Spring Reflections

Nature's nourishment, promises from the past...

For the first time in almost two decades, last year I faded away during Lent. I was mildly surprised to find my heart, my spirit was pulled in opposing directions thinning my focus to something almost entirely invisible. Even more surprising was my lack of anxiety about that. This must be what my first yoga instructor deemed ‘observe without judgement’. Oh, I set Lenten targets, I talked to God throughout this experience. But rather than work a list, I mostly asked for forgiveness for my willful meandering. Through that experience, I leveled up again because I don’t believe that God wants me to come to Him from a task list or to fearfully interact with Him. He wants my heart, all of my heart, to be focused on giving, living, and loving. I didn’t recognize this progress until our nature walk yesterday, pictorially documented here.

This photo documentary from last spring bears retelling because although we hold out hope daily that world leaders will come to their senses and behave with peace in their hearts, alas it’s not to be, once again this spring.

All of my photos were (I thought) ghastly because even though the sky was a mix of clouds and sunshine there were so many reflections that what our creator’s painting revealed to my naked eye was nearly impossible to capture with my trusty iPhone camera. What follows is a story of fortitude, of longevity, of doing the work of creation.

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The birthing pool

Within this mud puddle were several dozen very large amphibian egg sacks. My husband saw them and we stopped to look in awe. Dozens! Some had already loosed their tiny tadpoles - stage two of their life cycle. There must be hundreds of thousands of babies in this pool and there are countless vernal and permanent ponds in these woods alone. The photo with a ‘golden’ hue was taken at a second small pond and, although not obvious from the photo, captured a large mass of moss green egg sacks which I will expand upon later in the story.

Pennsylvania has 3.7 million acres of state forest and state game land. Despite the wars, despite the politics, despite the urge of man to destroy himself (why?) hundreds of thousands of tadpoles are coming from this ONE puddle like the countless microscopic life within a droplet of pond water. Isn’t that amazing? How can our petty goings on matter in the face of the spring rebirth that’s occurred in spite of us for eons upon eons?

But I digress. We always start our exploration with the large ponds where the hush has a life of its own, except the wind and the occasional fish or bird. It’s the type of quiet we all long for. On this day it felt like the calm before the rush of new birth. I captured moss and lichen along the way, on display as if inside the most special art museum. I wrote a post, linked at the end, about what all the species are, since they make up the abundant ‘green’ carpet God rolls out for us practically year-round where we live.

For the first time, we saw skunk cabbage. All the years we’ve walked these trails we don’t recall seeing it near the large pond.

This reflection caught my attention so I stopped to rest. Here we saw small fish and lots of salamanders swimming in the submerged brushy areas.

Looking across the pond, beyond the bird box, you’ll see a brushy area. What we discovered for the first time was a path that circled us around to that area we’d previously only admired from a distance. That’s where things got even more interesting. In that brushy zone was an actual wetland with pools full of egg sacks and large floating shadows. Of course we wanted a closer look, so we trudged through the clay, using the brush along the sides as a ‘cross walk’ to prevent sinking. Chasing one of the shadows we found the most beautiful gentleman snapping turtle. He was shy, hiding from our noise but we patiently attempted the shots and eventually hubby tossed a stick in to get us a slightly better view. I think you will agree that pictures of a snapping turtle, from less than fifteen feet away, in it’s natural habitat are the perfect spring gift. It was also in this area we saw that yellowed view of bright green egg sacks (shown above) captured in what looks like a fifty year old polaroid shot, which happened to be my favorite photo of the day.

On the way back we went overland trying to reconnect with the trail that leads to where our truck was parked. Here was even more new adventure. We saw vernal pools throughout the forest and ended up at the far end of our first, regular pond where we captured a small bridge someone built to a small island and a log where small turtles were warming in the last of the afternoon sunlight.

I’m always changed, renewed, by the wilderness. It’s obvious we’re each, collectively part of a larger, more profoundly beautiful process of renewal. One that God and His universe perfected long, long before we were a twinkle in His eyes. Immerse yourself within the natural world to feel your faith. A faith so perfect and powerful it’s undeniably, unerringly renewed every year whether we notice it not.

We’ve all got friends who don't realize the earth is still spinning and the animals are still making babies. The spring renewal is on at Bren’s Buzz, with many a ‘nat-geo’ moment in the Nature link on my site.

I’m fasting from notes, chat, and such as I renew my connect to real life this Lent. Please do talk amongst yourselves and I’ll catch up with everyone in a few weeks.

As promised, here is my post about my obsession with moss.