Unexpected Beauty, Small yet Substantial

Cradled among the pines. 

While Pris and I were outdoors during the last week of October in the backyard, cleaning up before the arrival of cold weather (where did it go?), I came across a solitary leaf that had drifted from a nearby maple tree and gently settled within the blue needles of a dwarf spruce growing at the base of our rain garden.

Whenever I’m outdoors, everything about nature compels my eyes to observe and to ponder – however momentarily – the smallest of things such as, in this case, a leaf.  This one though, as also happens within the human family, stood out from all the others.

Had it been just one of those dried-up, crinkled foliage remnants of early fall, I might have simply brushed it off from the spruce and gone about my chores.

The Last Leaf of Autumn

At NATIRAR, a lonely leaf clings to the top of a sapling.

Yesterday, in mid-afternoon, Pris and I took full advantage of the glorious weekend weather – quite unusual for this time of the year.  We decided to visit the grounds at NATIRAR, one of the best places in the Somerset County Park System for individuals, couples, and families to take a healthy stroll in the midst of a quiet, very expansive setting.

There you will find serenity whether you go alone, are accompanied by a friend or loved ones.  The park offers a perfect ambiance to simply walk, talk and enjoy the beauty, as well as the compelling presence of nature.  If you have one of man’s best friends as part of your household, bring your dog along.

From the parking lot, follow the path to your right, counterclockwise on the circular walkway that goes around the expansive lawn before you.  Look for the green on white sign that reads “Nature Trail,” and you are on your way.

A Touch of Stealth

Against an uncamouflaged background, this mantis soaks in the sun.

Pretty-looking things are not always what they seem to be:  In this case, nature’s innocent-looking praying mantis fits the bill.
 
With a long and slender body, twig-like legs, a triangular head that can rotate 180° with its two large compound eyes; the beguiling appearance of this bug-eating little monster is very deceptive to humans
.
The mantis gets its name from the way that it can place its forelegs together in a mock-praying position.  Even its formal name, Mantis Religiosa, attests to that.
 
But the mantis does not pray.  Au contraire, it preys, and it is very good at it.  When the mantis assumes its professed “praying” stance, it remains perfectly still, with no movements at all for what can amount to tens of minutes at a time, shifting its posture ever slightly to a different stealth position so that it can strike out, hold, and disable its target.

Nature’s Own Icy Christmas Tree

A Wintry Freeze. (Credit/Dick Bergeron)

After the last snow storm which showered the Bridgewater area with about 5 inches of snow less than a week ago, I looked out of the dining room window.

There, I discovered that ice had decorated the entirety of the white pine that stands at the back corner of the house.

Overnight, the tree’s soft branches stood drooping in a suspension of pine needles individually frozen in a thick coating of ice, yet one not heavy enough to cause the boughs to break and fall to the ground.

Individually transformed into icicles, pine needles sported a drop of frozen water hanging from their tips.

All by itself, nature’s wintry mix had created a work of beauty.

Thanks for reading.  Be safe in the snowstorm now upon us.

(Click on the image for an enhanced view.)

Working the Blossoms

A yellow beauty gets ready to move on.

There has not been as many this year.  Nor have they arrived as early as in prior seasons.  But they finally arrived:  first the bees, then the butterflies.  The former like both our back and front yard gardens. 

The butterflies, though, prefer the front yard where they find an abundance of fragrant Russian Sage blooms complemented by an assortment of colorful Buddleia, commonly known as butterfly bushes.

Both flying species are tireless and diligent workers, showing up early and not retiring until sunset.  Don’t know where they get all that energy!  But the season is short and, as the old farmer’s saying goes, “Make hay while the sun shines.”

Better than Humans

The regional, national, and international news stories which tend to dominate the pages of print media these days are not the most uplifting.  Yesterday, for example, The Sunday Star-Ledger ran another above-the-fold, front-page story on sex abuse. 

A Bottlenose Dolphin
(Courtesy of Wikipedia.com)

It is the latest in a series on this topic by staff writer Mark Muller, featuring a continuing investigative report by that newspaper on the Archdiocese of Newark and, in particular, the Rev. Michael Fugee.

Since the early 2000’s, I’ve done my own extensive, ongoing research on the issue of sexual abuse, particularly in the Roman Catholic Church.  I understand the nature and consequences of that problem very well, probably far more than most.  I’ve also come to discover how pervasive and pernicious it is throughout at least several other major professions.

However, it is not the sort of thing that I care to read about on a Sunday morning, as Pris and I settle down peacefully at the kitchen table with breakfast and a cup of coffee, preparing to read the Star-Ledger and the Courier News. 

Accordingly, I decided to bring your attention to several other, uplifting stories from the columns of the Star-Ledger instead:

Amid the Chaos of Terror, a Bit of Refreshing Solitude

Springtime at the Sayen Gardens,
Hamilton, New Jersey.

Decades ago, high up on the promontory of Seminary Hill in Bucksport, Maine, I regularly enjoyed a perfect view of the Penobscot River as it flows into the funnel-like neck of Penobscot Bay that opens wide its island-strewn mouth all the way down east, where it eventually greets Mount Desert Island off the coast of The Pine Tree State.

From atop that hill, I took many walks during each season.  One of the most enjoyable of those strolls occurred at the advent of spring, after the end of mud season in Maine.
 
In one particular spot, at the crest of that hill, there lay a long, wide, colorful bed of brilliantly yellow daffodils – far more than I could count. 

Each year, prodded by warm breezes and the encouraging rays of the sun, they rose from the life-giving earth, “tossing their heads in sprightly dance.”

The Unfinished Ceramic

The expression, "Stop to smell the roses"

 is merely a metaphor intended to prompt us

 to cherish the beauty that presents itself to  us daily.

I found it growing in the mulch, next to the leaves of one of the large Leatherleaf Viburnum bushes which stand in a row on the side of our back yard.  This huge mushroom caught my attention when the sun shone upon it on an especially bright day, before we left for our vacation Up North in New Hampshire.  

 
When we returned, there it was, just as healthy as before, with the sun causing it  to gleam like a piece of unfinished ceramic:  an irregular bowl fully glazed at the top, but earthy brown and seemingly unglazed at the bottom – an admirable work of nature, as are all things.
 
This particular fungus measures about a foot across and appears determined to hold out for another couple of weeks before it succumbs to its eventual destiny, which is that of all living things.  I’ll watch it advance to a ripe old age and admire its tenacity as it continues to bask in the sunshine of each day.
 
Thanks for reading.  Have a good weekend.
 
(Click on the image for an enhanced view.)

Sum. . . Sum. . . Summertime!

Coming in for a landing.

RANDOM MUSINGS:  It’s one of those times when it’s necessary to put aside – if  only briefly – the daily cares of life and to take at least a modicum of respite to smell the roses; or, as in my case, to observe the workings of nature’s winged creatures.

The very hot weather that is keeping so many of us indoors in air-conditioned comfort has also prompted hordes of others to head to the Jersey shore:  Everybody has his or her own preferred way of dealing with escaping this brutal heat.

The Business of the Bee

I’ve been working in the front-yard garden on these recent, steamy days of early summer, when the perennial butterfly bushes come into full bloom and begin to attract nature’s pollinators.

Each season, bees are the first arrivals:  They waste no time in their efforts to collect as much nectar and pollen as they can and to fly it back to their hive for conversion into the honey that will carry them through the winter months. 

Butterfly bushes (Buddleia) come into full bloom during the very last days of June, and they continue to push out their long and colorful flowering spikes into August and September.

However, the adopted Bergeron bees have been very pre-occupied over the last three weeks with an earlier source of food – the end of June is too late for them to wait for plants that start blooming then.

An Unexpected Delight on a Sunday Afternoon

It would have been a shame to remain inside the house on such a beautiful Sunday afternoon.  There are always lots of chores to do – even for us retired folks, yet everyone has to take a break.

An unexpected end-of-February photographic catch.
(Image/Dick Bergeron)

Accordingly, Priscille and I decided it was time to go out; to breathe in some fresh air; to collect some vitamin D from the abundant sunshine; and to be fascinated by what nature freely offers each and every one of us with no strings attached – if only we will take the time to pay attention and to take a look at what She puts on our plate.

Pris and I drove north (a short eight-mile drive according to the Garmin GPS), and shut down the engine of the Taurus after arriving in the parking lot of the Quellen Spiritual Center in Mendham. 

Most people hereabouts may not have heard of this place, but it is a jewel of a location set in a nature’s rolling hills, just north of Bridgewater.

An Evanescent Sunrise Visits Bridgewater

Dick Bergeron, Feb 26, 2011, 6:28 AM

As she rose this morning behind the Second Watchung Mountain in Bridgewater, dawn was beautiful, but brief and fickle. 

She cast a soft, pink backlight behind the few clouds that had managed to separate themselves from a solid overcast of gray -- then she quickly shut off the lights, returning the eastern sky into a dim, colorless dome over the hills.

It was one of the most episodic sunrises that I have observed – only a few seconds in duration; then it vanished, before brightening the skies again much later. 

Nature is like that.  She is whimsical and passionately private, refusing to reveal her secrets to us.  We never know for sure what she will do next, as her behavior this winter has proven so decisively. 

What do You See When You Look Out the Window?

One of my favorite reading spots in Forbes magazine is the last page entitled “Thoughts on the Business of Life.” It always struck a chord with me because, after a whole batch of serious, well-written articles on economics and business, Forbes’ editors always insert a few aphorisms that make a person stop and think in another dimension.

The very last comment in the lower right-hand corner of the “Thoughts” page is always reserved for a pericope from Scripture. I like that: Some big, bad, aggressive NYC editorial types that are not afraid to go on record by reserving the last word in the magazine to the Good Book.

In one of those quotes, Larry Summers, former President of Harvard University and currently Assistant to the President for Economic Policy, reflects that:

“When I look out the window at my backyard, I can’t think of anything interesting to ask. I mean, it’s green, it’s growing – but nothing occurs to me that any concentrated effort of thought could possibly enlighten.”

Mr. Summers concludes with, “Whereas in economic, statistical, or mathematical kind of things, I can ask lots of questions.”

Do you detect, as I do, a deep sense of imbalance and artificial bifurcation between those two statements? Here, presumably, is one of the brightest lights in the Obama string of luminaries telling the world that, when he looks out at nature, all he sees is a blank canvas – no matter how hard he tries. But put a few numbers and formulas in front of him, and the man’s mind starts to crank.

He says that he can’t come up with any relevant questions about the outdoors, questions that a mere child could pose such as, “Where does grass come from? Why is it green? Why is there earth underneath it? Why is the grass there?”

It reminds me that some of us, no matter how high our IQ might be are so internally oriented, that we fail to recognize the natural clues to something greater than ourselves, no matter how obvious the prompts. If an observation cannot be codified, bracketed within a formula, fed into a computer and the results analyzed, it holds no attraction.

No big deal, you might think. But Larry Summers is the man who, as Harvard President, addressed an audience of his peers, sincerely explaining why women don’t hold as many key posts as men "in tenured positions in science and engineering at top universities and research institutions."

Summers explained that, among other factors, this has to do with "the different availability of aptitude at the high end.” By this not-so-cryptic phrase he meant that according to his research and analysis, more men than women have high IQ scores and that this, therefore, accounts for why fewer women hold high-level posts in science and engineering. A year after presenting his assumptions and conclusions, Summers resigned from Harvard.

This is the man who has the President’s ear on decisions that affect your economic future right here in Bridgewater, New Jersey. I wish that this expressive ivy-league-trained man would go out to the White House lawn one day soon, sit down under a warm sun, and try to conjure up a few meaningful questions about how his actions will have a personal impact on the lives of nearly 305 million Americans, actions that defy codification, statistical analysis, and definitive prognosis.

Note: You can find Mr. Summers’ statement in the November 2, 2009 edition of Forbes magazine, now on newsstands.

The Last Butterfly of Summer

With all of the nonsense going on in Washington D.C. and New Jersey politics these days, I wasn’t mentally up to filling this space with more of the same – will save commentary on that for some other day.

Instead, I thought I’d share with you one of dozens of snapshots that I was lucky enough to have taken in mid-August of this year.

When we came back from our New Hampshire lakeside vacation, we encountered the damage inflicted on our neighborhood in Bridgewater after it was struck by a microburst of wind that brought down literally tons of trees. The big oak in our front yard was lucky to have survived, but it needed some major trimming to bring it back from the brink.

When the tree experts arrived and began their work, I decided to take my digital camera out to the front yard to record the event. As an unexpected bonus, I noticed the butterflies that were being attracted to our garden by the wayside.

That’s when I changed priorities and concentrated my camera on capturing images of these delightfully friendly creatures of the summer. If you’re careful, quiet, and move slowly, you can get your camera very close to a butterfly – easily two feet, even closer.

One of the startlingly revealing facts about nature is its insistence on reminding us that we are merely a part of it, despite the human tendency to think that we are its ultimate product. This is not to degrade the exponential progression of mankind or the value of the human soul, just a cautionary signal that our future is short and our task, heavy.

Where The Elements Dominate

Here in the central and northern reaches of New Hampshire, the weather rules and regulates the lives and fortunes of its residents – this is tourist country.

Businesses are dependent upon the vagaries of nature, whether it be balmy sunshine in the summer to warm the waters of deep spring-fed lakes; or, whether it be a consistent cold during winter to bring and to build the dense snowpack that beckons skiers north on I-93.

It’s good to get away, however briefly, from the highly populated eastern seaboard, and from the illusion which it tends to create that man is in complete control of his destiny. Less people, more space, and more time outdoors away from the large population centers of the BosWash corridor bring out a respect for the impact of nature.

It would be naïve and foolish to deny the significant progress which civilization has built up over the centuries; but, it would be just as foolish to deny how utterly irrational civilization has been in the destruction which it has brought upon itself through sloth, uncaring, and warfare.

We have built great economic systems and erected magnificent building and construction projects. But the mountains and valleys built by nature will survive long after the street canyons of cities like Manhattan and elsewhere in the world have disappeared.

Perhaps with a little common sense, less greed, and a touch of wisdom, our leaders could improve our economic and social systems and make them last a little longer.

(Photo by Dick Bergeron, Franconia Notch, N.H., August 4, 2009)

Minding Their Own Bees-ness

Late Tuesday afternoon, I went outside to place four additional Russian Sage plants into the beds out front. Three others were already there, planted last fall, but they looked like they needed company. A few weeks ago, I had purchased more at Valley Brook Nursery on Route 22 East (just before the Spinning Wheel Diner).

The additional flora were sitting in their containers in the upper driveway near the house, patiently awaiting reunion with their lonely friends out front. Digging holes is a lot of work, and I had been postponing the job until the weather was reasonably cool, and until a steady breeze was ready to wick away the sweat to keep me from wilting.

Tuesday afternoon was the day – blue skies, puffy clouds, and dry temps with a gentle steady breeze. Out came the wheelbarrow and garden tools and off I went to my appointment with nature.

There are, as you outdoor gardening aficionados already know, certain types of outdoor plants that are nirvana for bees. Russian Sage meets their requirements: lots of fragrant flowers (albeit small) that need pollination and that the bees need for nectar. There also are other types of bees that don’t like people.

But not these friendly little Bridgewater guys – nothing but pure camaraderie between me and them, as I raked away the mulch, dug four holes, and set the plants into Mother Earth with a generous cushion of Canadian peat and black, rich USA garden soil to give the sage a good start.

I worked down on my knees among seven bee-friendly plants, as plenty of fat, three-quarter-inch-long black and yellow worker bees maneuvered in flight like miniature helicopters. They swarmed all over the sage and flew closely around me, within mere inches of my face and neck. At least one grazed me; I was that close to the sage.

Perfect harmony! The bees were getting what they needed and I, in return, would get the pleasure of good-looking blue and green, easy-maintenance flowering plants. The bees never thought of me as sting material – but only as a benefactor. They were just doing an honest day’s work, minding their own bees-ness. Amazing, isn’t it, how Mother Nature knows precisely what she is doing?

(Author’s caution: Not all bees are human-friendly. Anyone with a serious allergic reaction to bees should not follow my example!)

Photo Courtesy of JP Rogers Plant Library