Arboretum Diary

"The wild things that live on my farm are reluctant to tell me, in so many words, how much of my township is included within their daily or nightly beat.  I am curious about this, for it gives me the ratio between the size of their universe and the size of mine..." Leopold, Sand Co. Almanac









10/13

The first hoary frost puts a crystalline damper over the singing of the sedge meadow and wetland.  Leaves of the red eared grassland that used to perk up to grab the morning dose of sunshine now stand steady, still living at the end of the season, but beginning their new stances as they droop and

ready for the great fall.  Half of Curtis Prairie stands in light; half in shadow; the difference between the two is more than a hand full of degrees temperature.  As you duck back under the looping trails

which lead from the Prairie under the stand of jack and white pines, the dormant pine needles seem to refrigerate these miniature valleys and would certainly persuade the small rodent in one direction as opposed the other.  The bright cool of early autumn is something that every artist within beholds, determines, one or

another -- through photos or words or more hikes with dogs through the woods -- to bottle and preserve as the best of the best like a fine vintage.  Lush foliage, which used to interrupt the sight of the smoldering yellow bulb in the sky are now clear and it is the craggy black spines of the marsh oaks that seem more like swift dashes off the sharp end of a charcoal pencil than limbs.  As the sounds of the nearby highway dim, the visitors rush in for the season, learn again to admire now that the mosquitos have retired, and will gladly tell you of the stories of the favorite paths.