too, there on the left.

My contribution was a single coleus which I potted and put in our carport to add some color.

********

Driving down County M south of Madison, one sees some pretty scenery tucked in the rolling hills. I discovered that there is a fairly new bike path in the area, the Oregon Rotary Trail, that has a trailhead just west of the town of Oregon, population ~ 12,000. The paved path winds its way through the gentle hills and the Swan Pond Waterfowl Production Area and ends on the northwest side of Oregon.

And so one morning I threw my bicycle into my car and headed southwest out into the countryside. The small parking lot had one car that presumably was owned by the laughing young couple on the trail walking towards me.

Off I went.

There are signs at the base of the hills that tell you exactly how steep they are and I discovered that anything over an 11 degree incline gets me worried about cardiac arrest as I pedal upwards and onwards.

It was a lovely day and the grassy field near the trailhead presented me with an opportunity to go all Terrence Malick/Emmanuel Lubezki/Néstor Almendros with my photography.

All that was missing was a lovely young woman to run her hands across the top of the grass.

I wasn't too far from Swan Pond. It is unclear to me what makes it a waterfowl production site. Is there a swan factory there? A duck forge? Maybe it is kept in a state that is optimal for waterfowl to engage in some, er, amorous congress, shall we say. Perhaps certain plants are the waterfowl equivalent of mood lighting and a mirror on the ceiling. However waterfowl are produced, I was near water and so there were plenty of red-winged black birds about.

 

 

Coming out of a wooded area, I spied a deer out in the distance.

 

It didn’t run away immediately but instead slowly, cautiously put some distance between us, looking back to make sure I wasn’t showing any hostile intentions.

I made it to Oregon ere long. Oddly enough, I hadn't seen much in the way of waterfowl on the trip there. The northwest side is a weird mix of conservation park and industrial buildings. There is scrub dotted with small ponds next to a concrete factory, for instance. I also discovered that Trachte had facilities down here. It was all newer stuff on their lot, though. None of their vintage steel buildings with the barreled roofs.

 

While I had been to Oregon previously, it was always a bee line to a friend’s house in a slightly newer part of town (1970s vs 2000s) and I’d never wandered its streets before or seen the downtown. I biked east a little ways and found myself amongst some stores and banks, but it wasn't the old part of town. So I returned to the area where the trail begins.

As I rode down one street, I saw a pair of sandhill cranes on a patch of grass in front of the concrete factory. After taking a couple photos, I continued on. I rode around the area and through a section of the conservation park and then returned to the spot where I had seen the cranes lazing about.

There I found that they had crossed the street and were on the sidewalk beyond which was just a field of grass and small trees.

 

 

Unsurprisingly, they wanted nothing to do with the human so they ambled down a short hill into the scrub. They slowly walked through the grass, making sure the apeman didn’t come too close and everything just seemed calm and idyllic.

And then I saw a savage example of nature being red in tooth and claw unfold before me as the gentle birds were mercilessly attacked!

 

The cranes must have wandered into someone’s territory because a pair of red-winged black birds started diving at the them in a ferocious Blitzkrieg just like the Luftwaffe! OK, well maybe not. But they did seem to annoy the cranes a lot.

I felt a bit badly as the cranes didn’t mean any harm; they simply wanted to get away from me and then they found themselves running, well, strolling, a gauntlet of angry black birds. Having been attacked by territorial red-winged black birds myself, I could, as Bill Clinton once said, feel their pain.

I like this photo because you can see the full wingspan of the attacking black bird and the crane has this “Oh brother. Not again.” look on its face. Plus, there’s what I think is a female red-winged black bird down at the bottom presumably gushing over her mate’s bravery and derring-do.

“Oh, Harold! You’re so rugged!”

The cranes eventually got tired of being accosted and left. With the action over, I continued on to the trail.

At the very start of it I noticed a killdeer just standing there looking around.

 

 

I got back to my car just as it began to get really hot. It had been a very nice ride and it was now time to go home and do chores.

 

********

Bonus photo. Here’s a fine photo of Grabby relaxing in the sun.

 

(Take me to the postlude.)