All the pitiless weather

“…a tourist’s frightened rush and scramble through the woods yields far less than the hunter’s wildest stories, while in writing we can do but little more than to give a few names, as they come to mind—beaver, squirrel, coon, fox, marten, fisher, otter, ermine, wildcat—only this instead of full descriptions of the bright-eyed furry throng, their snug home nests, their fears and fights and loves, how they get their food, rear their young, escape their enemies, and keep themselves warm and well and exquisitely clean through all the pitiless weather.”

~John Muir, "The Story of My Boyhood and Youth"

Long considered the "father of the U.S. National Park System," and the founder of the Sierra Club, John Muir's influence and footprint stretch to all corners of this continent and beyond. But his humble beginnings in the New World were on a farm about an hour from my home.

I learned about John Muir in grade school. But lately, I've realized I want to learn more. If everything goes as planned, this year I'll visit three geographical locations significant to Muir:

1. Fountain Lake Farm, just 57 miles north of Madison, Wis., and mere minutes from our summer cottage. Now designated John Muir Memorial Park, it's a state natural area and a national historic landmark. We drive by the park several times each summer, and have hiked there in the past.

2. The Gulf Coast of Florida. In 1867, John Muir spent seven weeks on a "thousand-mile walk" from Indianapolis to Cedar Key, Fla. In March, we plan to vacation near Cedar Key. Hopefully we'll find time for a roadtrip to Muir's historical marker.

3. San Francisco, Calif., home of the John Muir National Historic Site. After traveling to California in 1868, Muir resided in that state for most of the remainder of his life, until he died in 1914 at the age of 76. The Garden Bloggers' Fling is set for June 28-30, in San Francisco. If I can scrounge up the funds, I'll be there.

This confluence of opportunities, plus my own interest, are steering me toward a John Muir theme in the months ahead. It's not difficult to find information about this beloved U.S. naturalist. Muir, himself, wrote 12 books and numerous essays, magazine articles, and published letters. And hundreds (thousands?) of books have been written about Muir.

Living in the state where the young Muir, his siblings, and his parents first settled after emigrating from Scotland, I feel a little pride and connectedness to Muir, as do many Wisconsinites.The land where the Muir family first settled hasn't changed much. The wildlife is similar, with the exception of passenger pigeons, now extinct, and several other species--including wolves and cougars--which, although on the increase, aren't as prevalent as they were in Muir's day.

I hope to include at least one post per month about Muir during 2013. And during these cold months, Muir's words about his first winters in Wisconsin ring true:

“It seemed very wonderful to us that the wild animals could keep themselves warm and strong in winter when the temperature was far below zero.” And regarding the “paradise of birds”: “Comparatively few species remained all winter—the nuthatch, chickadee, owl, prairie chicken, quail, and a few stragglers from the main flocks of ducks, jays, hawks, and bluebirds. Only after the country was settled did either jays or bluebirds winter with us...The brave, frost-defying chickadees and nuthatches stayed all the year, wholly independent of farms and man’s food and affairs.”

*Facts listed here courtesy the Sierra Club

Wild adventures and misadventures: a book review

Extreme adventures can be invigorating, but obviously they also often bring great peril. If you're a natural risk-taker, you know this firsthand.

Some of us prefer to balance a few personal adventures with a healthy mix of reading or watching movies about others' exploits. A well-written account of a great adventure can almost make you feel like you've been there...as in the book, "The Wild Muir: Twenty-Two of John Muir's Greatest Adventures."

Paperback: 224 pages
Publisher: The Yosemite Association
Amazon price: $9.36









Muir often found himself in perilous situations, and nearly lost his life numerous times! For example:

• After walking from the Midwest to Cedar Key, Fla., he developed malaria and typhoid, and was bedridden for three months.

• When hiking a glacial peak in Alaska, Muir's companion slipped and dislocated both shoulders. Muir placed himself precariously underneath the man on a precipice to rescue him and drag him to safety.

• During a windstorm in California's Sierra mountains, Muir climbed to the top of a 100-foot Douglas Fir for a better view of the storm. He remained in his "lofty perch for hours," dismounting only after the storm had passed.

Photo by Francis M. Fritz [public domain],
via Wikimedia Commons.

Crazy man. Here is Muir's reasoning for his risky tree-climbing adventure:

"...when the storm began to sound, I lost no time in pushing out into the woods to enjoy it. For on such occasions, nature has always something rare to show us, and the danger to life and limb is hardly greater than one would experience crouching deprecatingly beneath a roof."

As nutty as this type of behavior may sound to those of us who are more cautious, it also brings benefits. Muir's essay about his experience at the top of that tree was published in Scribner's Monthly and was republished many times. And it helped establish him as a respected nature writer for the major magazines of his day.

"...my eye roved over the piny hills and dales as over fields of waving grain, and felt the light running ripples and broad swelling undulations across the valleys from ridge to ridge, as the shining foliage was stirred by corresponding waves of air."

"...the colors were remarkably beautiful. The shafts of the pine and libocedrus were brown and purple, and most of the foliage was well-tinged with yellow; the laurel groves, with the pale undersides of their leaves turned upward, made masses of gray; and then there was many a dash of chocolate color from clumps of manzanita, and jet of vivid crimson from the bark of the madroños, while the ground on the hillsides, appearing here and there through openings between the groves, displayed masses of pale purple and brown."

Throughout the book, short explanations set the scene for each of the 22 highlighted adventures. Lovely black and white scratchboard illustrations help tell the stories. If you enjoy the adventure genre, you'll enjoy these true-life essays about John Muir's most harrowing experiences.

(Note: Patricia of Woodlouse House mentions that many of Muir's books are available for free download as Kindle books on Amazon. I also noticed that many are also free in text format on the Sierra Club's website.)

I'm linking this post to Holley's (Roses and Other Gardening Joys) Garden Book Review meme. Check it out!

March book review: a great trail companion

"Only by going in silence, without baggage, can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness. All other travel is mere dust and hotels and baggage and chatter."

~John Muir

If you enjoy maps, travel, nature, and tracing the paths of historical figures, you'll probably appreciate this light paperback. "On the Trail of John Muir," by Cherry Good, is easy to pick up and put down as your schedule allows. I'll be linking this post later this month to Holley's book review meme over at Roses and Other Gardening Joys.

Since I'm on a bit of a John Muir kick, I was looking for a book that would give me facts about exactly where he traveled and lived. I wanted a book to provide a sense of the geography of Muir's life, and the scope of his journeys. This book is a good start.

In seven chapters, it takes the reader from Dunbar, Scotland; to Wisconsin; Ontario, Canada; Florida; California; Alaska; Arizona; and many destinations along the way.

What I like about the book:

• The maps help to illustrate significant places along Muir's travels and life journey;
• An excellent chronology at the end of the book lists highlights of his life, from 1838-1914;
• Each chapter offers anecdotes and descriptions of people, places, and events significant to Muir;
• A few photos and illustrations show his modest dwelling places and many of the beautiful scenes he admired; and
• The author's experiences of those places are woven effectively with Muir's writings and reactions.

It's a light book, at 131 pages, including the index. This isn't really a critique, because the book fits neatly in a backpack or a bag for easy travel. But it's sparse in scale, and leaves you wanting more. That's not surprising either, since there's so much to learn about this fascinating man.

Even Muir, himself, wrote: "It seems strange that a paper that reads smoothly and may be finished in 10 minutes should require months to write." While it would be difficult to read and retain the spirit of this book in 10 minutes, you should be able to read most individual chapters in that amount of time.

I'd recommend the book to anyone interested in John Muir's travels, explorations, and settlements.

For more excellent book suggestions, check out Holley's book review meme, hosted on the 20th of each month.

And just a quick reminder that the "Lessons Learned" and "Seasonal Celebrations" memes are live until March 20, when we'll wrap up for the season! Thanks for joining in!

The power of a single flower

'The impression of his personality was so strong on those who knew him that all words seem cheap beside it. Those who never knew him can never, through any word of ours, be brought to realize what they have missed. He had a quaint, crisp way of talking, his literary style in fact, and none of the nature lovers--the men who know how to feel in the presence of great things and beautiful--have expressed their craft better than he.'

~David Starr Jordan, educator, naturalist, philosopher, and university administrator, on his friend and contemporary, John Muir

U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt (left) and naturalist, John Muir, founder of the Sierra Club, on Glacier Point in Yosemite National Park. In the background: Upper and lower Yosemite Falls.
By Underwood & Underwood [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Some people are larger than life. They face overwhelming odds, yet somehow manage to accomplish so much in their short lifetimes that it's almost hard to think of them as human beings. They inspire us to accomplish more.

Probably not surprising to my readers, John Muir is one of those people for me. How could a man--born to Scottish immigrants of modest means, and nearly broken by farm labor and very stern upbringing--go on to accomplish so much? He was a farmer, inventor, sheepherder, explorer, writer, and conservationist. To this day, many consider him America's most famous and prominent naturalist.

I decided at the beginning of this year to write at least one post a month reflecting on Muir's contributions. Now that the year is almost over, I feel like I've only scratched the surface in learning about Muir. He published more than 300 articles and ten major books. He wrote lovingly of his beginnings in Dunbar, Scotland and Central Wisconsin ... and of course, the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Fortunately, the complete text of all his books is available for free through the Sierra Club. People continually find inspiration in his words. And his influence on this country, and the world, will live on as long as people care about nature.

What would Muir think of our world today? I think he'd be both sad and impressed with the state of affairs today. Mostly sad, probably, that so many species are extinct or endangered. But perhaps with a touch of acknowledgement that many of us are aware of the problems and continuing the quest to save natural places. Proud of every single national park, of course--even though many face challenges in blending the needs of nature with the importance of allowing visitors.

I also think he'd encourage landowners and gardeners, in particular--in the cities, the suburbs, and the countryside--to preserve natural habitats, and to plant flowering plants and a healthy mix of native plants.

Yes, John Muir would probably be sad for reasons too numerous to list here. But he'd ask those of us who are custodians of natural places to preserve them and encourage biodiversity. He'd encourage us to garden to feed our fellow man and at the same time to encourage pollinators and wildlife. He'd probably applaud people like Ron Finley, who said, "Gardening is the most therapeutic and defiant act you can do, especially in the inner city. Plus, you get Strawberries."

There's so much work to do, but we have the tools--heirloom seeds, pesticide-free plants, tiny and large plots of land--to make a difference. Sometimes that means responsible horticulture, and sometimes it means letting nature be, untouched by human hands.

And as Muir, himself, said, "There is that in the glance of a flower, which may at times control the greatest of creation's braggart lords."

I'm just a wandering homebody

I've just returned from a trip to London. If you follow Helene's blog at Graphicality-UK (and I highly recommend it, because it's an excellent blog and her garden is amazing!), you know that I had the pleasure of visiting Helene. More on that visit soon, but I want to do the post justice after I've had a chance to look through all the photos and reflect a bit.

I was thinking of  a way to tie the London trip to my monthly post about John Muir when I came across this interview with Muir about his world travels. If you take the time (five to 10 minutes) to read the inverview, I think you'll find it interesting and entertaining.

Are you like John Muir? Do you feel healthier at home or away from home? Indoors our outdoors?

I'm the opposite of Muir, and yet the same. While I love traveling and feel fortunate to have visited many fascinating places, it always takes me a couple of days to adjust after reaching my destination, and then again after returning home.

But I do agree with Muir that travel is well worth the time and investment. It opens one's eyes to new places and people (and plants), and instills a greater sense of tolerance. You realize that people in different cultures and locales really aren't that different, afterall. I also heartily agree that whether near home or far away, we all benefit from being outdoors!

We spent a lot of time outside in London, as the weather was mild and pleasant for most of the time. In addition to my visit with Helene, I plan to share several other trip highlights soon. I left home just before the first killing frost here in my garden. I figured I'd come back to brown, dead plants and flowers. So as I snapped photos of creative container plantings, unique plants, and artistic garden designs, I did so with a feeling of nostalgia and wistfulness for the growing season just passed.

But comicly (at least I thought it was humorous), when I stepped out of the terminal at O'Hare Airport ... there were more magnificent potted plants still blooming and very healthy.

Terrible photo taken at night with my iPhone, but you get the idea.

Better yet, when I got home I saw that the Begonias, Umbrella Grass, and Swiss Chard in my own planters were still alive--even though they weren't covered, watered, or cared for while I was gone. Ha!

It felt good to be home! Unlike John Muir, I feel very comfortable nestling into my comfy little home--at least until the next big adventure!

We had a great time in London seeing the sights, visiting a few gardens, and most of all--spending time together as a family in a very exciting city.

A break from the tangle and fray

A while back, I read a passage from John Muir's "A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf," and though I was moved by his description of the sea, I didn't really "get it." Muir--the naturalist, botanist, and founder of the Sierra Club--describes reaching the Gulf of Mexico, after traveling largely by foot from Illinois:

"Today I reached the sea. While I was yet many miles back in the palmy woods, I caught the scent of the salt sea breeze which, although I had so many years lived far from sea breezes, suddenly conjured up Dunbar, its rocky coast, winds and waves; and my whole childhood, that seemed to have utterly vanished in the New World, was now restored amid the Florida woods by that one breath from the sea."

Frankly, my reaction to that passage when I first read it was that Muir was tired, worn out, and delirious. And maybe he was. He became very ill with typhoid shortly thereafter. But he was also making commentary on the fact that great bodies of water, and the spots where they meet the land, are very similar the world over.

"Forgotten were the Palms and Magnolias and the thousand flowers that enclosed me," he continues. "I could see only dulse and tangle, long-winged gulls, the Bass Rock in the Firth of Forth, and the old castle, schools, churches, and long country rambles in search of birds' nests. I do not wonder that the weary camels coming from the scorching African deserts should be able to scent the Nile."

To really fully understand what Muir was talking about, you have to visit a beach or fondly remember a visit from earlier in your life. Whether it's a sandy or a rocky beach, if it borders a large body of water (an ocean or a great lake), the experience that overtakes all the senses is like no other. It's a universal experience--largely the same, no matter what continent or hemisphere (with the exception of a beach in winter!).

Even the plants are similar--Grasses, Sedges, Willows. While the plants shown here were found along the Lake Michigan shoreline, they'd be similar on the U.S. East Coast, the West Coast, or even a coast on a different continent!

The Sea Pea (Lathyrus japonicus), for example, is a legume native to temperate coastal areas of Asia, Europe, and North and South America. Also commonly called Beach Pea, Circumpolar Pea, and Sea Vetchling, it ranges around the world on marine coasts and inland shores, according to the Michigan Department of Natural Resources.

Even gardeners and botanists need a break sometimes from the tangle and fray of abundant plant life. Nothing beats a day at the beach to appeal to our minimalist tendencies ...

The drag of the waves on the elements of the beach.

A child's creation--labored over for hours, and gone with the flash of a tall wave or the heavy foot of a wandering mammal.

Evidence of man and his companion; his best friend.

A solitary bird feather--sparkling in the sun, filtering the sand, and fluttering in the soft breeze.

Small rocks and shells unappreciated and ignored, unless we stop to take a closer look.

And the slowly setting sun, making long shadows on the sand and beckoning us back for another day ... as they did when we were small children, begging our parents to "please, please, please" let us stay at the beach just a little longer.

"How imperishable are all the impressions that ever vibrate one's life! We cannot forget anything. Memories may escape the action of will, may sleep a long time, but when stirred by the right influence, though that influence be light as a shadow, they flash into full stature and life with everything in place."

~ John Muir, "A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf"

My 40-hour sojourn in Milwaukee

Last week, I began training to become a Wisconsin Master Naturalist volunteer. Over the course of the next several weeks, our group will complete 40 hours of training in natural history, interpretation, and conservation stewardship.

Since the program is new in Wisconsin, we're the first group in the state to be officially certified!

What does that have to do with a "sojourn in Milwaukee"? The training is held at the Wehr Nature Center, in southwestern Milwaukee County. It's a lovely 220-acre property, with more than five miles of trails linking the center's five natural communities: woodland, wetland, prairie, Oak savanna, and lake.

At our class this week, as we explored the forest, I found myself thinking about different types of forests, and how they can feel welcoming and intimidating at the same time.

Related to this thought, back in January I decided to write at least one post a month that includes a nod to John Muir. And when we went to Florida last month, I found myself thinking about Muir's "A Thousand Mile Walk to the Gulf." In it, Muir recounts his adventures and impressions of the back roads and trails he traveled on his way to Florida.


Though I'd been to the Sunshine State several times before, I'd never really "hiked" in a Florida forest until last month's trip. People warn you about alligators if you go too far off the beaten track, so we stuck to a trail in a planned community. (I didn't have my camera along, so photos shown here were taken at the Marie Selby Botanical Garden.)

The vegetation along our Florida forest hike was so different from any other forests I've experienced. Strange bird calls and unique animal sounds made me a little uneasy. And huge Philodendrons--the largest I've ever seen--covered the trunks and dangled from the branches of Live Oaks and other trees.


Muir had a similar impression: "Florida is so watery and vine-tied that pathless wanderings are not easily possible in any direction ... It is impossible to write the dimmest picture of plant grandeur so redundant, unfathomable ... Oftentimes, I was tangled in a labyrinth of armed vines like a fly in a spider-web."


As incredible as it is, a Florida forest can seem intimidating to a northerner.


But then, so can a northern forest--with all its seasonal changes--to someone from the south. And either type of forest might seem scary to a person who has rarely stepped foot in one. But a forest of any kind is an incredible resource.


The rich fertility of a forest offers some of the best opportunities to study incredibly diverse life forms.

I'm looking forward to more exploring in the Wehr Nature Center. As the weeks of training continue, I'll share some of the highlights.

The pleasure of going home

"Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; the wilderness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life. Awakening from the stupefying effects of the vice of over-industry and the deadly apathy of luxury, they are trying as best they can to mix and enrich their own little ongoings with those of nature, and to get rid of rust and disease."

~ John Muir, "Our National Parks," 1901

Isn't it fascinating that John Muir penned those words more than a century ago?

Numerous studies today report that more of us are feeling the need to "unplug," "de-stress," and "digitally detox." Hotels are setting up special programs to "leave your mobile devices at the check-in." Youth camps promote their lack of Internet connections. And numerous studies warn about the long-term ill effects of children spending too much time indoors.



Now, I'm not one to preach. When my kids were growing up, I let them watch TV and play video games. While I'm not really an early adopter, I tend to embrace new technologies before most people of my generation. And I find it hard to be away from my smart phone for more than a couple of hours. Here I am writing an Internet blog post about the importance of "unplugging."



So this is a wake-up call to myself as much as anyone else. I'm happy to have my smart phone along when I hike, ski, or garden. It offers a level of security. It helps me with navigation. And it's handy for capturing photos at moments when I don't feel like being tethered to a heavy camera...and then a beautiful image, scene, or memory appears out of nowhere.



But sometimes I need to remind myself to turn it off...to rest, recuperate, and reconnect with nature. Just as John Muir so eloquently recommended all those years ago.

Please join me for a hike

Come along with me as I explore John Muir’s childhood stomping grounds. This plot of land is a National Historic Landmark, located about midway between Portage and Montello, Wis.

Let’s head for the trail.

First, we stop to read about John Muir, the father of the U.S. National Park System. As a boy, he emigrated from Scotland with his family in 1849, and moved to this Wisconsin property, which the family named “Fountain Lake Farm.”

A map of the area surrounding the lake shows a rich diversity of ecosystems.

We make sure to clear nonnative hitchhiker seeds off our boots. Along this trail, we will see native plant life common to Oak openings, fens, wet mesic prairies, Sedge meadows, and Oak woodlands.

One of the first things we notice is the beauty of young Oak trees—and how plentiful they are here.

Also noteworthy—several species of Milkweed, likely including Asclepias incarnata, A. syriaca, A. tuberosa, and A. purpurascens. (Mental note: Check back later in the summer to positively ID and to watch for Monarchs!)

As we hike across the mesic prairie, we see a pleasant view of Ennis Lake beyond the native grasses and shrubs.

And wildflowers, like Golden Alexander (Zizia aurea).

In the fen, there’s a nifty stand of Meadow Willow (Salix petiolaris).

And plentiful wild Strawberries (Fragaria virginiana).

The Black Raspberry canes (Rubus occidentalis) show signs of plentiful fruit this season.

In another Oak opening, more young Oaks show their stunning colors.

False Rue Anemone (Enemion biternatum) and Wild Geranium (Geranium maculatum).

Another pleasant view of Ennis Lake across the next Sedge meadow. As we enter a large Oak opening, the vegetation dramatically shifts to mature Oaks, Hickories, and woodland plants.

Notable understory plants here include Lowbush Blueberry (Vaccinium angustifolium),

And Horsetail Reed (Equisetum hyemale).

Another pleasant view of Ennis Lake at the opposite end—we’re about halfway done with our hike. Don’t worry—only about one more mile. We enter another Sedge meadow, where we could spend hours identifying plants. But there’s so much more to see.

One that catches our eye is hard to identify without the flowers. Is it Northern Bedstraw (Galium boreale), some type of Lily, or something else?

The red twigs of Dogwoods (Cornus sericea) catch our attention as we move from the Sedge meadow to the Oak woodland.

We cross a creek on a quaint bridge and head for the forest. Large, mature Oaks ahead.

But first we notice Choke Cherry (Prunus virginiana) reaching for the sky.

Here we go … into the woods!

These tiny white flowers have a unique shape. Looks like Bittercress (Cardamine spp.)?

Columbine (Aquilegia canadensis), Wild Geraniums (Geranium maculatum), and Star Solomon Seal (Maianthemum stellatum) greet us along the way.

The view along the stream bed.

Almost the end of the trail.

This plant must be a type of Honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens?).

And…

We’re out of the woods and greeted by a giant Juniper tree and an open field showing signs of a recent soccer game.

We vow to come back when the Milkweeds and the Lilies are blooming. (Mental note: Bring mosquito/tick repellent and don't expect cell phone reception next time either.)

What a pleasant walk on a cool, cloudy spring day! And a good way to remember a man who made a difference.

To read more about Muir's first years in Wisconsin and the subsequent uses and restorations of this historic plot of land, click here.