Letchworth State Park in upstate New York

Letchworth State Park in upstate New York is a special place for me. In the magical time of life when imagination and reality blend, as identity and values form, it’s beauty and agelessness impressed. Historical perspective, both human and geological, was absorbed. An outlook on reality, the who, what, when and where we each need to know took root.

In passing through a human life is short,
Enough time to wonder why,
But not enough to know.

Magnificent the Genesee Valley farms and hills and meadows and woods and vales, on and on seemingly from forever into the present, at one’s feet the present falls away on and on into the past. Layer by layer of age exposed, exposed by time. Forever ago vast ocean deposits where uplifted to form giant mountains of time, knocked down grain by grain to form vast level layers before me now, exposed by time and relentless water flowing, ever flowing ever removing grain by grain the ocean floor that once was a mountain top that was an ocean floor. Repeated not forever but cycled only few, for time is short yet time is long. Now I stand and see almost eternity where thick rivers of ice at times ran free. Not once, not twice but many times, making the valley of Genesee.

Passing through a human life is short.

More than once ice rivers, heavy and deep, flowed south, as the Genesee River now flows north, scouring clean the living earth, gouging deep and rending sterile the rock beneath. So small seems the living, so large loomed the ice. Again and again, it scoured, again and again, life retreated, again and again, the ice fell back and life advanced, reclaiming the barren land. However, each advance changed the landscape and before us now the result of life and ice in conflict so very long ago.







Further and further from ago highway hum makes numb.

Taking vast vistas at a glance frees the spirit, frees thought from earthly constraints.

Eternity almost becomes tenable. Into far distant eras, the mind easily slips, but projections into a future time remain remiss. Ahead is seen as only the recent past projected, seen as the result of what happened, not of what will be. Brief our sojourn, brief our history. Thinking back but only three or four generations is a monumental leap of imagination, for reality begins at our birth, all else is hearsay.
Someone living today could have spoken to someone who talked to a Founder, almost certainly someone who lived the Civil War. How brief the modern era, how changed the world in so few lifetimes.

Brief life’s light does shine,
Each a moment’s flash divine.



Many a year ago, a man named At and a woman named Sophie began a family. On the first of June this year, for the first time in more than a hundred years, no child of theirs breathes upon this earth.

The earth is now less. Blessed have I been to have known and loved and lived among their offspring and now blessed am I to carry onward in their stead.

Another Passing:
The sign’s askance, hanging, hanging sideways by only a single nail, looking sad as does the garden and drive. Invasive plants and time overtake. Few splashes of colorful blossoms defy the trend. It is sad to see, sad to feel, sad so much effort wasted.

Life is a struggle and relentless nature wins. Take advantage of your strengths for soon they will become your weakness.



Inspiration Point






Old age is difficult to fathom. Decline depresses. Youth’s strength, enthusiasm succumbs to eventuality. Change is constant, life is brief, life is change, and then life is over, a one-way ride to eternity. If each genetic being, the union of two other genetically unique beings yields a forever entity, why the pain and anguish of an earthly existence? Life is good, life is short, life is incomprehensible!! Endless seems the river flowing from source to sea, it is but delusion. Ebbs and flows beyond one’s years one’s only sense of eternity.







Ominous the cold, gray clouds, dripping heavy silence, stillness reigns, death in spring’s prime. The first of June, twilight, a life passed, one last breath and all is still.


Now At and Sophie’s kids are no more, and the world is less!!





Brief life’s light does shine
Each moment’s flash divine.

Rainbow at Middle Falls

Winter’s retreat-At Home and Sapsucker Woods

Evocative is winter’s retreat, before spring begins and life awakens, invisible forces secretly work life’s magic. The air is still, so very still, and cool, a bit too cool; the sun is radiant, bright, too bright on the few remaining patches of snow. They sparkle so on this cloudless day as blue sky is as blue as blue sky can be. It seems that only in the late winter, early spring or mid October does such sky delight. Evergreens are splendid against the blue of sky and tans and browns of leafless trees and shrubs.
A lone crow breaks the silence, cawing his story for all his world to hear. Perhaps I am the only one to note his solitaire refrain so quiet seems the woods. I know I am not important in his world, but his caw renews faith that spring approaches, that is important in mine.
Although the sun is warm, the spring seeps are stilled from night’s chill. Despite the cold nights, a spring freshet near the house was busy with the season’s business; bringing life’s liquid from freshly melted snow to eagerly awaiting roots. So busy doing spring.
Now with only scattered remnants left the white snow blanket, now quite threadbare, retreats deeper into darker recesses of the woods. The cold hangs tightly in these chill pockets. Daylight’s bright sun and blue sky come at a price, paid with clear, dark, frosty nights of jet black sky and a penetrating cold that needs all day to thaw and soften remaining snow.

April 2011
For miles along the thruway, Interstate 90 between Rochester and Buffalo and on the parallel NYS Rte. 20, large sections of the wet, swampy areas and ditches, once the realm of cattails and redwing blackbirds are now are taken over by perennial pampas grass. In April, tall, these dried stalks are invading wetlands and overgrowing the valuable native cattails.
Last April was warm and tinder dry, by contrast this April was cold and moist. Last May there were even more unseasonable cold and late frosts. This May is yet to be.
May: Each spring has its unique personality. Some begin early, some late, some wet some dry, but all are sweet. This spring has been late and wet, last spring was warm early and dry but ended cold with freezes while many plant blossoms were peaking. This May I cannot remember even one frosty night, although in the valleys nearby I’m sure there was. Around here, I always fear an early spring because even if warm early May always gets cold late. Sometimes a frost, sometimes not, it depends on your address!!!!
Each day the forest closes in more and more as leaves bud out and unfold. Sad though the sight has become for now the earliest under story shrubs to leaf out are the non-native honeysuckles. Bird poop shrubs that now dominate mainly because the deer do not eat them and birds poop a lot. Sad the monolithic under story is almost devoid of so many natives. Even woodland spring ephemerals are becoming more scarce as the deer run roughshod through the woods. “Bambi” is quite destructive. Sad so few realize the damage. Superficially, the woods are still the woods but so many details are absent. In the mid 1990’s Cornell’s Lab of Ornithology’s Living Bird had an article about how deer induced habitant destruction may be harming woodland bird populations. But “Bambi” is so cute!!
To add insult to injury a few years back a destructive beetle all but eliminated many native and non-native viburnum species in our area. Native viburnum species bloomed over a very long period in spring and their berries ripened throughout the late summer and early winter months thus providing early nectar for insect species and also nourishment late for many birds. The brush also provided much needed cover of various heights to protect nests from predators.

Bambi lovers seem to love diversity as a worthy goal, but seem not to understand that woodland diversity is rapidly disappearing, that Bambi is a menace too. How many woodland birds cannot a living make? Superficially, the woods are there, the shrubs are there and all is good, all is happy in wonderland.
The swamps are not immune from sad but subtle change. For many years, purple loosestrife ran amuck in the muck, driving out cattails. Loosestrife appears in decline, weakened by an introduced insect that enjoys eating it.
But now a new invader, non-native grasses are overrunning the swampy areas, choking out the cattails. Because they have no colorful flowers, they are especially pernicious. Nobody really “sees” them.

APRIL-2010 FIRE @ MONTEZUMA WILDLIFE REFUGE, NEW YORK

Unlike this spring when spring was late and very wet, last year the spring was very dry and early.

Driving up the east side of Cayuga Lake in the distance black smoke was seen in the sky from about the village of Aurora, half-way up the lake.

At first I thought it was a barn fire, but soon it was apparent the fire was in the marshes of Montezuma.

Soon it appeared to have burned itself out. Apparently it had been burning since 4A.M. and it was now early afternoon.

The non-native grasses that have newly invaded were tinder dry and burned quickly. Luckily there was no wind and spreading was reduced.




Since the fire seemed spent, I wandered to the nearby observation tower just as a new flare exploded into fire. The flames shot high again and smoke blackened the sky. But water and shorter plants restricted the spread and soon the flames died down.





















Heading back to the car, an old black willow trunk, split and gnarled caught my eye.

Willows hold leaves late into the fall and often leaf out early in the spring. These leaves hold the wet and heavy snow that may fall early or late causing many branches and trunks to crack or break. Character is born from life's trials.

When looked at closely it is amazing the fantastic shapes and color and texture that reveal a beauty all its own.






























In northern part of the marsh the NYS Barge Canal runs. These two images were the only real color to be seen this early in the spring except for blue sky and a little bit of green grass.

The locks and lock-master's house had just been freshly painted and just screamed to be taken!!

The strength of the rack and pinion used to open the lock is evident in its mass!

FALL -TALLULAH GORGE- GEORGIA

Hurricane Falls

The goal of the visit.

Only the bottom portion is visible from an observation deck, but its height can be gauged by the rather large pool at its base. A large force must be at work to carve this pool.




Geology is a humbling science second only to astronomy. But geology is touchable, we trip and fall and pick ourselves up in geological environs. We can ponder the stars, but we can touch the earth, see the effects of time's passage before our very eyes. A speck of stone is revealed in each dawn’s light as new, never before seen by conscious beings, tiny specks of life that are aware as no other specks have been in the eons that is earth’s existence.
























On July 18, 1970, the high-wire artist Karl Wallenda walked across the gorge. Only eight years before members of the Flying Wallendas were doing their famous human pyramid in Detroit, falling and killing two and injuring him. In 1978, eight years later he himself would fall and be killed while performing.
The towers used in 1970 are still to be seen above Tallulah Gorge, a grim reminder of a dangerous profession.

Just along the rim the long downhill trail to Hurricane Falls and the river bottom start. There is plenty of warning about the trail, all justified, 1099 steps I think! The downward steps aren’t that tough but uphill they turn against you.


Atop the rim of the gorge looking upstream, white waterfalls and rapids are seen, while looking downstream some pines cling precariously to the wall, and the beauty of the season and sunlight dramatically complete the scene.











Hurricane Falls is only partially seen from the bottom and the downstream look is mostly boulders. It is hard to believe that
kayaking is possible through the rocks but when the river flow is increased with releases from the dam it is quite popular.























Looking up the gorge walls you can see an overlook. I commented to a man that I had seen at the overlook earlier about how smart to be up there. He replied “ No, not really, because up there you what to be down here!!”





About two-thirds up from the river bed, past the suspension bridge above the falls, the steps seem endless!!

LATE WINTER THAW-SAPSUCKER WOODS

Winter goose prints exposed in spring as thawing begins on Sapsucker Woods pond



Early in March a two day thaw and spring seemed so close. Silly me I made a trip to Sapsucker Woods thinking that this would be my last chance to see the retreat of winter. Chuckle, chuckle, Thursday and Friday were sweet with spring fever breaking out. Robins were arriving and Red-winged blackbirds too. Cardinals sang into the deep blue sky, chickadees and jays and even crows changed their tune!! Then Sunday early snow began, and fell for 24 straight hours and almost 20 ". Spring sprung a snowy leak.

This is what caught my eye when spring was on my mind and Sapsucker Woods called forth!!

Winter's first retreat is at the edge when dry draws the solar warmth and spreads to the wet.


Every non-white absorbs the ever-brighter sun and, as the degree days accumulate, dramatic changes occur.

In winter all is uniform, details matter less. But as spring draws near they matter and become early spring events.



For while most life is still dormant, the
the first hints are seen.

In nutrient rich, shallow ponds exposed to the late winter rays of sun, non-green algae starts to grow and spread in March "warmth".


Branches, twigs and sprigs and even sub-surface variations alter degree-days and magnify the effect.


The snow spots in the pond seem to be remnants of goose prints made in winter snow. Slightly compressed snow, compacted and with more moisture, freezes harder and denser in the cold that follows a brief thaw.


Adding yet another discontinuity that is magnified as thaw sponges solid ice.

Surprising is the color as the winter begins to ebb. Sky blue sky appears while even looking down, the fall leaf color brown and tinge of moss green portend the life abundant soon.






At Sapsucker Woods the trail crosses a road to a more wooded wetland that is so dramatically different from the large open ponded areas.

A twig in ice not visited by much sun is still encased in gray ice and not surrounded by brown algae. Is pi R squared or calligraphy displayed?
The wooded ponding areas are less nutrient rich and gray is ice color.


Along the H. W. Saunders boardwalk these roots of a long fallen giant have always caught my attention. Many moments of searching and with much film exposed I have yet to capture the feeling that I have when I pass and stare and reflect.
The years that have passed since this tree has fallen, the character and beauty, a patina of moss and lichen and old age, pine needles and and fall leaves, is never fully captured.

I guess the image is in my head and perhaps will stay put!



Patterns and swirls form as the ice slowly thins. Currents ever so slight enhance patterns and leave their mark to see. Soon all the ice will melt and patterns disappear.

Each spring paints images, ever changing images
never just the same.

LATE MARCH WATERFALLS ITHACA, NY

This winter has been very long and now, as the end of March is near the cold is still entrenched. The nights are very cold, sometimes in the teens F. and the day time highs barely freezing.

In mid-March a glimmer of spring appeared but lasted only two days followed by almost 2 feet of snow one Sunday. But that is gone and as snow melt flowed in field and stream another chill arrived. This time only a few inches of snow fell and if it was November and not March it would be quite pretty.

Since the sun shines more in spring than in early winter and is much higher in the sky, the falls are nicer to visit. The shadows do not dull the glens and falling water.

This is the swimming hole waterfalls at Treman state park. The stream, Enfield Creek, is dammed in summer to provide a swimming pool. Early afternoon and the sun shines bright as the water shoots out of the narrow walls of the glen, exploding into a snow white cascade.





Next is Buttermilk Falls, at its base it too is dammed in summer to provide a swimming area in the warmer months.

Rarely is a winter photograph of this falls interesting because it faces almost due north and therefore, when the sun is low on the horizon, it is almost constantly in the shade.

But in late March the sun shines and brightens the stream bed and falls. And today a slight coating of snow makes the light more even, the shadows less harsh.

The golden glow of afternoon sun beautifies the ornamental grass plantings near the park ticket booth.

Soon the spring will return, but of course April is the cruelest month and is yet to be.

WINTER SILENCE

February 2011

At times in winter the silence numbs the spirit as the chill does to the body.
White upon white is but illusion, reality is forever gray the sky, forever gray the night, forever gray is bright as onward winter drifts.

February 17

The wait of winter oppresses even though today the temperature is somewhat mild~45 F. The air is heavy with moisture, the clouds gray and burdened, calm is still everywhere. Snow is heavy, dirty, unclean, ice is everywhere gray and slick, a winter’s worth of compressed moisture on walkway and drive. Every seep is froze gray as sun warms and thaws, while night freeze builds. Winter seems eternity, yet eternity still lies so far ahead.
When brief appears the sun its rays slant at angles last seen in late fall as fall was in decline. The last leaves of summer growth holding on until their time to fall. A golden ray, deep slanted, gloried their final days.
Now the sun is quite recluse, rarely ever about, its golden rays strike bare and dormant buds just playing a waiting game. The February sun is as strong as November but seems not.
December and January predate this month with very long nights and weakened sun. With dark nights the rule, chill earth is February’s legacy, not as September and October warmth is to November’s, and so all is still, so quiet, so still.
Awake, awake February sun, announce that spring is near, free the cardinal’s song for all to hear, free the joy with raucous noise to awaken quiet fields, arouse the crow to caw its ancient tune, and bless the little chickadee, happiest of winter woodland souls, exploring every wrinkle in the bark of every woodland tree.
But for now it is just so still, quiet presses into each soul, the wait of winter still, for as yet the rills and brooks drip not with spring.

All is still, so quiet, so still.

SILENT WANDERS A MIND SAUNTERING

Silent wanders a mind sauntering
Vast vistas in quiet soliloquy,
Seeking within, content in being,
Thoughts adrift about eternity.

Quiet is right, quiet finds luminance,
Illusions delude, thoughts so crude,
Pondering self, pondering existence,
Receive revelation in quiet solitude.

I know not others, I know not me,
I can only dream, imagine that I see,
For all I see exists only at my will,
From chaos to tumult to all is still.

Your bright rays are not my rays,
Your rainbows are not my rainbows,
As thoughts pass through all days,
Blessings untold, glory life bestows.

RDS

FIRST THOUGHTS ON WINTER'S BEGINNING

December and winter arrived together, not unexpected, only dreaded. In early December winter seems to be in store forever! But eventually the daylight lengthens and the sun rises earlier each day, still two weeks from now by the way, and winter's beauty begins to snow. That is until waning March days when winter forever appears.


Crescent moon part aglow,
Dark abates but slight below,
Warm appears basking sunlight,
Delusion against chill twi-night.

Still and chill tests one's will,
Never a jay's screaming shrill
Cracks the morning still with chill
When from dark night frosts distill.

Short the sun's daily ascent,
Sharp journey's arc is bent
As the end of year is sent,
Gone forever, forever to lament.

RDS