December 17

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi.  The early morning weather was mostly cloudy with a temperature of 26 degrees and no wind. Today, I planned to repeat the Reflection hill circuit that I did back in late July when the temperature was in the low 80’s.  I planned to walk slowly around the top of the hill with my binoculars and take in the sights and sounds of mid December while comparing them to last summer. Passing the Classroom Building, I hiked toward Reflection Hill and noticed 4 deer running along the south side of Mallard Marsh heading west. Arriving at the top of the hill, I paused, faced north and noticed the hillside in front of me was brown and bland compared to when the yellow flowers of Sweet Clover were blooming there in July. Many of the Autumn Olives bushes that were growing vigorously back then had been cut down. The surface of Mallard Marsh was visible once again since the dense stand of cattails that surrounded it had died and been leveled by the wind. Walking counterclockwise along the trail, I noticed the Canadian Thistle and Brome Grass that were evident last summer had died back.  Butterflies and dragonflies that were buzzing around me back then were nowhere to be found. Green Herons that often flew over my head from up here had long since migrated south. Looking west, the willows surrounding Willow Wallow were leafless with amber-colored terminal branches compared to their summer green of dense leaves. The silence surrounding me had replaced July’s songs of the Yellowthroat and Robin. Looking south, I noticed there were no longer seed heads of Timothy Grass, Orchard Grass, Rye Grass and Red Fescue that were in great abundance last summer. Far away, the neighbor’s field that was growing soybeans back then was now growing winter wheat. Continuing along, Yellow and Orange Hawkweed flowers that colored the trail back then were conspicuously absent. Looking north, Grebe Pond was quiet and empty compared to the buzz of activity last summer as Tree Swallows swooped to catch insects. The pond surface that was almost completely covered with green duckweed back then was now covered with a thin glaze of ice. The Great Blue Heron that waded in the pond back then was gone, having left to find open water. The water level that had gone down dramatically back then had returned to normal. Further to the north, Native Grassland was brown and barren compared to its summer whitish hue from abundant growth of Queen Anne’s lace. Following the path back to the starting point, I noticed the colorful Chicory and Milkweed blossoms of summer were dead and gone. I walked back down Reflection Hill, crossed the boardwalk and returned to the Classroom Building. Finally, another hike was finished so I got in the van and took off for home.

I love the snow, the crumpling snow

That hangs on everything,

It covers everything below

Like white dove's brooding wing,

A landscape to the aching sight,

A vast expanse of dazzling light.

It is the foliage of the woods

That winters bring—the dress,

White Easter of the year in bud,

That makes the winter Spring.

The frost and snow his posies bring,

Nature's white spurts of the spring.

John Clare