I returned to Lake Guntersville State Park October 16-18 to attend our fall meeting of the Alabama State Parks Foundation Board. Always ready to take advantage of every opportunity to further explore our 21-pearl necklace of State Parks (covering 47,000 acres), I arranged to spend two half-days on park trails with Lake Guntersville State Park Naturalist Mike Ezell. See my prior Post describing our wanderings along a newly reopened trail through a portion of the Park ravaged by the April 27, 2011 tornado outbreak.

An Everyday Place — Extraordinary Expressions of Nature’s Inspiration

Join me now for a quick immersion in the glory of the simple, ordinary twice-daily phenomena as our Earth spins east into the morning sun, and hours later continues to spin out from under the setting sun. Dawn and dusk, day after day, year after year. Visual magic fit for royalty–each day potentially (and usually) different from the prior. I write these words at dawn October 29, sitting in my home office. Dense fog obscures any hint of color; a monochromatic black and white morning. No early brightening to the east. The entire world slowly draws into focus; cardinal directions indistinguishable. I love both ends of the day, whether crisp and clear or damp and foggy.

What a privilege to enjoy two sunsets and sunrises at the LG SP lodge atop Sand Mountain, overlooking the Lake. I’ll begin with the entrance sign upon my late morning arrival. Entering any of our Parks gives me a sense of peace, satisfaction, and anticipation.

Because I neglected to take a photo of the Lodge, here’s one from the official Park website. Next time I will strive to remember to snap an image. Even as I write those words, I am reminded of the sage Yoda, who said “Do or do not. There is no try.”

Official AL Parks Photo

From my July 26, 2018 visit, here is yet another morning at the Lodge overlooking the Lake as morning burned away the thick fog that had earlier obscured the valley. I include the photo here to represent just another special morning that left indelible visual memories. See my Blog Post from August 2018.

I can’t remember the last time the sun brightened the morning before I awoke. I know many people who might observe the reverse, “I can’t recall the last time I awakened before dawn.” The mornings are mine; I belong to the new day’s dawning. Forget the midnight oil; even in my youth nothing about midnight attracted my attention. I’ve often set the alarm for 11:45PM on New Years Eve!

October 16 sunset from my Lake Guntersville State Park Lodge room balcony could not have been more satisfying. I’ve said often that I prefer paintings that look like photos… and photos that look like paintings. Nature expresses herself beautifully… a view that paints ten thousand words! Heaven on Earth… Heavenly Earth. Soul-soothing, begging the question, “Did I put this day to good use? Am I prepared to make tomorrow meaningful? Am I worthy of the gift of Nature’s wonder?”

The October 17 sunset matched its predecessor’s elixir dosage. Imagine being unaware of what lies within plain site. Imagine being blinded indoors by some shallow digital distraction while this glorious scene passes unobserved right outside the door. Imagine some banal message self-imposing a sense of urgency upon our lives. Missing this for what? Better be much more important than it probably is. Relax, reward, renew, refresh, resplendent — Nature dazzles even when she wears her everyday garb. It’s there for the taking. Deep breaths, studied visual inhalation, and perhaps a bit of 18-year-old Scotch to sip. The elixir deepens life, even if not extending it.

Morning Has Broken

The October 18 dawn added its own touch of life-renewing and refreshing intoxication. Who could not but be positive about the day ahead! A still-shadowed near-shore; the western sky returning the sun’s greeting from behind me. The morning’s fog rolling along the lake, soon to burn away with the day’s heat.

Sunrise and sunset, in October the two growing closer and closer beyond the September equinox in anticipation of December 21, when the separation begins once again. I draw spirit-strength from dawn and dusk, the transition periods that twice a day signal both beginning and end. Either a night ending (or beginning) or a day (ending or beginning). My time on this Earth has extended across more than 25,000 dawns. I hope many more remain. Until I experience one fewer than the other, I will cherish each day, celebrate each gloaming, and long for each new day.

Cat Stevens sang so eloquently of the day’s dawning in Morning Has Broken:

I echo the lyrics: praise for the singing, praise for the morning… God’s recreation of the new day!

July 10, 2019 sunrise at Joe Wheeler State Park. Every Park a jewel; every sunrise a gift!

Thoughts and Reflections

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), and Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019) to encourage all citizens to recognize and appreciate that every lesson for living, learning, serving, and leading is either written indelibly in or is powerfully inspired by Nature. All three are available on Amazon and other online sources.

Here are the three succinct lessons I draw from this Blog Post:

1. Never has a new day begun without a dawn breaking; the same applies to all human endeavors
   
2. Nature presents two gifts every day — sunrise and sunset (with the exception of latitudes above the polar circles)
   
3. Something so ordinary (and twice-daily) as a sunrise or sunset can lighten our burden, lift our spirit, and strengthen our resolve to live each day fully

Inhale and absorb Nature’s elixir. May Nature Inspire and Reward you!

If only more of us viewed our precious environment through the filters I employ. If only my mission and vision could be multiplied untold orders of magnitude:

Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits:

Co-authors Jennifer and Steve: “We’re so proud to announce the publication and release of our co-authored book, Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature. This book is a collection of nature stories seeking to inspire deeper relationship with and care for this beautiful Earth.” Order your copy from your local indie bookstore, or find it on IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781489723529

Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature, whether Lake Guntersville or Buck’s Pocket:

Every sunrise tells a tale of Nature’s Passion.

Alabama State Parks Foundation

I’ll remind you that I serve on the Foundation Board, in part because of my love of Nature and in recognition for my writing many prior Posts about visiting and experiencing the Parks. I urge you to take a look at the Foundation website and consider ways you might help steward these magical places: https://asparksfoundation.org/ Perhaps you might think about supporting the Parks System education and interpretation imperative, including initiatives related to exploring and revealing what lies hidden in plain sight.

I spent two half-days at Lake Guntersville State Park on the trails with Park Naturalist Mike Ezell, October 15-16, 2019. I never tire of this State Park pearl, just one hour twenty minutes from my home. My intent is to share photos and reflections from this early fall point-in-time exposure. Each immersion in Nature, even at a single place, reveals features, images, and realities different from the last… both because things have changed over the time interval or because closer inspection yields what previously had been hidden within. And each visit uncovers new impressions through fresh eyes, altered attitude, or since-acquired knowledge. Every journey into any wildness, local or international, heightens the senses and leads me to stronger belief in and understanding of Nature’s ways.

I have written often in these essays of my five essential verbs for discovering and appreciating Nature’s beauty, magic, wonder, and awe… compelling me to practice informed and responsible Earth stewardship. I hope that they apply to your orientation to Nature as well. From my Great Blue Heron website:

• I find Nature’s Lessons because I know they lie hidden within view — to believe enables me to look and see… to discover
• Really look, with eyes open to your surroundings, external to electronic devices and the distractions of meaningless noise and data
• Be alert to see deeply, beyond the superficial
• See clearly, with comprehension, to find meaning and evoke feelings
• Feel emphatically enough to spur action

I begin with two photos I took late last summer at the Park when Mike and I trekked several trails (July 26, 2018) some seven weeks (and a year) prior to the recent visit. I offer it in simple contrast to evidence the inexorable seasonal progression, year after year, week after week. Below left is the distinctive blocky bark of an overstory persimmon tree (Diospyros virginiana). That’s Mike’s hand holding seven dropped still-green persimmons. I’ll keep you in suspense for a couple of photographs and two or three paragraphs to show how ripening altered the look of this year’s persimmon crop over that seven week period. Bear with me.

We did not revisit the undisturbed forest trails we hiked last year… so we did not encounter the same tree or even another overstory persimmon tree.

Tornado-Disturbed (April 27, 2011) Mid-Slope Forest

An outbreak of three tornadoes crossed the Park during an historically violent day here in Alabama April 27, 2011. The National Weather Service reported 62 tornadoes in Alabama alone: https://www.weather.gov/bmx/event_04272011. Mike and I focused our wanderings within the very large tornado-disturbed acreage. We walked a two-mile trail recently relocated and cleared of debris from those storms, soon to be reopened to public use. Here’s Mike standing in the hollow of a large blow-down. Wind toppled the tree lifting the roots and associated soil matrix. The resultant micro-topography goes by at least two monikers: pit and mound; hummock and hollow. Nine growing seasons after the outbreak, a young forest is developing beyond the mound, which is now softening from its sharp features immediately after the trauma… roots are decaying, raindrop impact is eroding the mound, and leaves and organic debris are accumulating in the pit.

We strolled past massive jackstrawed heaps of trunks and tops. I failed to successfully capture an image good enough to include in this Post. Here’s the oddly re-sprouted stump of a 15+-inch diameter yellow poplar (Liriodendron tulipifera) sheared fifteen feet above ground by the wrenching winds. The seven-inch diameter sprout is reaching for the sky along with many other sapling-size hardwoods, the various species evolved over eons to recapture sites leveled by wind, ice, or other elemental forces of Nature. So closely associated with the decaying stump, this sprout will likely succumb to the more routine force of wind and ice.

Okay, you were patient — I’ve returned to persimmon. No longer green, these fruits are nearly ripe. We tasted, and found them disappointingly stringent. We estimated another two weeks before they would be human-edible and desirable. Rewarded by the tornado with full sunlight, this tree now bears a full fruit burden, bending the branches and promising lots of goodness for foraging wildlife. Tornado devastation? To hikers along the rehabilitated trail for the past nine years — yes! To wildlife flourishing from the rich persimmon fruit harvest this year — no! To the forest itself? Forest stands ebb and flow over time. One year… a vigorous maturing mixture of overstory hardwood species. April 27, 2011… a powerful tornado violently leveling the stand to near-ground level. Nine years later… yet another stage, this one of violent recovery. Powerful forces of rebirth. It’s Nature’s way. Let’s project to 2069… a half-century hence. Hikers will enjoy the deep summer shade, will marvel at the arching canopy, the towering trunks. That is, an old-growth forest… until the next tornado, hurricane, or ice storm. Nothing is static in Nature… she does not know…or prefer…stasis.

Even day-to-day, nothing remains the same. A week later, this leaf will have gone to burgundy, and a week later will be transitioning to forest floor, fueling future forest growth and renewal.

We discovered multiple species that are new to me… or, at least unfamiliar. Mike identified them, yet admitted that they seemed to be uncommonly plentiful in the tornado recovery zone. Carolina Buckthorn (Frangula caroliniana) seemed vigorous, thriving in those disturbed areas. I suspect they are still responding to the overstory removal and their new life in plentiful sunshine. Deep dark green leaves, with the species’ distinctive parallel lateral venation, and a good fruit crop, in this case already ripened from red to black. Birds will soon make short work of them.

Again, the deep venation is a distinguishing feature.

The winged elm (Ulmus alata) threw me for a loop. I immediately thought of sweetgum (Liquidambar styraciflua), quite common and likewise bearing the corky wings on small branches. Yet these seemed far more prominent… and, most importantly, bearing leaves clearly not sweetgum. Mike quickly introduced me to winged elm. A few leaves remained (below left) despite our prolonged late summer and early fall drought. I could not stop admiring the pronounced wings and greenish twigs (below right). I will never again mistake this understory and intermediate canopy occupant for sweetgum. Once again, here is a species flourishing in the uber-disturbed tornado path. I am becoming more confident that certain species that occupy the understory of our regional hardwood forest, almost invisibly lie in wait for the apocalyptic disturbances that afford them a brief (decade or two) period of explosive growth and reproduction while the main canopy forest species recapture the site. The species like Carolina buckthorn then lie patiently in wait… until the next major disturbance. The game is termed forest ecology and succession. Nothing in Nature is static; Nature is prepared for any and all eventualities.

Red buckeye (Aesculus pavia) is common across northern Alabama; its cousin yellow buckeye (Aesculus flava) according to Mike’s experience at Lake Guntersville State Park, is not. From Auburn University’s Trees of Alabama and the Southeast, “Leaves are opposite, deciduous and palmately compound with 5-7 obovate leaflets. Stout light brown twigs show prominent terminal buds and shield shaped leaf scars. Bark is gray-brown and smooth on small trees and becomes scaly and plated, sometimes with “bull’s-eye” grooves in the bark, on large trees. Flowers are pale yellow. Fruit is a smooth capsule enclosing two poisonous nuts. Form is up to 26 m (85 ft) in height and 1.5 m (5 ft) in diameter. Yellow buckeye is a large tree found in rich mesic woods in northern Alabama.” I’ve always been a buckeye tree fan, collecting the dark brown “eyed” nuts enthusiastically as a kid in western Maryland. To this day I can’t resist gathering them.

I must admit, too, that I’ve never been an Ohio State University Buckeye fan. Nine years on the faculty at Penn State, a faithful Nittany Lion fan, I view the “Luckeyes” (yeah, the spelling is intentional) as a major rival… one that beat us too often! My love of the nut, however, still stands undiminished.

Paw Paw (Asimina triloba) is another of my formative-years favorites. I grew up 28 miles upstream (along the Potomac River) from Paw Paw, West Virginia. This under- and mid-story forest species flourishes in the central Appalachians, seeming quite content on the more xeric mid- and upper slopes. From a National Park Service website, paw paw are shade tolerant “trees in the forest understory. With leaves and branches that deer avoid, and fruit that is loved by all, the pawpaw… is a fascinating native tree. It’s the only local member of a large, mainly-tropical plant family (Annonaceae), and produces the largest edible fruit native to North America.” When ripe, its yellowish to near-brown fruit is quite sweet with a dollop of banana taste and consistency. When I encountered fruit for the picking and eating I considered myself fortunate indeed. I worked as a Forester’s Aid both sophomore/junior and junior/senior summers on Green Ridge State Forest in Maryland’s Appalachians, the heart of paw paw country. Since then my encounters with ripe paw paws have been far too infrequent.

Tornadic winds brought a main canopy tree from vertical to horizontal, flattening the paw paw sapling below that now supports the four visible vertical saplings that have since sprouted and now reach for the light above. Nature prepares all of her denizens (plant and animal) to deal with adversity.

I love the shape, size, texture, tropical-nature, and color of paw paw leaves (below). I thrilled with each new and unanticipated secondary species we encountered in the recovering tornado-disturbed forest. Who knows how long this paw paw had patiently persevered in the forest understory shade, evolutionarily prepared to exploit the tornado-delivered gift of light. One man’s bane is another’s boon. Nature does not pass judgment on phenomena that we humans might class as good or bad, favorable or catastrophic. The paw paw knows only that when forest floor light increases, its role is to act… produce more leaf surface; grow and prosper; accelerate flowering and fruiting; reproduce. The window of opportunity will be brief. The overstory forest will likewise respond, reach above the paw paw, and once more relegate the paw paw to its proper place in the shade.

So, persimmon, Carolina buckthorn, winged elm, paw paw, and yellow buckeye… already five species accounted for on the tornado-disturbed hillside. And yet two more secondary species caught our eye. The first is eastern Bumelia (Bumelia lycioides), a shrub to small tree with thorns at buds. Once more, Mike immediately identified this sharp-thorned and angular-stemmed tree-shrub.

Peterson’s Field Guide to Trees and Shrubs nailed the leaves: “Leaves narrow to elliptic or even parallel-sided  or egg-shaped, without teeth, tips short-pointed or rounded, either hairless or somewhat silky. Leaf blades 2.5-6 inches. Height to 30′.” It takes a special knowledge and talent to write these wonderful descriptors.

And the seventh hillside canopy-subordinate species we identified is rusty blackhaw (Viburnum rufidulum). From a University of Florida website: “A native of the well-drained, upland woods of southeastern North America, Rusty Blackhaw forms a multiple or (occasionally) single-trunked small tree or large shrub, reaching 25 feet in height with an equal spread. The dark bark is blocky, resembling older Flowering Dogwood bark. Trunks usually grow no thicker than six inches and arch away from the tree, forming a pleasing, vase-shaped crown. Leaves are dark green, three inches long, leathery, and extremely glossy. The tree is covered in springtime with striking five-inch-wide clusters of small, white blooms. These flowers are followed by clusters of dark blue, waxy, one-half-inch-long fruits that are extremely popular with wildlife and will occasionally persist on the plant from September throughout the autumn, if not eaten by wildlife. In fall, Rusty Blackhaw puts on a brilliant display of scarlet red to purple foliage.”

Had I seen this specimen following leaf fall (and without Mike), I would have declared dogwood (Cornus florida). The bark is a dead-ringer for dogwood.

Although not typically a secondary species, sugar maple (Acer saccharum) is shade tolerant and would have been content in the understory of the pre-tornado forest, opportunistically biding time, positioned and poised to spring into the overstory in the event of main canopy removal. This one caught our eye with its circumferential yellow-bellied sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius) bird peck. Another element of Nature’s bag of tricks and special visual treats.

Away from the Tornado Track

Even if one of the tornadoes had tracked across this place on the map, the cave would have cared not a single iota. This geologic feature is clearly mapped and openly accessible. My interests reach beyond Nature’s biological wonders.

I am always alert for tree form oddities — see my related Post from January 2019: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2019/01/14/our-lives-mimic-nature-lessons-learned-from-tree-form-oddities/. We spotted this white oak (Quercus alba) near the Cave Trail (see above). These massive burls flank both sides behind me, earning my declared moniker of angel-winged oak! Perhaps in the Halloween gloaming I would lean more toward a more ghoulish characterization!

Mike guided me off trail to another cave, purposely off the beaten and publicized track, where the entrance is more dangerous (a 20-foot vertical drop) and the resident bat colony meriting protection.

The limestone ledges surround the sink-hole near the cave entrance. The hole, now sediment and debris filled to level, supports a vibrant stand of mixed hardwood reaching skyward with straight and clear boles. The soils are rich… and the trees demonstrate their gratitude in height and girth.

This white oak and partnering grape vine grow at the lower slope just a few feet above sink’s ground level.

And this two-foot diameter black walnut (Juglans nigra), also at the ledge base and tapping the fertile sink soil, expresses the site’s richness.

I am partial to high quality hardwood forests on deep, well-drained, fertile sites. I am pleased that tornado steering currents protected this special place. What I don’t know is how many such special places the spring twisters ravaged. I cannot even be certain that 60-80 years ago a similar weather day did not rip through a previous stand in this very spot… leading to the forest I am now admiring, even revering, viewing it as a forest cathedral, deeply spiritual and awe inspiring. Remember, Nature makes no judgement with respect to forest beauty… or human life and limb.

Thoughts and Reflections

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), and Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019) to encourage all citizens to recognize and appreciate that every lesson for living, learning, serving, and leading is either written indelibly in or is powerfully inspired by Nature. All three are available on Amazon and other online sources.

Here are the three succinct lessons I draw from this Blog Post:

1. Nature is magnificent in both beauty and violence, acting without judgement or prejudice
   
2. Disturbance, whether catastrophic or gradual, is the rule; nothing in Nature is static
   
3. Deep time has prepared all life for disturbance; an F-3 tornado is but a perturbation in the life of a forest ecosystem… extending across millennia
   

Inhale and absorb Nature’s elixir. May Nature Inspire and Reward you!

If only more of us viewed our precious environment through the filters I employ. If only my mission and vision could be multiplied untold orders of magnitude:

Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits:

Co-authors Jennifer and Steve: “We’re so proud to announce the publication and release of our co-authored book, Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature. This book is a collection of nature stories seeking to inspire deeper relationship with and care for this beautiful Earth.” Order your copy from your local indie bookstore, or find it on IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781489723529

Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature, whether Lake Guntersville State Park or a Local Greenway!

Alabama State Parks Foundation

I’ll remind you that I serve on the Foundation Board, in part because of my love of Nature and in recognition for my writing many prior Posts about visiting and experiencing the Parks. I urge you to take a look at the Foundation website and consider ways you might help steward these magical places: https://asparksfoundation.org/ Perhaps you might think about supporting the Parks System education and interpretation imperative, including initiatives related to exploring and revealing what lies hidden in plain sight.

Nothing in Nature is Static

Beginning July 12, I embarked upon a 12-day five-state tour of National Parks, and an eight-day, three-National Parks tour of southeastern Kazakhstan. Three days after returning to Madison, Alabama I met with ten Alabama State Parks Naturalists, assistant Naturalists, and staff at DeSoto State Park. The next morning I ventured forth on several trails that I had hiked most recently in mid-April, the morning after three inches of rain during a period when spring rains had already been ample: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2019/05/15/the-magic-of-waters-thunder-at-desoto-state-park/

We had discussed the prior evening that some visitors assume that a single visit is sufficient for them to “know” a particular Park and its environs. Such is not the case. Nothing in Nature is static… not for a day, a week, a month, a season, a year, a decade. The rate of perceptible change increases exponentially with extended time. Aldo Leopold wrote exquisitely of the seasonal fluxes on his Wisconsin farm (A Sand County Almanac, 1949). Many other environmental writers have done same, although not exceeding Leopold’s prose. I don’t intend to challenge Leopold’s nearly-lyrical supremacy, yet I do dare to demonstrate with text and photos the sweeping differences between my April 18-20 visit to DeSoto and my August 27 trek. On both hikes my boots grew soggy, my clothes saturated, and camera lens foggy. The big difference was that very little rain had fallen at DeSoto since the first of July. The half-inch that had fallen the night before and continued occasionally that morning had wet the vegetation and trail surface without generating surface flow.

Indian Falls ran full in April; nothing flowed over the foreground ledge in August. Water roaring versus near-silence except for canopy drip. Light levels the same.

Above Indian falls the August stream bed carried only the early leaf-drop promise of fall and its autumn rains. Trees here in the south are accustomed to late summer and early fall droughts. They don’t need cool nights and shortened days to trigger leaf senescence, abscission layer forming, and leaf-drop. The April canopy had not yet fully developed; August crowns had already begun to thin.

Even Lodge Falls carried good discharge in April. Not a drop beyond rain-dampened bed-stones in August.

Lost Falls pounded in April; a trickle dripped over the ledge in August. Who says a single visit reveals a Park, much less the hundreds of nooks and crannies within!

Azalea Cascade sits at the end of a several-hundred yard boardwalk through a tunnel of mature hardwood forest. April gifted me with a clear-water pool amidst the boulders, fed by the cascade tumbling from above. August offered bare rock with just a bit of pooled water… a refuge for minnows, crawdads, salamanders, and frogs.

Sandstone Glades

I wrote at length about the very special sandstone glades (from my April visit) in this June 5, 2019 Post: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2019/06/05/sandstone-glades-at-desoto-state-park/ The April glades literally flowed with the prior night’s rain (below left), the shallow bedrock generally blocking percolation and forcing surface flow. The August glades (below right) show wet rock, faded vegetation, and an absence of lush growth.

Again, the lower left photo demonstrates surface water and rich greens; the lower right rock surface carries a burden of shed maple leaves. I think of my stints in the more northern eastern US (Upstate New York; Central Pennsylvania; New Hampshire), where fall kicks in the late summer door, ejecting those lazy, hazy, days without quibble or resistance. Here in the south, summer simply begins letting go, backing out the door, exhausted from months of luxurious growing, extended periods of heat, and now diminishing rains… long before fall threatens to enter the neighborhood.

I celebrated seeing lush patches of elf orpine (Diamorpha smallii) in flower (below left; pinkish cluster at rock’s edge). Below right most April vegetation had long since senesced. The prior night’s rain, pooled on the rock, reflects a Virginia pine beyond.

Little difference in lichen and moss growth and luxuriousness appears between the April and August photos (left and right, respectively below). The August overnight rain had freshened both of these non-flowering plants, which are well-adapted to these sites and the associated periodic droughts. The August image evidences the new leaf fall.

Nature’s Weathering of a Trail Marker’s Handiwork

I noticed the handiwork and humor a trail maintenance person had employed re-marking the orange trail, creating a pumpkin on a pine cronartium scar. I retook the photo in August, remembering the artwork and curious to compare the images for any visible four-month weathering. Sure enough, Nature had exacted her own handiwork. Nature, even in her most gentle manner, is relentless. Nothing is static. Nothing escapes her persistent ways. I have become a tireless proponent for the Alabama State Park System to seek funding to begin a systematized plan to establish permanent photo points, GPS-located, azimuth-controlled, and scheduled for re-taking on some routine schedule, perhaps every 3-7 years. People generally believe that forests are unchanging, static forevermore. Photo comparisons tell no lies… and evidence changes, often rapidly, in most cases predictably, and always convincingly. Simple words never match the power of images.

Without the above photos, I would not likely have observed a difference.

Non-Flowering Plants

Although certainly not the same lichen (both appear to be of the genus Usnea), I see little difference between April (left with newly emerged grape leaves and rhododendron flowers as backdrop) and the late August rain-soaked tandem of lichen and moss (right with a backdrop of dry leaves and needles). I believe the freshening rain served as the great equalizer.

I loved the algae-greened bark furrows on the April bole (left) and embraced seeing the same look in August (right). Common on both is the prior night’s stem-flow sufficient even in the less intense August rain to wet the entire trunk. Nature abhors a vacuum, filling even the most seeming unlikely places with life.

My August trek enlightened with more than just this April-to-August ecological comparison. I’ll save for a subsequent post my observations and reflections on non-flowering plants, the native black birch’s propensity to cling like hell to its rock, some great sandstone glades late summer flowering gems, and the early signs of summer stepping gracefully and graciously aside for autumn.

Thoughts and Reflections

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), and Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (co-authored with Dr. Jennifer J. Wilhoit; 2019) to encourage all citizens to recognize and appreciate that every lesson for living, learning, serving, and leading is either written indelibly in or is powerfully inspired by Nature. All three are available on Indiebound (https://www.indiebound.org/)  and other online sources. to encourage all citizens to recognize and appreciate that every lesson for living, learning, serving, and leading is either written indelibly in or is powerfully inspired by Nature.

Here are the three succinct lessons I draw from this Blog Post:

1. Nothing in Nature is static; change is constant, usually predictable, yet difficult to see.
2. A single visit to any Alabama State Park opens a glimpse in time… a single snapshot of the wonders that shift day-to-day, week-to-week, season-to-season, and year-to-year.
3. To experience a Park deeply, visit time and time again

Inhale and absorb Nature’s elixir. May Nature Inspire and Reward you!

If only more of us viewed our precious environment through the filters I employ. If only my mission and vision could be multiplied untold orders of magnitude:

Alabama State Parks Foundation

I’ll remind you that I serve on the Foundation Board, in part because of my love of Nature and in recognition for my writing many prior Posts about visiting and experiencing the Parks. I urge you to take a look at the Foundation website and consider ways you might help steward these magical places: https://asparksfoundation.org/ Perhaps you might think about supporting the Parks System education and interpretation imperative: https://asparksfoundation.org/give-today#a444d6c6-371b-47a2-97da-dd15a5b9da76

Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits:

Jennifer and Steve: “We’re so proud to announce the publication and release of our first co-authored book, Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature. This book is a collection of nature stories seeking to inspire deeper relationship with and care for this beautiful Earth.” Order your copy from your local indie bookstore, or find it on IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781489723529

I made my first visit to Oak Mountain State Park (20 miles south of Birmingham) in late April. See my June 6, 2019 Post on my general impressions from Oak Mountain: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2019/06/17/late-spring-at-oak-mountain-state-park/ I’m sure I will visit again in the fall. A single point in time does not do justice to the beauty, magic, wonder, and awe of our State Parks or any place in Nature. For this Post I will focus on the flowering spectacle that is spring in central Alabama.

Spring Ephemerals

Because I have squeezed so many destinations (and subsequent Blog Posts) into my spring 2019 wanderings, I will not burden the reader with lots of text, electing instead to run through the many spring ephemerals I encountered at Oak Mountain State Park April 25-26, 2019. An absolute wildflower enthusiast’s delight!

Four-leaved Milkweed (Asclepias quadrifolia):

Southern Ragwort (Senecio anonymous):

Lance-leaf coreopsis (Coreopsis lanceolata). I’ve noted in previous Posts that we are in Good Hands with our Alabama State Park Naturalists. That’s OMSP Naturalist Lauren Muncher’s hand assisting below!

Butterweed (Senecio glabellus):

Two-flowered Cynthia (Krigia biflora):

Partridgeberry (Mitchella repens). I’ve known this plant my entire professional life, yet there is so much I do not know or remember. Occasionally I’m well-served to learn more. Here’s a paragraph from a USDA Forest Service online article:

Partridge Berry is a native perennial, a small, woody, trailing vine with 6 to 12 inch, slender, trailing stems that does not climb but lays prostrate on the forest floor. The trailing stems root at nodes which come in contact with the forest surface and may spread into colonies several yards across. The dark-green, evergreen leaves are simple, opposite, ovate, with a pale yellow midrib, are ½ inch across, with a short stalk. In late spring, a pair of white flowers (with a single calyx) appears. Each small, fragrant flower has four brilliant white petals that are pubescent and unite into a funnel-shaped tube that is also fringed with hairs. The pair of flowers occur in two forms (dimorphous). In the first form the pistil is short and the stamens are long; in the second form the pistil is long and the stamens are short. This structure prevents each flower from fertilizing itself. Both flowers must be pollinated to obtain a single scarlet berry. Each berry is the result of the fusion of each ovary of the pollinated pair of white flowers. As such, each berry has two bright red spots on its surface.

Wow, an amazing story rich with detail… and peculiarities. A single berry from two flowers — partridge berry! Leonardo da Vinci offered an apt observation:

Human subtlety will never devise an invention more beautiful, more simple or more direct than does nature because in her inventions nothing is lacking, and nothing is superfluous.

Carolina Climbing Milkweed (Matalea decipiens) is one I had not previously encountered (or remembered). I love the deep color, the velvety leaf, and the royal appearance. I am now a big fan!

VA Spiderwort (Tradescantia virginiana):

Spiny Thistle (Cirsium carolinianum) is a plant commonly referred to as a weed, often growing on disturbed sites. I find it delightful with its large spiky blossom. I refuse to diminish its beauty by calling it a weed — I consider this beauty a valid and distinguished spring wildflower!

Eastern White Beardtongue (Penstemon pallidus):

Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia) has been among my favorites for decades. It flourished in the Central Appalachians where I first wandered the ridge and valley region. Whether a full plant in flower (below left) or an individual cluster (right) its magic is incomparable.

In some ways I’m sad to be issuing this Post mid-summer. I won’t have another chance to experience the wonderful spring blooms again for some eight months, yet anticipation is thrill and reward in itself. To every thing there is a season… and a time to every purpose under heaven.

Yet I take solace from John Muir’s wisdom: “This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”

Thoughts and Reflections

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), and Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019; co-authored with Dr. Jennifer Wilhoit; Submitted to publisher May 31, 2019), as well as another one by me (single author) scheduled for 2020, Natural Elixir: Lifting Your Life through Nature’s Inspiration, to encourage all citizens to recognize and appreciate that every lesson for living, learning, serving, and leading is either written indelibly in or is powerfully inspired by Nature. Both published books are available on Amazon and other online sources.

Here are the three succinct lessons I draw from this Blog Post:

• Our Alabama State Parks are jewels for the ages; whether Gulf State’s coastal richness or Oak Mountain in the backyard of our state’s largest city.
  
• Enter our rich forests with eyes wide open for seasonal blessings and gifts.
  
• Spring ephemeral wildflowers and our ubiquitous flowering shrubs reveal priceless beauty.

Inhale and absorb Nature’s elixir. May Nature Inspire and Reward you!

If only more of us viewed our precious environment through the filters I employ. If only my mission and vision could be multiplied untold orders of magnitude:

Alabama State Parks Foundation

I’ll remind you that I serve on the Foundation Board, in part because of my love of Nature and in recognition for my writing many prior Posts about visiting and experiencing the Parks. I urge you to take a look at the Foundation website and consider ways you might help steward these magical places: https://asparksfoundation.org/ Perhaps you might think about supporting the Parks System education and interpretation imperative: https://asparksfoundation.org/give-today#a444d6c6-371b-47a2-97da-dd15a5b9da76

See my earlier Posts describing the Magic of Water’s Thunder at DeSoto State Park: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2019/05/15/the-magic-of-waters-thunder-at-desoto-state-park/ and DeSoto’s Magical Sandstone Glades: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2019/06/05/sandstone-glades-at-desoto-state-park/

I stayed at the Park April 18-20; rain fell in torrents the night of the 18th, and light rain and drizzle persisted until I departed mid-day on the 20th. Although I snapped this photo on a prior visit, it seemed fitting for this Post!

Stone Formations

DeSoto State Park sits atop Lookout Mountain. The “mountain” is a flat-topped 50-mile linear erosional remnant (up to ten miles wide) of the broader Cumberland Plateau that lifted during the Appalachian orogeny some 225-260 million years ago. Lookout Mountain, Sand Mountain, and Blount Mountain are three of the ridges that together with erosional valleys constitute the eight units of the Cumberland Plateau. The Plateau-topping sandstone lies at the surface of DeSoto’s sandstone glades (below left). Sandstone likewise provides the shelves, cliffs, and ledges over which DeSoto’s multiple falls tumble (below right).

This one photograph is emblematic of the marriage of rock and forest at DeSoto.

Powerful forces shape and sculpt Earth’s features. Stand at any number of Cumberland Plateau scenic overlooks and imagine the peneplain that stretched to the horizon eons ago, level with your current perch above the broad valley. All that was there has long ago entered the Tennessee River–to the Ohio–and on to the the mighty Mississippi into the Gulf of Mexico. And still, the process continues inexorably. Lichens and algae on rock faces exact chemical and physical tolls. The foot-wide fissure separating the two large sandstone blocks (below left) certainly felt the unfathomable pressure of freezing seepage, as well as expansion and contraction from diurnal and annual temperature fluctuations from 0-to-90-degrees F. Tree roots also join the assault. The nearly prostrate sourwood (Oxydendrum aboreum; lower right) and the many other tree, shrub, and herbaceous species anchoring nearby pull their share of the weathering load. There will come a day when these rocks, too, will feel the tropical warmth of Gulf waters. After all, time means nothing to a grain of sand.

Allow me a postscript on the sourwood, one of my favorite southern trees. I’ve noted in previous Posts that sourwood pays scant attention to both the laws of gravity (it disdains growing vertically) and it refuses to be a slave to sunlight. Most trees species are either positively phototropic (grow toward the sun) or negatively geotropic (grow opposite gravity’s pull). Sourwood plays by its own rules. The tree above, shall we say, is true to form. It did not fall to this position — it grew that way! I admire its spirit of independence and its rebel demeanor. It seems to literally chart its own path and destiny.

I puzzled over this two-foot circular hole about half-way up the side of a 20-foot high rock face. Man made? An accident of Nature? Some explainable physical phenomenon? Worth a photo and a bushel of curiosity. I may never know. Perhaps the answer is clear to you.

I leave the mystery for now to Park Naturalist Brittney Hughes who led me through a full soggy day at DeSoto.

Park Oddities

Nature’s portfolio is rich with wonder as well as special features. I have yet to venture into Nature anywhere I’ve trod, to include on several continents, and not found additional oddities to add to my photo collection and memory. I like this yellow poplar (Liriodendron tulipifera) kissing the tilted, lichen-encrusted sandstone block. Animate and inanimate reside proximal and interactively.

While I admitted a special fondness for sourwood, Brittany feels deep reverence for black birch (Betula nigra). This species, whether in upstate New York or here in the southern Appalachians, is adept at dropping seeds that seem to germinate and find purchase in the most unusual places. These two found anchorage on the side of a mossy rock and dropped roots along the rock to find true soil and suitable substrate on the forest floor. They are resilient and opportunistic, an admirable character for true forest entrepreneurs… or, for that matter, for human business entrepreneurs.

Clouds, drizzle, and mystery enveloped us. I glanced up to find an Ewok village. As a reminder to those of you who are Star Wars enthusiasts, “Ewoks were a diminutive species of furry bipeds native to the forest moon of Endor. They were most notable for helping the Rebel Alliance defeat the forces of darkness…” They inhabited deep forests and lived in high-canopy tree crowns. Well, I’m allowed a flight of fancy. The above-ground structures at DeSoto have little to do with the furry little Ewoks. Instead, DeSoto’s zipline opened this past spring: https://www.alapark.com/zipline-adventures. Not sure I’m ready for that!

Appropriately, the Park traces the Orange Trail with, you guessed it, orange paint. Perhaps the painting crew passed this way during the Halloween season, showing creativity and demonstrating mirth on a trail-side Virginia pine (Pinus virginiana) canker face. Not limiting themselves to orange, the crew even added a green stem stump (below right)! Such a delight on a dark and sodden hike, warming my heart and brightening the day.

And no fungal agents at work on this tree near the Lodge!

Puzzling Spiral Grain

Over my entire forestry career, I have noticed that trees grow with spiral grain. And I’ve puzzled over the cause and expression. I am not alone in such pondering. From the online Gymnosperm Database: “Spiral grain is the helical form taken by xylem tissues in their growth along a tree trunk or limb. Spiral grain is often conspicuous in snags that have lost their bark, as shown in the photos on this page, and people love to speculate about it. You will hear, for instance, that it is caused by the Coriolis force or that trees always spiral one direction in the northern hemisphere and the other direction in the southern hemisphere.

The phenomenon and causes of spiral grain have received considerable study, perhaps because it affects the commercial value of wood. Kubler (1991) provides an extensive (though somewhat dated) bibliography. He noted that spirals “are commonly observed in both directions (left-handed and right-handed), and that the direction of spiral can reverse several times during a tree’s life. I have seen that attested in a decaying alpine log of Engelmann spruce.” Kubler also noted that trees can spiral for many different reasons.

Don’t look for me soon to Post an answer or solve the mystery. The spiral grain I photographed in de-barked dead Virginia pine (a sample of four below expressed as right-handed.

I’ll accept the online wisdom, which continued, “Spiraling can also occur (and this is probably more common) in response to stress: there is a helical stress imposed on any tree that is exposed to prevailing wind and has an asymmetrical crown, which is common in trees growing on exposed sites. Gravity can also impose a helical stress on a leaning tree. It has also been noted that spiral grain may make the tree stronger and better able to withstand stresses caused by wind, particularly if the direction of the spiral is periodically reversed. This concept was developed in some detail by Skatter and Kucera (1998) who studied wind effects on trees with asymmetrical crowns and showed that ‘spiral grain is an optimized growth feature when the trees are exposed to combined bending and torsion.’ They also assert that most conifers spiral at the same rate (called the grain angle) and show a change from left-handed to right-handed spiraling as they age.”

Again, if experts who have studied this phenomenon are able only to speculate, I will not attempt to advance the frontiers of knowledge and understanding. Instead, I may simply continue to ask others for an explanation. I may generate some wild flights of fancy from those who are never at a loss for words and likewise seldom pass up an opportunity to express their perspicacity and infinite wisdom!

DeSoto State Park is a place of special features.

Thoughts and Reflections

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), and Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019; co-authored with Dr. Jennifer Wilhoit; Submitted to publisher May 31, 2019), as well as another one by me (single author) scheduled for 2020, Natural Elixir: Lifting Your Life through Nature’s Inspiration, to encourage all citizens to recognize and appreciate that every lesson for living, learning, serving, and leading is either written indelibly in or is powerfully inspired by Nature. Both published books are available on Amazon and other online sources.

Here are the three succinct lessons I draw from this Blog Post:

• Nature’s magic manifests in ways often least anticipated — not always in towering trees and cathedral groves.
  
• Enter the forest with open mind, probing eyes, and a sense of childlike wonder.
  
• Always seek what lies hidden within… and you will find it.

Inhale and absorb Nature’s elixir. May Nature Inspire and Reward you!

If only more of us viewed our precious environment through the filters I employ. If only my mission and vision could be multiplied untold orders of magnitude:

Alabama State Parks Foundation

I’ll remind you that I serve on the Foundation Board, in part because of my love of Nature and in recognition for my writing many prior Posts about visiting and experiencing the Parks. I urge you to take a look at the Foundation website and consider ways you might help steward these magical places: https://asparksfoundation.org/ Perhaps you might think about supporting the Parks System education and interpretation imperative, including initiatives related to exploring and revealing what lies hidden in plain sight.