Madawaska Pond - Part 1

I took the dogs to beautiful Madawaska Pond in the Adirondacks. I drove 24 miles south of home, then 5.9 miles into the forest on a rough, one lane, dirt road to arrive at the trail head. There was a vehicle parked there, but I never saw another person during our hike:

I first noticed a tiny purple flower with skinny leaves which was new to me. I looked it up when I got home and decided it was Slender Gerardia:

We began our hike in a forest of tall White Pines. The red color of the path was from dried pine needles:

Ferns grew along the edges of the trail as the dogs ran and played. As always, they were a little bit too energetic at first, and I had to keep reining them in:

This is a Bunchberry, in the same genus as Dogwood trees, a fact that always amazes me:

Bunchberries grew in big clusters, and the bright red and green reminded me of Christmas:

The dogs were excited, but I endeavored to keep them close to me:

Little Jack and Daphne thought they were timber wolves instead of foo-foo dogs:

We took a side trail to a bare hill which overlooked Madawaska Pond. I was shocked at the low water level. Clearly, our recent rains had not yet overcome the month long drought which preceded them:

I knew from experience that what looked like a meadow at the foot of the hill was in reality a marsh, so we turned back uphill to rejoin the main trail:

The Adirondack soil was so sandy that I had to sit on that fallen log and empty my shoes and leg braces. With that done, we were again on our way:

The day was heating up and the sun began to cause the pine aroma to increase. It reminded me of the Oregon forests of my youth. But we were just getting started. I'll post Part 2 tomorrow:

After The Rains

Our long heat wave and drought finally came to an end - not with a deluge but with gradual, gentle rains which slowly brought the land back to life. The east side of the barn, however, was faster to recover as mushrooms sprang up overnight:

Curiously attractive little fungi of several kinds, I found them kind of charming. That they signaled the end of the drought certainly added to their attractiveness:

The new row of Day lilies bloomed:

Including a third variety which I hadn't seen before. This one was called a Pink Paradise, which a friend said would make a good name for a gay bar:

And speaking of flowers, I put more in a vase to brink to church, but this time it was all wildflowers - Purple Loosestrife and Joe-Pye-Weed:

  And the gentle rains brought forth these miniature plants, Dwarf Cinquefoil:

They are so tiny that it's hard to believe they're related to their more common, bigger cousins. A close-up view, however, reveals the similarities:


The fantail pigeons continued to hatch babies and a number of them survived and are doing well. This one, up on a shelf in a cake tin, always seems to be deep in thought when it looks at me:

A parent on a cake tin nest:


This baby was newly hatched on the floor when I first saw it, still almost the size of the egg from which it emerged. Babies raised on the floor initially face more danger but escape the wrath of older birds which babies from high shelf nests endure when they first land on the ground:

The parents of the newly hatched baby (above) rushed over to cover it when they saw me taking photos:

Alas, it's not all good news. My one and only Globe Thistle turned brown and died for unknown reasons. I sprayed it with fungicide, thinking that might help, but it did not. It may be back next spring but if not, I've already got my eye on some new hardy roses:

What's Happening Around Here

Summer was going well and the herd was happy on pasture:

 But then we endured a heat wave and a drought, which turned most grass, both in the lawn and pasture, brown and crunchy. It finally began raining again, though, and slowly things began growing:

 The tractor went back to the shop for maintenance, an expense I didn't need but which hopefully will prevent a bigger expense in the future:

 I tried the bug zapper on the giant wasps, but they were wise to my tricks. I did get one fly, though, and it popped so loudly that I jumped. Apparently I'd never before really zapped one:

 Since the chickens can't go outdoors anymore and scratch, their toenails had grown long and ugly. I used the dogs' nail clippers to cut them back. The Barred Rock bantams' legs and feet are yellow:

 And the Easter Egger bantams' legs and feet are sort of black. They all needed trimming:

 More Frans Hals Day lilies bloomed. In fact, they began blooming profusely:

 And several sunflowers bloomed near the bird feeders. I may plant some next year because they are such a pleasure to see:

 The wild Bouncing Bet flowers, however, were fading. Their season was drawing to a close:

 One Sunday morning I was amazed to find the church looking like this. I learned that Vacation Bible School began the next day and the theme involved camping, boating, hiking, etc. - a natural fit for this part of the country. They had set up an amazing display with artificial rocks, campfire, river, waterfall, etc:

 And as if that wasn't enough, I found a hallway filled with life-sized trees made of balloons downstairs:

 And upstairs, in another room, a full campsite was set up, complete with tents, trees, river and bridge. My church joins with a number of other local churches to put on Vacation Bible School each year, and by all accounts it was a big success:

A Hot Summer, Full Of Life

The Rugosa Roses had few blossoms on them as July began drawing to a close, but the wildflower called Bouncing Bet burst into bloom beneath them to make up for it:

 Our drought became so severe that the few Rugosa Rose buds we had shriveled and dried. This clump reminded me of the scene I imagined when I read of Miss Havisham's decades old wedding celebration, locked in time, from the book, "Great Expectations:"

 The two baby pigeons forsook any semblance of a nest and just lived on the floor - but they grew at an astounding rate:

 Both parents were excellent, rushing to feed them whenever they peeped:

 Two more babies hatched, each in a separate nest with different parents, and lived through their first few days. That made me hopeful they'd grow to maturity, though what I'll do with more pigeons is a question I haven't yet answered:

 The newly planted baby Day Lilies did well and continued to bloom in spite of the drought because I watered them every morning. The first to bloom was this variety, called "Chicago Arnie's Choice:"

 The wildflowers are accustomed to droughts and other natural calamities, and they continued to bloom with abandon. The Black-Eyed Susans began to flower in mid-July:

 And my property was filled with white and yellow butterflies. I had a hard time getting any photos because they seldom held still, and identification was also difficult because there were three common and nearly indistinguishable species for each color. These butterflies, I decided, were called Cabbage Whites:

 It make take a second or two to notice the yellow butterfly in this photo. I decided that this species was Clouded Sulfur:

 But the Canadian Swallowtails which loved my orange Asiatic Lilies were easy to identify and nearly impossible to miss:

 Scenes such as these make summer, even a hot and dry one, a treasure to remember:

 My sister visited and came to church with me on Sunday morning because I would be singing in a duet. This photo reminded me of photos of the two of us as children out in front of our childhood home, all ready for church on a Sunday morning. It also reminded me of photos of my parents as children, taken similarly on summer days with their siblings. Once children, now adults, and things haven't really changed that much except for the natural aging process: