December 24

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi.  The midday weather was mostly cloudy with a temperature of 32 degrees and a light wind out of the south. A light dusting of snow covered the ground. As I walked past the storage building, I was pleased to see that a 30 ft. wind turbine and 4x9 ft. solar panel had been installed at the crest of the hill. Also, electrical wire was buried underground to connect them to the Classroom Building. Before descending the hill toward Mallard Marsh, I faced southeast and acknowledged the sun for having reached its solstice a few days ago and for beginning its ascent toward the celestial equator. Walking through Bobolink Meadow, I noticed some pheasant tracks in the snow. I entered North Woods and paused on the long boardwalk where I was pleased to see about a foot of ice-covered water in the vernal pond. I recalled a year ago it was bone dry. Following the trail west, I was surprised to see a large maple tree had fallen just north of the trail. I walked over and estimated the diameter to be 18 inches at the base. I paced off the length to be 50ft. Also, I tried to imagine the loud sound it made as it crashed to the earth. Exiting North Woods, I continued around Succession Field. Hiking through the dense stand of birch trees, I heard a few crows off to the west. I entered South Woods and hiked past Swanson Swamp where I spotted some white bracket fungi growing on a dead aspen tree. Near the exit to the woods, I saw a large, light-colored rock on the forest floor. I got off the trail, walked over, wiped the snow off and decided it was made of fine-grain granite and was about 18 inches wide by 30 inches long. Continuing toward Artist Overlook, I turned north and headed to Willow Wallow. I walked east along the edge of the pond and climbed to the top of Reflection Hill. I hiked down the hill past Frog Fen and headed for Brady Cemetery. Pausing at the entrance to the cemetery, I marveled once again at the majestic White Pine trees. I tried to envision the vast tracts of Michigan that were covered by ancient old-growth forests of these trees. During the 19th century this tree provided the lumber for the building of the Midwest and prairie towns, and frequently was exported to European markets. It was also this tree that rebuilt Chicago after its great fire.By the end of this lumbering boom, logging had stripped 19.5 million acres of these trees, none of which was replanted and has been mostly replaced by beech and maple forests. Next, I passed the cemetery, entered Native Grassland and walked along the edge of Grebe Pond where I saw that about half of the surface was frozen over. Finally, I passed the barn and came to the Classroom Building.  Another hike was finished so I got in the van and took off for home.

On the first day of winter,


the earth awakens to the cold touch of itself.


Snow knows no other recourse except


this falling, this sudden letting go


over the small gnomed bushes, all the emptying trees.


Snow puts beauty back into the withered and malnourished,


into the death-wish of nature and the deliberate way


winter insists on nothing less than deference.


waiting all its life, snow says, "Let me cover you."

Laura Lush