Category: Canyons, Gorges, Ravines

Nature’s Role in Recovery: October at Treman Park

Pam’s recovery from hip replacement unfolds in Upper Robert H. Treman State Park, intertwining personal resilience with nature’s healing beauty.

MichaelStephenWills14 Comments

On a crisp October afternoon, October 3, 2024, Pam and I reveled in Upper Robert H. Treman State Park, a serene oasis nestled in Tompkins County. This visit was particularly special for us, a step in Pam’s recovery from her August hip replacement. I remember the sound of her hiking pole tapping the ground as we walked together, feeling grateful for her progress since surgery. The air was cool, and the leaves, turning gold and orange, whispered in the breeze, providing the perfect backdrop for our outing that day.

Our path followed the creek, the same creek that winds through the heart of the park, framed by layers of stone and lush vegetation. In one of the first photos I took that day, you can see the creek reflecting the soft autumn light, its bed dotted with rocks and fallen branches. The vibrant greens of the undergrowth juxtaposed with the golden leaves made the scene feel timeless, as though nature itself was participating in Pam’s recovery, offering healing in its quiet, enduring beauty.

The view upstream just before the creek enters The Gallery. Robert H. Treman State Park, Enfield, Tompkins County, Finger Lakes Region, New York State.

We paused to take in the quiet hum of life around us. There was a sense of history in the park that seemed to blend with our personal story. As we wandered deeper, we reached the foundation of the old Budd House, its stone blocks now barely a shadow of the past but still carrying echoes of life lived long ago. The placard described Charles Budd, a village blacksmith and postmaster, and his wife, Deborah, who continued to serve the community after his passing. Standing there, I reflected on how these stones, much like Pam’s journey, represented resilience and the passage of time.

Site 2: The Budd House The stone blocks set in the lawn here outline the subsurface remains of the home of Charles Budd and his family. Budd was the village blacksmith and postmaster. Before the Industrial Revolution introduced cheap, mass-produced goods, blacksmiths crafted all manner of metal implements, re-shoed horses, and repaired carriages. Below to the left is a photo of a blacksmith shop in Tompkins County. As the Enfield Falls postmaster, Charles Budd ran the post office out of the parlor (similar to a living room) of his house. He held this position until his death in 1896. His wife, Deborah Budd, then faithfully served as postmaster until the post office closed in 1902. Did you know? Step into the foundation outline. The size of the Budd House is typical for a 19th century middle-class house. How many rooms of your home would fit in the footprint of the Budd’s entire house? In the 19th century, rural community members picked up their mail once a week at post offices like Budd’s. These post offices were closed with the United States Postal Service’s transition to “rural delivery”—the nationwide delivery of mail directly to everyone’s doorstep. We still enjoy this service over 100 years later. In the 19th century, voluminous mail-order catalogues by companies like Sears & Roebuck and Montgomery Ward sold everything from clothing to home and farm supplies to buyers across the nation. Packages took days or weeks to arrive, and customers would have eagerly checked with postmasters to see if their order had been delivered. This excitement and anticipation are reflected in the musical number “The Wells Fargo Wagon” in the Broadway musical The Music Man set in 1912 Iowa. A free walking tour brochure, Archaeology in the Park, is available on the main floor of the Old Mill. Upper Treman. Robert H. Treman State Park, Enfield, Tompkins County, Finger Lakes Region, New York State.

As we stood by the foundation, we met another couple. The woman shared her own story of recovery, a tale of resilience that resonated deeply with us. She had fallen and suffered a spinal injury, becoming paralyzed from the neck down, while traveling. Thanks to surgery and rehabilitation, she regained full mobility. There was a moment of understanding and connection between us. We offered to take a photo of them, and they returned the favor, capturing the two of us—Pam leaning lightly on her cane, smiling, surrounded by trees whose leaves were beginning to fall. That picture, one of my favorites from the day, symbolizes not just Pam’s strength but also the support and shared experiences that come with recovery.

We are taking a walk through upper Treman Park during Pam’s recovery from hip replacement. This was taken by a couple we met.

The park offered us a space for reflection and a sense of continuity. The trees, some towering over us with roots gripping the earth, had seen many seasons of change, and now they watched over us as we walked beneath them. In the clearing where picnic tables stood, we sat for a while, simply absorbing the moment. The afternoon light filtered through the branches, casting long shadows on the grass.

One of the final photos I took that day captures the creek from another angle. The water, calm and clear, reflects the yellow hues of the trees, while the rocks and roots along the bank seem frozen in time. It’s a peaceful image, one that reminds me of the quiet strength that Pam has shown throughout her recovery.

Here Fish Creek, a tributary of Enfield Creek joins the flow just below the pavilion of Upper Treman.

We left the park that day feeling both uplifted and grounded, the layers of history and personal resilience blending seamlessly into the natural landscape. Upper Robert H. Treman had become had become a part of Pam’s recovery story, a testament to the healing power of both nature and community.

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Exploring Rincon Peak: Hiking Adventures in Arizona

As we stood atop Rincon Peak, the sky darkened with the approach of a sudden thunderstorm. Below us, the San Pedro River valley sprawled, with the Mae West Peaks to the left and the legendary Dragoon Mountains straight ahead. This photograph captures that exhilarating moment—standing on the summit with the world at our feet and the wild Arizona sky closing in. Curious about how we got there and our race against nature’s fury? Join me on the blog to delve into the full adventure and explore more stunning images from the heart of the Rincon Wilderness.

MichaelStephenWills7 Comments

The Rincons are one of 42 Sky Island mountains isolated from each other due to gradual warming and drying climate changes since the last ice age, 10,000 years ago. While this marvelous environment of oak and pine forests is accessible only on foot and with significant effort, it is visible from every point of the Tucson valley, home to a million inhabitants.

The name ‘Rincon,’ Spanish for ‘corner,’ reflects the mountains’ shape as they enclose a space on the west and northwest. This area, formerly used for ranching, is now being developed for tract housing. In contrast, the mountains themselves are preserved as wilderness, with parts designated within the Saguaro National Park and the Coronado National Forest.

In the past 51 years, I have been lucky enough to visit the Rincon Wilderness interior four times, shouldering different style backpacks onto the mountain and walking in different boots. My first trip was during college in the 1970s, when a party of six of us left from the end of Speedway, heading up the Douglas Springs trail. The climb was an exercise in desert survival that several friendships did not survive, replaced by new friends met on Mica Mountain. I have no photographs from that experience, only memories and the backpack.

Decades later, reconnecting with Arizona in 2004—thirty-one years after that first experience—I took no chances. This time, my attempt on Rincon Peak was a success. I reduced risk and effort, though not eliminating them, by hiring a guide for the four-day trip. We reached Rincon Peak via the Turkey Creek Trail out of Happy Valley, climbing a mountain buttress with views that widened and lengthened with every step.

Capturing these moments, I took several photographs during that experience. Two years later I added a landscape of the peak at sunset.

Along the Turkey Creek trail, Sego Lilies bloomed among a stricken oak and drying grasses, offering a vivid glimpse into the region’s delicate ecosystem. It is the winter rains that trigger such a bloom.

Sego Lilies -- CLICK ME!!!!

Enthralled by their beauty, we paused while I unpacked my gear to photograph the Sego Lilies growing along the trail.

Sego Lilies -- CLICK ME!!!!
Sego Lilies -- CLICK ME!!!!

When we reached Deer Head Spring at the top of Turkey Creek Trail on April 27, 2004, it was a moist spot with no accessible water. With only about a gallon of water each remaining, we pressed ahead to Heartbreak Ridge and climbed into Happy Valley Saddle, where, thankfully, the creek—though low and full of algae—was usable. It was here that I caught my first glimpses of Rincon Peak, looking across the aptly named Heartbreak Ridge and Happy Valley Saddle.

Distant View of Rincon Peak-- CLICK ME!!!!
Telephoto view of Rincon Peak -- CLICK ME!!!!

From Rincon Peak, the view to the south was breathtaking. The white rocks at the lower right formed the Valley of the Moon wall. Below lay the San Pedro River valley, with the Mae West Peaks at the left margin and the Dragoon Mountains with Cochise Stronghold at the center. I took this photograph around 12:30 PM on April 28, 2004, just as a thunderstorm was approaching.

View from Rincon Peak -- CLICK ME!!!!

Rotating the camera to the south-southwest, the view stretched over the Valley of the Moon to the eastern Tucson Valley and the Sky Islands of the Whetstone Mountains (Apache Peak), with the Santa Ritas behind them. In this vast landscape, the works of man are overpowered by sky, rock, and distance.

View from Rincon Peak -- CLICK ME!!!!

We made a hasty departure ahead of the thunderstorm. Attempting the peak that day had been a touch-and-go decision, but we reached the summit with moments to spare.

On the morning of April 29, 2004, the day after reaching Rincon Peak, I set up my tripod near our Happy Valley Saddle camp. In the serene early morning sunlight, I captured images of Rincon Peak, reflecting on the previous day’s ascent.

Rincon Peak from Happy Valley Saddle, dawn -- CLICK ME!!!!

On the day we descended to the X9 Ranch via the Rincon Creek trail, we were granted a unique opportunity. My guide’s grandfather had a homestead at the X9, and his access to the trailhead through private lands opened this ro ute for us. That evening, I took a photograph of the sunset on Rincon Peak from the X9 Ranch, looking east from the ‘Rincon’—the corner formed by the massifs of Rincon Peak, Mica Mountain, and Tanque Verde Ridge.

The X9 ranch sits in the Rincon (spanish for corner) made by the massifs Rincon Peak, Mica Mountain and Tanque Verde ridge.

Two years later, on the evening of November 2, 2006, I climbed the Tanque Verde trail in Saguaro National Park East for about 30 minutes to reach a vantage point of Rincon Peak. Intending to capture the peak bathed in golden light, I waited until just before the sun set behind the Tucson Mountain. Afterwards, I raced the sun hiked back to the car. In my hurry, I tripped on a stepped turn and dove headfirst into a large prickly pear cactus. It was a very painful experience. Large spines pierced my face, while tiny, pesky spines covered my chest and back. The large spines, not being barbed, came out easily, but I needed to visit a physician to remove the rest.

Click me for a framed version of this photograph
Rincon Peak from the X9 Ranch-- CLICK ME!!!!

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A Dance of Light and Sand in Antelope Canyon

Antelope Canyon, a sacred space in the Navajo Nation, reveals the dance of light and sand within its ancient walls. The interplay of erosion and transformation highlights beauty in impermanence, emphasizing patience and reverence for nature’s ever-changing essence.

MichaelStephenWills36 Comments

Enveloped by shadows and light in the stillness of Antelope Canyon the air carries silence—vast and ancient—interrupted only by the whispers of grains shifting under unseen currents. Here the red rock of the northwestern corner of the Navajo Nation was pulverized into sand by the action of wind, water, sun, and cold. The walls, carved by patient time, cradle the moment as if holding a sacred breath.

Antelope Canyon is in the Navajo Nation near Page, Coconino County, Arizona

Antelope Canyon, timeless and transient, has summoned me to witness something unique—a dance between light and matter. The delicate, insistent sand flows like water from a carved bench, shaping the scene with quiet power. It tumbles as if alive, forming ephemeral cascades, revealing that erosion is not destruction but transformation. Each grain a story—a fragment of the ages, polished smooth by untold moments of pressure and release.

A Slot of Shadows and Light


I wait in the dry darkness of upper Antelope Canyon for the perfect moment to capture the spirit of the place. Light penetrates the narrow slot above, a thin beam spilling through the crevice, drawn by something deep below. In this confined space, sunlight becomes an entity. It touches the red sand and animates the space, revealing stone textures and the fleeting movement of sand in freefall.

Antelope Canyon is in the Navajo Nation near Page, Coconino County, Arizona

The play between dark and light reminds me that beauty often lies in contrast. The polished walls that surround me were once jagged, raw stone. They have become smooth under nature’s relentless touch—proof that endurance shapes elegance. The canyon’s walls, though fixed in place, seem to sigh as the sand slips over them, embodying a paradox of permanence and impermanence.

An Elemental Meditation


I am a visitor as well as part of a conversation held in languages older than words—spoken by rock, sand, shadow, and light. I sense the ancient stories etched into the stone and carried within each grain that spills like an hourglass. Here, nothing is wasted; everything contributes to a continuous process of becoming. The sand, which once formed the walls, now shapes the canyon floor, each element recycling into the next chapter of this landscape’s life.

Antelope Canyon is in the Navajo Nation near Page, Coconino County, Arizona

The act of waiting for a right moment teaches me that patience is both passive and an active engagement with time. I am reminded that what I witness will never be exactly the same again. Even though the canyon may stand for millennia, each second contains a uniqueness. The sand cascading before my eyes will settle, be disturbed, and flow again—but never in quite the same way.

Capturing the Spirit of Place


I set the camera on a rented tripod, knowing photography is an imperfect attempt to hold onto what cannot be possessed. This place does not belong to me—it belongs to itself, shaped by forces far greater than any human hand. My role is not to own the scene but to honor it, to acknowledge its fleeting magnificence by framing a moment within the lens.

The shutter clicks, the cascade of sand becomes immortalized held in that instant. Yet I know that the photograph, while capturing the image, will not fully encompass the spirit of what I have experienced. This place is a meditation, a reminder that life itself flows in ways we cannot control. Like the red sand, we are carried by forces—sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce—shaping and reshaping us through time.

As I gaze at the sand, a quiet sense of reverence flows through me. This moment, like the grains tumbling in front of me, is already slipping into the past. But in its passing, it leaves behind something intangible yet enduring—a memory of beauty found not in permanence but in change.

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Click this link for another Arizona post, “A Dry Piece of Paradise.”

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Discovering Nature’s Secrets: A Grandfather’s Tale at Comstock Creek

Join me on a heartwarming adventure at Comstock Creek with my grandchildren, Sam and Rory, as we explore the wonders of nature, create lasting memories, and celebrate the legacy of the Comstock family.

MichaelStephenWills2 Comments

The morning sun filtered through the lush canopy of trees as I guided my grandchildren, down the familiar path towards Comstock Creek of the Cayuga Nature Center. The children were familiar with the creek from time spent in summer camp. This little haven of nature is a favorite spot of theirs. Comstock Creek, named after the Comstock family, stands as a testament to their significant contributions to entomology and nature education. John Henry Comstock, a renowned entomologist, and his wife, Anna Botsford Comstock, a pioneering figure in nature study, left an indelible mark on the Ithaca area and beyond. Their legacy lives on, not just in the academic world, but in these very waters where my grandchildren now play.

As we reached the creek, the children wasted no time kicking off their shoes and wading into the cool, shallow water. My grandson, in his red shirt, and granddaugter, in her green one, both radiated joy and curiosity. The sunlight danced on the water’s surface, casting shimmering reflections that seemed to animate the entire scene.

The youngest was the first to discover a small pool where the water had carved out a deeper spot. “Look, Grandpa!” he exclaimed, his voice full of excitement. He crouched down, peering intently at the tiny fish darting around his feet. His sister joined him, her initial apprehension giving way to a wide-eyed fascination as she watched the underwater ballet.

Their time was spent turning over rocks to find little aquatic creatures and marveling at the delicate balance of nature. The children’s laughter echoed through the woods, blending with the sounds of rustling leaves and the gentle babble of the creek. Their sense of wonder reminded me of the Comstocks’ passion for nature, a passion they had so fervently shared with the world.

After a while, we decided to take a break and walked through the meadow past where tall reeds swayed gently in the breeze. He knew of a small, tranquil pond that reflected the sky like a mirror. He leaned the water’s edge,hoping to grab a frog. I stood back, capturing this peaceful moment with my camera, knowing that these images would become treasured memories.

As noon approached, we travelled back to Ithaca for an ice cream treat, promised them as a reward for their adventurous spirit. Their faces lit up with delight as they savored their treats, their expressions reflecting pure contentment.

The day wouldn’t have been complete without a splash in the pool. Back home, grandmother set up the inflatable volleyball net while the kids changed into their swimsuits. The pool became a hub of activity as they splashed around, their laughter blending with the sound of the water.

Reflecting on the day, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. The Comstock family’s dedication to nature education had inspired generations, including my own. Their legacy was evident not just in the academic institutions of Ithaca, but in the simple, joyous exploration of nature that I shared with my grandchildren. I hope this day at Comstock Creek will be remembered fondly, a chapter in our family’s ongoing story of discovery and connection with the natural world.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Our Day at Cayuga Nature Center and Finger Lakes Beekeepers Club Learning Apiary

Join us on a captivating adventure at the Cayuga Nature Center’s Treetops Treehouse and the Finger Lakes Beekeepers Club Learning Apiary. Discover the wonders of the forest canopy, marvel at the intricate world of honeybees, and meet a tiny land snail that sparked the curiosity of two young explorers. Dive into a day filled with discovery, learning, and unforgettable moments in nature.

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The morning air was crisp and filled with the promise of adventure as we set off for the Cayuga Nature Center, a hidden gem nestled in the heart of Ithaca. The destination: the Treetops Treehouse, a magical structure that promised an immersive experience in nature for me, my sister Diane and two grandsons, Sam and Rory.

As we approached the treehouse, the boys’ excitement was palpable. The Treetops Treehouse is a marvel of rustic architecture, a multi-level structure that blends seamlessly with the surrounding forest. It was designed to give visitors a bird’s-eye view of the forest canopy, allowing for a unique perspective on the local flora and fauna.

Exploring the Treetops

Upon arrival, we were greeted by the gentle rustle of leaves and the chorus of bird songs. The boys raced ahead, eager to explore the winding pathways and hidden nooks of the treehouse. The structure is constructed entirely of wood, with sturdy railings and wide platforms that offer panoramic views of the forest.

Capturing the moment inside Treetops

We were particularly fascinated by the various interpretive signs that explained the local ecosystem. We learned about the different species of trees, the birds that nested in the canopy, and the small mammals that scurried along the forest floor. It was a delight to sparked their curiosity of the natural world.

Discovering a Land Snail

Meadow Trail

Afterwards, walking along a meadow trail, Rory’s keen eyes spotted something unusual on the ground. Nestled among the fallen leaves was a small land snail, its delicate shell glistening in the dappled sunlight. The boys and I gathered around to observe this tiny marvel of nature.

The snail appeared to be from the genus Triodopsis or Neohelix, possibly Triodopsis albolabris or Neohelix albolabris, known for their white-lipped shells. These snails are common in moist, forested environments and play a crucial role in the ecosystem as decomposers. They feed on decaying plant material, helping to recycle nutrients back into the soil.

The Learning Apiary

Further along the meadow trail, we made our way to the Finger Lakes Beekeepers Club Learning Apiary. The apiary is a place of learning and discovery, where visitors can gain insight into the fascinating world of honeybees and beekeeping.

The apiary is composed of several beehives, each carefully maintained by members of the Beekeepers Club. We were careful to keep our distance from the electrified fence, protection against marauding bears and humans.

“ever-busy bees”

Wildflowers in Bloom

Narrow Leaved Sundrops

As we walked back from the apiary, the trail was lined with a vibrant display of wildflowers. The late spring bloom painted the landscape with splashes of color, from the golden yellows of evening primrose to the delicate whites of daisies.

Large Yellow Loosestrife

One particular cluster of bright yellow flowers caught our attention. It was the Lysimachia punctata, commonly known as yellow loosestrife. These star-shaped flowers grow in dense clusters and are a favorite among pollinators. The boys marveled at the intricate patterns and vibrant colors, adding another layer of wonder to our day.

Reflections on a Memorable Day

As the day drew to a close, we found a quiet spot to sit and reflect on our adventures. The boys were bubbling with stories to tell their parents—of the towering treehouse, the tiny snail, the bustling beehives, and the fields of wildflowers. It was a day filled with discovery and learning, one that brought us closer to nature and to each other.

The Cayuga Nature Center and the Finger Lakes Beekeepers Club Learning Apiary provided a perfect setting for an outing that was both educational and exhilarating. The experiences we shared will undoubtedly leave a lasting impression on Sam and Rory, nurturing their love for the natural world and the myriad forms of life that inhabit it.

Meadow View

As we packed up and headed home, the boys already began planning our next adventure. The allure of the natural world, with its endless mysteries and wonders, had woven its spell, and we were eager to explore more of what it had to offer.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Discovering the Beauty of White Bluebells: An Exploration of Hyacinthoides non-scripta (alba)

Discover the enchanting white bluebells blooming around our home! Explore their natural history, ethereal beauty, and fascinating folklore. Uncover the wonders of Hyacinthoides non-scripta (alba) in our latest blog post.

MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

The surprise of finding white bluebells blooming around our home this spring was nothing short of magical. Known scientifically as Hyacinthoides non-scripta (alba), these delicate flowers add a touch of elegance and tranquility to our garden. As I delved into the history, etymology, and folklore of these enchanting blooms, I discovered a world rich in cultural significance and natural wonder.

Bluebell Natural History

White bluebells, a variant of the common bluebell, belong to the Asparagaceae family. Native to the woodlands of Western Europe, these perennials are renowned for their striking appearance and pleasant fragrance. The white bluebell, though less common than its blue counterpart, is equally captivating with its pure white, bell-shaped flowers that hang gracefully from slender stems.

Hyacinthoides non-scripta thrives in shady, moist environments, often forming dense carpets that transform forest floors into a sea of blossoms in spring. These plants are well-adapted to their woodland habitats, where they bloom before the canopy closes, taking advantage of the early spring light.

White Bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta (alba)) growing around our home, May 2024

Etymology of the Scientific and Common Names

The scientific name “Hyacinthoides” is derived from the Greek word “hyakinthos,” referring to the mythological youth Hyacinthus, who was transformed into a flower. “Non-scripta” means “unmarked” or “not written,” distinguishing it from the classical hyacinth described by ancient authors. This epithet underscores the plant’s unique identity in the botanical world.

The common name “bluebell” comes from the flower’s resemblance to small bells and its predominant blue color. The “white” prefix simply describes this particular variety’s color, adding to its distinction.

White Bluebells in Folklore and History

Bluebells, including their white variants, are steeped in folklore and myth. In England, bluebells are often associated with fairy enchantments and woodland magic. Folklore suggests that bluebells ring to summon fairies, and to disturb a bluebell patch was to risk falling under a fairy spell. The white bluebells, with their ethereal appearance, add an extra layer of mystique to these tales.

Historically, bluebells were used for practical purposes as well. The sticky sap from the bulbs was employed to bind pages in books and to glue feathers onto arrows. However, it’s important to note that all parts of the plant are toxic if ingested, a fact that has also contributed to its aura of cautionary folklore.

The Surprise and Wonder of White Bluebells

Discovering white bluebells around our home has been a source of immense joy. These flowers, with their serene beauty and historical significance, connect us to the past and the natural world in a profound way. The surprise of seeing them bloom each spring reminds us of nature’s unpredictability and generosity.

Their presence in our garden brings a sense of peace and wonder, inviting us to pause and appreciate the small miracles that surround us. The delicate white bells, swaying gently in the breeze, create a visual symphony that enchants the senses and uplifts the spirit.

White bluebells serve as a testament to the rich tapestry of life that thrives in our gardens, often unnoticed. They remind us to look closely, to explore, and to cherish the natural beauty that graces our lives. As we continue to nurture our garden, the white bluebells stand as a symbol of purity, resilience, and the timeless charm of nature’s wonders.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Reflections on Hawkweed: A Meditative Journey Along Buttermilk Creek

Discover the enchanting hawkweed along Buttermilk Creek’s path. Explore its vibrant yellow blooms, unique reproduction, and rich folklore in our latest nature essay. Dive into the captivating world of this resilient wildflower!

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments


Walking along the path that climbs from the lower park into the gorge of Buttermilk Creek, I am drawn to the vibrant splash of yellow that punctuates the verdant green and shale, limestone of the path. Here I encounter the humble yet striking hawkweed (Hieracium spp.). These yellow flowers, seemingly modest in their simplicity, invite me into a deeper contemplation of nature’s intricacies.

A Closer Look

The hawkweed’s leaves form a basal rosette, their slightly toothed edges and hairy surface distinguishing them from other woodland plants. The leaves are a deep green, the tiny hairs catching the sunlight, giving them a silvery sheen. From this rosette emerges an erect stem, slender and bristling with fine hairs, reaching upwards to support the flower heads. The stems stand tall, bearing clusters of small, dandelion-like flowers that open into a cheerful yellow bloom.

These Hawkweed grow profusely along the climb along Buttermilk Creek and into the gorge. Buttermilk Falls Park, Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York State. Finger Lakes Region

Each flower head consists of numerous tiny florets, collectively forming a radiant disc. The petals are intricately fringed, almost feathery, a delicate contrast to the sturdy stem that holds them aloft. This contrast is a reminder of the balance in nature—strength and fragility coexisting in harmony.

Relationship and Reproduction

Hawkweeds belong to the Asteraceae family, sharing familial ties with daisies and dandelions. Despite their visual similarity to dandelions, hawkweeds possess unique reproductive strategies. They are known for their ability to reproduce asexually through a process called apomixis. This means that the seeds produced by hawkweed are genetically identical to the parent plant. In a grouping of hawkweeds, what appears to be a diverse collection of individuals may, in fact, be clones of a single genetic ancestor.

This method of reproduction ensures the rapid spread and establishment of hawkweed populations, a survival strategy that has both fascinated and frustrated botanists and gardeners alike. While this cloning capability allows hawkweeds to thrive in various environments, it also poses a challenge for those trying to control their spread.

Etymology and Origins

The genus name “Hieracium” is derived from the Greek word “hierax,” meaning hawk. According to ancient lore, hawks were believed to consume the sap of this plant to sharpen their vision. This mythological connection to hawks underscores the plant’s perceived potency and its storied place in folklore.

Hawkweed is not native to the Finger Lakes region but was introduced from Europe. Despite its non-native status, it has adapted well to the local environment, often found in meadows, along roadsides, and within open woodlands. Its ability to colonize disturbed areas has enabled it to become a common sight across the landscape.

Historical Uses and Lore

Throughout history, hawkweed has been used for various medicinal purposes. Traditional herbalists valued it for its purported benefits in treating respiratory ailments, digestive issues, and skin conditions. The plant was often brewed into teas or concoctions believed to have diuretic and astringent properties. Some cultures also used hawkweed as a charm against evil spirits, further embedding it in the tapestry of folklore and superstition.

In medieval times, hawkweed was sometimes used in love potions and to enhance psychic abilities. Its association with hawks and keen vision lent itself to these mystical uses, as people sought to harness the plant’s reputed powers for their own needs.

A Contemplative Pause

As I stand on the path, surrounded by the quiet beauty of Buttermilk Creek, I reflect on the hawkweed before me. This unassuming plant, with its bright flowers and tenacious growth, embodies resilience and adaptability. It thrives in the cracks and crevices of the rocky soil, a testament to nature’s relentless drive to flourish even in the most challenging conditions.

The hawkweed’s ability to clone itself, creating vast networks of genetically identical plants, speaks to the interconnectedness of life. Each plant is a reflection of its predecessors, a living link in the chain of existence. This genetic continuity is a reminder of the ways in which life persists and propagates, ensuring survival through the ages.

I found this growing along the South Rim Trail of Taughannock Falls Park during a Fathers Day Walk, June 16, 2024.Picris hieracioides, or hawkweed oxtongue, is a species of flowering plant in the family Asteraceae. Invasive Species Hawkweed Oxtongue is considered an invasive species in North America because it has the ability to outcompete native plants, reduce biodiversity, and alter ecosystems. The plant spreads rapidly and can form dense monocultures, making it difficult for other plants to grow. Additionally, Hawkweed Oxtongue produces a chemical that inhibits the growth of other plants, further contributing to its invasive nature. Control and Management The control and management of Hawkweed Oxtongue can be challenging. The plant has a deep taproot that makes it difficult to remove by hand, and it can regrow from small root fragments left in the soil. Herbicides can be effective in controlling the plant, but they can also harm other plants in the area. The best approach to managing Hawkweed Oxtongue is to prevent its spread by avoiding the movement of soil or plant material that may contain seeds or root fragments. Uses Despite its invasive nature, Hawkweed Oxtongue has some traditional medicinal uses. The plant contains compounds that have been used to treat digestive problems, skin conditions, and respiratory issues. However, the use of this plant for medicinal purposes is not recommended due to the potential for toxicity. In conclusion, Hawkweed Oxtongue is an invasive species that has the potential to cause significant ecological damage. It is important to prevent the spread of this plant and to take measures to control its growth where it has already become established. While it has some traditional medicinal uses, the potential for toxicity means that it should not be used for this purpose. Text taken from http://www.wildflowerweb.co.uk/plant/2453/hawkweed-oxtongue

In the stillness of the gorge, I find a sense of peace and connection. The hawkweed, with its storied past and practical resilience, offers a lesson in simplicity and strength. It reminds me that beauty often lies in the small, overlooked details of the natural world, and that every plant, every flower, has a story worth discovering.

As I continue my journey along Buttermilk Creek, the hawkweed’s bright blooms remain a vivid memory, a symbol of the enduring spirit of nature.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

The Wonder of Penstemon hirsutus in Treman Gorge

Discover the enchanting Hairy Beardtongue nestled in Treman Gorge. Learn about its striking lavender blooms, unique adaptations, and fascinating history in our latest nature exploration. Dive into the beauty of Penstemon hirsutus!

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On a sunny day at the end of May 2024, I embarked on one of my cherished walks through Robert H. Treman Park, located in the heart of Ithaca, New York. The park, with its stunning gorges and waterfalls, never ceases to amaze me with its natural beauty and diverse plant life. This time, my exploration led me to a delightful discovery along the south-facing walls of Treman Gorge: Penstemon hirsutus, commonly known as the Hairy Beardtongue.

As I navigated the rocky terrain, my attention was caught by a cluster of delicate, tubular flowers emerging from the crevices of the gorge walls. Their soft lavender hues stood out against the rugged backdrop of moss-covered rocks and shale. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the characteristic hairy stems and leaves, confirming that I had indeed found Penstemon hirsutus.

Penstemon hirsutus is a perennial herbaceous plant native to eastern North America. It typically reaches a height of 1 to 3 feet, with erect stems covered in fine hairs. The leaves are lanceolate, arranged oppositely along the stem, and also bear a slight fuzziness. The flowers, which bloom from late spring to early summer, are tubular and two-lipped, resembling a small beard—a feature that likely inspired the common name “Beardtongue.” Each flower is about 1 to 1.5 inches long, with a delicate lavender color that fades to white at the throat.

The genus name “Penstemon” is derived from the Greek words “pente,” meaning five, and “stemon,” meaning stamen, referring to the plant’s five stamens—four fertile and one sterile, the latter often appearing as a small, hairy tongue within the flower. The species name “hirsutus” comes from Latin, meaning hairy, a nod to the plant’s hirsute stems and leaves.

The Hairy Beardtongue thrives in well-drained soils and can often be found in rocky, open woodlands, meadows, and along cliffs—exactly the kind of environment provided by Treman Gorge. This plant is well-adapted to the microhabitats created by the gorge’s south-facing walls, where sunlight and moisture create ideal growing conditions. The rock walls not only offer physical support but also help retain heat and moisture, creating a microclimate that supports a variety of plant species.

Historically, Penstemon hirsutus and its relatives have been valued for their ornamental beauty and ecological benefits. The flowers attract a variety of pollinators, including bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds, making them an important component of the local ecosystem. Native Americans also recognized the medicinal properties of some Penstemon species, using them to treat ailments such as toothaches, sore throats, and respiratory issues.

In recent times, gardeners and horticulturists have come to appreciate Penstemon hirsutus for its hardiness and low maintenance requirements. It is often used in native plant gardens, rock gardens, and naturalized areas to add a touch of wild beauty. The plant’s ability to thrive in poor soils and its resistance to deer browsing make it a valuable addition to any garden aiming to support local wildlife and biodiversity.

Finding the Hairy Beardtongue in Treman Gorge was a moment of pure joy and wonder. It reminded me of the resilience and adaptability of nature, as this delicate yet sturdy plant has carved out a niche for itself in the rocky walls of the gorge. The sight of its soft lavender blooms swaying gently in the breeze was a testament to the beauty and tenacity of life in even the most rugged environments.

As I continued my hike, I felt a renewed sense of connection to the natural world. The discovery of Penstemon hirsutus was not just a botanical find but a reminder of the intricate and interconnected web of life that thrives in Treman Gorge. Each plant, each flower, has a story to tell—a story of survival, adaptation, and beauty that enriches our understanding of the natural world and our place within it.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

The Delight of Woodruff: An Exploration of Galium odoratum

Discover the enchanting woodruff growing around our home! Explore its natural history, delightful fragrance, and fascinating role in folklore and history. Uncover the wonders of this perennial plant in our latest blog post.

MichaelStephenWills13 Comments

As spring breathes new life into our surroundings, the delight of identifying the plants that grow around our home is a joy like no other. This year, I was thrilled to discover that the delicate and fragrant woodruff (Galium odoratum) has been gracing our garden. Known for its charming clusters of white flowers and vibrant green leaves, woodruff brings both aesthetic beauty and a rich historical tapestry to our home.

Natural History of Woodruff

Woodruff, scientifically known as Galium odoratum, is a perennial plant native to Europe, North Africa, and parts of Asia. It thrives in shady, woodland environments, often forming dense mats that carpet the forest floor. The plant typically blooms in late spring to early summer, producing tiny white flowers that contrast beautifully with its whorls of bright green leaves.

Galium odoratum is a member of the Rubiaceae family, which also includes coffee and gardenias. Its ability to spread quickly through its creeping rhizomes makes it an excellent ground cover. In addition to its visual appeal, woodruff is known for its sweet scent, which intensifies when the plant is dried. This fragrance is due to the presence of coumarin, a natural compound that also contributes to its medicinal properties.

This woodruff (Galium odoratum) grows around our home.

Etymology of the Scientific and Common Names

The scientific name Galium odoratum provides insights into the plant’s characteristics. “Galium” is derived from the Greek word “gala,” meaning milk. This refers to the plant’s historical use in curdling milk. “Odoratum,” on the other hand, highlights the plant’s pleasant aroma.

The common name “woodruff” has an interesting origin as well. The word “wood” refers to the plant’s typical habitat in wooded areas, while “ruff” is thought to be derived from the Old English “rūwe,” meaning rough or hairy, describing the texture of the plant’s leaves and stems.

Woodruff in Folklore and History

Woodruff has a storied past, steeped in folklore and history. In medieval Europe, it was used for its aromatic properties to freshen up linens and as a strewing herb to mask odors in homes and churches. Its sweet scent was believed to ward off evil spirits and bring good fortune, making it a popular choice for wreaths and garlands during festivals and celebrations.

The plant also played a role in traditional medicine. Woodruff was used to treat various ailments, including liver and gallbladder issues, and as a mild sedative. Its medicinal use is attributed to the coumarin content, which has anticoagulant and anti-inflammatory properties. However, it’s worth noting that high doses of coumarin can be toxic, so its medicinal use has largely fallen out of favor in modern times.

In Germany, woodruff is famously associated with May Wine, a traditional beverage enjoyed during spring festivals. The plant is infused into white wine, imparting its unique flavor and aroma. This custom dates back centuries and is still practiced today, symbolizing the arrival of spring and the renewal of life.

This woodruff (Galium odoratum) grows around our home.

The Surprise and Wonder of Woodruff

Discovering woodruff around our home has been a source of wonder and delight. Its presence connects us to the rich tapestry of nature and history, reminding us of the timeless beauty and utility of the plants that surround us. As I watch the delicate flowers sway gently in the breeze, I am filled with a sense of gratitude for the surprises that nature continually offers.

Woodruff’s modest appearance belies its profound impact on the landscape and our lives. It serves as a reminder that even the smallest plants can hold significant historical, cultural, and medicinal value. As we continue to explore and appreciate the natural world around us, the humble woodruff stands as a testament to the enduring connection between humanity and nature.

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