Two Winter Walks

At last, the wind has stopped roaring.  Cold, I don't mind, I can bundle against it, except when the wind pushes that cold right down to the marrow of my bones.  But the past two days have been perfect for winter walks, with quiet winds both days and today some new fresh snow.  I was really eager to get out.

Yesterday, I climbed the powerline road that parallels Spier Falls Road at Moreau, a nice wide road that leads up onto the mountainside that rises above the Hudson River.  With only a couple of inches of soft snow over a frozen base, I didn't need snowshoes,  but microspikes were a big help to keep me from slipping when the slope grew steep.

Up here on the exposed mountainside, those roaring winds that rattled my windows last week had carved many sinuous ripples and waves in the snow.

Thinking of that bitter cold and ravaging wind, I was glad to see that the little mouse who made these tracks has a cozy  home under this rock.

When the powerline road reached the point where a stream tumbles down the mountain, I left the road to scramble up the frozen watercourse, climbing higher and higher until I reached a rocky ridge where tiny springs constantly water the boulders, creating spectacular castles of ice.

So beautiful up here!  Well worth the climb.  Witnessing such beauty is enough to make me bless the cold.

And today was a day to bless the snow, a new soft snow gently misting down, turning the woods at Moreau Lake State Park into another scene of quiet beauty.

There was not another soul on the vast expanse of snowy ice that covered the lake.  Following a week of sub-zero cold, the lake is solidly frozen now, so I could walk directly across it, avoiding only those places where streams flow in and weaken the ice.

On a day so dim that all nature's colors were muted, this patch of tawny Phragmites appeared almost vivid against the subtler grays and drab greens of the forested mountain.

The hot-pink twigs of Striped Maple saplings certainly added a dash of color to the winter woods.

After an hour or so on the frozen lake, I was glad to approach the south end of the lake and smell the wood smoke that promised a place of cozy warmth here in the warming hut.

Cozy and warm, indeed!  The once-roaring fire had settled down to a mass of glowing embers,  still releasing plenty of heat.   Since November of 2014, this charming cabin has offered the park's winter visitors a warm place to retreat from the cold while resting up for further adventures on the frozen lake or in the snowy woods.

Old Stoneworks Update

On December 30 I posted a blog entry about finding some old stone foundations in the woods along the Hudson River, parallel to the Spier Falls Dam at Moreau.  In the meantime, I came across some old photos taken during the construction of the dam, and one in particular seems to offer a solution to the mystery of what those old stoneworks might have been.

Here are my photos of the stoneworks as they currently appear.

And here is a photo taken during the construction of the dam (1900-1903), showing tall derricks rising from both banks of the river, no doubt having been constructed atop strong foundations made of stone.   This old photo was taken from just about the same location as where I found the old stone structures, on the Saratoga County side of the Hudson.

One of these days I will explore the woods on the Warren County side of the river and see if I can find corresponding foundations over there.

Frozen River

According to the thermometer, today was the coldest day yet this year:  12-below when I came down to breakfast.  But the wind that had roared for the past two days was quiet at last, allowing me to venture out for a brief walk along the Hudson this afternoon, after the temperature had edged up into the teens.

I parked at the boat-launch site below the Spier Falls Dam, and I was surprised to see the river completely frozen over from shore to shore.  Usually, the strong current here keeps the river at least partly open despite the coldest temperatures.

Right near the boat launch, a lively stream empties into the river, and here the current was swift enough to keep parts of the stream open water, while along the edges, beautiful patterns of ice and frost had formed.

This looked as if someone had thrown down a handful of stars.

This arching band of frost resembled a diamond tiara.

Usually, I detest the alien invasive Oriental Bittersweet so much I refuse to photograph it, despite the beauty of its berries.  But today a late gleam of low sun lit up its red fruit, adding a dash of color to an otherwise drab scene, and I grudgingly allowed that it did look rather pretty.

I might have taken more photos of the frost formations along the stream, but my camera stopped working because of the cold, despite keeping it stuffed inside my mittens along with hand warmers.  And I think my shutter-button finger was starting to suffer frostbite, due to searing pain that didn't stop, even after I tucked the finger back into my mitten.  But I'm glad I got outdoors today, having cowered at home for too long.  And tomorrow should be even more inviting than today.

Winter Visitor

Just as I was observing how we didn't get many interesting birds at our inner-city birdfeeders these days, this little brown fellow flitted in today and went to work on the suet.  "Oh look," I cried, "a wren!" But what's a wren doing here in winter?  A quick check of my bird book confirmed my ID of this bird as a Carolina Wren (Thryosorus ludovicianus) and informed me that this species has been wintering farther and farther north in recent decades.

Isn't it curious that a wren with the name Carolina would winter this far north, while the Winter Wren (Troglodytes hiemalis) migrates south for the winter?   Actually, a distribution map in one of my bird guides shows the Winter Wren occasionally wintering over in some areas of New York State, although not this far north.  But there'd be no mistaking that wee little bird for this big guy (relatively speaking) with his broad white eyebrow, rusty-brown plain breast, and white chin.

I hope he ate enough of that suet to make it through the bitter cold that has settled upon us now, and I also hope he might stay around through the summer, when we might hear his cheerful "teakettle, teakettle, teakettle" ringing through the shrub thicket around my back yard.

A Very Ice Day for a Walk on the Lake

It's snowing like mad on Saturday night, and by Sunday we should have rain.  Ugh!  But Saturday morning was cold and dry, so cold that Moreau Lake had frozen solid overnight with an ice so clear and smooth, we might have thought it was still open water when my friend Sue and I met there to walk the shore.

Although the "Thin Ice" signs were posted on the beach, we could see by the depths of the visible cracks that we could probably walk on the ice if we stayed close to shore.  But it did give a slightly scary sensation to walk on ice so clear and slick we felt we were walking on water.

The colorful beauty of the underwater pebbles was amplified by the crystalline ice.

We could see all the way to the bottom, where we could clearly spy Spotted Newts either resting on the sand or wriggling away to hide under patches of submerged leaves.

Sue was the one who spotted this colorful golden rock with the lovely arabesque traceries, situated so beautifully next to the russet oak leaf and accompanied by a gilded water bug.  Were these patterns on the rock part of its mineral structure, or were they formed by snails meandering across its surface? I doubt that we'll ever know.

One of the great treasures sometimes offered up by such crystalline ice is the presence of many layers of silvery bubbles captured perfectly in the ice, which Sue is here trying to capture with her camera.

Don't they look like stacks of silvery coins?  They were surely a treasure to us!

We also found other patches of bubbles so fine they looked like those in a glass of champagne.

In one spot, we found those tiny bubbles had collected in distinctive ribbon-like bands.  We found it hard to imagine how this particular formation occurred.

When we reached the place on the shore where a brook tumbles down the mountain, we left the lake to climb up the banks of this small watercourse, delighting in the many ways that rushing water and freezing temperatures can create icy sculptures of shimmering beauty.

It amazes us that a brook so alive with dancing and splashing water can somehow disappear into the earth before it reaches the lake, but that's exactly what happens to this little watercourse once it reaches more level ground.

As we followed the dry creek bed, however, we surmised that water had filled these banks just a few days ago, leaving behind the evidence in numerous ice formations, some glassy and globular, others as brittle and delicate as blown crystal.

Another Year, Another Page in my Wildflower Journal

Trying to think of a theme for a New Year's post, I turned to my wildflower journal to see what new flowers I'd found this past year.  At first, I felt a bit disappointed that I'd recorded only 14 new entries,  instead of the 40 to 50 I'd regularly been listing in years past.  Of course, this is bound to  happen, since I tend to limit my searches to areas close to home where I travel often, and someday I expect I will have identified most of the local flowers.  This year I did extend my searching to parts of the Adirondacks I hadn't visited before, including Valcour Island on Lake Champlain, home to some of the rarest plants in the state, a slew of them all new to me.  But what truly amazes me is how many of my new flower finds occurred on familiar turf where I thought I already knew the name of everything that grew there.  Just goes to show, that Nature is full of surprises.  Who knows what the new year will bring?

Some highlights of the year just past:

Susquehanna Sand Cherry (Prunus pumila var. susquehanae)

The powerline clearcut above Mud Pond at Moreau is one of my regular haunts.  I frequently scan the sandy soil here, expecting to find my old friends the Frostweed, the Milkweeds, the Wood Lilies, the Hazelnut shrubs, and many others.  So how did this beautiful flowering shrub escape my detection for all these years?  And I might have missed it once again on a sunny day in mid-May, if I hadn't detected its exquisite fragrance and followed my nose to a big low-lying patch of it buzzing with bees.  What a find!  Let's hope I won't miss it again when spring once again comes around.


Naked Miterwort (Mitella nuda)

Okay, I did go a bit further afield to find this dainty plant with exquisitely feathery flowers, following my friends Evelyn Greene and Bob Duncan to a cedar swamp near Minerva, up north in the Adirondacks.  But that doesn't mean it couldn't be found in cedar swamps nearer home.  It's just that I probably wouldn't have found it ANYwhere if knowing friends hadn't pointed it out to me, almost invisible right at my feet.  It's very tiny, and as green as the mossy muck it grows among.  And I have very bad eyesight.  But now that I know what it looks like, perhaps I will find it again.  I sure hope so.



Round-leaved Orchid (Platanthera macrophylla)

Once again, I followed my friends Bob and Evelyn into the Adirondack woods, where we found a nice population of this aptly named orchid with leaves as big and round as pie plates.  Although not outstandingly gorgeous, this orchid's flowers are noted for their extra-long spurs, which distinguish this flower from its almost identical cousin P. orbiculata (also called Round-leaved Orchid).  Any year I find another of New York's nearly 60 native orchids is a good year for me!



Prostrate Tick Trefoil (Desmodium rotundifolium)

Back home in Saratoga County, and exploring another powerline clearcut that climbs up a mountainside at Moreau, my friend Sue Pierce and I discovered a number of plants we had never found before, including this sprawling vine-like Tick Trefoil with dainty pea-like flowers.  Although this section of clearcut was contiguous with others we had explored many times, and ran under the same powerline, we were amazed at what a distinctive plant population we found at this mountainous site.  There was Orange Grass (Hypericum gentianoides) and Venus's Looking-glass (Triodanis perfoliata) up here, too, although both plants had passed their blooming by the time we found them. You can be sure we will return at an earlier time next summer.



Pasture Thistle (Cirsium pumilum)

How lucky that we were NOT too late to find this gorgeous flower under that mountainous powerline I mentioned above.   Pasture Thistle is one of our very few native thistles, and what a spectacular one it is, with bright magenta flowers almost as big as a fist and as fragrant as they are beautiful, with multiple blooms on each compact plant.  Wouldn't they make a lovely garden flower? I can't wait to go back to enjoy them again next August.




Maximilian's Sunflower (Helianthus maximiliani)

Maximilian's Sunflower is not supposed to grow here in Saratoga County.  It's a Central Plains native that somehow found its way to the banks of the Kayaderosseras Creek near Ballston Spa, and boy, has it made itself at home among our native goldenrods and asters!  Another burgeoning population has been found a few miles away, along an interstate highway where Department of Transportation vehicles had been disturbing the ground.  That same DOT had denuded and replanted these creek banks two years ago, so it's possible there is a connection, either intentional or inadvertent.  Were these flowers planted on purpose, or did their seeds arrive with the rootballs of new young trees that were planted along the creek?  Don't you just love these kinds of botanical mysteries?  At any rate, it will be interesting to see if these sunflowers persist, or perhaps even grow to be invasive.  For the present, anyway, they are certainly beautiful.




Ram's-head Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium arietinum)

Well, this was a find of a lifetime, not just for the year!  And I never would have found these exquisite little flowers without a lot of help from my friends in the Adirondack Botanical Society, who organized a boat trip to Valcour Island in Lake Champlain and then led us right to where these rare tiny orchids had been known to grow.  Even so, I had to get down on my knees to make sure I was seeing what my friends were pointing at.  What a treasure!  This limestone underlaid island is also the home of many other rare and fascinating plants seldom found anywhere else, and I was able to add many other "lifers" to my wildflower life list.  But none more rare or remarkable as these Ram's-head Lady's Slippers.




Whorled Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum verticillatum var. verticillatum)

Whorled Mountain Mint was not a new find for me this past year, since I first discovered this very rare plant growing on the shore of Moreau Lake in September of 2013.  But it wasn't until this past July, 2014, that its population was officially documented and assessed by a representative of the New York Natural Heritage Program.  That's when NYNHP's Rich Ring joined Moreau Lake State Park's manager Peter Iskenderian and me to count at least 273 healthy specimens of this endangered species, making it one of the largest and healthiest populations in the state.  Some sources indicate there are only four other extant populations in all of New York at present.  And there it was, growing along a shore where I had walked many, many times before, without noticing anything remarkable about this plant.  Until one September day when I wondered why its leaves were so much wider than other plants of Mountain Mint I had seen.  So, you never know.  Future surprises await, I am sure.  Now I can't wait to see what the new year will bring.


Whatever it is that the next year brings to me, I do wish a Happy New Year to all my readers.  Thanks for coming along with me on my nature adventures and for sharing your own adventures through your own blogs and comments.  Your companionship means the world to me!