Weekend Adventures: Master Naturalist

Last year, around this time, I was grappling with how best to squeeze my major passion of the outdoors into an all too busy life.  There were thoughts of figuring out a new career path, but completely by mistake, I seem to have stumbled upon the right one of those.  So, it didn't take me long to figure out I needed a plan B.  I needed to figure out how to do more of what I loved.  Nature, every part of it, speaks to me on levels nothing else can.  Whether it's the breathtaking ocean, towering mountains, gentle rolling hills or beautiful morning sky, I discover a level of being with each that nothing else can beckon.  

Thankfully, I stumbled upon the West Virginia Master Naturalist Program.  Still a fairly nascent program, the effort started around 2003 and was a cooperative effort among several state agencies and a couple of educational institutions.  It has definitely grown and expanded in that time, and I'm lucky enough to live near Oglebay Park, which holds many classes each season.  It's basically an accelerated and hands-on series of courses that prepares individuals for leadership in conservation and best practices with regard to nature.  Due to a lot of adjustments in my life over the past year, I had only had the chance to attend one class; but, I've enrolled in several for this fall, and I got to take the first of those today.  What's better than a Saturday morning spent, listening to a fascinating and interesting lecture on West Virginia's aquatic habitats?  There was talk of the ecosystems of several waterways, and then we got to go trekking around in the waters of a stream in the vicinity of Buffalo Creek and Castleman Run.

A couple of my favorite lessons from the day included a teaching on the American Bittern, which is an intriguing bird whose chest plumage imitates that of dense grasses/cattails in lake and pond areas.  The instructor had some amusing tales of approaching these birds, which apparently allow you to approach so long as you do not look at them (thus, employing a sidestep).  When they see you approach, they raise their head so as to better blend with the surrounding grasses and do so until you're uncomfortably close, at which time they and their 4.5 foot wingspan flush.  Also, there was the Lethocerus giant water bug, which has the ability to "deflate" a frog through its use of digestive enzymes and proboscis.  We also learned how to determine quality of water, using EPT Taxa, a method based on the presence of mayflies, stoneflies and caddisflies.  This last lesson was what led us to the stream to collect samples and interpret.  I managed to collect a mayfly that looked to have hatched this morning, so that its body was almost completely translucent with the exception of its beady black eyes.

Later this fall, I'm lined up for a mammals class as well as a class called "Growing up Wild," which equips adults to teach children about nature.  The Master Naturalist Program is just one more reason to love this beautiful state (and be grateful for Oglebay Park being just up the road)!    

Hot + Cold

This summer has been so kind to us--not too much of anything really.  We've had short stints of hot and humid, but nothing like some of the recent summers that heated up to 90 degrees in May and cooled down to the fall temps overnight in mid or late September.  Instead, we've had fluctuations of seasonal temps, rain, sun, etc.  And yet, I have caught myself in this latest stretch of humidity, wishing and pining for the cooler air.  I'm convinced some days that I was really made for Alaska...or Antarctica or something because it doesn't take much heat to completely spoil my fun.

I wake up early each morning to leave myself plenty of time to take a stroll with Tucker through the quiet streets of the neighborhood and also have the sacred cup of coffee to ease into the day.  Given how early I rise, I've been repeatedly shocked this week when I step outside and literally feel like I must swim through the air, or peel it back, in order to walk.  Morning is meant to be fresh and crisp and invigorating.  This week, there will be no such nonsense.  It's been disgustingly humid.

So, given my aversion to the heat and humidity, you would be led to believe air conditioning is a close friend of mine.  Not so.  While I don't mind the cold in general, the extreme humidity outside and heat make the cold air inside feel a hundred times more cold.  This aversion grew just a bit deeper this week when I read in the Wall Street Journal that going from the heat outside and into the air conditioning has been proven to be bad for our immunity.  So, all of that lore about how awful sicknesses reign in the winter?  Guess again.    

As I sat on the stairs at the back of my house, watching Tucker wander the yard at lunch, feeling like a raisin in the sun, it occurred to me just how miserable the hot weather really is for me.  Some people talk about how they slow down in the winter, due to the cold, but if you ever need me to slow down, just plop me down in the heat.  The misery increases when you add work clothes to the equation.  The natural solution would be to dress in summer/light attire, right?  Sounds reasonable.  However, I had spent my entire morning (and then my afternoon) freezing in the relentless air conditioning at the office.  The chuckle came when I pondered my personal space heater under my desk.  As I sat there, hating the heat, I realized that my entire perspective would be shifting drastically in about a half hour when I returned to the frigid reaches of my workspace.  As predicted, I huddled round the space heater all afternoon.

Tonight, as I walked through the thick, sticky air, I realized this fickleness is more common than not for us.  When you're young, you want to be older; then, you're older and wish you had enjoyed being young.  When you're busy, you want to have some downtime only to then get bored when the downtime comes.  When you wish you had taken the time to finish reading that book, you're of course the busiest you've been all year.  I could go on, but I'm sure the point is clear.  I've worked really hard all summer not to wish for winter or fall, but I guess today showed me that obsessing over the heat's misery is just about the same, without the words being spoken.

And so I say to you, Mother Nature, keep that humidity coming...I'm so grateful?  (I'm counting on you, reverse psychology.)

Life on the Creek

It's been amazing to me how different ecosystems can be between two neighborhoods, mere minutes from one another.  

I grew up in a part of town that had so many hills that there was truly no direction to go in and not encounter one.  With those hills came lots of trees.  Springdale's hills made me feel like I was up on a perch with a bird's eye view of the valley.  The view brought breathtaking mornings because it sat above the fog, so I could see fluffy stuff listlessly puddling all along the lower lying areas.  Similarly, at the end of the day, I always felt lucky to be able to watch as the sun slowly faded behind the hill-filled horizon.  

Springdale had an assortment of regular visitors from nature.  Always lots of birds--the typical robins, cardinals and blue jays.  (I can't forget the infamous crows and pigeons here but will subject them to a parenthetical; all too willing creatures of garbage night.)  There were also plenty of sightings of deer, raccoons, bunnies and the occasional groundhog.  My mom has always entertained a very large family of squirrels.  Their home, the aptly named "Nuthouse," in an old tree is always bustling when we gather as a family for cookouts.  In fact, the family has expanded so much, it's now like its own circus, with various generations entertaining us with their high wire acts along the power and phone lines. This ever-expanding family has brought a hawk or two to my parent's yard on occasion, but I was never present.

My new neighborhood is literally a 5 minute drive from Springdale, but it is nestled in one of the wandering crooks of Wheeling Creek (affectionately referred to as Big Wheeling Creek locally).  Wheeling Creek is part of the Ohio and Mississippi River watersheds and about 25 miles in length (or that's what Wikipedia tells me).  I have been amazed at the change in ecosystem for one large and many small reasons.  There is almost nowhere in Wheeling one can go at this point and not see deer wandering about.  Over the past 4 months, I've witnessed one lonely doe.  What I've seen here that I rarely or never saw before include toads, frogs, an increased number of groundhogs, ducks, geese and perhaps my favorite--the blue heron.  There are also many more earthworms here--to the point that when it had rained one night, I was out by my garden and could hear them tunneling through the dirt just like they were doing laps in a pool!  Also, in the old neighborhood, there would be the unfortunate occurrence of roadkill from time-to-time, and it would almost always be a poor defenseless squirrel.  Here?  Tucker and I walk the streets and find that many toads and frogs meet the same unfortunate end.  I would have never considered the playful, hopping creatures as roadkill until I saw it for myself.  As we walk, we also get to hear a lot of ducks and geese calling out as they fly overhead.  I love it.  

This experience is only eclipsed in the rankings of enjoyment by one other thing:  the blue heron sightings.  (I have myself convinced that it's the same blue heron every time I see it, but I have no way of knowing that.)  There is an access point to the creek one block over, and it's a place we pass daily on our morning walk.  So, when we wandered over and witnessed the heron there for the first time, it was in the process of catching a fish and flying off to who knows where.  This bird's wingspan was incredible and the colors that became visible with its outstretched wings were just as much so.  Now, each morning that we have the great pleasure of seeing it, I still gasp with excitement--and most times, it's simply standing there, just as it is in the picture above.  

So life on the creek has proven interesting, and taught me that no matter how far I go, there will always be some new living something to entertain.  Fun!

Books + Home: When Two Loves Collide

I have been much in love with books since I can remember.  I don't have the best long-term memory or many other crisp-clear memories of childhood, but I remember endless hours spent reading aloud to my mom.  I think my favorites were the Little House on the Prairie series, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and the Berenstain Bears series, by Stan and Jan Berenstain.  These books were my springboard into all the possibilities the world and one's imagination could hold.  Life was good enough to allow me to work in a bookstore (RIP Borders Books & Music) during my year of graduate studies at Villanova, and my heart still races each time I get to walk into a building filled with the classics and more contemporary works.  The thought of all of those amazing minds and what they create is overwhelming to me.  Brilliance is hanging out around every last corner.

My other love (more during my adult years) is my hometown of Wheeling, WV.  I think I probably loved it as a kid, too, but I'm positive there was a span of time in my teens and early 20s when I could take it or leave it.  My mom, who always had amazing musical tastes and exposed me to some of the best artists of her time, like Carol King, James Taylor, Billy Joel, Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, etc., used to crank up tunes as she cleaned the house.  This must have pre-dated my school days because I was hanging out rather than off learning, but I remember her playing a Billy Joel song ("The Ballad of Billy the Kid") that started out with the lyrics, "In a town known as Wheeling, WV..."  Each time I heard it, I was so proud of where I was from!  Nowadays, it doesn't take a Billy Joel song to fill me with pride.  I love my hometown and state beyond compare.

So, I couldn't have imagined the sheer volume of love possible when my love of these two disparate things collided with the opening of the Barnes & Noble in conjunction with West Virginia Northern Community College.  I wanted to come out of the store and shout into the streets huge "thank you's" to everyone and anyone who made that place happen.  Granted, the store is not of cavernous proportions--half of it is dedicated to a Starbucks and customer seating and a fraction of it is dedicated to books and supplies not really of general public interest--however, the little bit of space they have, they have packed with great titles and some other fun items (like Moleskine notebooks, which are a huge weakness for me).  I do have to say here that endless options are not a good friend of mine, so this smaller selection is actually more fitting for my own personal taste and did not lack a bit in offering exploration into some unknowns.  The atmosphere during my visit was one of quiet comfort, something I've always loved about bookstores--makes them feel like a trendy library.  They have a parking lot, making trips in and out pretty simple, and the customer service was lovely. The absolutely best part?  It's a mere two blocks from my workplace.  "Best" and "dangerous" are probably interchangeable here.

My bottom line is that this is just one more reason to love life in "the Wheel" and be grateful to all of those who made it happen.  The culture of home just got a little better.    

The Earth Provides

This past year has been a big one.  One of my favorite adventures was putting in a real, honest-to-God garden in the backyard of my new (and first) home.  I had no idea what I was doing, and there's so much information out there, I decided I just had to wing it rather than sift through the endless commentary available.  

My favorite lesson from gardening was about the unexpected beauties it can offer.  The yard had never had any attempted garden--at least any living remnants of such.  So, the wheels started turning as to how, exactly, I would pull off tearing up the grass, its plentiful roots and enough dirt to actually plant anything with a chance at a root system.  My dad, who is Johnny on the Spot for all handyman jobs that pop up at my house, was rightfully enjoying retirement at the shore.  Those crazy kids (aka my parents) never make it home by any definitive date these days, so the growing season was liable to come and go before they rambled their way home.  In a random act of kindness, an old friend from school and his beautiful little family came to the rescue and prepared the ground with a tiller.  

Gardening also taught me how to appreciate the earth and what it will provide--given a commitment to assisting it.  And what fantastic gifts it will give if just a consistent and solid amount of work is done!  It really takes the weekly trip to the produce section at the grocery store and tosses it on its head.  The flavor, alone, makes growing as much food as possible at home well worth it; but, add to that, the sense of accomplishment and amazing feeling attached to growing, nurturing, harvesting and then eating your own food.  It's such a simple concept and yet so lost in the buzz of today's world.  

As I stood at my kitchen sink tonight, blanching and skinning a load of heirloom tomatoes, I was pleased to think that the cold months will be a little bit warmer and tasty this year as a result of what has turned out to be one of my favorite experiences in life.  Thank you, Earth and Mother Nature, for one heck of a run in 2013.  Looking forward to next year's growing season!