Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. Nature’s signs of the season were everywhere. With a temperature of 30 degrees and a light north wind, I walked through Bobolink Meadow noticing several dried “bird nest” flowers of the queen anne’s lace, also fuzzy cream-colored dots of dried aster flowers, as well as clusters of brown nut-like galls of the golden rod and the ever present gray seed pods of milkweed. A handsome male ringed-neck pheasant took off and flew south toward Willow Wallow. Thin patches of snow lined the trail around Succession Field where I could hear the familiar call of a Black-capped Chickadee, a reliable harbinger of winter. From Artist Overlook, I could see, in the distance, the amber, leafless willow thickets surrounding Willow Wallow. A few crows perched above Sora Swale while a solitary whitetail deer stared alertly at me from the opposite shore. From the top of Reflection Hill, I could barely make out a large muskrat lodge near the south end of ice-covered Grebe Pond. Heading back to the classroom building, I noticed the large gray inflorescences of phragmites waving in the wind, bidding me farewell. It was time to return to the warmth of my car and head for home.
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.
We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
Oliver Herford
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