PRISMATIC PALETTE

This golden season is moving right along. The flowers of early autumn - myriad Goldenrods, numerous Asters, Chicory, remnant Queen Anne’s Lace and flowering Stinging Nettles (and others) are all cycling through right on their seasonal schedules. The thistledown is flying in fall winds (always a harbinger to me for great seasonal change), soon to followed by Milkweed silk as the pods start to open. I see insect activity slowing down, in general, but I’m glad to hear the phenomenal Cricket Chorus continuing for the moment. Fish-activity in local ponds, reservoirs and streams is mellowing out, contributing therefore to the diminishing fishing-bird population (Bald Eagles, Herons and Kingfishers) as they all start moving along to more fruitful fishing grounds. All the plants and animals are preparing for the coming of winter in their own way.

FALL - The Fall Equinox is past now. Our Ruby-throated Hummingbirds have departed on their epic 2000-mile journey, many intrepidly crossing the 500-mile-wide Gulf of Mexico in one long sprint. First, the males leave, then the females a week or so later (same sequence as in the spring), now followed by the immatures, which somehow innately know how to navigate all the way to the Yucatán - truly amazing! The fourth (and longest-lived, at 6-8 months) generation of Monarchs are on their way to the mountains of Michoacan in Mexico for the winter. It is still a mystery to scientists as to exactly how either of these tiny creatures navigates unfailingly to far off lands neither has ever been to. I watch the first trees turn color on the peak of Overlook, knowing that this line (the Fall Line) will gradually sweep down the steep slopes into the valley itself, to be followed in a few weeks by the Winter Line, that will do the same, changing the multihued magic of fall to the more somber brown and grey tones of winter (trying to imitate the coats of wild deer, perhaps?). It’s almost like the Mother has shed, first her green, “peak-of- life”, leafy cloak, then tried on her fall Cloak Of Many Colors, finally settling for the wan shades of winter (this is the reverse of when the bright-green line of Spring oh so gradually makes it way up the side of the mountain in April). But I get ahead of myself. Fall is here.

TREE MAGICIANS - Triggered by subtle (and not-so-subtle) changes in light and temperature, an incredible transformation is occurring in our forests because of amazing adaptations over millions of years to the seasonal cycles. Our hardwoods (Ash, Beech, Birch, Maple and Oak, mainly) have started their unprecedented migration. Yes, migration - a migration-in-place. These trees, which up until recently were engaging in one form of alchemy - taking dirty air from the sky (with carbon in it), bringing it into the earth, removing the carbon from it, then releasing it as pure oxygen back into the sky (basically, scrubbing our dirty air, and creating life- giving oxygen in the process - all powered by sunlight and at no charge to us) - are now consumed with performing other feats of magic: transferring their very essence or lifeblood - their sap - deep down into their roots, safely below the frost-line until summoned once again by the advent of spring; as well as shedding their once-chlorophyll-filled leaves and using them to, first insulate their newly-sap-filled roots, then to make another layer of soil - voila! Phenomenal, true magic of the common, everyday sort. The hardwoods have done their job for this season - creating clean air, providing shade for untold forest creatures (and people) smaller plants and then - as their spectacular finale - bow down and deposit another future layer of soil. On the surface of it (ha!), one might say that the trees can rest now, having seemingly finished their work for the year, but I’m not sure that the forest ever rests. In addition to the growing evidence that trees help each other when leafed out, warning each other of impending threats - sharing pheromones from tree-to-tree - they also have symbiotic relationships with different fungi that inhabit their roots and which help the trees share certain enzymes - from tree-to-tree, again - but underground. I’m certain that this activity must continue - maybe it even increases - in the winter. Picture the bare branches blowing leaf-free in the wild winter winds, etching stark shadows on the sparkling snow, while down deep the sap is safely stored. The entire forest is connected through those vast roots, communicating its needs and exchanging nutrients amongst various members. Maybe this is the time when the trees tell stories of vast amounts of nuts dropped or of fallen friends. I’ve dreamed with the forest and have had glimpses of what it is like to be The Great Tree-Tribe, a vast, inter-connected, multi- species, green and brown being that is literally the very essence of the Land, perhaps the greatest Steward of the Earth, with roots running deep and branches reaching high. Perhaps this is our ideal model for us to return to responsible stewardship of the earth, like the Indigenous peoples did. Now, the forest is preparing to hunker down into itself for the coming cold. If the forest keeps its dreams to itself in the winter, that correlates to Native Americans belief that the best time for storytelling is at that time, when the ground is frozen, almost like they don’t want to disturb the sleeping forest.

FAUNA - We still have Bald Eagles in Waghkonk because there are still fish in the reservoirs and streams. Most of the region's eagles end up congregating on the Hudson in winter, fishing from ice-floes. If it gets cold the local Black- and Turkey Vultures will head a little further south, leaving the myriad dead Grey Squirrels on the roads for the Crow and Raven clean-up crew. Many of the local hawks - like most of our birds - also migrate south but we usually have a good population of wintering Red Tails and Red Shoulders here. Why not? After all, they've got a plethora of small rodents to work on. I always look forward to seeing the stalwart little Black Cap Chickadee prancing around, full of life even on the coldest of days. The last few Monarchs are about to follow the Ruby-throats. The summertime joyous cacophony of the Cicadas, Crickets and Katydids - our own "cricket-chorus" - is almost past (though we'll find crickets in basements and garages most of the winter). There are only a few left and their song is gradually getting slower and slower. One benefit of cooler weather is less and less Black-flies and Mosquitos. No complaints there!

HOW I SEE IT - I consider myself an integral part of this Land, connected to it, rooted deeply into it (literally and figuratively) in every way possible. I inhale the living air, breathing life into myself and sense it rolling smoothly across my skin. I drink the water-essence of the Land. I walk gently barefoot on the ground, feeling its living-ness pulsing under my feet. I am not separate from the land that I joyously journey upon. I love to watch the clouds prevailing across the Woodstock Valley, marching over Overlook, proceeding onward eventually to my childhood home in New England, reminding me of both where my roots originated and the magical place I've planted them. Our woods vibrate with life at its richest in summer, and when I move through them I know that the forest is an ancient sentient being which welcomes me back within its verdant boughs, for we are old, old friends. The forest floor of summer, like the sunnier fields and meadows, teems with living creatures - the microbial, the minute and the miniature - all engrossed in their daily struggles for survival and to promote their kind, in turn enabling the larger creatures to do the same. Feeding them all, the open arterial life-blood of my Earth- Mother, the sweet yet nascently powerful Sawkill flows dancingly among the pieces of shattered bluestone and glacial cobbles, timelessly wearing all down with its unceasing flow, smoothing us all down to nature's own common denominator - Life itself, rounded, experienced, caressed, loved. Thanks, All.

Take Care, “Ranger” Dave Holden

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