I can't stay out of the woods in May!

The woods are magical at this time of year before the canopy fills in, sunlight dappled and the ground thick with wild leeks and spring ephemerals. Notice the love affair of trillium and bellwort, loving woodland companions.

Trillium blooms are at their peak this week, the beautiful grandiflora species especially bountiful. A few weeks ago I was puzzled by something mysterious. What is this strange flower?

The mystery was revealed when I spied a trillium clearly infected with a parasitic mycoplasma or phytoplasma (latter is the newer nomenclature). Compare the photo below to the one above with its flower sporting bacterial green.

As for other wildflowers, Dutchman's breeches are just about finished blooming, with Solomon's seal yet to come. Violets are flowering both in the woods and the garden both, deep purple ones around my house and the lovely little yellow downy violets in the woods. But we never tire of trillium, do we? Its season is all too brief.

Look up through the tops of the trees, too, and see how much light comes in before the canopy fills with summer leaves. 

Back on the ground are beauties other than flowers, such as this charming group of mossy rocks hidden deep among the trees. 

And oh, those lovely, luscious ferns!

An Exciting Morning in the Neighborhood

Saturday dawned fresh and cool, the world washed clean and clear by overnight storms. Crows brought life to the morning skies and filled the air with their calls.

Sarah's (and mine) were the first tracks on the rain-wet road, other than those made by the tires of a vehicle that passed before we arrived. Some people would never want to track with a dog, I know. Doesn't she mess up the evidence of what's gone before? Sometimes, possibly, but watching her and examining her tracks is a learning experience, too. In the first shot above, the distance between tracks makes clear that she was running, as does the deepness of the front of the print at left. When we returned not many minutes later, Sarah's track (below) looked different. Do you see what happened in the interim?

There was no sign of sandhill cranes on the road, but I kept hearing them and looking up, expecting to see them flying over the orchard. They were in the neighborhood. But where? Plenty to see on the ground, anyway. 

. . . 

And then -- my foot dislodged a rock that demanded to be rinsed off and inspected more closely -- 

Another reminder that not all Petoskey stones are found on the beach. After all, our whole neighborhood was underwater long ago.

But there were those cranes calling again. Where were they? Not in the orchard, not in the corn.

At last, farther than I had thought, at the far side of a field bordering Jelinek Road --

Very satisfying! And then it was time to go to work.

Chiricahua Closeups

Up at Massai Point, manzanita is flowering.

A depression in a rock held rainwater.

And someone was being remembered.

Morning Beach Walk With My Kid (and Sarah)