Tenacious Plant

I take a camera with me nearly every time I leave the house (except, perhaps, for three out of four dog walks). Most times, the camera is a nuisance, hanging on a shoulder or around my neck and flopping in the way when I walk quickly, bend over, carry things, or otherwise do something active. Occasionally, I see something beautiful, odd, or unusual that begs me to capture an image. While it seems more likely I see such sights when I don’t have the camera along, now and then I get lucky and shoot a scene that has “blog entry” written all over it.

In fact, I don’t write enough blog entries to keep up with the photos I’d like to share, so eventually I’ll put together a photo album or a very image-intensive article about some of the lovely sights in the Susquehanna Valley. The photo included with this blog entry is a throwback to my family’s vacation in early June.

The kids and I spent a week at my dad’s lake cottage north of Ithaca, NY on Cayuga Lake, and Stacy joined us for the last two days of the trip. During our stay, I relaxed alone on the boat dock twice, musing about nothing in particular, and trying to capture in pictures the tranquility of the place and the jarring contrasts between that tranquility and the lurking civilized world.

On one boulder that defines the entrance to a wading area along the shore, there was a single small plant growing as certainly as any plant growing in soil. Where the plant meets rock, there is a smear that could be mud, sand, or rotting seaweed deposited by waves during a storm. The smear had landed in a crack that had formed, probably, over dozens of years.

It’s possible the boulder had some small cracks or scratches it received when it broke away from the face of the cliff and fell decades or centuries earlier. Lichens—organisms that are a happy community of fungus and algae working together—might have grown on or near the crack; the chemicals they produced weakened the crack a bit, making the rock a bit porous.

The weakness in the rock captured some water that froze in the winter, expanding the void. The next winter, the crack held slightly more water which did more damage when it froze, and so on. After enough freeze-thaw weathering, there was a cavity deep enough to capture silt, sand, and detritus… and, apparently, a dandelion seed. The seed rooted, the plant emerged, and there it clings, its roots now hastening the erosion of the boulder that is its home.

What are the chances a seed would strike that little smear of soil just so? What are the chances that the smear of soil could hold enough water to keep a plant alive? I guess it’s not so crazy impossible, because only a few feet away on another boulder, another plant grows… and there are more on still other boulders and on the cliff face. Such tenacious plants must be the norm on planet Earth.

For the complete City Slipper experience, please visit my web site at http://www.cityslipper.com/.

The Hunting Dog Swims!

With my wife, Stacy, teaching summer school, I had taken my kids to Ithaca for a week at my dad’s lake house. Stacy finished teaching on Thursday, and went north to join us for that evening, for Friday (summer school runs Monday through Thursday), and for Saturday morning. To the great joy of the kids, Stacy took the dog along.

Cocoa was thrilled to visit the lake cottage. There must have been thousands of new smells there, and she was clearly impressed to stand over a body of water that was larger than her water dish. That’s where the real fun of Cocoa’s visit came in: My daughter decided it was important for Cocoa to discover her natural swimming ability.

As a Chocolate Lab, Cocoa is designed to float and swim easily in cold water. Thing of it is, she didn’t grow up floating and swimming in any water. I insisted that my daughter should coax Cocoa with patience. I’ve never read books on the subject of introducing dogs to swimming, nor have I seen instructional video. But I have seen several dogs who got into the water more quickly than they wanted to, and then refused ever again to swim.

I’d like to tell you that we walked down to the dock, waded into the lake, and Cocoa bobbed in after us, demonstrating her genetically-superior propensity for swimming. Of course, I can’t. We spent the better part of an hour wading into thigh-deep water, encouraging her to follow. Cocoa was obviously anxious to join us, but she pioneered every possible route along the rocks and dock to get near us without actually standing in water.

My oldest son and my daughter both swam into deeper water in hope that being farther away would increase Cocoa’s incentive to swim. This was no small sacrifice: The temperature of Cayuga Lake water in early June can’t be much above 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and the days last week were overcast and chilly. For all their efforts, Cocoa remained enthusiastic and dry.

In her defense, the lake shore at my dad’s cottage is very uneven and rocky. The only wading entrances require a final step into water deep enough to touch Cocoa’s stomach. I suspect if she could wade down a gentle incline into the lake, she’d be less timid about the wetness.

My daughter would not abandon her dream. This morning, we were down at the lake again, encouraging Cocoa to join us in the water. After what must have been another hour of calling and cooing and otherwise making fools of ourselves, we finally coaxed her in—first standing in water up to her chest, and then swimming in short half-circles.

I don’t see Cocoa entering Olympic swimming events any time soon—or even retrieving birds from swamps. Still, I’m pretty sure the expression on her face and the bounce in her step when she got out of the lake were the canine equivalent of a fist pump and a high-five.

For the complete City Slipper experience, please visit my web site at http://www.cityslipper.com/.

Down The Gorge

My geology professor in college took our class on a field trip to Robert H Treman State Park just south of Ithaca, NY. Trails within the park run along a large stream that has carved a gorge in which you can identify several examples of geological phenomena we’d studied in class: rotational slump, landslide, bedding planes, rock fracture, plunge pools, freeze-thaw, running-water erosion, sedimentary deposition…

When we’d progressed a few dozen yards down the trail, our professor stopped us and shared what might have been just a good story: The scientist, Louis Agissiz had travelled the world studying geologic features. His exploration had led him to propose that earth had experienced an ice age, and that much of the land we now inhabit was once covered with deep glaciers.

With all his travels to so many amazing landscapes and vistas, when he first turned the corner into the gorge we were about to see, he had exclaimed, “This is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.” Truth, or fiction, I wanted to share that moment with my kids. So, this morning we drove from my dad’s lake house to the upper entrance of Robert H Treman State Park and the head of the Enfield Glen trail.

I’ve turned the corner into that gorge about a half dozen times in my life. But you know what? When we made the turn, I was stunned. Few places anywhere have astonished me with their beauty the way I was astonished in that moment. That section of the gorge belongs in a fantasy story—as exotic and breathtaking as any real estate in any popular movie: The Lord Of The Rings trilogy, the Star Wars films, The Quiet Earth—The Enfield Glen trail would fit in any of them without digital retouching.

I could tell that despite my excessive build up to the moment, my kids also were impressed by the natural beauty of the gorge trail. The early part of the trail travels a walkway with stone rails, stairs, and bridges all built by the Civilian Conservation Corp during the depression. Moss has grown on the stonework, and it blends well with the natural rock of the gorge.

After passing several small waterfalls, plunge pools, and sandbars, the trail emerges at the top of a spectacular waterfall that splashes into a lower pool—stairs let you walk alongside the precipitous drop and provide several fine views both downstream toward a wooded valley and upstream along the trail we’d just walked.

On the trail, we encountered a red newt, a garter snake, and some workmen repairing some weather-worn stonework. I don’t envy them wheeling the cement, sand, and tools necessary to complete the maintenance.

If you’re in Ithaca for any reason, do yourself a favor and walk down the lower trail into the Enfield Glen gorge from the upper entrance of Robert H Treman park.

For the complete City Slipper experience, please visit my web site at http://www.cityslipper.com/.

Swamps Are Special

Until about ten days ago, my family was headed to South Carolina for this third week of June to visit my wife’s parents. My wife had offered to teach summer school if the need arose… and it suddenly did; so we postponed the trip. But could we find another week during which all the kids were available for a family trip this summer? Of course not.

So, to salvage any hope of a “family” vacation, I called my dad in Ithaca, and asked whether he could put up with us for the week. The “us” would be me and the kids as my wife’s teaching gig was to start on Monday. Thankfully, my dad accommodated, and we’re here at his cottage on the western shore of Cayuga Lake.

We spent the morning today visiting Cornell University’s Sapsucker Woods bird sanctuary. This is a research facility and observation center built on the bank of a swampy pond. Trails thread through the swamp and surrounding woods, providing various options for visitors who enjoy walking outdoors. We do, so we did.

I’d been to Sapsucker Woods many times as a kid, and have taken my kids there two or three times over the past fifteen years. On each of those visits, the observatory was closed, so we gave up, figuring to walk the trails another time when we also could enjoy the exhibits and views inside. On this visit, the observatory was gone!

I exaggerate. The observatory I’d known as a kid was gone. In its place stood an enormous replacement that far better fit the semi-wilderness setting of the bird sanctuary. For casual visitors, the main feature of this building is a large room with a glass wall facing a pond. On the banks of that pond, and in a small garden to one side, the employees maintain feeders that attract dozens of varieties of birds.

Within the observatory there are spotting scopes that let you get really close to the birds, and there are computers to help identify the birds you see. In about a half hour we saw, perhaps, a dozen types of birds. We also enjoyed the antics of several chipmunks who obviously enjoyed the birdseed as much as the birds did.

Finally, we walked the trail that circled the pond outside the observatory window. Much of the trail passes through forest, but eventually you get very close to some of the swampy end of the pond. Today was a great day to be there.

From a small spit of dirt that went right to the swamp’s edge, we saw many frog eyes poking above the water. We also saw frogs and turtles sitting on logs that had fallen into the swamp. While we were enjoying the turtles, a doe stepped out of the trees about halfway across the swamp and walked out into the water. She nibbled leaves as she casually made her way across the swamp, and eventually disappeared into the trees on the other side. Later on the path, we watched geese waddle from puddle to puddle, and enjoyed the water lilies that were in full bloom.

We’re very lucky that institutions invest in trails and other facilities to make swamps accessible. I imagine there are many more swamp walks in store for my family.

For the complete City Slipper experience, please visit my web site at http://www.cityslipper.com/.