Tag: New York State

Catherine A. and John Mattison

Quaker Settlement Series 1

Discover the solemn beauty of Quaker Settlement Cemetery through my lens, where intricate slate headstones whisper tales of early settlers, intertwining family lore with the artistry of marble willows

MichaelStephenWills16 Comments
Taken from Perry City Road, NYS Route 142 on an early November afternoon.

On my way to Taughannock Falls, November 6, 2019 (see my post “Cuteness Break”, the first of that series) I explored a different route and came up this cemetery set among an appealing pine grove.

Click photograph for a larger view. To do this from WordPress Reader, you need to first click the title of this post to open a new page.
A view of the Quaker Settlement Cemetery, taken from Jacksonville Road, NYS Route 143, on an early November afternoon.

Located in the town of Ulysses, New York there is a Quaker Settlement church a few feet further west on Perry City Road. I have Quaker ancestors, so took the opportunity to peruse the family names. The stones were unusually beautiful and touching, mostly local slate, some with intricate carvings.

Here is a headstone for two young people of the same family name. The white marble carved in the form of a willow, from the flowing lines and, knowing how our willows green up springtime, it calls to mind the same youthful greening as appropriate for two young people who lived 22 and 15 years.

Analysis of the dates, given in the following capture, tells the story of an young woman, a baby born 5 months after her death and who followed his aunt 15 years later.

Catherine A. and John Mattison
Catherine A. Mattison Born 1792/1793, Death March 13, 1815. Lived 22 years.
John Mattison, Death December 2, 1831, Born August 15, 1815 (5 months after Catherine’s Death), Lived 15 years, 3 months and 18 days.

I have a great aunt who also died young with a headstone naming her mother and father. Here is the granite headstone of Mary R. Daughter of George & Margarett Wills Died Oct. 3, 1886 Aged 20 years. Saint Mary of Assumption Cemetery, Sweetwater, New Jersey. My grandfather James Edward Wills was 9 years old at his sister Mary’s passing. He must have attended her church service and internment, standing at this spot.

Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Reeds of Resilience: A Tale of Growth and Survival

Discover the hidden world of Phragmites australis, the common reed: a story of resilience, beauty, and ecological significance, told through the eyes of the wetlands.

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

On the southern shore of Cayuga Lake, where waters mirror the ever-changing sky, I found this common reed, Phragmites australis, a plant of unassuming grace yet profound influence. This tale unfolds at the broad boarders of earth and water, a refuge and kingdom to countless beings.

Phragmites australis, a reed both simple and complex, begins its journey as a whisper in the mud. From the soft, fertile earth, it bursts forth into the world, a slender shoot reaching for the heavens. Its growth is steady and assured, fueled by the sun’s embrace and the water’s caress. In time, it stands tall, a sentinel in a sea of green, its feathery plumes, called panicles, wafted by the breeze.

This reed, you see, is a cornerstone of its ecosystem, a master architect, shaping its environment, crafting homes and havens for creatures great and small, in keeping with the genus name “Phragmites.” The Greek word “phragma” translates to “fence” or “hedge”, derived from the verb “phrassein”, meaning “to enclose.” Within that realm tiny creatures find refuge. From dragonflies and damselflies to grasshoppers and beetles are found by careful, patient observers. Insects play essential roles in pollination and nutrient cycling. Birds use the dense vegetation for shelter and foraging, you might find red-winged blackbirds, marsh wrens, and rails among the stems. Frogs, toads, and salamanders find refuge in reedy marshes. They lay their eggs in the waterlogged areas, and their tadpoles thrive amidst the reed stems. Phragmites australis is a giver of life, a source of sustenance and protection for many.

Yet, the tale of Phragmites is also one of struggle and resilience. In lands far from its native soil, it is often seen as an invader, a usurper of territories, spreading with a zeal that can overwhelm native flora and alter habitats. Its spread, unchecked, can lead to monocultures, diminishing biodiversity. But in its essence, Phragmites does not seek conquest but survival, thriving in spaces both gentle and harsh, adapting with an elegance that commands admiration.

As seasons turn, the reed undergoes a transformation, its green turning to gold, then to the brown of the earth from which it sprang. But even in decay, it nurtures life, its fallen stalks a shelter for the small and the silent, its seeds a promise of renewal. And when spring whispers anew, Phragmites rises once more, a cycle unbroken, a circle complete.

In the tale of Phragmites australis, we find a narrative of life itself—growth and decay, beauty and conflict, resilience and adaptation. This common reed, standing tall among the waters of the world, is a testament to the enduring power of nature, a reminder of the intricate tapestries of life that flourish in the quiet corners of our planet.

Click Me for another posting on the Common Reed.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Nesting Chronicles: The Life of A Cayuga Lake Osprey

Imagine you’re soaring with ospreys over Cayuga’s shimmering waters, preparing the nest, embracing the ritual of spring—a majestic cycle of life awaits you.

MichaelStephenWills17 Comments

As the first warm breezes of early spring ruffle the chilled waters at the south end of Cayuga Lake, anticipation rises in me. I am a female Osprey, returning alone from far to the south along the old sky-roads. We do not migrate as a pair; my mate often reaches the nest ahead of me to reclaim the site and begin repairs. Still, this is the place we claim again, season after season.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park. Cayuga Lake in the distance.

On arrival I wheel high above the shoreline, searching for the platform we left to winter. There it stands—the tall sentinel above the lake. He is there, too, calling once as he lifts, and the rim already shows the first fresh sticks of the year. Against the bright sky the nest looks rough-hewn, yet every branch lies to a purpose.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.

As I settled onto the platform, tthe familiar tilt of the timbers and the dry rattle of last year’s sticks steady me. I meticulously inspected our creation, the repository of our hopes and future lineage. My mate and I ferry fresh twigs and weeds, wedging them into the rim and lacing the walls tight against the spring winds.

In due time, beneath the sheltering rim, I laid a small clutch of mottled eggs—the culmination of our bond, the promise of continuity. Through the weeks that follow I keep them warm and dry, turning them with my beak and settling the heat of my breast upon them. My mate does the heavy work of provision—fish after fish to the rail—and stands guard, calling when intruders drift close. Now and then he eases onto the eggs while I feed, but the watching and warming are chiefly mine.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.

The world around us burgeoned with life. The lake’s surface now rippled with the activity of fish – a bounty for our growing family. Days turned into weeks, and our vigilance was rewarded as the first cracks appeared in the eggs. The chicks emerged, delicate yet voracious, their mouths agape for the nourishment we unceasingly provide.

Click Me for another Osprey Post

Thank you Candace E. Cornell of the Cayuga Lake Osprey Network for your helpful advice.

For further information: —–Poole, Alan F. ; 2019, “Ospreys: The Revival of a Global Raptor”; Johns Hopkins University Press —Mackrill, Tim; 2024; “The Osprey”; Bloomsbury Publishing

Enter your email to receive notification of future postings. I will not sell or share your email address.

Tuxedos on Tour: Three Majestic Mergansers

Join the escapade as you witness three majestic Mergansers, donning nature’s finest tuxedos, in a graceful ballet on the springtime stage of Cayuga Lake.

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

As you gaze upon these three fine feathered fellows, all members of the exclusive Common Merganser men’s club, they seem to glide upon the watery stage of Cayuga Lake with all the confidence of Broadway stars on opening night. They are the aquatic equivalent of a sharply dressed barbershop quartet, minus one, in their matching tuxedos, ready to sing the springtime serenade of their species.

The chap at the forefront is Captain Black-Crest, sporting a glossy noggin that shimmers with an inner light, undoubtedly the envy of every duck on the pond. He’s streamlined and debonair, with a white body that’s as crisp as the first snowfall and a dark back that’s as sleek as a shadow in moonlight. If ducks had monocles and top hats, he’d be first in line.

In the middle, there’s Sir Dapper-Diver, a mirror image of his companion, with a neck as white as the driven snow and a dignified black back that gleams like polished onyx in the dappled sunlight. He’s the quiet achiever of the group, poised and ready to make the plunge into the depths below, proving that style need not be sacrificed for substance.

And to the right, meet Admiral Feather-Finesse. His poise on the water suggests a mastery of the waves, a commander of the current. He carries his elegant attire with an air of grace that only comes with a natural pedigree. In synchronized perfection, he and his brethren form a regatta of refinement, a display of nature’s own black-tie affair.

These are male Common Merganser (Mergus merganser) in breeding plumage, characterized the body white with a variable salmon-pink tinge, the head black with an iridescent green gloss, the rump and tail grey, and the wings largely white on the inner half, black on the outer half. Like the other mergansers, these piscivorous ducks have serrated edges to their bills to help them grip their prey, so they are often known as “sawbills”. In addition to fish, they take a wide range of other aquatic prey, such as molluscs, crustaceans, worms, insect larvae, and amphibians; more rarely, small mammals and birds may be taken. As in other birds with the character, the salmon-pink tinge shown variably by males is probably diet-related, obtained from the carotenoid pigments present in some crustaceans and fish. When not diving for food, they are usually seen swimming on the water surface, or resting on rocks in midstream or hidden among riverbank vegetation, or (in winter) on the edge of floating ice.

Together, these three Common Mergansers (Mergus merganser) in their prime are a trifecta of elegance, a testament to the timeless beauty found in nature’s simplicity. They paddle forth with purpose, their matching plumage a striking contrast to the rippling blues and grays of the water, a parade of poise and plumage that delights the observant eye.

So, dear reader, as you observe this photo, take a moment to appreciate the charming uniformity and the subtle quirks that make each bird, despite their shared wardrobe, uniquely magnificent. It’s a snapshot of life at its most graceful, a picture worth far more than a mere thousand words.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Spring Renewal and the Buoys of Change

As you glimpse the strewn buoys at Cayuga’s shore, consider the tales they hold—witnesses to history, guiding vessels through New York’s storied waters. Delve into their journey from the Erie Canal’s birth to today’s spring awakening.

MichaelStephenWills7 Comments

As the crisp air of spring begins to soften and the last remnants of winter recede, you might find yourself drawn to the outdoors, eager to participate in the age-old tradition of spring cleaning. It is a time of renewal, of clearing away the old to make way for the new. In Ithaca, this period of rejuvenation extends beyond the confines of cluttered homes and into the expansive natural landscape, as shown in the photograph before you.

Spring cleaning and repair at the Alan H. Treman Marine Boat Park. Ithaca, New York, Tompkins County

Tidying the Shores


There, on the shores of Cayuga Lake, the scene is a stark contrast to the neat rows of daffodils you admired yesterday. Instead, navigation buoys, those steadfast guides of the waterways, lie upended and scattered – casualties of the winter’s harshness or perhaps the diligent work of park employees preparing for the upcoming boating season. These buoys, usually afloat, marking safe passage for vessels, are now being tended to, maintained, and readied. It is an essential process, akin to the annual spring clean, ensuring the safety and smooth sailing in the months to come.

Guardians of the Waterways


Let’s delve into the history these buoys are part of. You, as a curious observer, are witnessing a fragment of a narrative that stretches back over a century. These navigational buoys are descendants of the earliest markers that adorned the inland waters of New York State and the Erie Canal, of which Cayuga Lake is an integral part.

The Erie Canal and Cayuga’s Connection


The Erie Canal, an engineering marvel of the 19th century, opened in 1825, transforming New York and the entire Great Lakes region. It was the superhighway of its time, connecting the Atlantic Ocean to the Great Lakes, and thereby shaping the course of economic and social history in the United States. Cayuga Lake, connected to this system via the Cayuga-Seneca Canal, was part of this vast network of navigable waters.

Navigation Buoys: Beacons of Progress


As commerce flourished, so too did the need for reliable navigation. The buoys, then as now, served as critical signposts, ensuring that vessels could traverse these waterways safely. Imagine the countless boats that relied on these markers – from the large freighters carrying goods to the smaller craft bearing passengers – each buoy a sentinel ensuring their safe passage.

Modern Sentinels


Today, the navigation buoys on Cayuga Lake and other inland waters continue this legacy. They are the modern sentinels of the deep, equipped with the latest technology to guide the way. Just as the Erie Canal once heralded a new era of travel and trade, these buoys now symbolize the enduring importance of safe and efficient water transportation.

The Future of Inland Navigation


As you reflect upon the photograph, consider the ongoing narrative of these buoys and the waterways they mark. In a world increasingly concerned with sustainable modes of transportation, the historical importance of these channels resurfaces. The waterways that once fueled the expansion of a nation may once again play a pivotal role, this time in the quest for greener alternatives to overland routes.

Conclusion: A Cycle of Renewal


The upturned buoys in Cass Park, ready for their spring cleaning, are a microcosm of the cyclical nature of life and progress. They remind you that renewal is not just about beauty; it is also about preserving the functionality and safety that allow society to move forward. Just as the spring cleaning in your home ushers in a new season of clarity and freshness, the maintenance of these navigational aids renews the commitment to a legacy of safe passage – a promise made by the generations that have sailed these waters since the days of the Erie Canal.

A Path Lined with Promise: Spring’s Embrace in Ithaca

Happy April 1, 2024

MichaelStephenWills15 Comments

You find yourself on the cusp of spring, the earth slowly awakens from its wintery slumber, and life begins to stir in the subtlest of forms. Imagine strolling through a park in Ithaca, the evidence of spring’s tender handiwork unfolding before your eyes. As you traverse this liminal space where the grey of winter meets the vibrant hues of spring, you are greeted by a cheerful brigade of daffodils, a sure harbinger of warmer days.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park, Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

Through the above image, it’s as though you are leaning in, your gaze just inches above the blooms. These daffodils are not merely flowers; they are the golden trumpets of spring, each one a burst of joy amidst the still-dormant earth. You can almost feel the softness of the petals, the coolness of the air, and the promise of renewal that each bud encapsulates. With their faces eager to bask in the strengthening sun, they seem to resonate with your own readiness for change, for the fresh possibilities that each new season brings.

As you stand up and take a few steps back, the following image grants you a wider perspective. Here lies a path, winding gently alongside a burgeoning line of daffodils. They stand in unity, a vivid yellow line drawn against the canvas of awakening green. The bench in the distance is vacant, an invitation to sit and appreciate the tranquility of Cass Park, the expanse of water beyond serving as a mirror to the open sky. It’s a scene that calls for contemplation, urging you to appreciate the simplicity of the moment, the serenity of nature’s process.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park. Here the trail has passed over Linderman Creek and we are looking toward the Cayuga Lake inlet. Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

These photographs are more than visual delights; they’re sensory experiences. Can you hear the subtle sounds of the park? The distant call of birds returning home, the soft rustle of grass stirred by a gentle breeze, the hushed murmur of water lapping at the shore? Each sound is a note in the symphony of spring, played just for you.

The images you see are not frozen in time; they carry within them a narrative of life’s perseverance. The daffodils, with their bright faces and sturdy stems, have weathered the cold, the snow, and the frost. They emerge, not just as survivors of winter, but as its conquerors. Each flower is a testament to resilience, a living metaphor for the human spirit that you, too, possess.

This is the season of rejuvenation, where the old is shed, and the new embraced. With each day, the sun lingers a bit longer, casting its golden glow upon the earth. It’s the time to set aside the grayness of yesterday and look forward to the spectrum of tomorrow. The photographs are not just to be viewed; they are to be felt, to remind you that no winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn.

As you walk away from this scene, you carry with you the warmth of the sun and the cheer of the daffodils. Let the images serve as a reminder of the perennial cycle of life, the undying hope, and the enduring beauty that awaits just outside your door. Feel encouraged to seek these moments, these fragments of beauty, in your everyday wanderings, and hold onto the message of the daffodils: after every winter, no matter how harsh, comes the gentle kiss of spring.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Nature’s First Green….

…is gold, / her hardest hue to hold, / her early leaf’s a flower; / but only so an hour… Robert Frost

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

You walk alone by the waters of Cayuga Lake in Stewart Park, nestled in the heart of Ithaca’s Finger Lakes, where Salix alba, the white willow, stands proudly along the shoreline. You’re immediately drawn to the flurry of yellow flowers, a stark contrast to the still chilly early March air.

The white willow (Salix alba), with its rough, gray bark, is beginning to dress in its spring finery, its branches teeming with tiny, starburst-like flowers. Each one is a miniature sun, casting a glow against the intricate lattice of branches. These aren’t the soft catkins of the pussy willow but the yellow inflorescences that are characteristic of the white willow’s early bloom, a signpost that winter’s grip is loosening.

These trees, you learn, are dioecious, with separate male and female trees. The blossoms you see are likely the male flowers, their stamens dusting your fingers with pollen as you brush against them. It’s this pollen that will soon beckon the bees, urging them to emerge from their hives and begin the work that sustains the ecosystem. You can almost hear the faint buzz, a prelude to the symphony of life that summer will bring. Return in midsummer to find the female catkins comprise numerous small (4 mm) capsules, each containing numerous minute seeds embedded in silky white hairs, which aids wind dispersal.

As you wander further, you note the presence of the white willow’s kin, other deciduous companions some still bare and stretching into the sky and others leafing out. You stand there, at the cusp of seasonal change, where the slumbering trees are on the verge of awakening, and you feel a kinship with them. Like these trees, you have weathered the cold, dark months, and now you stand poised to greet the renewal that comes with spring.

The stark, knotted forms of the white willow branches against the clear sky speak to you of endurance and resilience. These trees have weathered storms and droughts; they have been companions to the lake, mirrors to its moods, and now they are beginning to celebrate the cycle of rebirth and growth.

You take a seat on a bench, the cool wood through your clothes a reminder of the lingering winter. You gaze out across the lake, the water reflecting the brilliance of the sun like a vast, rippling mirror, framed by the elegant silhouettes of the white willows. You feel the peace of the park seep into you, the slow, rhythmic lapping of the water syncing with your breath.

This is a moment of transition, from the sleeping to the awakening world. You think about the Salix alba, how its presence here is a testament to nature’s adaptability, thriving in the moist soil by the lake, offering shade in summer and shelter in winter, its branches a playground for the winds.

As you leave Stewart Park, you take with you the memory of the white willows in early March, the quiet guardians of Cayuga Lake. They remind you of the enduring beauty of nature, the seamless flow from one season to the next, and the quiet joy of standing witness to the first whispers of spring on the shores of the Finger Lakes.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Above the Finger Lakes: A Winter’s Eve Flight

Joint me to gaze out upon a mesmerizing view of winter’s embrace over the Finger Lakes, where the setting sun paints an ephemeral masterpiece of ice, water, and twiligh

MichaelStephenWills15 Comments

 

As I soared into the heavens, bound for Syracuse on the 9th of February in the year 2024, I found myself cradled in the gentle embrace of the port side of our metal chariot. The world unfolded beneath me; a tapestry of natural splendor painted in the golden hues of the setting sun. The view to the west, a grand panorama, beckoned my gaze, luring my senses into the wild embrace of Upstate New York’s finest landscapes.

 

Flying into Syracuse, February 9, 2024 we sat on the left (port) side of plane, this view to the west took in Canandaigua Lake, Bristol Mountain Ski Area, Honeoye Lake, Hemlock Lake (Canadice Lake is not visible).

 

Below, Canandaigua Lake lay stretched out like a slumbering giant, its waters glistening with the last kisses of daylight, a mirror to the sky’s fiery canvas. How wondrous it was to perceive the world from such heights, to witness the lake’s serenity from the abode of the gods. It seemed as if Canandaigua herself was remembering whispered tales of ice fishermen and quiet boathouses locked in the winter’s frosty grasp.

Off to the south, the proud shoulders of Bristol Mountain Ski Area rose in defiance against the winter’s chill. The mountain’s snow-laden slopes, carved with the meticulous precision of skiers and snowboarders, reflected the sun’s dying light, a beacon of winter’s joy amidst the sprawling lands. I could almost hear the muffled laughter of families and the swish of skis carving their ephemeral signature upon the mountain’s white canvas.

Nestled in the mountain’s shadow, Honeoye Lake revealed itself, a slender and unassuming sliver of tranquility. Its presence was like that of a quiet companion amidst the grandeur, a reminder of the simpler pleasures—frozen waters awaiting the spring thaw, the promise of lush greenery peering from beneath the white shroud of winter.

Beyond, where the earth kissed the sky, Hemlock Lake offered its secluded beauty, a hidden gem amongst its more renowned siblings. Though Canadice Lake remained shyly concealed from view, I knew it too slumbered there, a silent sentinel guarding the land’s secrets. Together, these lakes stood as custodians of a silent world, the guardians of a tranquility that seemed untouched by the passage of time.

As the plane banked gently, the clouds above me caught fire, ablaze with the colors of the dying day. Wisps of vapor painted streaks of orange, purple, and pink across the expansive canvas, a celestial masterpiece unfolding before my very eyes. The clouds seemed to dance with the joy of existence, a choreographed performance to the symphony of the setting sun.

I found myself lost in the moment, a solitary figure suspended between heaven and earth, caught in the embrace of an ephemeral beauty. The world below whispered of untold stories, of winters past and springs to come, of the endless cycle of life that pulsed beneath the frost. It was a moment of profound connection, a fleeting communion with the heartbeat of the planet.

Watching with the Willows

On a brisk day at Stewart Park, I stroll alongside Cayuga Lake, observing Canadian Geese and white willows. The tranquil, interconnected scene proves an enduring memory despite everyday worries.

MichaelStephenWills9 Comments

Continue reading “Watching with the Willows” →

The Well

In twilight’s hush, embraced by oaks,
A well of stone, with stories etched in lace,
Now table made, where others’ whispers weave,
And time’s soft hands a tapestry conceive.

MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

Continue reading “The Well” →