March

Memory Lane – ND #107

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A Carp in the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Memory Lane

I took an unexpected trip down memory lane this afternoon.

In spite of the overcast gloom and intermittent drizzle, I managed to stop for about half an hour at ‘my spot’ along the Tohickon Creek. When I got out of my car to pay my respects to this beloved body of water, I was surprised to see two significantly large carp treading water in the center of the stream.

As I do occasionally, I’d brought with me a rice cake or two that I crumbled and then blew into it my whispered gratitude and love to the Spirit of the Tohickon. Then I offered the crumbles to the creatures (and the water itself) in appreciation.

When I did this, I noticed that several concentric circles kept rippling the surface of the creek all around the two carps. Only once did I see something black briefly break the surface. Yet clearly there were creatures all around these two carps, which mostly just seemed to face into the headwaters, barely moving.

Two Carp – and Notice the Concentric Circles… – Photo: L. Weikel

A Memory Triggered

All of a sudden I remember visiting the creek about half a mile downstream (as the creek flows), where there used to be a low dam. That’s where I used to take all three of our sons to play. My youngest son and I went there a lot after I picked him up from pre-school.

The memory that was triggered was of one afternoon (almost certainly in late March!) when Sage and I were at ‘the dam.’ He was playing along the concrete wall, in the center of which there was a gap through which water rushed to the next level of the creek, where it splashed along a myriad assortment of rocks making up the creek bed. I was sitting on the concrete wall myself, writing in my journal.

This particular day, Sage and I were delighted to see dozens and dozens of huge (to us) fish swimming upstream! For all the times we’d spent at the Tohickon, we’d never experienced such a sight before. Golden orange fish whose scales reflected the sun and were simply magical to behold! It took us only a moment, though, for our eyes to adjust to what we were really seeing.

That’s when we realized that, in addition to scores of carp swimming up the Tohickon, we also were witnessing scores of snakes feasting upon these fish!

The realization was at once astonishing, horrifying, and fascinating.

And that’s what I believe I was witnessing today – only the flow of the Tohickon, at least at the spot I was at today – was allowing all those snakes to remain under the ‘radar.’

What a memory.

Try as I might, I failed to snag a photo of those dark sea serpents lurking beneath the surface. But I knew they were there.

(T+107)

If I Didn’t Know Better – Day 868

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Finale of a Spectacular Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

If I Didn’t Know Better

It’s almost midnight and the towering pine trees across the road from our front door are leaning away from the surging wind, bending and hoping they can withstand the relentless onslaught coming at them from the west. If I didn’t know better, the sound of the wind punishing those trees make me think of angry surf pounding the beach during a Nor’easter.

We already lost our electricity once this evening. I’m grateful it was restored within fifteen minutes. We’re lucky; I know. As I listen to our windows rattle and the air bombarding us literally causing a “Wooooon-oooo” that sounds like a stereotypical ghost, I just hope the trees in our area can stand firm.

Our walk this afternoon revealed lots of broken limbs shattered on the roadway. Probably not unrelated, we also found at least three different chunks of plastic trim from automobiles near these smashed branches. I’m not sure if they were there last night when we walked. It was too dark for us to notice. But it’s a fact that we scour our roadways daily, so I’m thinking these trees did some damage to passing vehicles yesterday.

Sky Fire Sunset 1 – Photo: L. Weikel

What a Difference a Day Makes

Just yesterday, before we took our walk, we were initiating our porch to the 2021 spring season. We knew we needed to get some porch time in as expeditiously as possible because the forecast for today was precisely how it played out: dark, wet, and dreary early, with a dramatic shift in temperature and temperament late this afternoon.

The sun and light yesterday kept shifting and changing in every moment, to the point where we were practically on sunset overload. We were so enchanted by the ‘sky fire’ that we ended up taking our walk later than usual. I was thus relegated to taking most of the photos of the sunset from our porch – all but the final shot, which I took as we walked ‘widdershins’ – counterclockwise – around our usual circuit.

Sunset Sky Fire 2 – Photo: L. Weikel

Lion or…?

March may still have an opportunity to go out like a lamb this month. We have a couple more days left for it to change its mind and tame its ways. But between trees that have been ravaged by the Emerald Ash Borer and the soft ground left even more juicy by all the rain we’ve had, I think the chances of us remaining unscathed by the temperamental attitude of this month is slim. It feels like a potential Lion in/Lion out this year. But we’ll see.

Sunset Sky Fire 3 – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-243)

No Lamb Today – Day 841

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Wild Afternoon Sky – Photo: L. Weikel

No Lamb Today

Without even going outside this morning, I could hear the runoff of melted snow coursing along the side of our road. Water rushed through a tunnel of compacted snow, amplifying the sound of its frenzied quest to join either the Tohickon or the Delaware, whichever was quickest and easiest to access. The sky was gray but the air was mild, content to simply do the job of melting winter’s whites. I truly thought I had this ‘first day’ pegged; but alas, March was no lamb today.

Oh sure, every once in a while the sun tried to push through and shake things up, but it was a heavy lift. The day just felt sort of blah.

Only when I had to run out to the post office in the late afternoon did I start rethinking my assessment. Snarling clouds were building in the west and I sensed a growing energy that felt distinctly leonine. I stopped by the creek to pay my respects and everything just felt dismal and swollen.

Swollen Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

 

Overflowing her banks – Photo: L. Weikel

Transformation

An hour later, Karl and I were heading out with Spartacus. The weather transformed before our very eyes. There was the barest hint that change was coming as we rounded the first corner. Those dark billowing layers of slate gray clouds had almost magically given way to a speckled sky of marshmallow puffs.

The longer we walked, the more dramatically everything shifted. Another mile under our belts and overhead the puffs poofed and their background of blue became the main event.

As we crested the final hill, the power behind the shift made itself known. We kept looking behind ourselves, thinking the whooshing sound we heard was an approaching car. But no, it was the wind, and that wind started buffeting us, moving us along, and most definitely ‘blowing the dust off’ our attitudes.

Speckled Sky of Puffs – Photo: L. Weikel

This Evening

As I sit here writing the title of this post, ‘No Lamb Today,’ the catalyzing wind has only become wilder and is making our normally melodious wind chimes clang vociferously. (I should probably bring them in.)  The lights have dimmed at least four times this evening, but we’ve mercifully been spared a complete loss of electricity. So far, anyway. It’s a wonder.

At the moment, it feels like the wind is angry and determined to root out and whisk away anything that isn’t grounded and in it for the long haul. Its roar is unmistakably declaring that March 2021 is coming in like a lion.

May it clear away the Covid! Help us all start fresh. It’s a new month – a month of new growth, of hope, of life returning to the surface of our consciousness. The month that brings us spring.

All in the span of two hours – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-270)