Wandering

sunrise on northern shore of Lake Michigan

I could spend hours just walking the shoreline—
exploring that space where two worlds converge.
While one foot skims the cool water of this great lake that extends to beyond the horizon, the other stands upon the finest grains of sand, their own sea of sorts, in dunes windswept to the tree line.

vegetation on the dunes spreads by underground rhizomes
which anchor sand in place

Lake Huron Tansy (?)
state-listed as threatened

And, though many would place greater value upon this sandy beach and pay handsomely for a lakefront lot, smooth and prime, my choice would easily be the other, the more rugged--
the rocky shore.

small shells in pocket of rock

Here, as water levels fluctuate with the season, seeds settle into the smallest crevices, emerge from within pockets of small shells held between the stones. At times very dry and at others abundantly watered, the plants surviving at the rocky shore are tough, yet simple and lovely. In keeping their low profile, they are sheltered by the very rocks their roots struggle against to take hold.

asters and lobelia

Shrubby Cinquefoil planted in bed of small shells

goldenrod
Houghton's goldenrod (?) if, so, also state-listed as threatened

I walk on sandy beaches.
And wander, stone to stone, flower to flower, along the rocky shore.

a million of the smallest shells

sunset on northern shore of Lake Michigan

As Leaves

This sky of cloud and blue,
That bends the tall grass,
Tugs the fading frond,
Carries flakes of color,
Turning them, tipping them,
Setting them to rest
within the fields of amethyst and gold,
As with a fallen leaf.

Fields of goldenrod and aster

Finding Happiness

Frost on Goldenrod Gall

I hate to intrude--
feel that I've walked rudely into a scene, scattering those already there, sending them rushing for cover.
And, many times, catching their hasty exit in flutters and scrambles, I'll drop to sit, quietly without moving, right where I stood, hoping they'll be more forgiving of my carelessness, as a small lump on the ground.
And return, as if I were not there.

Frost on Ground

Yesterday I stepped off my usual path, and strode purposefully out across the grassy banks of the pond, toward the oak woods. Drunken on sunshine from the brightest blue overhead, delighted that this day, even though again sharply cold, had given itself for me to explore, perhaps more eager than I should have been to be out drinking it in, I startled a small flash of blue, and then another from the young trees at the woods’ edge.

And, though the air was cold, I found the grass already dried and warm, and knelt there, wrapped in my dark jacket, still, waiting surrounded by their branches.
Watching bluebirds.
Finding happiness.




We’ve tried for 3 years to attract bluebirds to nesting boxes in our fields, each time finding none. And though our rural area supports them well, we seldom see any on our land.
I wasn’t expecting to find them here at the edge of the oak woods, and had gone outdoors that morning with only a short lens, planning to photograph the very delicate ice left on the Goldenrod by chilly spring nights.

Perhaps this year, ...bluebirds.

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Within the Fields of Gold

The world is full of deception.
At every turn, something is not what it first appears to be.
And a closer look reveals the true being.

Autumn Evening

Even in our field, now quiet of birds and chirping insects, except for a lone cricket in the tall grass, a deceiver is among us.


Winding around the heavily flowered stems of goldenrod, peeking from the bright stalks as I walk past, Locust Borer beetles. Their inch-long slender black and yellow striped bodies more like those of yellow jackets than the harmless (to humans) beetles they are. Drawn to visit these flowers of fall as adults, the larva feed, tunneling within the branches of Black Locust, a common tree to fill disturbed areas of the Midwest.

Black Locust, Robinia pseudoacacia
spring blossoms

With red legs and long antennae, they have emerged as adults, buzzing from one golden top to the next.

Locust Borer, Megacyllene robiniae

Beside the honeybees and wasps.
As if they were one and the same.
Yet, deceivers.

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