Madawaska Pond

My sister, Lynn, and her husband, Tim, were visiting from Ohio and we'd just hiked in to see the Santa Clara waterfall (see the previous two posts). Our next stop was Madawaska Pond, which required a five mile drive on rough, one lane "roads" through the forest. We arrived at the parking site and started walking:

The trail to Madawaska Pond is through a stand of large White Pines and is both beautiful and peaceful:

The dogs had already used up some of their excess energy, so they were much better behaved by this time. Seamus' back legs were beginning to fail him, and I eventually had to put him on a leash to keep him from falling or wandering off to unsafe places and getting lost:

The trail to Madawaska Pond was not only lovely to look at, but also wonderful to smell because the White Pine aroma rose when the sun hit the trees and fallen needles:

We took a side trip to a hill overlooking the marshy edge of Madawaska Pond. The red leaves you see on the hill were Lowbush Blueberries:

Lynn and Tim stood and took in the expansive views, backed by the White Pine forest:

But then we hit the trail again, which took us along the edge of the pond:

These miniature red-capped lichens were called British Soldiers. They are never large, but these were the smallest I've ever seen:

We found several water access sites. This one was marked as a canoe launch:

Recent rains had produced a crop of unusual mushrooms all along the trail:

And I got another a photo of Tim and Lynn:

I've never seen a mushroom like this, but its general lumpiness and orange color seemed appropriate for Halloween:

We walked to the end of the pond, then turned around and began the trek back to our car. We were all tired by this time, and happy to reach the car and sit down. We headed home for a nap and dinner:

A Season Of Life

The fantail pigeons are all looking healthy and content with their lives, good examples of what I meant when I entitled this post "A Season of Life:"

Furthermore, they seem to be more successful than usual raising babies this season. This pair had two hatchlings in an unlikely spot but they've done a great job of feeding them and keeping them warm:

And the two babies have been wise enough to stay on their narrow shelf. Jumping down to the floor could subject them to pecking by other adults:

The little hens are likewise comfortable and without any stress:

The cherry tree began to show red cherries, and I was immediately drawn to it:

Only the pure red ones are ripe, and even they are not particularly sweet:

But they were tasty, and I truly enjoyed my trips beneath the branches while I was on the riding mower. Each pass by the cherry tree enabled me to stop for a couple of ripe cherries:

We had so much rain that mushrooms appeared in the lawn and pasture. This row was near the cherry tree. Yes, my lawn has almost as many weeds as grass:

The old fashioned rose which I'd saved several years ago (and then drastically cut back this year) finally bloomed, filling the air with its scent. Behind it are the two Ninebark bushes and the old silo base which is filled with Elderberries in bloom:

A closeup of the old fashioned roses:

And a better view of the Elderberries:

Up close, the Elderberry blossoms look a lot like Queen Anne's Lace:

An Autumn Walk Around The Farm - Part 2

I was walking around the farm one chilly, windy autumn day (see also Part 1, posted yesterday) and was in the south field. I pointed the camera across the gravel road to a site which once had a house trailer on it. This is the same site where I've previously photographed baby foxes and heritage roses:

We'd had lots of rain and the pasture was growing mushrooms:

The Pennsylvania Smartweed was red and apparently done for the year. It's an annual, but returns in abundance each summer:

The winter hay supply was lined up and ready. I will begin feeding it out any day now:

I had about 7 giant puffballs spring up along the fence line. I don't much like them as I think they're about as tasty as Styrofoam, but the Amish lady down the road asked if she could pick them and I said yes. I saw she'd left one and walked over to see why. It was truly ugly and kind of deformed, so I guessed it scared her away. I think I'd have passed it by also:

The view across the gravel road and north field to the autumn woods beyond:

I walked along the edge of the gravel road and looked back, past the cattails to my barn:

A few Small White Asters were still blooming:

Almost no New England asters were still in bloom, but I found this one plant. Alas, it must have been hit with a hard freeze because its flowers were small and curled up:

We had a lot of Monarch butterflies this year but apparently this one didn't migrate in time to miss the killing freeze:

I began wondering if there were any other flowers hardy enough to still be blooming and indeed, Bouncing Bet was still going strong beneath the towering Rugosa Roses:

I looked up at the top of the Rugosa Roses and they still had a few flowers on them also. Canada Geese were headed south overhead, the leaves were falling, the nights were freezing - but a few hardy plants were still blooming:

Madawaska Pond - Part 2

I was hiking along Madawaska Pond with the dogs, one of the loveliest areas in the Adirondacks (see also Part 1, posted yesterday):

The forest smelled of White Pines, heating up in the morning sun. The dogs were happy and the trail was easy to walk. It promised to be a fine day:

We stopped to walk down to the edge of the pond, where I was again taken aback by the low water level. The floating masses of peat were covered in mud, causing me to think it had recently been even lower during the drought:

The dogs ran down to the water and Jack went right in, paddling out to a muddy, floating mass of peat:

  He kept trying to climb up onto the peat but couldn't manage to get up there. I didn't dare step into that mud with my leg braces, so I tried calling him back. Becoming fearful, he just kept trying to climb up on the little island of muddy peat. So I walked away from the water, hoping he'd panic at the thought of being left behind and swim back to shore. It worked:

Jack was a tired, muddy mess when he rejoined us and stunk like swamp mud for several days afterwards, but he was safe and I'd like to think he learned a lesson (but I know better):

On the trail again, we passed some golden mushrooms like this one, which sat next to a White Pine cone:

The trail stayed along the shore of Madawaska Pond but rose up, giving us many scenic views:

A four lobed mushroom of banana yellow, also next to a White Pine cone:

A peach colored mushroom:

And a red mushroom, which I think was a Bolete. The green leaves, I believe, were Canada Mayflowers:

We passed over a section of low grass, Wild Strawberries, pine seedlings and, to my surprise, what seemed like Wild Blackberries which stayed only 2" high. I later learned that they were Dewberries, and their trailing growth habit was characteristic. But we had more yet to see, and I'll post Part 3 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: