Hepatica from April 2007
Back in 2007 I used a 100 mm Canon Macro lens on a Kodak slr along with a Sony DSC-F828 variable lens for this mix of macro and habitat captures presented as a gallery so you can flip back and forth among the larger images. Click any image to bring up a larger version.
Former farm land
Sandbank Road climbs from the valley of Ithaca city to the rural peneplain on the way to Buttermilk Falls, we passed the sign for this preserve many times, today we explored this place, new to us. The trail descends to Lick Creek canyon.
We stopped to enjoy the open space of a powerline clear cut where the trail intersects the creek bed. Here we turned, following the water.
Off trail to the creek bed.
Spring Fed Pond
Reputedly, the life of a famous Native American orator, had its beginning on a spring fed pond we know today as Jennings Pond.
We briefly visited Jennings Pond in yesterday’s post, that day I also captured the 1932 New York State Department of Education historical sign with attribution of Chief Logan’s birth to this place and some of his most famous and notable words, “I appeal to white men to say, ‘If hungry Chief Logan gave no meat. If cold and naked, he clothed me not.”
Heading photograph: Purple Asters found along Jennings Pond by Michael Stephen Wills
Copyright 2020 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Buttermilk Falls Source
Tom Knight, “has been delighting children and their grown-ups with his original, interactive, musical puppet show since 1988,” in 2018 Pam, myself and the grandchildren were lucky enough to catch his act at Cornell University Johnson Museum. His CD, “Purple Pumpkin Pie” is in the car and, pre-Covid, I’d play it in the car while riding with the grandchildren.
“Jennings Pond,” a song on that CD, mentions a local town, Danby. Until last week I did not think twice about it. Driving into Ithaca, heading north on Route 13, there’s a compelling view down a valley. I’ve taken exploratory drives down there on the West Danby-Spencer road, seeing what there is to see. A week ago last Sunday, turning left at West Danby, up the hill forming the east valley wall, on Station Road, then Bald Hill Road, passing by the Finger Lakes Trail through Danby State Forest, on the right I spied a compelling open area, a pond, and this sign….
I proceeded onto a footbridge over the pond outlet, the source for Buttermilk Creek,…….
…and continued to a footpath, southeast and away from the pond. Toward the Finger Lakes Trail? I left this adventure for another day.
Copyright 2020 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Summer View with Clouds
Travel to Fillmore Glen from our former home included a climb to an overlook of the Fall Creek valley, seen here on a summer afternoon in four parts.
Three exposures using a 50 mm Canon lens on a Kodak dslr. A tripod allowed me good orientation and, later, to use the Photoshop photoMerge feature to combine exposures into a panorama. At that time, I was limited to the 50 mm lens.
Copyright 2020 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
A Waterfall with this unusual name.
The gorge takes a turn here to face the west, where I caught the late afternoon sun lowering in these three shots in close sequence.
Copyright 2020 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Facing the sun
I close this walk at the turnaround point, the high meadow, with a fireworks display of daisies.
Copyright 2020 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
“We Had A Great Ski — Tob”
New since I was last here, this bench, made from local “blue” limestone dedicated to the memory of cross country skiing.
Here are sounds you may experience while sitting here on a summer afternoon.
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High Meadow
After birdsong, open spaces are an unexpected wonders of these walks. Nowhere listed on the map, and on private lands adjoining the forest, this meadow comes upon the hiker’s consciousness gradually as the trail approaches.
I have seen those gigantic seed heads here and there and never taken the time to research and identification. Do you recognize it?
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Diamond Strands
Hammond Hills walks are a solo affair for me. Pam joined in days past, summer and winter, and fell out of love with the lack of flowing water and bugs. The pleasures of the place, for me, are the miles and miles of varied trails, the sounds among silences, unexpected vistas from hilltops.
The trails themselves are unlovely, beaten down by mountain bike tires or grooved by skis. On the hills I am always on alert, listening for the sounds of bodies hurtling down. The bureaucrats called this “mixed use.” It could be worse, motors are excluded. Today there were two bikers.
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A sprinkling of wild rose.
The song of the Hermit Thrush, a sound of diamond strands, always stops me. Here are two 30 seconds clips.
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