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An August Afternoon Stroll along Indian Creek Greenway!

October 16, 2024/in Updates /by Steve Jones

On Friday, August 9, 2024, I stopped by Huntsville, Alabama’s Indian Creek Greenway to trek a couple of miles to capture images of mid-summer flowers, trees, seasonal breezes, and the mood of Indian Creek in the late afternoon shade. I wanted to inhale Nature’s summer essence before my total right knee replacement on August 20. I had my left knee replaced on January 23, 2024. I know what to expect. I will be out of my woodland sauntering mode until mid-October when I hope to be on track for the kind of mobility I’ve missed for years! [Note: I’m putting the final touches on this photo essay just a couple of hours after hiking (slowly and cautiously) the one-half-mile Rainbolt Trail on the Rainbow Mountain Nature Preserve in Madison, Alabama on October 13, 2024!]

I entered the greenway at 2:30 PM and enjoyed a drier airmass and lower temperatures. There was no need to deal with the more typical hot, hazy, and humid days of mid-August!

Like so many of our greenways, this one occupies a sewer line right-of-way running through an active flood plain, the overflow triggered several times a year by drenching thunderstorms and prolonged winter and spring rains. The stream ran at a routine summertime flow as I walked along the trail and occasionally penetrated to creekside. I’ll report on my creek-proximate wanderings in a complementary photo essay.

I recorded this 59-second video a few hundred yards from the southern end of the greenway. I began the video with a magnificent green ash tree rising from the forest edge. I remind readers that these urban flood plains are naturally fertile with deep soils routinely refreshed with sediment- and nutrient-laden flood waters. The ash and other riparian forest neighbors express site quality with their height, this ash reaching at least 100 feet above the forest floor.

Here is a still photograph of the subject green ash tree. Well, I must admit that this a screen shot from the video. At the top edge of the photo, leaning in from the opposite greenway edge, a black walnut crown is attempting to close the aerial tunnel over the pedestrian and biking path.

When an old forester (BS in Forestry, 1973) seeks a woodland saunter as he returns home from an OLLI UAH Board meeting, can anyone deny him the joy of focusing a video or two on special trees! I found the mostly sunny skies mesmerizing above the greenway and its trailside forests. This time, I centered the 57-second video around a large shagbark hickory.

There are things I cannot resist, of which one is the complex bark of shagbark hickory, which like the song of a Carolina chickadee says its name.

I am a relentless fan of the writings of Aldo Leopold, America’s consummate conservationist and father of North American wildlife biology. He observed:

Our ability to perceive quality in nature begins, as in art, with the pretty. It expands through successive stages of the beautiful to values as yet uncaptured by language.

Shagbark hickory is a work of art, a consequence of timeless evolution. It’s the only tree of our southern hardwood forests with overlapping plated bark. To what advantage evolutionarily, I ponder? I’ve heard that various woodland bats find shelter under the plates. Do the bats deter foliar-consuming insects, or gobble stem-boring weevils or nut pests? I don’t know the answer, nor did a quick internet query yield an explanation. Leonardo da Vinci may be one of the top five scientific minds of the past 1,000 years. I base my observation that the tree’s bark owes its peculiar nature to evolution on a simple da Vinci quote:

There is no result in nature without a cause; understand the cause and you will have no need of the experiment.

Those in local, state, regional, and national circles of Nature enthusiasts often lament of a species that it is an alien, an invasive, a pest, and other derogatory monikers. Chinese yam is one such interloper growing in profusion at this section of the greenway edge.

An NC State Cooperative Extension online source stated:

Chinese Yam was introduced here as early as the 19th century for culinary and cultural uses and is now considered an invasive plant species in several states. It has spread from Louisiana to Vermont and can form dense masses of vines that cover and kill native vegetation, including trees, within a variety of moist, disturbed habitats. It spreads by seed, tubers and by the small tubers in leaf axils.

I marveled at the small branch tubers, recalling that they are edible. While I do abhor widespread, truly invasive ecosystem-threatening alien plants like Chinese privet and kudzu, I do not get exorcised by Chinese yam. Instead I shall view it as Earth-native and not particularly worthy of calling out the National Guard.

I recorded this 57-second Chinese yam video:

Here is a screenshot of two leaf axil tubers.

Giant ragweed is an impressive plant native. The cluster below has already reached eight feet. An online source spoke of it in ways seeming unkind:

This is an annual herb usually growing up to 2 m (6 ft 7 in) tall, but known to reach over 6 m (20 ft) in rich, moist soils. The tough stems have woody bases and are branching or unbranched. Most leaves are oppositely arranged. The blades are variable in shape, sometimes palmate with five lobes, and often with toothed edges. The largest can be over 25 cm (9.8 in) long by 20 cm (7.9 in) wide. They are borne on petioles several centimeters long. They are glandular and rough in texture.

Ragweed pollen is a common offensive allergen. The plant is a serious agricultural nuisance and a tough weed to control. That it is a native doesn’t make the farmer dealing with it more accepting nor less aggravated.

I’ve been a lifetime proponent of spring ephemeral wildflowers, the woodland beauties that populate the forest floor between the onset of warming days and full leaf-out within the forest canopy. Retirement has enabled me to spend more time appreciating the summer wildflowers that seem happiest along forest edge habitat. Wingstem greeted me along the greenway.

A silvery checkerspot butterfly appreciated the wingstem for reasons other than aesthetic.

Ironweed is a summer perennial member of the aster family. I see it commonly on forest edges. I never tire of its rich color.

I recorded this 34-second video of another common forest edge woody species, osage orange. Maclura pomifera bears many common names, among them: mock orange, hedge apple, bow wood, horse apple, monkey ball, monkey brains, and yellow-wood.

European settlers found that a perimeter of osage orange stakes would self-sprout quickly into a dense fence-tangle of growth effective at protecting vegetable gardens and crops from marauding domestic grazers and foraging wildlife. Native Americans prized the wood for bow-making. I urge readers to dig more deeply into web sources to learn more about this curious and valuable small tree or shrub.

Osage orange is a member of the mulberry family. I recorded this 45-second video of our native red mulberry not far from the osage orange:

European settlers arriving along the Virginia coast in 1607 enthusiastically mentioned the abundance of mulberry, common from Florida to Ontario and west to the plains. Birds consume the sweet fruit and distribute the scarified seeds, which establish readily along edges and across meadows.

Here is my brief red mulberry video:

Black walnut prefers rich well-drained sites along streams like Indian Creek. This cluster of three hefty nuts portends a good walnut crop. Unlike the largely inedible osage orange fruits, many wildlife species lust for big meaty walnuts.

River birch’s moniker does more than hint at its preferred creek and riverside growing sites. I like its pendulant branching and exfoliating bark enough that we planted a three-stemmed specimen in our backyard. Our irrigation system meets its requirement for ample soil moisture even in periodic dry stretches.

I could not resist recording another short video of the greenway, its meadow corridor, the stunning sky, and the narrow forest edge, and a rough path heading to creekside.

Here is the 59-second video that transitions from the greenway through a narrow border forest to creekside:

Note the “candy cane” sewer line ventilation pipe along the greenway.

Were I not scheduled for knee surgery 11 days hence, I may have suppressed my videographic eagerness. However, each is brief and every one offers a unique emphasis. I recorded this 57-second video near my turn-around point at 3:02 PM, focusing on the brilliant sunshine and afternoon breeze (listen to it!), and including a short transit across the forest border to the shore of Indian Creek.

I’ll use this same video to begin my subsequent photo essay highlighting Indian Creek!

Thoughts and Reflections

I offer these observations:

There is no result in nature without a cause; understand the cause and you will have no need of the experiment. (Leonardo da Vinci)
Oh, how insulting to something as beautiful as ironweed to include “weed” in its name!
An urban greenway (along a sewer right-of-way) just 4.5 miles from my home supplies an endless stock of Nature’s fine elixir!

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

Note: Unless otherwise noted, all blog post images are created & photographed by Stephen B. Jones. Please circulate images with photo credit: “©2024 Steve Jones, Great Blue Heron LLC. All Rights Reserved.”

Another Note: If you came to this post via a Facebook posting or by another route, please sign up now (no cost… no obligation) to receive my Blog Post email alerts: http://eepurl.com/cKLJdL

And Third: I am available for Nature-Inspired Speaking, Writing, and Consulting — contact me at steve.jones.0524@gmail.com

A reminder of my Personal and Professional Purpose, Passion, and Cause

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

Mission: Employ writing and speaking to educate, inspire, and enable readers and listeners to understand, appreciate, and enjoy Nature… and accept and practice Earth Stewardship.

Vision:

People of all ages will pay greater attention to and engage more regularly with Nature… and will accept and practice informed and responsible Earth Stewardship.
They will see their relationship to our natural world with new eyes… and understand their Earth home more clearly.

Tagline/Motto: Steve (Great Blue Heron) encourages and seeks a better tomorrow through Nature-Inspired Living!

Steve’s Four Books

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019; co-authored with Dr. Jennifer Wilhoit), and Dutton Land & Cattle: A Land Legacy Story (2023) 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 four of my books present compilations of personal experiences expressing my deep passion for Nature. All four books offer observations and reflections on my relationship with the natural world… and the broader implications for society. Order any from your local indie bookstore, or find them on IndieBound or other online sources such as Amazon and LifeRich.

I began writing books and Posts for several reasons:

I love hiking and exploring Nature
I see images I want to (and do) capture with my trusty iPhone camera
I enjoy explaining those images — an educator at heart
I don’t play golf!
I do love writing — it’s the hobby I never needed when my career consumed me
Judy suggested my writing is in large measure my legacy to our two kids, our five grandkids, and all the unborn generations beyond
And finally, perhaps my books and Blogs could reach beyond family and touch a few other lives… sow some seeds for the future

Brief Form Post # 36: Late August Afternoon along Indian Creek

October 2, 2024/in Updates /by Steve Jones

I am pleased to add the 36th of my GBH Brief Form Posts (Less than five minutes to read!) to my website. I tend to get a bit wordy with my routine Posts. I don’t want my enthusiasm for thoroughness and detail to discourage readers. So, I will publish these brief Posts regularly.

On Friday, August 9, 2024, I stopped by Huntsville, Alabama’s Indian Creek Greenway to trek a couple of miles to capture images of mid-summer flowers, trees, seasonal breezes, and the mood of Indian Creek in the late afternoon shade. I focus this brief form Post on my creekside wanderings off of the greenway.

Here is the 59-second video that takes us from the greenway to Indian Creek:

I’ve seen the creek at this placid mid-summer level and I’ve visited the southern trailhead when flood water lapped at the signpost. An urban stream, Indian Creek flashes quickly with summer thunderstorm downpours and drenching winter and spring rains. On this August afternoon, the creek flowed placidly within its forest-sheltered bed and trickled to the right at a diversion deposited by a spring flood.

I recorded this 60-second video creekside:

I saw a short video recently. Its brief caption read, “A picture paints a thousanad words; a video is priceless.” I believe that by including these brief videos, I leave you with a deeper understanding of and appreciation for the beauty, magic, awe, inspiration, and wonder of the special places I visit here in my northern Alabama region. I remind readers that nothing in Nature is static. For example, Indian Creek is moody, showing this placid demeanor during the low flow of dry summer periods, and contrarily expressing flooding ferocity in response to summer downpurs and dormant season monsoonal spells.

I wondered when I spotted this 30-inch-diamter streambank sweetgum whether its scarred base evidenced floodwater debris battering, which would have made a convincing segue from the floodwater narrative. However, the tortured base is at 90 degrees to the stream flow. Instead, I have seen similar scarring on trees gnawed by beavers many years earlier. The chewing opens an infection court to decay fungi. Long after the guilty rodent fails to fell the tree and departs the scene, the scar persists and the wound deepens.

I return to the peaceful waters with this 40-second video:

This late summer creeping lilyturf in full flower caught my eye with its deep green grass-like foliage and sparkling white spikes. Even its name attracts and retains attention.

I leave you with this final 56-second video of streamside trees and the creek, a gnarled old easern red cedar, and a view back to the greenway:

While soothing and peaceful on this late summer afternoon, this is a harsh environment. Streambank scouring exposes roots. Flood-borne debris punishes trees and shrubs, and torrents power stream channel meanders that alter the creek’s passage across its wide floodplain. Again, nothing in Nature is static.

I accept the challenge of distilling these Brief-Form Posts into a single distinct reflection, a task far more elusive than assembling a dozen pithy statements. John Muir captured Nature sentiments far better than I, hence I borrow his reflection on flowing waters:

The rivers flow not past, but through us, thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing.

[Note] I’m publishing this Post six weeks following my August 20, 2024 total right knee replacement surgery. Progressing rapidly, I will soon be surpassing the strength, endurance, and stability afforded me on August 9, when I plodded along Indian Creek to capture images and videos for the photo essay.

Finding Nature’s Inspiration The Afternoon Prior to my Total Right Knee Replacement

September 17, 2024/in Updates /by Steve Jones

[Note]

I am publishing this photo essay four weeks to the day following my knee replacement surgery. I’m recovering remarkably well. I hope to return to woodland wanderings by mid-October!

The Photo Essay

My scheduled August 20, 2024 total right knee replacement surgery loomed months, then weeks, and then days ahead. Having survived, effortfully rehabilitated, and recovered from my January 2024 left knee replacement surgery, I knew what lay ahead for August 20, and the weeks and months beyond. Knowing that a medical exile from Nature wanderings would extend at least through September, I sauntered two miles (one out; one back) along Madison, Alabama’s Bradford Creek Greenway on the afternoon of August 19. I decided to commemorate my brief traverse with a photo essay highlighting the Nature-Buoyed Aging and Healing elements of this outing.

I’ll begin with this 58-second video near the Heritage School trailhead. I could not have selected a better sky, a more welcoming entrance, and a pleasanter embrace of an old forester seeking fortification for yet another looming major surgery, although not with life and death implications like my June 2023, triple bypass. Without orchestrating the video sequence (perhaps I should have planned the videos more carefully), two tall, large-crowned loblolly pines trees attracted my attention as I panned the camera. Both trees rose to their main canopy dominance by performance. I am reminded that my recovery, while biologically enabled at the cellular level (physiology), is largely paced by my own willingness to perform guided physical therapy.

Nature’s ambience, a simple pleasure, stirred my soul.

I focused dozens of my photo essays on our local greenways, which wisely combine sewer line rights-of-way, otherwise undevelopable wetlands, and an insatiable demand for recreational greenspace in the state’s fastest growing metropolitan area. Here’s my 59-second video capturing the idyllic result of thoughtful community planning:

I wonder how many greenway travelers (pedestrians and bikers) realize that the occasional manholes and sewer-gas-venting candy canes bely the true nature of these very pleasant travel ways?

I seldom allow the sewer reality to distract my appreciation for the beauty, magic, wonder, awe, and inspiration of these arterial natural zones that protect forested flood plains coursing through urban and suburban neighborhoods.

You do not need my feeble narrative to highlight the healing Nature of greenspace. Suffice it to say that I gathered symbolic medication for my pending holistic (body, mind, heart, soul, and spirit) healing and ongoing aging. I carried the elixir with me into the next morning’s pre-dawn appointment for preparation, surgery, and post-op.

The preparatory salve doesn’t require breaking hospital rules about carrying personal medication into the facility!

Nothing in Nature is Static

I’ve visited the greenway during active flooding attributable to prolonged winter/spring rains or following summer frog-stranglers. Runoff from the urbanizing basin flashes Bradford Creek more quickly than just a few decades ago. August 19 revealed a dry streambed punctuated by a few persistent pools and an occasional above ground trickle.

I recorded this 53-second video of one such reflective pool, the otherwise dry bed, and the adjacent greenway:

Madison logs an average of 55 inches of rainfall annually, distributed reliably across the seasons. I’ve measured only 0.29 inches through August 30. The pool below offers hope for eventual rains reviving life in the nearly dormant stream. Averages are the essence of life in any natural system. To prosper over the long haul, any organism must tolerate the extremes, feast and famine…drought and torrent…sauna and freezer. I look ahead to my next saunter on the greenway, when I hope to enjoy cooler temperatures and gurgling waters.

The pool occurrence assured me again and again that stream life will persevere. Water tupelo trees prefer wet feet. The large shoreline trees with gnarled surface roots in the water and buttressed lower trunks are tupelo. Along Bradford Creek, I sense that the tupelo embrace a measure of vanity, appreciating their reflection wherever I see them.

I have visited the 2.6 mile greenway many dozens of times since 2015. Tree reflections (no, not just tupelo) draw my attention, enticing me to absorb the image, no matter the season. Somehow the beautiful image retains fidelity to the substance of what stands above it…leaves, branches, sky, clouds. I have never observed a reflection that leaves a permanent mark. Reflections may be the most ephemeral facet of Nature.

I recorded this 50-second video of limited flow at the base of a tupelo:

Their propensity to grow along these flash-inclined streams subject tupelos to physical punishment from tree debris hurtling downstream. This mid-stream resident bears the scars of abuse, a tree of character.

I’ve admired this American beech near the Heritage School trailhead often. Appearing to stand on stilts, a beech seed germinated 80-90 years ago atop a decaying stump that served as a moist organic-matter-rich nursery soil. The seedling sent roots down the sides of the rotting stump into the welcoming floodplain mineral soil. The old stump has decomposed, leaving only the suggestion of its former shape and purpose in service to the beech seed and seedling at creekside.

I’ve observed often that every tree, every stand, and every forest has a compelling tale to tell. The beech, the tupelos, the stream cycles, and the greenway forest whisper their stories across the seasons. I’m grateful that I can sample their revealing volumes on short notice whenever I need a dose of their endless elixir.

Summer Color, 13-Year Cicada Postscript, and Future Promise

A lifelong fan of spring wildflowers, a spectacular late summer cardinal flower caught my eye trailside, encouraging me to record this 58-second video, focusing first on the cardinal flower, the greenway forest edge, a lone fallen hickory nut, and another look at the sky and the canopy overarching the greenway:

I have a lifelong bias for spring ephemeral wildflowers, a passion fomented where I spent my formative years in the central Appalachians, where the beauties seemed to appear before snow completely melted, and even preceeded the arrival of one or more of what I termed robin snows. I admit that I viewed summer bloomers, which eschewed the dark summer forests where I wandered, as meadow and roadside weeds. Age broadened my appreciation beyond that narrow window between the onset of spring’s early warmth and canopy closure abbreviating forest floor flowering. The cardinal flower grew luxuriately at the forest edge along the greenway. How could I possibly denigrate this exquisite exhibit by declaring it a weed?

Nothing in Nature is static. Just five month earlier, this greenway would have displayed chickweed, violet, spring beauty, henbit, and other species. Hickory trees may have been bursting vegetative and flower buds high above within the still open canopy. I’ve time traveled inexorably through spring into late summer, when a mature hickory nut lies on the same shoulder, visually signaling a new season. I wonder, perhaps feeling a little sorry for myself, how far beyond me do news and concern for my knee replacement extend. Immediate family, yes; a few friends and associates, yes; beyond that, no. Does the hickory nut care, no…absolutely not! I’m reminded, therefore, that while the greenway and its environs are my holistic elixir, there is no reciprocity. Hickory nuts have matured, fallen, and faced whatever fate for untold millennia prior to European settlement and even indigenous arrival. And they will do so for as many generations hence.

We human residents earlier this summer talked incessantly for weeks about the persistent grating hum of male 13-year cicadas, now long since gone for yet another extened period of subsurface renewal. What did they leave? Some frazzled nerves of people far too easily bothered by an inevitable reality of sharing a few weeks every 1.3 decades with a regional co-inhabitant life form. Thousands…no, millions…of 4-to-10-inch dead oak (not exclusively, but mostly oak) branchlets killed by cicada larvae hatched from eggs oviposited by freshly fertilized female adults. Life cycles are more compex for cicadas than for humans, yet I am sure far less drama is involved. The larvae feed on the twig cambium. The twig dies, leaving the small flagged branchlets. The nymphs (a next life stage) drop unhurt to the ground, dig deep, feed, grow, and emerge via new exit holes (this year’s still evident below in the dry floodplain soils).

Near the trailhead, this passion flower, another summer favorite, beckoned me. A weed? No way!

My August 19, 2024, journey covered only 90 minutes, far less than the time I’ve enjoyed translating the venture, its 18 photographs, and five brief videos into a semi-cogent photo essay. Although I have completed my tale for now, the Bradford Creek Greenway story is by no means finished. The Madison Greenways and Trails group is partnering with the City of Madison to extend the Greenway another 0ne-half mile north. Here is my 59-second video recorded where the extension will continue northward from where the current paved greenway veers west to the Heritage School parking lot and trailhead:

The sewer line right-of-way extends northward from the Heritage trailhead, promising mystery and hidden treasures.

Picture the paved extension passing through the deep floodplain forest. I am eager to track progress and to decide on a subsequent visit whether to saunter north or south. Nothing in Nature is static. So, too, should our human connections to Nature be ever-evolving. I applaud and thank those among us who are striving to make some small corner of the Earth better through wisdom, knowledge, and hard work.

Thoughts and Reflections

I offer these observations:

Visiting the Greenway the day before joint surgery afforded symbolic medication for my pending holistic (body, mind, heart, soul, and spirit) healing and ongoing aging.
I have never observed a water reflection that leaves a permanent mark. Reflections may be the most ephemeral facet of Nature.
Nothing in Nature, including the flow of our individual fleeting lives, is static.

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

Note: Unless otherwise noted, all blog post images are created & photographed by Stephen B. Jones. Please circulate images with photo credit: “©2024 Steve Jones, Great Blue Heron LLC. All Rights Reserved.”

And Third: I am available for Nature-Inspired Speaking, Writing, and Consulting — contact me at steve.jones.0524@gmail.com

A reminder of my Personal and Professional Purpose, Passion, and Cause

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

Mission: Employ writing and speaking to educate, inspire, and enable readers and listeners to understand, appreciate, and enjoy Nature… and accept and practice Earth Stewardship.

Vision:

People of all ages will pay greater attention to and engage more regularly with Nature… and will accept and practice informed and responsible Earth Stewardship.
They will see their relationship to our natural world with new eyes… and understand their Earth home more clearly.

Tagline/Motto: Steve (Great Blue Heron) encourages and seeks a better tomorrow through Nature-Inspired Living!

Steve’s Four Books

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019; co-authored with Dr. Jennifer Wilhoit), and Dutton Land & Cattle: A Land Legacy Story (2023) 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 four of my books present compilations of personal experiences expressing my deep passion for Nature. All four books offer observations and reflections on my relationship with the natural world… and the broader implications for society. Order any from your local indie bookstore, or find them on IndieBound or other online sources such as Amazon and LifeRich.

I began writing books and Posts for several reasons:

I love hiking and exploring Nature
I see images I want to (and do) capture with my trusty iPhone camera
I enjoy explaining those images — an educator at heart
I don’t play golf!
I do love writing — it’s the hobby I never needed when my career consumed me
Judy suggested my writing is in large measure my legacy to our two kids, our five grandkids, and all the unborn generations beyond
And finally, perhaps my books and Blogs could reach beyond family and touch a few other lives… sow some seeds for the future

Trees of the Hickory Cove Nature Preserve’s Legacy Loop Trail

September 10, 2024/in Updates /by Steve Jones

On July 30, 2024, my two Alabama grandsons accompanied me on my first visit to the Land Trust of North Alabama’s Hickory Cove Nature Preserve northeast of Huntsville. We trekked along the 1.75-mile Legacy Loop. I set a slow pace making observations and snapping photographs. They alternately surged ahead and fell behind, mostly the former.

So much mystery and magic lie hidden in plain sight. I’ve confirmed from leading dozens of Nature hikes that most people observe little without someone drawing their attention to the unseen. Even Jack and Sam, the frequent objects of my badgering them to look, look, and look, walked past this trailside honey locust and its multiforked thorns until I halted them to LOOK! The compound thorns are unique to this species. I’ve heard from farmers that the spikes can penetrate and flatten a tractor tire. The honey locust’s rigid platy bark is another distinctive feature.

Near the trailhead, this hickory (the trail bears this species’ name) delivered three messages: the diamond trail sign; a fuzzy poison ivy vine, saying ‘stay alert’; and a softball-plus sized burl, encouraging me to look for tree form oddities and peculiarities. I have friends who turn gorgeous bowls from such burls!

We found fallen hickory nuts frequently along the trail. Somehow, in a flash, we’ve gone from spring’s bursting to mature hickory nuts. I’m reminded of my maternal grandmothers’ timeless wisdom, which from my then young perspective seemed absurd, “The older I get, the faster time goes.” Oh, how true…how painfully valid!

Another observation derives from this simple image of the boys (Sam is hidden by Jack’s larger body). I wanted to photograph the trail as they surged ahead. The symbolic meaning is poignant and rich with meaning. The trail and these young men will travel more deeply into the future than I. I am not ready to cease my woods-wanderings, yet I know I am slowing, and in time the boys will trek beyond my final loop. The best I can do is ensure that the memories of these days will accompany them. I’m reminded and comforted by Einstein’s relevant observation:

Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us; our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life.

I recorded this 58-second video that begins with the boys trekking along the trail.

The burl did remind me to be ever alert to forest treasures. To the extent time allowed, I thrilled at the ways of glaciers during my four years in Alaska. Few people sauntering the forests of north Alabama would have seen what appeared to me in the forked white oak image below. The green moss glacier is spilling from the gap between the two towering peaks. I imagine a vast green icefield beyond the gap. But then a mosquito whined, jerking me back to latitude 36-degrees North, 1,100 feet above sea level. Shamelessly again borrowing from Albert Einstein:

Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.

I am sure that a nether world lies within this shrinking three-inch diameter hickory portal, not one of evil spirit, but a dimension alive with the timeless entities that have dwelled within the forests of old and will populate future forests until the last leaf drops. Returning to the objective world of science, I am puzzled that no critter, neither bird nor mammal, is laboring to prevent the tree from completing its efforts to callous over the portal.

Neither oddity or curiosity, tree bark is distinctive enough that AI apps like iNaturalist can identify species somewhat reliably. I have spent enough time woods-wandering that I, too, do reasonably well. I love the foolproof pattern of shagbark hickory (left) and green ash. People who do not possess learned woodland savvy marvel at those of us who spout off species names with just a glance at a tree trunk. Seventy-three years can familiarize even a big dummy with species peculiarities. When my car engine light flashes or I hear unusual engine noises, I open the latch and lift the hood, peering into the threatening morass of wires, hoses, and bolts. I am as lost as the engineer in the woods who can’t tell oak from maple.

The Hickory Cove property is dense with cedars, a north Alabama early successional species, that courtesy of birds consuming cedar berries and disseminating the scarified seeds, colonized this site 90 years ago. Below is one of the more handsome cedars we encountered, standing tall and reaching into the main canopy.

Most of its cohorts have long since succumbed to hardwood competitors that now dominate this evolving forest. Resistant to decay, the old cedar stems remain visible, evidencing their place in stand succession.

Other cedars have died more recently, their slowly decaying stems still standing as understory and intermediate canopy snags.

Others are clinging to life, gathering only enough sunlight to hang on with a barely surviving living branch or two.

I recorded this 57-second cedar-centered video, examining a stand surrounding a remnant eastern red cedar sentry along the trail:

I spotted just this one cedar seedling. Unless some catastrophic event (fire, wind, ice, or harvest) brings widespread sunlight to the forest floor, cedar will not succeed itself.

The forest has many stories to tell. This cedar sported a strand of barbed wire, long since grown over by the tree. Its story? Someone used the living tree as a fence post many years ago, perhaps marking a boundary or unimproved pasture. The abundance of cedar suggests that much of this evolving forest succeeded from abandoned pasture. Not all forest stories are easy to read. Were it my land, I would devote more time to reading its forested landscape.

This old cedar and its neighboring hickory grew for decades side by side. A cedar fork reached across the hickory trunk, agitating the hickory, which did what any vibrant and rapidly growing tree would do…grow around the cedar invading its space!

Like a snake attempting to swallow a hapless frog, the hickory, in decades-long slow motion, appears to be consuming the now dead cedar branch. Now this certainly qualifies as a tree form oddity and curiosity!

Gravity is in fact a persistent, powerful, and abiding force. Two natural and oppositional forces help guide the direction of tree growth. Some species, like our common sourwood are predominately positively phototropic. They often adopt a corkscrew posture as they seek sunlight. Most of our forest main canopy species are negatively geotropic, strict adherents to growing opposite the pull of gravity. Regardless of what guides their vertical growth, gravity eventually pulls them down. Like time, gravity is undefeated. In this case, a large adjacent tree halted the oak’s fall at about 30-degrees from vertical.

I consider this a different class of tree form oddity. Its days as a leaner are numbered. As in all elements of Nature, nothing is static. Gravity has never lost a contest.

I remain a big fan of forest bridges…for two reasons. First, my bum right knee prefers that I not scramble down and back up this steep and stony gully. Second, I admire the aesthetic of a wooden crossing.

I recorded this 40-second video at the bridge, beginning with the boys crossing it.

At age 73, I find reward in where my forest wanderings take me. Decades ago, I demanded thrill, rugged terrain, spectacular vistas, and special features. I recall trails I will never again venture. Among them, ascending Mount Verstovia above Sitka, Alaska; circuiting Jenny Lake at the east base of Grand Teton; and attempting Mount Washington mid-winter. Approaching midway into my eighth decade, I find beauty, magic, wonder, awe, inspiration, and reward in a 1.75-mile loop close to home.

Thoughts and Reflections

I offer these observations:

My criteria for hiking adventure, daring, and reward relax with my age.
Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us; our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life. (Albert Einstein)
Every tree and forest has a story to tell; my goal is to read every forested landscape.

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

Note: Unless otherwise noted, all blog post images are created & photographed by Stephen B. Jones. Please circulate images with photo credit: “©2024 Steve Jones, Great Blue Heron LLC. All Rights Reserved.”

Another Note: If you came to this post via a Facebook posting or by another route, please sign up now (no cost… no obligation) to receive my Blog Post email alerts: http://eepurl.com/cKLJdL

And Third: I am available for Nature-Inspired Speaking, Writing, and Consulting — contact me at steve.jones.0524@gmail.com

A reminder of my Personal and Professional Purpose, Passion, and Cause

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

Mission: Employ writing and speaking to educate, inspire, and enable readers and listeners to understand, appreciate, and enjoy Nature… and accept and practice Earth Stewardship.

Vision:

People of all ages will pay greater attention to and engage more regularly with Nature… and will accept and practice informed and responsible Earth Stewardship.
They will see their relationship to our natural world with new eyes… and understand their Earth home more clearly.

Tagline/Motto: Steve (Great Blue Heron) encourages and seeks a better tomorrow through Nature-Inspired Living!

Steve’s Four Books

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019; co-authored with Dr. Jennifer Wilhoit), and Dutton Land & Cattle: A Land Legacy Story (2023) 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 four of my books present compilations of personal experiences expressing my deep passion for Nature. All four books offer observations and reflections on my relationship with the natural world… and the broader implications for society. Order any from your local indie bookstore, or find them on IndieBound or other online sources such as Amazon and LifeRich.

I began writing books and Posts for several reasons:

I love hiking and exploring Nature
I see images I want to (and do) capture with my trusty iPhone camera
I enjoy explaining those images — an educator at heart
I don’t play golf!
I do love writing — it’s the hobby I never needed when my career consumed me
Judy suggested my writing is in large measure my legacy to our two kids, our five grandkids, and all the unborn generations beyond
And finally, perhaps my books and Blogs could reach beyond family and touch a few other lives… sow some seeds for the future

Brief-Form Post #34: Late April Birding Exploration at Madison, Alabama’s Creekwood Park and Indian Creek Greenway!

July 11, 2024/in Updates /by Steve Jones

I am pleased to add the 34th of my GBH Brief Form Posts (Less than five minutes to read!) to my website. I tend to get a bit wordy with my routine Posts. I don’t want my enthusiasm for thoroughness and detail to discourage readers. So I will publish these brief Posts regularly.

I am a wanna-be birder, a lifelong Nature enthusiast with a Forestry BS and a PhD in Applied Ecology, and a woodland wanderer wherever my life and travels have taken me. I’ve lived in Maryland, New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Georgia, Ohio, New Hampshire, North Carolina, West Virginia, and Alaska. I’ve journeyed to and through every state except Hawaii. International travels included Canada, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Kazakhstan, China, Japan, Germany, the Czech Republic, and Yugoslavia. I’ve heard and seen birds everywhere and wished to know their identity and story.

Finally, five years into retirement, I stepped toward learning more about the avian world. I enrolled in a University of Alabama in Huntsville OLLI (Osher Lifelong Learning Institute) North Alabama Birding course taught by Alabama A&M Professor Emeritus of Ornithology, Dr. Ken Ward. Our capstone field lab on April 25, 2024, took us to Madison Alabama’s Creekwood Park and adjacent Indian Creek Greenway, an area Ken described as a spring migration hotspot.

And so right he was! We (he) tallied 68 bird species seen, both seen and heard, or heard. You can review his comprehensive list at the end of this Post. I admit to deferring to his lifetime-trained ears for identifying species by call. He also spotted and identified fleeting images of treetop and brush inhabitants. I have a long way to go to become even an amateur birder. My knowledge and skills can go only in one direction. Ken and my classmates opened me to better ways of looking, hearing, and seeing.

I knew coming into the course that diverse habitats enrich species diversity, whether plants or all manner of living creatures. The Park and Greenway offered such diversity. Open meadows, mowed grass, woods edge, forest, stream, bog, and swamp comprised the areas we observed.

Our spirits soared on a perfect weather morning. Smiles and enthusiasm prevailed, along with a sense of wonder and awe for the avian variety we encountered.

Indian Creek had overflowed its banks more than once over the winter and spring. The forest below retained flood water not yet absorbed or drained, just one of the diverse habitats.

Indian Creek provided fresh flowing water. A mallard drake paddled contentedly at right.

I recorded this 60-second video of the stream at Creekwood Park

A willow thicket at the Park attracted throngs of cedar waxwings foraging willow seeds.

A small feeder freshet surged past butterweed blooms before emptying into Indian Creek.

I recorded this 30-second video of Indian Creek along the Greenway.

Beavers keep the wetland and swamp habitat intact south of the park along the Greenway.

The forester and tree enthusiast within me could not resist this park eastern red cedar, its roots tracing a comprehensive highway map.

I accept the challenge of distilling these Brief-Form Posts into a single distinct reflection, a task far more elusive than assembling a dozen pithy statements. Today, I borrow the words of John James Audubon:

If only the bird with the loveliest song sang, the forest would be a lonely place. Never give up listening to the sounds of birds.

NOTE: I place 3-5 short videos (15 seconds to three minutes) on my Steve Jones Great Blue Heron YouTube channel weekly. All relate to Nature-Inspired Life and Living. I encourage you to SUBSCRIBE! It’s FREE. Having more subscribers helps me spread my message of Informed and Responsible Earth Stewardship…locally and globally!

Appendix

Ken Ward’s tally for our excursion to Creekwood Park and Indian Creek Greenway, Madison, Alabama, US Apr 25, 2024 7:07 AM – 11:37 AM

Protocol: Traveling

4.5 mile(s)

68 species

Canada Goose 10 (species followed by number of individuals observed)

Mallard 6

Mourning Dove 8

Chimney Swift 4

Solitary Sandpiper 2

Great Egret 1

Great Blue Heron 5

Turkey Vulture 1

Bald Eagle 1

Red-shouldered Hawk 2

Belted Kingfisher 3

Red-bellied Woodpecker 14

Downy Woodpecker 10

Pileated Woodpecker 2

Northern Flicker 3

Eastern Wood-Pewee 4

Eastern Phoebe 5

Great Crested Flycatcher 1

Eastern Kingbird 2

White-eyed Vireo 8

Yellow-throated Vireo 1

Red-eyed Vireo 2

Blue Jay 10

American Crow 5

Carolina Chickadee 2

Tufted Titmouse 14

Northern Rough-winged Swallow 4

Barn Swallow 8

White-breasted Nuthatch 2

Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 5

House Wren 1

Carolina Wren 20

European Starling 10

Gray Catbird 4

Brown Thrasher 1

Northern Mockingbird 6

Eastern Bluebird 6

Wood Thrush 2

American Robin 30

Cedar Waxwing 35

House Finch 6

American Goldfinch 14

Chipping Sparrow 2

Field Sparrow 6

Song Sparrow 4

Eastern Towhee 1

Yellow-breasted Chat 1

Eastern Meadowlark 1

Orchard Oriole 1

Baltimore Oriole 1

Red-winged Blackbird 15

Brown-headed Cowbird 14

Common Grackle 27

Northern Waterthrush 2

Prothonotary Warbler 2

Tennessee Warbler 12

Nashville Warbler 1

Common Yellowthroat 2

Northern Parula 4

Yellow Warbler 2

Palm Warbler 1

Yellow-rumped Warbler 16

Yellow-throated Warbler 1

Summer Tanager 8

Scarlet Tanager 1

Northern Cardinal 25

Rose-breasted Grosbeak 1

Indigo Bunting 14

Brief-Form Post #23: October 11, 2023 Visit to a Drought-Parched Bradford Creek!

December 12, 2023/in Updates /by Steve Jones

I am pleased to offer the 23rd of my GBH Brief Form Posts (Less than three minutes to read!). I tend to get a bit long-winded with my routine Posts. I don’t want my enthusiasm for thoroughness and detail to discourage readers. So I will publish these brief Posts regularly.

I’ve tracked steady progress from my June 19, 2023, triple bypass surgery. Judy, Alabama grandsons Jack and Sam, and I enjoyed walking nearly 2.25 mid-afternoon miles on October 11 along the Bradford Creek Greenway in Madison, Alabama. I think at this early December date, I’ve achieved full recovery — hallelujah! It’s amazing what regular exposure to Nature and loving family can do to accelerate healing.

The Drought-Parched Creek

I’ve visited the Greenway scores of times since we moved permanently to Madison seven years ago. Every time, the creek has carried at least a minor flow, and occasionally I have witnessed the creek in flood, the greenway impassable. On this day, for the first time in my experience, only a dry bed greeted us.

We watched a great blue heron patrolling the few pockets of standing water, like those below left. Contrast the meager water to the normal winter flow below right.

Autumn Colors

We examined the first wave of emerging fall colors. Both poison ivy (left) and shining sumac presented red.

Sweetgum showed off its burgundy hue.

American persimmon (left) and smooth sumac carried a full load of ripe fruit.

Tall goldenrod’s deep yellow-gold competed with the best of fall foliage!

A fall break (for Sam and Jack) stroll revealed many secrets about the advancing season. So much lies hidden in plain sight. My hope is that these walks with grandparents will sow the seeds of Nature curiosity that will reach across their lives.

I accept the challenge of distilling these Brief-Form Posts to a single distinct reflection, a task far more elusive than assembling a dozen pithy statements. Today, I borrow a distinct reflection from Nathaniel Hawthorne, American novelist and short story writer born in Salem, MA in 1804:

I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house.

NOTE: I place 3-5 short videos (15-seconds to three minutes) on my Steve Jones Great Blue Heron YouTube channel weekly. All relate to Nature-Inspired Life and Living. I encourage you to SUBSCRIBE! It’s FREE. Having more subscribers helps me spread my message of Informed and Responsible Earth Stewardship…locally and globally!