Category: birds

The Autumn Tapestry of Cayuga Lake: A Journey on the Treman Park Lake Loop

MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

Autumn’s Arrival Along Cayuga Lake

In Autumn 2024, the Treman Park Lake Loop of the Cayuga Waterfront Trail in Ithaca, New York, unfurled a vibrant display of seasonal transition. The natural landscape, adorned with fiery hues of reds, oranges, and yellows, reflected in the rippling waters of Cayuga Lake, creating a harmony of color and light. This is a scenic journey through stories of plant and animal life that call this place home—including the majestic Osprey (Pandion haliaetus) that nests along the shore.

The Osprey’s Watchtower

A sight to greet visitors is the solitary osprey nest perched high on a pole. Used by Osprey families during their breeding season, this nest stands as a testament to their remarkable recovery in the Finger Lakes region. Ospreys, once declining due to pesticide use, have rebounded significantly following conservation efforts.

With a wingspan of up to 6 feet, these raptors are expert fish hunters, often seen diving talons-first into the lake to snatch their prey. During autumn, as their young take flight, the nest remains an empty marker of the summer’s success—a reminder of the cyclical nature of life along the lake.

Did You Know? Ospreys are often referred to as “fish hawks” because fish make up 99% of their diet.

The Meadow and Its Golden Touch: Reedbeds and Goldenrod

Surrounding the osprey pole, expansive meadows of grasses and reeds sway with the breeze. Among these are stands of Common Reed (Phragmites australis), a tall grass with feathery plumes that catch the sunlight. While Phragmites can sometimes be invasive, they provide crucial shelter and food for various species of birds and insects.

Intermixed with the reeds are patches of Goldenrod (Solidago spp.), whose bright yellow flowers are a signature of late summer and autumn in the Northeast. Goldenrods are critical for pollinators, offering nectar to bees, butterflies, and migrating insects like the Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus).

Ecological Note: Goldenrods are often mistakenly blamed for allergies; the real culprit is ragweed (Ambrosia artemisiifolia), which blooms at the same time but releases airborne pollen.

A Lake Alive with History and Beauty

The shimmering blue waters of Cayuga Lake form the centerpiece of this trail. The lake, stretching nearly 40 miles, is the longest of the Finger Lakes and steeped in geological and cultural history. Its name is derived from the Cayuga Nation, part of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy, who inhabited the region for centuries.

The striking red lighthouse in the water serves as a vivid counterpoint to the natural surroundings. Built to aid navigation, it now stands as a picturesque focal point for photographers and nature enthusiasts alike.

Cayuga Inlet Light Beacon

In the distance, a sailboat glides across the lake—a serene reminder of the recreational draw that Cayuga Lake holds year-round.

West shore with sailboat and lake houses

The Forest Fringe: A Kaleidoscope of Color

The forests that fringe the meadow and the lake present an explosion of autumn color. Trees such as Sugar Maple (Acer saccharum), Red Oak (Quercus rubra), and Black Cherry (Prunus serotina) dominate the canopy, their leaves transforming into brilliant oranges, scarlets, and deep burgundies. The Sugar Maple, in particular, is renowned for its vibrant golden-orange foliage, a hallmark of the northeastern fall.

The Ithaca Yacht Club lies south of Maplewood Point

Closer to the ground, the understory hums with the activity of migrating birds and foraging mammals. Squirrels can be seen gathering acorns, preparing for the winter months ahead, while chickadees flit among the branches, calling their cheerful “fee-bee” notes.

Historical Fact: The Finger Lakes were carved out by retreating glaciers over 10,000 years ago, leaving behind these deep, elongated lakes and fertile soil that supports rich biodiversity.

A Path Through Time and Nature

Walking the Treman Park Lake Loop is a sensory journey—the crispness of the autumn air, the rustling of reeds, and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore combine to evoke a timeless tranquility.

From the vibrant meadows to the osprey’s lofty perch and the quiet expanse of Cayuga Lake, this section of the Waterfront Trail encapsulates the beauty and diversity of the Finger Lakes ecosystem. Whether for quiet reflection or active exploration, it remains a treasured destination in every season.

Closing Thoughts

As autumn deepens, this landscape prepares for the dormancy of winter. Yet the stories it holds—from the osprey’s nest to the goldenrod’s bloom—remain alive, waiting to be rediscovered with each new season. The Treman Park Lake Loop is not just a trail; it is a canvas of life, change, and history painted by nature’s hand.

Reflection: To walk this trail is to connect with a land shaped by glaciers, nurtured by waters, and home to countless species that continue to thrive amid the ever-turning wheel of the seasons.

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Healing Through Nature in Sapsucker Woods

An autumn walk for healing, resilience, and gratitude.

MichaelStephenWills18 Comments

On this autumn Sapsucker Woods afternoon, the world seems crafted to soothe. Sunlight filters through the canopy, setting leaves ablaze in rich reds, golden yellows, and softened greens, the seasonal palette reflecting nature’s grand finale. Today, the woods are a sanctuary for healing, a space where steps are measured not by speed but by strength, each one a testament to resilience.

Pam stands before the wide, outstretched wings painted on the wall at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, wings so vast that they dwarf her. She smiles, resting against her hiking poles, the Condor wings an emblem of a journey toward reclaiming freedom. Her recent hip replacement surgery has given her back this independence, a reminder that recovery is not just about physical mending, but about lifting the spirit to soar once again.

The trail unfolds gently, bordered by cattails and still waters that mirror the sky—a bright blue canvas mottled with soft clouds drifting in and out of the reflections. Fallen leaves float upon the pond’s surface, creating patches of color that seem suspended between water and sky. Nearby, lily pads, green stepping stones over shadowed depths, their edges lit by glittering sunlight. Geese glide by, unbothered, embodying a calm flowing outward, wrapping the whole scene in peace.

Each step Pam takes is deliberate, accompanied by the steady rhythm of her poles striking the ground. It is the kind of walk that invites contemplation, where time slows, and even the smallest detail—a single yellow leaf spiraling down, a ripple breaking the pond’s surface—feels like an invitation to pause and breathe. She moves from the open path toward a shaded arbor, draped with twisting vines. The vines climb upward, winding around the wooden beams, their leaves creating a soft veil that frames her view of the water beyond. Through this leafy curtain, she gazes upon the pond, where autumn’s reflection glows, offering a quiet moment of solitude, of healing drawn from nature’s persistence.

Just beyond, a bare tree stands, its trunk hollowed by years, its exposed wood testament to the life that has passed through it. In its decay, it offers a home to the creatures of the marsh, a structure among reeds and grasses that sway with the wind. The tree reminds Pam of her own journey, how resilience is often found in adapting, in letting time and life shape you.

At last, we reach a bench overlooking the pond, a perfect place to rest and reflect. She settles in, feeling the quiet thrill of accomplishment. The woods are still, save for the sound of a breeze rustling the reeds and the occasional bird song piercing the silence. In this moment, with the vast sky overhead and the world reflected below, she feels a profound sense of gratitude—not only for the beauty around her but for the strength within her. Sapsucker Woods are a personal cathedral, a space where nature and recovery intertwine, offering peace in every step, in every breath.

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Exploring Lime Hollow: Nature Walks with My Grandsons

Enjoy a memorable visit to Lime Hollow Nature Preserve by a grandfather and his grandsons, exploring nature, observing wildlife, and connecting through shared experiences, fostering curiosity and appreciation for the environment.

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

The October sunlight was gentle as we entered Lime Hollow Nature Preserve from Gracie Road, my grandsons, Sam and Rory, bursting with excitement beside me. Sam, the eldest, took the lead, confidently striding ahead along the Sunset Trail while Rory, his younger brother, stayed close to my side, his eyes wide with wonder at the forest around us.

Descent to the Pond


The trail wound through the woods, dappled with the golds and reds of early autumn. Sam spotted a squirrel darting between trees, and Rory pointed to the sky, “Look, Grandpa, a woodpecker!” I smiled at their enthusiasm, feeling grateful for these moments of connection to nature and family.

We descended toward the pond via the Pond View Trail, the sound of trickling water drawing us closer. As we approached, the landscape opened up, revealing the calm, reflective surface of the water, bordered by reeds swaying in the light breeze. I remembered bringing the boys here last spring, how different the pond looked then—brimming with life as frogs leapt from the banks and dragonflies zipped across the water’s surface. Today, the scene was quieter, but no less magical.

Rory, ever the adventurer, crouched by the pond’s edge, watching for frogs. Sam, too, paused to observe but soon grew restless, his curiosity pushing him onward. “Come on, Grandpa! Let’s see what’s next!” His voice echoed through the trees as he darted back onto the trail, Rory quick to follow.

Encounter with the Giant Fungus


The path led us deeper into the forest, and soon we turned onto the Brookside Trail, which merged with the High Ridge Trail. Here, the air grew cooler under the dense canopy of trees, and the forest floor softened beneath our feet with layers of leaves. It was then that we stumbled upon the most magnificent sight of the day: an enormous bracket fungus, its wide, layered shelves clinging to the trunk a hoary snag.

Rory gasped in delight, running over to inspect it more closely. “Look how big it is!” he exclaimed, his small hands hovering just above its ridged surface. Sam, never one to be outdone, knelt beside it, carefully touching the spongy layers. “It’s a staircase for squirrels,” he said, grinning up at me.

Turkey Tail bracket fungus (Trametes versicolor) is a common wood decay fungus found on dead and decaying hardwoods. Named for its concentric, colorful bands resembling a turkey’s tail, it plays a vital role in forest ecosystems by breaking down lignin, facilitating nutrient recycling. It’s also valued for its medicinal properties. Lime Hollow Nature Center, Cortland, Cortland County, New York State. Finger Lakes Regions

As I watched them, I couldn’t help but think back to all the times I had wandered these trails alone before they were born. Now, these woods had become a classroom for them—full of discoveries that sparked their curiosity and wonder. It was a beautiful moment of generational connection, this passing on of my love for the natural world to Sam and Rory.

Fascinating Beech Tree Roots


On the way out, we took the Brookside / Pond View / Sunset trails once again, but this time, this intricate network of roots from a massive beech tree fascinated us. The roots twisted and coiled across the path like veins, in our imaginations the gnarled shapes snagged our feet. Sam, ever the explorer, stepped cautiously along the roots, balancing himself as if walking a tightrope. Rory followed suit, his giggles filling the air.

An American beech (Fagus grandifolia). These trees are quite common in northeastern forests.
The beech tree is known for its smooth smooth, gray bark, which can become marked with scars or etchings as the tree ages. Additionally, its leaves are typically dark green, with serrated edges, and turn yellow to bronze in the fall, often staying on the tree through winter. Lime Hollow Nature Center, Cortland, New York State

“These roots are older than us,” I told them. “Beech trees can live for hundreds of years. Just think, this tree has seen many more seasons than we ever will.”

Sam’s eyes widened at the thought, while Rory gave the tree a gentle pat, as if to thank it for its wisdom. I marveled at how something as simple as a root system could captivate their imaginations and bring the lesson of time and growth to life.

Reminiscing on the Chicago Bog

In the 1830’s there was a village named Chicago along Gracie Road, which gives it the name we have today. The Chicago Bog is home to many carnivorous plants, including sundew, the pitcher plant, and more. The deepest depth of the bog is about 7.2 ft. The bog is along the Phillips Memorial Trail, which can be found on Gracie Road. Lime Hollow Nature Center, Cortland, New York


As we walked, my mind wandered back to a visit we had made to the Chicago Bog just a year before. I remembered the day clearly—how we had trekked through the wetland on a warm June afternoon, the ground soft beneath our feet, alive with the buzzing of insects and the vibrant green of new growth.

The chalk-fronted corporal (Ladona julia) is a skimmer dragonfly found in the northern United States and southern Canada.
Juveniles of both sexes are light reddish brown, with white shoulder stripes and a black stripe down the middle of the abdomen. As they mature, males develop a white pruinescence on the top of the thorax and at the base of the abdomen, while the rest of the abdomen turns black. Females become almost uniformly dark brown, with a dusting of gray pruinescence near the base of the abdomen; a few develop the same color pattern as the males.
Chalk-fronted corporals often perch horizontally on the ground or on floating objects in the water, flying up to take prey from the air. They are gregarious for dragonflies, and are commonly seen perching in groups. They readily approach humans to feed on the mosquitoes and biting flies that humans attract.

It was there, by the edge of the bog, that we had encountered a dragonfly, a Chalk-fronted Corporal, resting on a fallen log. Its dark, iridescent wings shimmered in the sunlight, and Sam had been mesmerized by its delicate beauty. He had asked so many questions that day—about how dragonflies flew, what they ate, and where they lived. I had done my best to answer, but truth be told, I learned as much as he did in that moment.

Nearby, a meadow of buttercups had stretched out before us, their yellow blooms dancing in the breeze. Rory had run through them, his laughter ringing out as he tried to catch a butterfly that flitted between the flowers. The memory of that field of gold still brought a smile to my face as we made our way through Lime Hollow today.

A Day to Remember


As we neared the end of our hike, the afternoon light filtering through the trees, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. These outings with Sam and Rory had become more than just walks in the woods—they were opportunities to share, to learn, and to make memories that I knew would last a lifetime.

“Grandpa, can we come back?” Rory asked, his face flushed with excitement.

“Of course,” I said, smiling. “We’ll always have time for another adventure.”

Winter Serenity at Cocoa Beach

The wind carries the rhythm of the waves as clouds drift across the sky, their reflections shimmering on the sand. A lone feather lies half-buried, a quiet reminder of nature’s gentle yet untamed beauty. In the midst of winter’s rawness, there’s a peaceful stillness, inviting you to pause and take in the moment.

MichaelStephenWills33 Comments


There’s a magic in the embrace of a winter afternoon at Cocoa Beach, where cold northern winds rush down, meeting the Atlantic’s gentle roar. A brush has stroked the heavens; a sky painted with clouds, each towering and shifting, soft yet mighty. With weight and grace, they hang in the sky; some laden with the promise of rain, others light and carefree, echoing the ever-changing rhythm of the sea below. As the sun dips, its rays break through, illuminating the clouds and casting reflections on the wet sand, where the ocean’s kisses linger before retreating back to the deep.

DSC05744Small

The wind tugs at my clothes, my hair, my thoughts. It whispers its secrets, telling stories of distant places, of journeys. With patterns chaotic yet somehow harmonized; waves, frothing and white, crash in sync with the wind’s song. They stretch their fingers onto the shore before retreating, playing an endless game of tag with the land. The sand, smooth and glistening, mirrors the clouds above, creating an ephemeral connection between earth and sky. Both are locked in a fleeting dance, destined to dissolve with the tide.

Amid the sound of wind and water, the sight of a lone feather caught my eye. Half-buried in the sand, its delicate barbs were still intact, though weathered by the elements. It was a remnant of life, a testament to the flight of some seabird now long gone. This feather, in its stillness, speaks volumes—of resilience, of the endless passage of time, of moments lost to the wind yet immortalized in the quiet present. Its grooves, like fine lines etched in sand, tell the story of its journey through the air, carried by forces unseen yet deeply felt.

DSC05792BeachFeathre

The feather, lying motionless yet deeply expressive, becomes a symbol of the paradoxes that fill this beach: the immensity of the ocean, infinite in its expanse, and the simplicity of a single object, caught and held for just a moment. The windswept beach feels vast, stretching endlessly before me, yet each step I take reveals intricate details, like the delicate curves and patterns of shells half-buried in the sand, or the ephemeral foam left behind by retreating waves. Each part of this landscape tells a story—the grand and the intimate, the eternal and the fleeting, all coexisting in perfect harmony.

Standing here, enveloped by the wind and the sea’s whispers, I am reminded of the power of nature to humble and uplift. It strips away the noise of everyday life, leaving only the raw, untamed elements that have been here long before us and will remain long after. There is something deeply spiritual about this place, this moment—where the only sounds are the natural rhythms of the world, unbroken by human intervention. The beach, with its vast openness, encourages introspection, a reflection not only on the external beauty but also on the inner landscapes of the mind.

The wind, relentless and free, stirs a sense of renewal in me. It is a force that clears the air, both literally and figuratively, sweeping away stagnant thoughts and opening space for new ones to emerge. The crispness of the cold air invigorates, reminding me that even in the depths of winter, life continues—whether in the ceaseless movement of the ocean or the endurance of the small feather resting in the sand. There is beauty in the starkness, in the way the beach in winter feels both desolate and alive, silent yet full of sound.

As I walk along the shore, I realize that this windy January afternoon on Cocoa Beach is an experience to feel deeply. The wind, the waves, the sky, the sand—all are part of a larger, connected whole, a living tapestry that, though ever-changing, remains constant in its presence. There is comfort in knowing that no matter how many times I return to this beach, it will always offer something new, yet familiar.

In the end, the beauty of this moment lies in its simplicity and grandeur, in the way it invites contemplation while remaining indifferent to whether or not we notice. The ocean will continue its dance with the shore, the wind will carry its stories, and the feather will eventually be swept away. But for now, in this moment, it is all here, waiting to be seen, felt, and cherished.

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Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills Photography All Rights Reserved.

Beauty and Struggle: Flowering Rush in Stewart Park

Crossing the footbridge in Stewart Park, I encountered the graceful yet invasive Flowering Rush. Its delicate beauty hides a deeper story about nature’s resilience, human impact, and the fragile balance of our ecosystems.

MichaelStephenWills2 Comments

While crossing the suspension footbridge over Fall Creek in Stewart Park, there’s a sense of stepping into a world that’s more peaceful and attuned to nature. The bridge is familiar to me—a steady, quiet companion—but each visit feels new, as though the park has secrets it only reveals in small whispers. In this photograph the green steel beams rise like sentinels, standing tall against the backdrop of shifting autumn colors. Below, the water reflects the vibrant reds, golds, and greens of the trees, creating an illusion of depth that draws me in.

Footbridge to the Fuertes Bird Sanctuary, Stewart Park, Ithaca, New York, October 2012

This past summer I stopped midway across, leaned against the railing, just listening. The creek moved slowly, like time itself decided to pause here for a while. That’s when I saw them: delicate pink blooms rising up from the water’s edge, their petals small and star-shaped, catching the light as they sway in the gentle breeze. There’s something striking about these plants—graceful, elegant, almost otherworldly in their simplicity. They reach up, as though trying to escape the confines of the water and the muddy banks.

My subsequent research revealed these to be Flowering Rush, or Butomus umbellatus. I often see them now, their soft pinks and slender leaves creating a quiet beauty that’s hard to ignore. They’re beautiful, but I have come to know they don’t belong here. This is one of those moments in nature that gives me pause—a reminder that not everything lovely is innocent.

Flowering Rush Growing in Fall Creek, Stewart Park, June 2024

Flowering Rush, a European import from centuries ago, was not meant to take root here. Brought to North America for ornamental ponds, its allure quickly became its danger. It spread, silently, like a secret carried on the wind, slowly overtaking the native species that have long called these waters home. And yet, standing here now, I cannot help but admire its tenacity, its quiet determination to thrive. Nature, in all its forms, has this incredible will to survive, even if that survival sometimes comes at a cost.

My mind drifts to the plant’s history. In its native lands Flowering Rush, or Grass Rush, was useful—its roots, though bitter, were harvested for food, and its fibrous stems woven into mats and ropes. How interesting that something as delicate as this has a rugged, practical side. This contradiction makes perfect sense when I think of the plant’s journey across continents, carried over oceans by human hands and curiosity. We are responsible for its presence here, and now, like so many other invasive species, it’s become a fixture of this landscape.

I think about the dual nature of this invasion. Flowering Rush is beautiful—there is no denying that. Its soft, pink flowers contrast sharply with the darker tones of the water and the dense green of the grasses that surround it. But its beauty masks a quiet destruction. It chokes out the native plants that once thrived here, altering the ecosystem in ways we cannot always see. I wonder what fish and aquatic life struggles beneath the surface, their food sources slowly disappearing. What birds find fewer insects and fewer safe places to nest?

And yet, is this plant a villain? Flowering rush is doing what it was meant to do—grow, spread, survive. That is what everything in nature does, after all. It does not have malice or intent; it just is. It is humans who have changed the balance, who introduced this species to a place where it didn’t belong, setting off a chain reaction we’re still trying to fully understand.

Today, as I walk across the bridge, heading toward the Fuertes Bird Sanctuary, path ahead invites quiet reflection, the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves providing a peaceful soundtrack. But the Flowering Rush lingers in my mind. It reminds me of how interconnected everything is, how one small action—a plant brought from a distant land—can ripple out and affect entire ecosystems. It’s a lesson in responsibility for those willing to listen.

As I step into the sanctuary, the air feels lighter, filled with the sound of birds that dart between the trees. I think of the delicate balance of life here, and how easily it can be disrupted by the presence of something foreign, something invasive. Yet, there is a strange comfort in knowing that nature, for all its fragility, has its own resilience.

The Flowering Rush, with its roots deep in the muddy banks of Fall Creek, is a testament to that resilience. It may not belong here, but it has found a way to adapt, to make this place its home. And in that, I find both a warning and a kind of hope—hope that we, too, can learn to live more thoughtfully, more in tune with the world around us, before we upset the balance any further.

For now, though, I simply walk, grateful for the beauty around me, even if it comes with complications. Each step takes me deeper into this world, and I am reminded once again of the profound connection we have to the land, the water, the plants, and the creatures that share this space.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

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Sunrise at Cocoa Beach: A Symphony of Colors on the Space Coast

Experience the breathtaking sunrise at Cocoa Beach, where the sky and sea blend in a symphony of colors. Discover the tranquility and beauty that awaits as the day dawns on Florida’s stunning Space Coast.

MichaelStephenWills32 Comments

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Cocoa Beach, nestled in Brevard County, Florida, is renowned for its pristine sandy shores and the rhythmic lullaby of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s a place where the day often begins with an awe-inspiring sunrise. On the Space Coast, the first light of day is a daily masterpiece, a silent symphony of colors that paints the sky and reflects off the water.

As dawn approaches, the eastern horizon begins to glow with a soft, pre-dawn light. This quiet time, when the world is still asleep, offers a unique tranquility. The beach, usually bustling with surfers, sunbathers, and families, is calm and serene. The sand, cool underfoot, stretches out like a vast canvas, waiting for the sun to begin its artwork.

The first hues of sunrise start as a gentle blush, a hint of pink that softly caresses the sky. As the moments pass, this blush deepens into shades of orange and red, reminiscent of a painter’s palette. The ocean mirrors these colors, creating a breathtaking scene where sky and sea blend into one continuous expanse. It’s a moment that feels almost sacred, as if nature itself is preparing for a grand reveal.

The sun finally peeks above the horizon, a fiery orb that illuminates the world in golden light. This is the crescendo of the sunrise, a moment that seems to hold the breath of the world. The rays of light stretch out across the water, casting a shimmering path that invites the eyes to follow. It’s a path that feels both real and ethereal, leading not just across the sea, but into a day full of possibilities.

As the sun rises higher, the colors in the sky shift and change. The deep reds and oranges give way to softer yellows and then to the clear, bright light of morning. The ocean, too, transforms, taking on a deeper blue as the sunlight penetrates its depths. The waves, which had been gentle ripples in the pre-dawn light, now dance and sparkle, as if celebrating the arrival of the new day.

For those fortunate enough to witness it, a sunrise at Cocoa Beach engages all the senses. The cool breeze carries the fresh scent of saltwater, a reminder of the ocean’s vastness and power. The sound of the waves, steady and rhythmic, provides a soothing background score, while the occasional cry of a seabird adds a touch of the wild to the scene.

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There is a sense of community among the early risers who gather to watch the sunrise. Strangers often share nods and smiles, united by the shared experience of witnessing something so beautiful and ephemeral. It’s a reminder that, no matter our differences, moments of natural beauty can bring people together, fostering a sense of connection and shared humanity.

Cocoa Beach, known for its proximity to the Kennedy Space Center and its surf culture, offers much more than meets the eye. The sunrise is a daily reminder of the simple yet profound beauty of nature, a beauty that exists beyond the man-made attractions and the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It’s a call to pause, reflect, and appreciate the world around us.

In a place where rockets soar into the sky, touching the very edge of space, the sunrise at Cocoa Beach brings us back to Earth, grounding us in the timeless rhythm of the natural world. It’s a moment of peace and renewal, a gift from the universe to start the day with a heart full of wonder and gratitude.

So, whether you’re a local or a visitor, taking the time to watch the sunrise at Cocoa Beach is an experience not to be missed. It’s a chance to witness the world waking up, to feel a part of something larger than oneself, and to start the day with a renewed sense of awe and possibility.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

The Joy of Adventure at Treetops

Join us as we explore the enchanting “Treetops” treehouse at Cayuga Nature Center. Discover the joy of hide and seek, and the magic of nature, through the eyes of my grandsons on a serene Sunday morning.

MichaelStephenWills12 Comments

The air was crisp and cool as I strolled hand in hand with my grandsons, Sam and Rory, through the vibrant greens of the Cayuga Nature Center. The leaves rustled gently in the Sunday morning breeze, their whispers the only company we had. It was a quiet, serene moment, with no one else around, and the boys’ excitement was palpable as they chattered about their previous visits.

“Grandpa, do you remember this place?” Sam asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. Rory, not to be outdone, chimed in, “We have to show you the treehouse! It’s the best part!”

Their enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself eager to see this magical place they spoke of. We followed a winding path, each step bringing us deeper into the lush woodland, until at last, the imposing structure of the “Treetops” treehouse came into view. It stood tall and mysterious; an intricate wooden edifice cloaked in the verdant embrace of the forest.

The treehouse was a marvel, its towering form constructed of twisted branches and sturdy planks, blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. A wooden bridge led up to the entrance, and as we approached, the boys’ pace quickened.

“Let’s play hide and seek!” Rory suggested, his voice echoing with excitement. Sam nodded vigorously, already darting towards the treehouse entrance. “You count, Grandpa!” he called over his shoulder.

I began counting aloud, my voice mingling with the sounds of nature—the chirping of birds, the gentle rustle of leaves. When I reached twenty, I opened my eyes to find the boys had disappeared into the labyrinth of the treehouse. I stepped inside, the cool shade a welcome respite from the sun’s gentle warmth.

The interior was a maze of hidden nooks and winding staircases, each turn revealing a new secret. I could hear the faint giggles of the boys as they tried to stifle their laughter. The treehouse was alive with the echoes of their joy, each sound bouncing off the wooden walls like a symphony of childhood exuberance.

As I navigated the winding paths, I couldn’t help but marvel at the intricate details of the structure. The signs scattered throughout added an educational touch, detailing the lives of the birds and spiders that called this place home. One sign, titled “A Place For Everyone,” explained how each bird species had its niche, much like the boys had found their hiding spots.

“Found you!” I called out, spotting Sam’s bright red shirt from behind a wooden beam. He laughed and dashed off, his footsteps a rhythmic drumbeat on the wooden floor. Rory was next, his giggles giving away his hiding spot behind a thick cluster of branches.

We continued our game, the treehouse transforming into a magical playground where time seemed to stand still. The boys’ laughter filled the air, mingling with the natural symphony of the forest. We explored every corner, from the highest platform with its breathtaking view of the surrounding forest to the dark, cozy nooks perfect for hiding.

Phillips Falls is a picturesque waterfall located on Comstock Creek in view of the Treetops treehouse within the Cayuga Nature Center in Ithaca, New York. The falls are a highlight of the Nature Center, offering visitors a scenic and tranquil spot to enjoy the natural beauty of the area. The waterfall is accessible via the nature trails that wind through the Center’s diverse landscapes, including forests and meadows. Here are a few key points about Phillips Falls: Scenic Beauty: Phillips Falls is known for its serene and beautiful setting, making it a popular spot for nature enthusiasts, hikers, and photographers. Hiking Trails: The falls can be reached by hiking trails within the Cayuga Nature Center. The trails vary in difficulty, providing options for different levels of hikers. Educational Programs: The Cayuga Nature Center often includes Phillips Falls in its educational programs and guided tours, focusing on the ecology and geology of the area. Wildlife Habitat: The area around Phillips Falls is home to a variety of wildlife, making it a great spot for birdwatching and observing other animals in their natural habitat. Seasonal Changes: The appearance and flow of the waterfall can change with the seasons, offering a different experience for visitors throughout the year. Overall, Phillips Falls is a cherished natural feature of the Cayuga Nature Center, providing both a peaceful retreat and an educational experience for visitors.

After our game, we stood on the bridge, looking out over the creek below. The water sparkled in the sunlight, a serene contrast to our playful morning. “This place is amazing,” I said, turning to the boys. They nodded, their faces flushed with happiness.

“We love coming here,” Sam said. “It’s like a secret world.”

Rory nodded in agreement. “And now you know our secret too, Grandpa.”

As we made our way back down the path, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for this moment, for the chance to share in the boys’ joy and to see the world through their eyes. The “Treetops” treehouse had not only been a place of play but also a bridge between generations, a testament to the simple, timeless pleasures of exploring nature together.

Phillips Falls on Comstock Creek, seen from Treetops

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

From Myths to Medicine Unraveling the Tales of False Solomon’s Seal

Step into Treman Gorge and discover the enchanting world of False Solomon’s Seal. Unveil the myths, medicinal uses, and ecological wonders of Smilacina racemosa as it flourishes beneath the forest canopy.

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In the shaded woodland of Treman Gorge, near the tumbling waters of Lucifer Falls, the understory blooms with the intriguing presence of Smilacina racemosa, commonly known as false Solomon’s seal. This perennial wildflower’s identity is as layered as the forest floor it adorns, its names—both scientific and common—woven with historical and cultural threads.

Smilacina racemosa—the plant’s scientific name—offers a botanical breadcrumb trail to its identity. “Smilacina” derives from a diminutive form of the Latin word for smile, “smilax”, a reference not to the plant’s demeanor but to its resemblance to the related sarsaparilla plants, which belong to the genus Smilax. The species name “racemosa” speaks directly to its form, describing the characteristic raceme or cluster of flowers that gracefully arch at the end of its stalk, each blossom a delicate dot along the green wand.

The common name, false Solomon’s seal, tells a tale of mistaken identity and botanical homage. The name playfully suggests a sibling rivalry of sorts with its look-alike, the true Solomon’s seal (Polygonatum), which bears its flowers and fruits along the stem, rather than at the tip as in Smilacina. The term “Solomon’s seal” itself is steeped in lore, supposedly referring to the circular seals from King Solomon’s ring—a mark of wisdom and an echo in the circular scars on the rhizome of the true Solomon’s seal. Here, in this false version, the legacy is mimicked in form but remains uniquely distinct in its flowering finale.

As for its cultural tapestry, false Solomon’s seal holds its own chapter in Native American ethnobotany. The plant was not merely a forest decoration but a source of sustenance and medicine. Its young shoots and leaves were often harvested in spring, a woodland asparagus of sorts, eaten raw or cooked. The roots served a more medicinal role, employed in treatments from stomachaches to rheumatic pains, revealing a deep-rooted reverence for this plant’s healing potential.

Beyond its uses, false Solomon’s seal paints a broader stroke in the ecological canvas of Treman Gorge. Flowering in May, its creamy white blossoms are a ballet of light in the dappled shade, attracting a suite of spring pollinators. By autumn, the flowers give way to speckled red berries, a feast for the eyes and a banquet for birds and mammals, knitting itself into the life threads of its woodland home.

Thus, the journey of understanding Smilacina racemosa is as much about unearthing its etymological roots as it is about appreciating its ecological and cultural resonance. A plant of beauty and utility, it stands as a silent sentinel in the history-laden woods of Treman Gorge, its presence a whispered tale in the symphony of spring. As it stretches beneath the towering trees, it invites those who wander to delve deeper into its story, a tale woven through the very fabric of the forest floor.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Whispers from the Rocks: The Vivid World of the Red Columbine

Discover the vibrant Red Columbine of Treman Gorge, a masterpiece of adaptation and survival nestled among ancient rocks. Explore how this delicate beauty thrives in the harsh cliffs of the Finger Lakes.

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Wandering through the verdant paths of Treman Gorge, amidst the rough-hewn charm of the Finger Lakes Region, I find myself entranced by a striking botanical jewel, the Red Columbine (Aquilegia canadensis). Amid the prehistoric tapestry of shale and limestone, these delicate red and yellow flowers stand out with a vivacity that seems almost audacious against the stoic gray of their rocky backdrop.

The Red Columbine, with its unique, nodding bell-like flowers, is more than just a feast for the eyes. Each bloom is a masterclass in the art of survival and adaptation. The elongated, tubular structure of its flowers, splashed with a bold red that fades into a sun-kissed yellow, is nature’s perfect lure for its pollinators. The petals curve back, as if arching away in a graceful flare, exposing the stamens and pistils in an inviting display for hummingbirds, which, in their quest for nectar, become unwitting partners in the dance of pollination.

As I tread softly along the mossy stones, the sheer cliff faces of the gorge serve as a stark reminder of the relentless passage of time. Yet here, in this ancient cradle, the Red Columbine thrives in pockets of soil that seem to defy gravity. It’s a botanical ballet, with each plant performing its survival routine rooted in crevices that gather just enough humus to sustain life.

The air is cool and moist, the faint murmur of Enfield Creek a constant whisper beneath the chorus of bird calls. This is a place of subtle enchantment where every glance reveals the rugged beauty of nature intertwined with the delicate persistence of life. The columbines, with their whimsical spirals of spurs and lush, lobed leaves, appear almost otherworldly. They thrive here in the dappled sunlight, a testament to their resilience and a reminder of nature’s quiet defiance against the odds.

Red Columbine with steel rebar driven into the rock to anchor lifesaving lines. Found near Lucifer Falls, Robert H Treman New York State Park, Ithaca, Tompkins County

In this serene alcove, time slows. The Red Columbine’s pendulous blooms sway gently with the breeze, each movement a soft ballet in the verdant amphitheater of Treman Gorge. This flower, with its fiery hues and intricate form, embodies the spirit of the wild that surrounds us. It stands as a vibrant contrast against the somber stones, a living splash of color against the monochrome palette of the gorge.

As I pause to capture this moment, camera in hand, I am reminded of the fragile beauty that thrives in these hidden corners of the earth. The Red Columbine, with its enchanting flowers and rugged perseverance, is a symbol of the wild heart that beats strong within the quiet solitude of Treman Gorge. Here, in the heart of the Finger Lakes, beauty and resilience bloom in the most unexpected places, painting the landscape with strokes of floral brilliance.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

A Windy Winter’s Beach Morning

These videos capture a windy morning at Cocoa Beach, showcasing the American flag’s resilience and the beauty of nature.

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The sun has barely risen over the horizon, casting a golden hue on the edges of the swaying palm trees. I’ve found my favorite spot on Cocoa Beach, where the sand meets the sea oats, and the Atlantic waves crash endlessly. It’s a windy winter’s morning, with the gusts howling, pulling at my shirt, tugging at the American flag standing tall amidst the dunes.

The early light of dawn illuminates clouds with a pink hue on a windy winter’s morning. Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida. The Space Coast.

The flag is massive, its stars and stripes fluttering with conviction against the backdrop of an endless blue sky. Its red, white, and blue are a reminder of the freedom it represents. A symbol of history woven into every thread. In the wind, its fabric dances gracefully, in sync with the whispering leaves and the sea’s rhythm.

This particular flag has been around for years, steadfast on this patch of the Florida coast. The pole, firm and weathered, stands as a sentinel. It’s not just a symbol of patriotism but a beacon for those who wander these shores, a guiding point that has witnessed countless sunrises and sunsets, serving as a reminder of the ideals this country strives for.

Near the end of my video a squad of pelicans glides through, slicing the sky in a perfect formation. They using the wind to their advantage, and their synchronized flight is mesmerizing. Their journey is a testament to the beauty of nature’s choreography, moving with grace and purpose, guided by the same winds that ripple through the flag and carry them along the coast.

The wind is fierce today, blowing sand like fine snow across the beach. It stings my face as I watch the waves roar, driven by the same winds that make the flag soar. These are the south winds, warm and constant, flowing over the Atlantic. They pick up speed across the open waters before reaching the coast, shaping the dunes, bending the palm fronds, and reminding me of the unyielding force of nature.

The south wind is not just a whim of nature; it’s shaped by the currents that flow from the equator, by the rotation of the Earth, and by the heated lands further south. It’s nature’s breath, shifting sands and altering landscapes. This breeze carries with it a hint of salt, a whisper of the tropical climates from which it comes, and a false promise of more warmth on this winter morning.

There’s a certain serenity in being here, watching the elements play. The sea is restless, much like my thoughts. I can’t help but contemplate the forces that have shaped this land, from the explorers who first set foot here to the astronauts who launched themselves to the moon from just a few miles away. This place is steeped in history, and the flag embodies that.

As I look towards the flag again, its fabric shimmering under the sun’s rays, I think about all that it has seen. The gentle lapping of the waves reminds me of the constant change that’s part of life. The flag, though, is a steadfast sentinel, standing tall through it all, enduring the same winds and elements that buffeted it years ago. It speaks of resilience and hope, of standing tall no matter what comes your way.

I pull out my camera, capturing the flag as it flutters in the wind, its stripes rippling like waves on the sea. In a moment, I take a video, recording not just the flag but the beach around it, the sand swirling around my feet, creating transient patterns that the wind will soon erase. The video captures the essence of this place, where the wind and waves weave their own stories.

This morning, like so many before, the wind brings with it a sense of purpose. It whispers tales of the past and hints at the future, pushing me to continue exploring, to keep seeking, and to always remember what this place represents. The American flag, in its majestic flight, is more than fabric; it’s a reminder of the journey and the ideals that guide us, just like this wind pushing along the coast, unrelenting and full of promise.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved