Into the Woods

I was at loose ends last night when I got home, so I went for a walk. I’d gone for a walk about my apartment complex the night before, and explored a bit along the creek and woods that are part of our grounds. The spring wild flowers are just starting to hit their stride, and so I thought I’d drag my camera along with me for my second walk.

After stopping off at the recycling bins to deposit our glass and plastic, I went back to retrace my route from Monday night. It was late in the day and the spring beauties and dogtooth violets had already closed up shop for the day, but I took a few shots anyhow. It felt good to be outside for a bit.

The cherry trees I took pictures of last year are in full bloom again this year. They only opened up last weekend, but they are already shedding delicate pink petals all over the landscape. It’s very picturesque and dreamlike until you find those suckers adhered to your car. It’s as though they come with a thin coating of glue that only activates upon contact with a painted surface. Still the trees are nice from a distance. I took a picture from a different angle than I did last year, so the shots don’t get too repetitive.

The creek (a word which is properly pronounced “crick”, in spite of what The Socialist says) is relatively full right now from the copious spring rains we had earlier this month. There are stepping stones you can use to cross it, but after doing that (with camera in hand) one way, I decided to take the long way around to the bridge for my return trip home. It just wasn’t worth risking the camera because my pride demanded I was still agile enough to manage even the shakiest of stepping-stones. One successful crossing should have been enough to assuage my pride; two successful crossing would have demanded a Vatican review to see if a true holy miracle had occurred.

The wildflowers are particularly thick on either bank of the creek. There was a small cluster of dog toothed violets (some people call them trout lilies) on either side, and a very few violets interspersed among them.

There were skunk cabbages (blessedly well past their flowering period) nestled in back in the woods. Their odiferous little stink-bomb flowers, if you can call them “flowers”, came and went last month, much to the delight of early flies everywhere. I imagine those whose apartments back onto this area of our complex were somewhat less delighted than the flies were.

The marsh marigolds were out in force though. Most of the woodland floor along the creek was a blanket of yellow and green because of these perky little flowers. I grew up calling these cowslips, and for a long time thought that cowslips and marsh marigolds were different flowers. Instead, it would seem that marsh marigolds have an almost infinite variety of flower design. The ones that I saw growing up had five petals, and the petals were rounded rather than long and pointy, and I first learned them as cowslips. Later, as an adult, I first saw the type with long petals on a walk with friends, and when I asked I was told they were marsh marigolds. It was only just recently that I learned that those were both the same flower.

Of course, there’s a thorn with every rose, and the thorn with these spring flowers is the dread “Leaves of Three”. Poison ivy is thick in these woods, and is just now beginning to leaf out. Anyone allergic to poison ivy will tell you that this is the worst time of year for it. In early spring not only are the leaves tiny and red-brown, blending right into the scenery, but the teeny leaves also have more oil on their surface than at any other time of year. Unless you are incredibly careful, you can brush right up against it, thinking it’s nothing more than a dead twig. Within 48 hours you’ll discover otherwise.

Unfortunately, cats seem incapable of learning the rhyme I learned as a child: Leaves of three, Leave them be. While our three morons are indoor cats only, the neighbor’s cats spend a fair amount of time outside prowling the woods. I need to resist temptation when FluffButt from next door saunters over for a chin tickle when I get home, and I also need to remember to wash my hands immediately after giving in to temptation and playing with FluffButt. Otherwise the oils that ol’ Fluffy picked up in the woods are going to go straight onto my skin, with rather nasty results. The cat in the woods in the picture below is Taco, my neighbor’s other cat, and far less likely to want any type of attention from me.

Finally, a much-maligned plant, the dandelion, has started flowering for the season. I rather like dandelions, but everyone around these parts has this fetish for monoculture grass lawns, and disdain what I think is a particularly lovely flower. Go figure.