Journey in Place: Frame of Reference

Map at the Park Entrance

As I sit at my desk writing I am a bit distracted by the large flocks of Cedar Waxwings and American Robins that have descended on my yard this cold January morning. They are dropping from their sunny perches in the trees down to our small pond that has abundant flowing water, a scarcity today when the temperatures are barely warming up from the teens of last night. They are also feeding ravenously on the berries of the Chinese Holly and Japanese Privet that line my yard. Like them or not, the large and established (albeit exotic) bushes do provide food and shelter for hungry birds.

In our 2nd Journey In Place exercise, Janisse asked us to put our Place in spatial perspective, identifying the location, bioregion and boundaries, and then decide to whom the study should be dedicated. Then came the toughest part, for me at least--we were asked to sketch a map of our Place. After walking the trails and doing some research, I came up what I think represents the way I view my Place. I wish I had the patience to carefully sketch and print beautiful letters, but that just doesn't seem to be me. I get impatient. Here is my map:

My Map

So, about my place. My place is the Oconee Forest Park, a natural area on the University of Georgia Campus. It is located within the bioregion of the Southern Outer Piedmont of Northeast Georgia and is in the Upper Oconee River Watershed. The park consists of 60 acres of hundred-year-old trees on rolling hills that edge a 15-acre manmade lake. It is bordered by an unused railroad track, tennis courts and band practice fields on the west side, a highway ("The Loop) on the south and east, and College Station Road and the Intramural Fields to the North. It contains two manmade lakes, one large one (Lake Herrick) and a much smaller one (Little Lake Herrick). Lake Herrick is fed by a small stream that catches runoff from the 5 Points neighborhood on the north side, where I live. Water from Little Lake Herrick up above, supplies water to Herrick Creek that runs through a ravine and down into the larger lake below, where Herrick Creek picks up again and flows into the North Oconee River to the northeast. 

Boardwalk on hill leads to Bridge across the lake

Big, beautiful oak on the Lake Trail, by exercise equipment

Intramural Field on a frosty morning

One of the platforms the looks over the lake

Mountain Bike Trail and Power Line Cut

Herrick Creek

Hiking and mountain bike trails wind around the lakes, and through and around the forest. Service roads serve as wider trails and allow access for maintenance equipment. Facilities on site include fishing docks, a boat ramp, picnic areas, and a ropes course. A wooden boardwalk next to ball courts leads to a bridge across a narrow arm of the lake. The area serves as an outdoor classroom for forestry, biology and ecology students, and is popular with runners, walkers, bikers, dog walkers, photographers, artists, and nature lovers, both students and the general community. Oconee forest Park is an ebird hotspot. 

Kingfisher on one of the platforms in the lake

Killdeer Chick in an Intramural Field

Stinkhorn Fungi

Fox

Heron in the Lake on a Misty Morning

Snake Tree

Tree Frogs by Little Lake Herrick

Bloodroot Patch

While preparing to draw my map I looked at existing maps of the area online and discovered that some of the unmarked trails actually have names! I learned that my "comfort spot" is located on "Tranquility trail", which makes perfect sense because it exudes peace and calm. "Tranquility Trail" follows the contour of the hillside and over a ridge to the "Birdsong Loop", another favorite and aptly named trail. On a map, I think the Oconee Forest Park looks kind of like a heart. I like the image of it providing lifeblood to the community through physical and mental health, protected habitat, and its place in the watershed, channeling water to the Upper Oconee River. I picked it as my Place because of its proximity to home, and because it was a lifesaver for me during the Covid pandemic when everything else was closed and I needed a place to breathe and think. It has provide me with endless hours of peaceful contemplation birdsong, and discovery. I would like to dedicate my Journey In Place to the people who had the foresight to create this oasis (one of whom was my friend, Walt Cook--more on him and his role another time), the people who are working currently to maintain and improve it, and to my fellow travelers who share it with me.

30 Days in June: Day 11 and 12, Alfred Ring Park

Bluebird at the Ballpark

Day 11 was kind of a bust. I spent the morning at Northeast Park (a tree lined City recreation park in my neighborhood, with baseball diamonds, tennis courts, a playground and a dog park) trying to find a Northern Flicker that a friend had reported. I did not find the Flicker even after spending an hour and a half looking. I found lots of Red Headed Woodpeckers and Bluebirds, but no Flicker. It wasn't very fun and I was frustrated at the end of the morning. The problem was that I had forgotten my real purpose in my "30 Days in June" adventure, and had given into my competitive self, trying to collect bird sightings. Instead of experiencing and enjoying, I was acquiring, which is never satisfying because you never have enough. And since I hadn't acquired my desired item yet, I drove over to Morningside to see if I could scare up a Flicker there. I didn't see a Flicker there, either, but when I played Flicker sounds in the area where I'd seen them in the past, the Brown Headed Nuthatches got very agitated and I could see them fly around.

Yelloweyed Grass (Xyris sp.)

Tarflower (Bejaria racemosa)

Florida Plantain (Arnoglossum floridanum)

I spent another hour or so walking, and I realized I was so much happier doing that than standing next to the tennis courts at Northeast Park, or driving to the far edges of the county, trying to find a certain hard-to-get bird. I do this every year and I never enjoy myself when I go out with an agenda. I promised myself right then that the rest of the month would be spent visiting places I actually wanted to see before we leave Florida, and let the list happen as it will. When just I let myself just enjoy and explore at Morningside and it was much more satisfying. I was much more "in the moment" and thus open to serendipity. As a result, I found Tarflower and Xyris blooming in the flatwoods and happened on a large cluster of Florida Plantain in full bloom in the sandhill. I have only seen a couple Florida Plantains blooming ever and never seen so many at once. They are beautiful and remind me a little bit of Milkweed blooms, though they are members of the Aster Family. This plant is endemic to Florida.


With renewed purpose, the next day I went to visit Alfred Ring Park. I did not add any new birds to my June Challenge list, but I did add bugs and bark and squirrels. It was a great afternoon.

Hogtown Creek Runs Through the Heart of Gainesville

When we first moved to Gainesville we lived within (long) walking distance of Ring Park. We would sometimes take our dog Sadie on a long loop walk, from our house, through the park and back home again. My husband and daughter used to go on long runs that would take them through the park. When I taught environmental education at Morningside Nature Center, we would bring classes to Ring Park to teach how macro invertebrates can be an indicator of water quality and the importance of keeping our streams clean. One year we taught a camp all about Trees, and I spent a couple of wonderful hours learning about different types of Florida trees with my friend and co-teacher, Grace. She introduced me to Hophornbeam and American Hornbeam (or Musclewood, a name I like better).  There is such personality in the various textures of tree bark. I think it could be cool to put together a bark poster, organizing them like a patchwork quilt.

Hickory

Loblolly Pine

Maple

American Hornbeam (See the "muscles"? It looks like sinewy limbs.)

Hophornbeam

Southern Magnolia

Sweetgum

Ring Park is where I go if I want to find Ebony Jewelwing Damselflies or beetles and bugs. The wet, damp environment makes it a great place for fungi and for plants like Green Dragon, a relative of Jack in the Pulpit. It's a good place to find spiders and owls, and definitely for squirrels.

Ebony Jewelwing Damselfly

Millipede and Moss

Big, Camouflaged Spider

Purse Web Spider Web

Owl Feather?

Greendragon (Arisaema dracontium) --Look at the beautiful, logarithmic spiral!

Fungus

Noisy, Gnawing Squirrel

It's a popular park, located between neighborhoods, in the heart of Gainesville. People walk their dogs and exercise, look for shark's teeth and picnic. One of my friends, Merald, proposed to his wife at Ring Park. I love to walk on the boardwalks and paths and look out over the creek. It is a place full of life. When I think of Ring Park, I think of rich, wet greens. It feels like Gainesville.

Boardwalk

Oxbow

Green Sky

My Favorite Trees

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things...

My guess is that everyone has a favorite tree. I know I've had many over my lifetime. When I was a little kid, my grandparents had a Weeping Willow and I loved to grab onto the flexible vine-like branches and swing like Tarzan out over the yard. I don't think it was all that good for the tree, but I sure loved grabbing on and flying! They also had a tree that we called the "Peachcot" (a cross between a peach and an apricot) and it was just the right height for me to climb. It had a short trunk with a nice low crotch in the branches that was easy for me to reach. I wasn't terribly brave and would never dare to climb high, but this one was just right for me.

When I was a little older, my family bought a house with a big Japanese Plum tree in the back yard. I spent many pleasant days and evenings sitting under that tree, appreciating the shade of the purple leaves, eating the little cherry sized plums, and listening to the nighthawks that flew over it every summer night. When my 5th grade class made keepsake plates for our families for Christmas, I drew the plum tree on mine. When we were assigned to write a poem to enter in a contest for a children's magazine, I wrote mine about the life I imagined in that tree.

"I have a little treehouse way up high. And what do you think may come passing by? Maybe a bird, maybe a butterfly. You never know what may come passing by."

I don't think I was destined to become a poet, but I was very proud of my poem, and remember it still, because it represented my vision of perfect happiness, living in a tree.

Many years later when my soon-to-be husband and I lived in the mountains outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico, our trees were the Piñon and Ponderosa Pines. Each year pollen from Piñones covered the ground and made golden rims around dried puddles. And every other year they produced a bounty of delicious pine nuts. We would lay bed sheets underneath the trees to catch the seeds when we shook the branches. The Stellar's Jays perched on top of the low trees and squawked at our dogs when they wanted access to the dog food. When it was cold and snowy we burned Piñon Pine to heat our cabin and cook our food and the smell of Piñon smoke flavored the air all around Santa Fe. During the warm months we could smell the delicious vanilla from the giant Ponderosas when we went out walking, and frequently we gave the trees a great bear hug, burying our noses in the thick bark to inhale the sweet scent. (Hugging trees is the best way to get to know them well.) When we decided to get married, we knelt under the Ponderosa Pines made our promises with engagement rings formed from their long needles.

Our neighbors in the Santa Fe National Forest had the best idea. They created a children's camp with cabins built in the trees. Santa Fe Tree House Camp. The children spent a week or two living in the forest and sleeping on bunk beds in the houses nestled in the trees. From inside those cabins you could hear the wind blowing through pine branches and feel the movement as the trees swayed. I had the chance to stay in one of the cabins with my husband and kids when we visited many years later and I slept like a baby, resting in the arms of the pines.

When we moved to Florida, our first home came with lovely landscaping that included my first and favorite Japanese Magnolia tree. It was perfectly situated to get enough light and and space to grow to its full shape without pruning. When it bloomed in February the yard lit up with the huge pinky purple blossoms. That tree helped me appreciate the glory of living in Florida in the winter.

Now we live in a house with a magnificent Sweet Gum tree. It is enormous and stands guard over our back yard. I think it's one of the bigger Sweet Gum trees that I've seen. I was told that the tree had been topped once, so it isn't as tall as it might be. But it has a huge circumference, measuring almost 14 feet around at the base where I can reach. There is an apartment over our neighbor's garage with windows that look out at the tree. One of the renters told me that waking up every morning to the sight of that giant gave him such joy. I get it. I love to sit and watch the branches against the blue sky. I like to look up at the branches and imagine just how many creatures call this tree home. It is like a whole ecosystem in and of itself. You can see holes in the trunk and on the branches from Yellow Bellied Sapsuckers. Chickadees, titmice and vireos hop through the branches, hunting for bugs or waiting their turn at the bird feeder below. Squirrels scramble up and down the branches, leaping from tree to tree on their own arboreal highway. Barred owls call from the tree at night and bluejays scold during the day. In the fall, when we're lucky, maybe we'll find a Luna Moth.

Standing Guard

Looking Up into the Canopy

Sapsucker Holes

Squirrel Interstate

In the winter the star-shaped leaves drop and the tree will stand gray and almost naked, except for the Spanish Moss that blankets the branches. A strong wind can cause the moss to fall down to the ground, draping other bushes and trees. I admit that the seed pods, the "Gum Balls" (or Porcupine Eggs, as some people call them!) can be annoying. The tree is so big that when they fall, we have thousands of large, hard, spiny, balls on the ground, to pick up, fish out of the pond, and roll on like so many marbles. But they provide food for finches and squirrels, and they are so interesting to look at that I can't really hate them. When the weather warms up we see the first signs of green and soon the starry leaves are back again and the tree returns to life.

Blankets of Spanish Moss

A Fresh Gum Ball

Green Stars

I love this tree in a different way than the previous trees in my life. I feel like it is a gentle grandparent, my gray bearded friend. My husband and I sit outside under the shade of its massive limbs and we feel protected from the rest of the world. Maybe I'm just more sentimental now, or maybe I'm more appreciative of all the ways that the tree provides home, habitat and happiness for so many of us creatures and thankful for the oxygen it makes and the organic matter it contributes to the soil of our yard. I revel in its hugeness and seek serenity in its greenness and grandeur. I breathe its air and I feel happy and grateful.

Sweet Gum Bark

*****************

This is a link to a video by Bartholomaus Traubeck who has figured out a way to play the "music of trees". He has built a special "record player" that scans the rings of rounds cut from tree trunks and digitizes the scans to make a musical image. I think the sounds are eery and beautiful and sound just about like I'd think a tree would sound. See for yourself.