Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge

*sigh* Perhaps I need to change the title of this blog one more time to "Diary of a Hermit", because for several reasons that's what I've been lately. But I still have the heart of a nomad, and to prove it I left the yard today. Yay me!

For your enjoyment, or maybe not, here are some pictures from the Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge, approximately 30 miles northwest of where I live.



I know next to nothing about plant life, so it beats me what type of flowers these are.




Double-crested Cormorants


I couldn't see them well but my best guess is Trumpeter Swans.


Great Blue Heron

Common Loon
(the Minnesota State bird, besides the mosquito!)

I've finally got my State Park Permit so we'll see if I can take some fun trips in the next few months *fingers crossed*. 'Til then, stay cool my babies! Aawww, I miss Conan. What happened to him is a travesty, I tell you! Maybe not so much for him, as he probably uses twenty dollar bills for toilet paper now, but for fans like me without cable for sure!

Nature, In Shades Of Gray

I bet you thought I'd abandoned my photographic nature walks and hikes. Only temporarily. My hobbies happen in phases and I'm still in my writing phase right now. But sometimes the phases overlap and it was so nice out this evening that I couldn't resist a walk. (A nice reprieve from the rainy, hot, muggy, buggy weather of late.) For a challenge I decided to only post photos from this evening's walk in black and white. Man, sometimes I almost wish I'd never seen the works of Ansel Adams. They've made such an impact on me that it's sort of compromised my own artistic vision. Instead of something original, my stuff just looks like retarded clones of his amazing photos. It's still a fun hobby though. Here goes nothing...

These were taken on my family's property this evening.














See the deer above? It's sorta hard to see so I'll post another in color:


I was taking photos of flowers alongside a trail when a doe showed up with her family just behind me. I counted 2 small buck and 3 doe. I stayed in place and just turned the tripod around to face them and starting taking pics and video. The lead doe became aggressive towards me, a behavior I've never seen. Our property is part of a major deer corridor and I watch them out back almost every night. The only time I ever saw a hint of aggression was during the fall rut when the bucks were fearless. Anyway, this doe started making strange vocal sounds, stomping the ground, and charging at me. She got close but never closed the gap. It was obvious that my presence startled her and she felt the need to protect her family. Eventually they all took off. Unfortunately I didn't start rolling video until after she was finished with her displays of aggression. All I have are pics and videos of her staring me down. It's something to keep in mind though - although Bambi is cute, deer are still wild, unpredictable animals and we need to be cautious of them.

Life is Fragile

Seen today on a framed cross-stitching in a thrift store:

Life is fragile, handle with prayer.

I've never heard that saying before, how sweet.

P.S. I suppose another valid viewpoint would be "Life is short, handle with dare." hehe

To my dad on Father's Day

I've had a couple of father figures in my life, but only one real dad, that's you.
We've had our share of good, bad, and lukewarm moments over the years, haven't we? I've been at times a deeply flawed daughter, and perhaps you have your regrets as well, but that doesn't matter. It also doesn't matter that we don't share the same last name or genetic make-up. Because we are connected for life, you and I, by something even stronger - a bond that began roughly 32 years ago when you stepped into my life, held me, played with me, and became my dad.

We had our fun over the years as I grew up. I recall you taking us to drive-in movies, and carrying me when I lost my battle to stay awake. I remember riding on the back of your Harley, my pudgy little arms hanging on to you for dear life. I remember you and Grampa Vern taking me along on your early morning fishing trips because I begged and pleaded to go, then enduring my whining when I got bored after 5 minutes out on the lake. When I was a little older you took us in the RV to Tennessee and I remember riding the motorcycles up to the highest point in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Then on the way back down we coasted silently through the mountain mist with the engines off, amongst a thick forest of the biggest Pines and Evergreens I'd ever seen. When I graduated from high school I remember you throwing me a party in the back yard of your house on the river and teaming with my grandparents to buy me a graduation gift - a computer for college. These are just a few in a big collection of fond memories I hang on to.

Now that I'm grown I see our residual bond as something like an invisible fishing line strung between my heart and yours; and whether I'm 50 miles away or 1,500 I still feel its tug. Although I get lost and drift far off, I'll always find my way back sooner or later, knowing you'll be there to greet me with a hug. You've always been and continue to be a source of quiet strength for me, an anchor that keeps me grounded, and I'm grateful for that. Being the tough guy you are I'm sure you hate all this sappy stuff, but this is just my own way of saying I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day.



P.S. Nice bell-bottoms! But don't worry, trust me, no one ever reads my blog.

Divine Providence

Preface: The writing bug has bit me hard this time, I'm constantly inspired and could probably write 24/7 if I allowed myself. Most of what I churn out isn't worthy of sharing but I thought this one was. Warning: I'm going to wax poetic and get all existential and stuff, as I'm prone to do lately. You've been warned.


The storm has passed leaving some fiery, amber filter in the sky, drenching everything around me in the warmest light I have ever seen. The scent of rain and seawater hangs thick in the humid air, though I stand at least 1,500 miles from either coast. I picture how far the winds must have pushed this air; what beautiful landscapes it has blown across, picking up and carrying off bits of it all, like tiny souvenirs along the way. How many people in far off places have paused to breath in the scent of this same air? It seems it’s never enough to just experience a moment like this; I must try to capture it and take it away with me, as if I could ever own it. My mind searches for the proper words to paint this picture, as if such words exist.

I take notice of the white clapboard siding on this slanted old country house, the dark green stalks of fledgling corn across the street bowing in deference to the wind, and the clouds suspended above the field like strings of cotton balls. All bronzed in a soft warm glow, as if God were a director lighting his set to film a most romantic scene tonight. Out back the setting sun fans its light through a cluster of clouds and tree branches onto a meadow dipped in honey. The wild grasses sway and swirl in unison, like tall dancers stretching this way and that, their delicate grain seed tips reaching like hands toward the heavens. Leafy green vines spread out and curl among batches of colorful wildflowers most people would call weeds. Even the Weeping Willow seems joyful as its branches flow in the breeze like jellyfish tendrils in underwater currents.

From the woods to the left a White-tailed Deer emerges, a doe. The wind comes to a halt at about the same time she does, giving the illusion that time has stopped. For a moment she looks me in the eye, but has little concern about my presence as she continues on, grazing her way across the field. Then she disappears into a stand of trees leaving solemn stillness in her wake. This-- this is a place to rejoin life, to forsake the modern world, if only for a little while. Let the fresh air find that stillness inside of us.

I abandon my search for the right words now. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath, as if to further imbibe the moment, and imagine others, long gone, who've inhabited this same patch of Minnesota land. Native Americans, European settlers, my great-grandparents, and my grandfather-- all standing before the same sun, the same meadow, and experiencing the same sense of awe. I imagine if they whispered their secrets into the same wind I could hear them. ~

Copyright ©2010 Angela Schofield


P.S. if you like this you should check out my word-licious poetry blog :)

Yummm

I've been watching some cooking shows lately and so when it seemed there was nothing good to eat in the kitchen yesterday, I was inspired and got a little creative. Using only what ingredients I could scrape up in the fridge I made the most delicious quesadillas for lunch! I liked them so much I made them again for dinner tonight.

And here's how I did it.

Ingredients:
2 - Mission Carb Balance Flour Tortillas
3 - Muenster Cheese Slices
Kraft Reduced Fat Mayo with Olive Oil
Fresh mushrooms - finely chopped, as many as you want
Fresh Spinach - chopped, as much as you want
Extra Virgin Olive Oil



Directions:
Put a little olive oil in a small frying pan over medium heat.
Add mushrooms and cover. Sautee a couple of minutes, stirring a few times.
Add spinach and cover. The spinach will wilt pretty quickly and once it does you can stir it, then turn off heat and leave it covered on the burner while you are preparing the tortillas.

Heat a larger frying pan on medium to medium high. Place the tortilla in the pan and cover. Once that side is slightly browned (a couple of minutes) turn it over and brown the other side. (the first time I did this I used a little olive oil when frying the tortillas, but it isn't necessary.) When that one is done, put it on a cutting board and brown the other one.

While the other is browning spread your mayo on the finished tortilla. You can use any type of flavorful mayo or dressing (I bet ranch would be good). Spoon the mushrooms and spinach onto the tortilla, including leftover olive oil in the pan too, and distribute evenly over tortilla. Place the cheese slices to cover all of it. By now the other tortilla should be done browning so place it on top. Place the whole thing into the frying pan and further brown both sides until crispy and the cheese is oozing out. Place back on cutting board, cut into fours and voila!

Optional: Onions would be a great addition to this dish but I don't care for them myself. Be creative, use whatever ingredients you have laying around the kitchen. With crispy tortillas and all that gooey cheese, it would be really difficult to screw this dish up. Happy cooking!

Breathing a sigh of relief

I know it’s horribly close-minded and socially irresponsible, but I try to avoid reading or watching the news. It’s too depressing and/or frustrating for a sometimes overly emotional person like me. I'm also hindered by a belief that the news often paints a false picture of the current state of the world - whether by exaggeration, omission, or outright lies. Call me apathetic, but I find sometimes ignorance really is bliss. The only newspaper I read is the Osseo Press, because almost nothing tragic ever happens in the town of Osseo, MN – pop. 2,434. Unless you consider the cancellation of Saturday night bingo at St. Vincent de Paul church tragic. Just kidding, I don’t even know if they have bingo at St. Vincent’s. But let’s face it, they probably do.

But I'm straying way off track here. My first point was simply supposed to be: I don’t follow the news. Point made. My second point is: Although I’ve essentially cloistered myself, I still managed to read or overhear a couple of things regarding LGBT rights in the news lately. One was about “Don’t ask, don’t tell” being repealed (has that been made official yet?) and the other was a great article in the most recent issue of Lavender (Minnesota’s GLBT magazine) about Obama forcing hospitals to change their standard rules and practices regarding life partner visiting rights. Upon reading this I gave a literal sigh of relief, as if I'd been holding in that breath for years and could finally release it.

What's my third point you ask? This is how it should be. I'm relieved because we are moving in the right direction. I’m sorry it’s taken this long, but we’re finally making giant strides thanks to activists who don’t give up. Thanks to courageous people like Harvey Milk and countless others, who take active roles in their communities and don’t back down from a fight or close their eyes to tragedy and injustice. And of course, thanks to President Obama who said from day one that he would fight to further civil rights, ensuring equal rights for all, and who is making good on that promise. I’m grateful to everyone who cares deeply about something, cares about the fate of future generations, cares about making the world a better place, and gets up off the couch to do something about it. They are the sometimes less-obvious heroes among us.



There may be more than three points to my ramblings, I lost count, but you get the gist. Now I have to share this related story real quick before I go to bed:
I was reading that Lavender magazine while having breakfast with my 81 year old grandmother at a restaurant this morning. There were no newspapers lying around so she asked if she could read my magazine when I was done. I stammered "Ah, sure, but I don't think you will like it." When I was finished reading it she asked again and my response was the same. She said "Why? Is it really bad?" as she started thumbing through it. Recalling the numerous ads with shirtless men embracing, I said with a bemused grin, "It's for and about gay people."
"Well, why in the world would you want to read that?!" she raised her voice.
Oh my. There's no short answer to that question but I condensed it to "Because I like them." Her hearing isn't the best and I'm pretty sure she heard "Because I'm like them." "What?!" her voice went even higher. So I repeated myself more loudly. "Oh." was all she said, and she continued flipping through it. I tried to remind her that I've had numerous gay friends and even flew out to San Diego for Pride once, but she didn't remember so I dropped it. Then she said with utter disgust "There's a couple of gals at work, they hold hands and kiss. It's just gross. They don't need to be flaunting it in public like that." I couldn't help but chuckle inside. I love my grandma just as she is and wouldn't dream of trying to change her (not that I ever could). But she represents the old world and the old way of thinking, and I'm so happy we are moving away from the ignorance of those times. My generation and those following are learning from the past and becoming more enlightened and evolved every day. There's another sigh of relief.

Creepy

Our visitor is still hanging around. At least I got a clearer pic of him this time.

After I took this photo he starting spazzing around like he was having a seizure or something, clumsily fluttering towards me *shriek*
At least he moves slow enough for me to outrun him.

And yes, to answer the silent question in your mind, this is how I spend my Friday and Saturday nights - photographing ginormous moths out in the yard. Ha! Jealous?

I write, therefore I am.

For the most part I have tried to keep the tone of this blog light, reserving the goth/emo/tortured-soul crap for my poetry blog and private journaling. But I want to share an excerpt from a letter I just finished writing, because it's something everyone can relate to in one way or another. Sometimes we need to let the brave mask slip - be reminded that we aren't alone, no one's life is perfect, others struggle just like us. And so I share a private struggle of my own with you.

You were a major event in my life and I never really got over you. In fact, my relationship with you derailed my life and I've never managed to get it back on the tracks. But I know that I am much more to blame for that than you. I still carry the baggage with me every day because I stubbornly refuse to let it go. Maybe I never will. Maybe I don't want to, because letting go would mean healing and moving on, and that's too scary.

I've been doing a lot of writing over the last few days. I even did some work on the novel I haven't touched for months and may never finish. Writing is therapeutic and I recommend it for everyone. Even if you think you have nothing to say or think you don't have the right words to say it. Don't think, just sit down and start writing. Don't worry about spell-check, and certainly don't worry about being the next William Shakespeare, just write for yourself. Write about your day. Write down the random thoughts that pop into your head. Write a letter to someone who impacted your life in some way, even if you never send it. I think you'll discover you have a lot to say.

Monster Freaking Moth!

Even though I claim to be a born-again nature lover, it was all I could do to keep from titling this post "Ewwwwwwwww!!" (Note: When I break out the exclamation points and italics, you know I'm worked up about something.)

Anyone who knows me well is aware of my phobia/disgust where bugs are concerned. I find them repulsive, but also strangely fascinating at the same time. I can appreciate the role they play in the circle of life, I just don't want them anywhere near me - and definitely not touching me or crawling on me. *shudder*
But I enjoy nature walks and hikes, and thus in recent years I've become much more tolerant of them while outdoors. But come on, this...
This is just too much to handle:

I love taking evening walks to enjoy the cool, fresh night air. But it seems there's always something disgusting lurking out there, like my nemesis, june bugs *gag* and also apparently mutant moths the size of my freaking hand! Hey, I'm not exaggerating, take another look at that picture and notice the normal sized moth next to it. Yeah, it was that big. *faint*
I think I'll just stick to my early morning walks from now on.

... it is kinda cool though huh? I loathe to admit it, but it's almost pretty. Almost.

P.S. My curiosity got the better of me so I googled this bad boy and found he's a species of Giant Silk Moth. I refer to it as "he" because I learned the bushy antennae indicate it's a male. Gross. At least he has a neat name. More photos and info can be found here.

Surfacing

Last night I finally conquered my childhood nemesis, Ms. Pac-man. That is to say I got so far in the game, with no end in sight, that I finally got bored and just started chasing the ghosts. I think I was around level 50 and my score was something like 389,000. The victory was sweet after weeks of committing pac-man hara-kiri over and over because I screwed up early on in the game and wanted to start over.

I'm still slowly snapping myself out of a recent funk, so this morning I forced myself to get up early and take a walk. I encountered a deer and a Peregrine Falcon – both fairly close-up. I saw a variety of pretty wildflowers and ate wild strawberries for breakfast.

Pac-man and nature walks...Ahhhh…life is good.

Lemmings, slow thy roll

You know, being a nature lover I care about the environment and try to do my part to be "green", but I'm not the most optimistic person by nature and sometimes my efforts just seem pointless. Am I really making a difference? When I think of the billions of tons of refuse going into the earth, waters, and air it's mind-boggling. The situation in the Gulf of Mexico right now is monumentally tragic. When I think about the millions of gallons of oil continuing to pour into the sea as I write this, it's overwhelming and makes my stomach ill. I try to avoid it but when I see images on t.v. like that pelican covered in thick, black oil my heart sinks and the situation seems utterly hopeless. We are slowly destroying the wondrously intricate and fragile ecosystems of this beautiful planet and I feel helpless to stop it.

But then I remember uplifting quotes like "Success is just a state of mind.". Now I don't know who said it, but it's basically true right? And of course there's the classic starfish story reminding us that although the big picture can be overwhelming we shouldn't lose hope because we can still make a difference in each life we touch. But lately those old standbys haven't been enough to pull me out of my funk.

Then, today as I was flipping through the channels I happened to hear just a fragment of something a man was saying and it was enough to hit home and turn my attitude around. I don't remember his exact words but this was the message I took from it and where my mind ran with it:
We are essentially the proverbial herd of lemmings running full-speed towards the cliff (so true!). Now, with all our momentum it may be physically impossible to come to a complete and sudden halt, but we can certainly start slowing down. All our generation needs to do, all we CAN do, is start applying the brakes. It's our obligation to do so, even if we didn't start the fire. (Sorry, I love mixed metaphors!)

I think the lemming reference is genius and sums up the situation perfectly. Whoever you are, you wise little man in my t.v., you rock! I don't know how far away that cliff edge is but it doesn't matter, I can't change that, all I can do is start slowing down the pace. And that's what I intend to do with each pop can I put in a recycle bin or re-usable bag I buy for my groceries. Small things, but not insignificant.

So what can I do about the tragedy unfolding so far away in the gulf? I don't know, but ignoring it because it's too difficult to watch sure hasn't been doing any good. There must be something I can do, maybe assist a wildlife rescue organization in some small way. I'm going to log off right now and look into it and I encourage you to do the same.

I hope these thoughts and ideas are as inspirational to you as they have been to me.

With Peace, Love, and Hope,
Angela

~ Every day should be Earth Day ~

Happy Birthday Grampa Shorty

You'd be 86 today. I know you're watching over things but I thought I'd give you an update just in case. (I'm sure you're a regular reader of my blog right? Ha!) I'm living back on the ranch, keeping Gramma company and helping out with chores. We had an early spring this year and the lilacs are already in full bloom. The yard smells wonderful, I just wish they'd stay around longer. I guess we can't always get our way.

We've been cleaning out the clutter from the house and outbuildings and having an ongoing yard sale. I've been spending a lot of time in the barnyard, sheds, and your workshop. It's a treasure hunt for junk in decent enough shape to sell, but it's also a trip down memory lane - finding remnants from your life and my childhood. I feel your presence all around here and it never escapes me that this stuff is still very much yours. I can almost see you working in the shop, welding a bike frame or something. Seems like it was just yesterday.

I bought some fake blue and white carnations for your shed door. I know you'd hate them but memorials are more for the living you know. Gramma found a sign at a garage sale with an eagle on it that reads "Captain's Quarters". Perfect. She and Steve hung it over the shed door.

The Twins have a new outdoor stadium and I saw a game there, very nice. I'm following the team closely this year. I've been keeping busy with a number of projects, the latest of which is volunteering for the library. I deliver books to a nice old lady in Robbinsdale - she was born just a year after you. Oh, and I cut my hair really short and dyed it black. No doubt you'd have something interesting to say about it. Amy looks just the same, cute as ever, and is expecting a baby in September. Today just happens to be the day we learn the gender. I always thought May 3rd was an auspicious day! I won't find out 'til later on but I think it will be your first great-granddaughter. And I have a feeling she'll be a Twins fan too ;)
Little Raymond is a force to be reckoned with. He's strong like you. I know you'd get a kick out of him. He seems cold and grumpy when you first meet him, doesn't smile a lot, but once he warms up to you he has quite a distinct and surprisingly warm personality. I think he's going to be a character when he grows up. Imagine that!

Well, things are chugging along here, life goes on without you, things change quickly, but one constant is that we all sure miss you like heck. Here's a kiss on the forehead for ya. Happy Birthday Grampa, I love you.






P.S. I was wrong, it's a boy!! And if he's anything like you he's gonna be a feisty little handful! :)

Road Trip: Mississippi River

Well, since the budget is a little tight these days my travels need to be closer to home, but that doesn't mean they need to be any less special. This week I took a spectacular two day drive through bluff country alongside the mighty Mississippi River. On the first day I drove down the Minnesota side (Hwy 61 South) and the second day back up the Wisconsin side (Hwy 35 North) for a total of 460 miles round-trip. Let me just say right now, if you have any affinity for bald eagles, water fowl, or birds in general - along that river is the place to be. Very cool. Let's get to some pics.

Day One: First stop, Frontenac State Park 10 miles SE of Red Wing, MN.



Great views. I took a nice walk in the park and saw a group of deer.

The next cool stop was in the Whitewater area. I guess Whitewater is a wildlife preserve/State Park. From what I saw it was a gravel road that went on for miles, surrounded by wilderness, mostly wetlands, and wildlife. In this picture below I was trying to get a picture of a Bald Eagle sitting in a tree.

I tried zooming but this was the best shot I could get:

Ah, If only I had an awesome camera.


View of Winona, MN from a bluff.



Next stop, Great River Bluffs State Park. It has great trails, my kind of trails anyway, through forest and meadows.


Didn't see any snakes there.


Crossed over into the lovely state of Wisconsin.

Stayed in a cheap motel in Onalaska, WI right across the street from the river. As the sun went down I sat on a bench and watched Pelicans migrating north up the river. I didn't have my camera with though.

Notice little Teeta at the bottom of the statue, she was my companion for the trip and proved to be a handfull. I don't think I'll take her on any overnight trips anymore, she doesn't let me sleep.

Day Two: On the way back up north I stopped at the historic Seven Bridges Road. I'm guessing the famous song is referencing this site. It was a neat little footpath.



And now for my most favoritest stop on the trip, Trempealeau National Wildlife Refuge.

I spent most of the morning, at least 4 hours, there and was having so much fun I forgot to take a picture of the welcome sign like I usually do. But I still have the brochures. What was so cool about this place is that it had wetland, prairie grass, and forest habitats. And there was a self-guided driving tour that consisted of a narrow one-way gravel path with several numbered point-of-interest stops along the way. The brochure gave great information about plant and wildlife and even history for each stop. It was exactly like a hike except you were in your car, which I appreciated because I was starting to get tired with all the activities and driving. I rolled all the windows down and crawled along, I don't think I ever went over 5mph and I turned the engine off frequently to just watch and listen. It was awesome. I swear those moments when I'm alone out in nature are just about the only times when I feel zero stress, anxiety, anger, or sadness - out there I'm not in a rush or locked in my own head, I'm just present in the moment and at peace. I feel really alive and a part of everything around me. It's the kind of high worth chasing. And when I do get lost in thought out there, I'm just imagining what life was like for the early European settlers, and before them the Native Americans. I wonder what the landscape was really like back then, and when early man hunted mastodons and sabertooths, and even before man when it was just dinosaurs. Before there was a Mississippi River, when the land was covered in glaciers that eventually melted, creating it. It's nice to get lost in nothing but those kinds of thoughts sometimes.
Alrighty, moving along, this is another pic I snapped at the wildlife refuge. It's a Common Flicker (Yellow-shafted)




Canada Goose

Muskrat

Canada Geese looking for food.


There was this great little grassy pike that stretched 3/4 mile I think. It was a narrow walking path with water on both sides; it felt like a narrow little island. There were tons of birds everywhere I looked. I saw a flock of Sandhill Cranes, many types of duck, a Blue Heron, what I believe was a White Egret, quite a few Bald Eagles and other unidentified hawk-like birds. It was incredible. The whole park felt like a paradise, or what my idea of paradise is anyway.


Beaver Dam


On the way back I stopped at the birthplace of Laura Ingalls Wilder who wrote the Little house books.



And that's it. I'm thinking for my next trip I should do a tour of the covered bridges of Madison County. Sounds like fun.