Today at Shangri-Laura

Wild Black Raspberries

I love this acre all the time but I REALLY love it on days like these. Scott just harvested these from the wild black raspberry bramble that grows on the edge of the wild portion of our yard.

Poison Ivy Identification and Treatment [Photos]

 Would you guess this vine is poison ivy?

Beware of hairy vines! "Leaves of three" may be MANY feet over your head!

Yes, that IS a huge vine. The hairy roots are the tip off here. Poison ivy can easily grow 15 feet high and higher with woody vines as thick as an arm. Or, as thick as my leg. I think this might be the original poison ivy vine in this area. It. Is. Massive.

I learned poison ivy vine identification the hard way. We had three huge vines, such as you see in the very top pic, growing up the side of our largest tree, a massive cottonwood, when we moved to our acre. The leaves were quite high up and very large, almost tropical looking they were so big. I have been familiar with poison ivy my entire life, having been covered head to toe in the rash more than once as a child but I never suspected those vines.

My husband was chopping the vines in an attempt to remove them from the tree, as they were choking it out. It was spring time (think sap coursing upwards) and I had no gloves on, but went to help him yank at the vines to see if we could pull them down. We could not. And within two days I was so covered with a rash I was nearly hospitalized as a result and lost a full week of work.

Note to Self: Always wear garden gloves.

I do wish we would have taken photos of my face as it really IS miraculous that I returned to normal. I knew I would since my sister had gone through a severe outbreak like this as a child but my husband had never seen anything like it. He confessed to me later that he was considering the possibility that he might be married to a horribly disfigured wife, but was determined to remain at my side, bless his sweet heart. (Sounds funny but, seriously, my face was unrecognizable even to me.)

ALL parts of the poison ivy plant are "poison", ALL year long. Even if the plant is dead!

I made it my mission then to learn everything about poison ivy (I can even recognize the roots now since I also caught in in November while planting daffodil bulbs). And since we have SO much in this area, all over the woods and lining the bike path almost continually, I want to make sure you know what you need also.

How to be an Awesome Dad Tip #1:

Learn to Recognize Poison Ivy Before You Take Your Kids on a Fun Hike!

What inspires me to share?  Watching a dad march his kids through poison ivy to look at frogs, for one thing. I grew up in a wild area along a river. Most kids around here grow up with manicured yards and many of their parents did also. To a lot of people, these might just look like 'regular' weeds:

I was telling a good friend of mine about the dad with the kids in the middle of the stuff and how I had intervened and explained that they were in poison ivy and how to identify it and she said something the blew my mind:

"If they even knew what you meant by poison ivy!"

It never occurred to me that some kids might never even have heard of poison ivy before and might think 'poison' simply means you shouldn't eat it. (Deer love it, btw.) They would just walk away thinking they met a crazy person who had warned them about eating weeds. Until the next day when they and their parents learn a new phrase: "Calamine lotion."

The second thing that inspires me to share is that the bike trails, every creek and stream and pretty much every vacant lot along a street is rimmed with poison ivy.  That means if you have a dog and they like to sniff (and of course it will), then, at some point, they WILL dive headlong into the stuff. 

Don't worry, THEY won't catch it. But YOU might!

What makes poison ivy "poison?"

ALL parts of the plant (even DEAD plants and cut vines) have a greasy, invisible oil called urushiol. It's very sticky and can easily adhere to your dog's fur, or your garden tools, or your shoes, pants, or bike tires.

Sounds a bit intimidating, doesn't it? Don't let it be.

Urushiol is long-lasting sticky oil, but that doesn't mean poison ivy has magical powers.

Watch this video: 

You will see Tecnu in the video. You can get it at any ordinary drug store, over near the calamine lotion. It is a solvent, and smells a little like turpentine. I've found it to be much more effective and a lot cheaper than Zanfel but having seen this video, I'm definitely going with a degreaser like Dawn in the future. (And, like this gentleman, I haven't had a major outbreak of poison ivy in 15 years and I'm in it all the time.)

What if you DO get it? I'd skip the messy calamine lotion in favor of Rhuli gel except that the legendary Rhuli Gel has gone through two iterations since I've needed it. First it was bought by Johnson & Johnson (Band-Aid Anti-Itch Gel) and then it was taken over by Benadryl as Anti-Itch Gel  . They have a kid's version as well.

Simply must know more? For all things poison ivy, here is a great resource for you.

 

Baby Toads, One Week Later

These little guys are now seen more by the 'many tens' per square yard than the hundreds that were all over the yard a week ago. In part, they seem to have spread out so the migration from the marsh isn't quite so concentrated. However, between larger toads, frogs, birds and human foot traffic (which we really do try to limit), their numbers have also experienced a true decline. They look a lot more like toads now but are still very, very tiny...

Two Things You Should Know if Your Woodland Walk Looks Like This...

Let's just say, the paths I walk on in the woods aren't exactly groomed. In the winter and early spring they are passable, but once the vegetation gets going, they devolve into animal paths (which could explain why I have developed such a knack for finding animal bones).

And eventually, I might find myself in waist high weeds. (This patch surprised me as a couple years ago it was a very nice path.)

So, what are the two things you need to know? That, yes, you DO need to check yourself for ticks, more than once. Some are quite small and they take some work to find if they have made it into your hair.

And secondly, you should know what this is. (Read this post for the answer and important info on the subject.)

Somebody Owns Those Cows!

I live about seven miles as the crow flies, or actually, as the bike pedals, from Kenyon Brothers,  a small family-owned dairy that has survived here since the barns were built in 1895.  Anyone witnessing the suburban sprawl far west of Chicago knows their survival has been no small feat.

Many had been the time that I have stopped to watch these cows, especially on days when I need to shake off a little too much computer time.

I appreciate those cows.

I appreciate that, in the range of possible circumstances a dairy cow might end up in, the herd here has done pretty well, able to enjoy acres of rotating pasture, with shade trees, mud wallows and very little traffic to disturb them. My in-laws had a farm and my husband grew up milking by hand (as they could not afford to mechanize their farm). I have farmers on my side of the family as well.  Being around these cows, particularly after they emerge from the barn after their afternoon milking relaxes me.

It also makes me smile.

You might remember my friend, Christopher, of the blue jay story. Another "Christopherism" (I need a catchier name) comes from his retelling me the first time he had seen a cow.

He was very well into adulthood, working for the phone company, having left his deeply urban Chicago existence in search of a better life for himself when it happened. He was working in the Far West suburbs (he still does), fielding repair assignments further and further west, into a region that held several small farms.

"There I was, just driving down the road when I looked over and there was a COW in the field. A COW! I almost lost control of my vehicle. I had to pull over to the side of the road and just look at it. I could not believe my eyes. All I kept thinking to myself was, 'Somebody owns that cow."

I get to see Christopher next week. He just went to his first ever college commencement, for a graduating nephew. Hearing just the wee bit I did about his impressions of the college and the ceremony...how life changing and beautiful it looked through his one eye...I can't wait to hear the full story.

The world as seen by Christopher...it's a marvel and a joy.  Happens to be the same one you and I live in. Who knew?

Hopefully we will, more and more. I'm pretty sure seeing is contagious.

 

 

A Sense of Place...The Wild Onions of West Chicago

Wild onions. The name "Chicago" is derived from a French rendering of the Native American word shikaakwa,  for the wild leeks, onions and garlic that grew abundantly in the area.  The internet tells me the first known reference to the site of the current city of Chicago as "Checagou" was by Robert de LaSalle around 1679 in a memoir.

Nowadays, hot restaurants in the city hire urban scavengers to go find these tiny aromatic bulbs for discerning patrons. In fact, I've seen some concern expressed online that forest preserves might be crawling with illegal scavengers soon if we aren't a little more hush-hush about it and might decimate the species if left to their own devices.

All of which is to say, I'm sitting on a veritable gold mine because our acre is full of them.

For a long time I ignored them. And then I tried weeding them after I decided that I'd had enough of what looked like unmown grass all over my woods and garden. But goodness that is a life's work And then I thought I'd harvest them (they really are quite delectable).  Now I just...surrender to them, mostly.

I think about those folks in Chicago, scrambling all over trying to find their tasty (if slightly stinky) origins, now lost to so much concrete and I smile.

One woman's garden bane is a restaurateur's prized ingredient. Who knew?

 

Both Ends of the Spectrum...

Between ducklings and toad babies and countless fledglings, this acre is teeming with life as spring heads into summer. 

But because this is a place that animals live, it is also a place that animals die. I think that is one of the things that I like the most about it.

Now, before you label me as some kind of a sicko, let me explain...I'm middle-aged. That means I've lost a few loved ones. It also means that I have seen a few things happen that remind me, in subtle and not so subtle ways, that it doesn't matter how young I feel in my mind; my body is getting older and will, one day, give out.

Now, I know some people don't like to think about that...about getting older, let alone dying. But for me, I find the way to cope with things that cause me anxiety is to befriend them. I'm one of the few 50-somethings out there who actually knows how much grey hair she has. Old age is not going to take me by surprise. I'm watching it approach head on.

And that is kind of my point.

I studied martial arts for many years and was taught to move in close to what scares you. It helps you keep your center of gravity. Helps you root yourself. Keeping to your center keeps you strong.

Does that mean you won't get hurt? Can't be killed?

Of course not. But your best chance of making it is to stay centered. Strong. Focused. And to work with the energy that is coming at you. Don't try to blast force with force (I'm small, I'd lose every time if I tried that.) Instead, go with the energy. Add your energy to the flow and learn to direct it.

I left the physical practice of martial arts long ago but the mental aspect has always been a part of me. It's the way I live...moving in close to what scares me. Learning how to keep my center in the middle of that which threatens to overpower and destroy me.

Death will come for me, sure, but I've gotten over my fear of being destroyed by it. My father used to say, "It's just nature. It's like a flower. We just fade and fall off."

And that is exactly how he went.

And that is what animals can teach us. Pets. Wildlife. Nature herself never ceases teaching us as long as we just agree to show up to class.

And so it is, partly because I think I was a seagull in a past life, that I have developed a habit of grabbing bits and pieces of things that other people might think of as garbage, but that I somehow find nourishing (in the spiritual sense). This deer jaw bone is one of them.

I've found plenty of skulls and bones and tails and wings in my yard over the years, but this jawbone came from the woods. I came upon a coyote feeding ground with deer fur and bones spread every which way.

Standing in the middle of what used to be a deer in the forest felt equal parts eerie and holy to me. Like death...but somehow more. Like a graveyard held within the body of a temple.

If I were a poet, I might be able to translate the atmosphere of it for you but I don't have the words for it.

But I do have the jaw to remind me.

 

For Those Who Are Missing Their Fathers on This Father's Day

I promised recently that I would share the story of why the oriole visits are so meaningful here but, first, I need to give you what might be an unexpected introduction.

As you may have seen here last week, my father passed away five years ago, so I count myself among those of you out there looking skyward when you wish your Dad a Happy Father's Day.

My Dad was a very interesting, unique, funny and surprising man but in my youth he was mostly the guy who left for work each day while the rest of us were still in bed and came home to fall asleep in front of the tv after dinner every night. Weekends were for his gardens, his camera and for playing excellent music while we were corralled into doing chores inside and out. He didn't quite know how to relate to kids (not uncommon for men of his generation), so we were never really that close when I was younger.

That doesn't mean he didn't have a huge influence on me but we didn't really talk about things or do a lot together when I was young and then I moved away and starting my own life.  In truth,  we were both pretty surprised when I became his caregiver at the end of his life. It was a role I was actually in before I realized I was in it; a role not without its trials and tribulations. And yet, it was also the most wonderful time in our relationship, with our developing a friendship that was far stronger than our father-daughter bond had ever been.

I miss him terribly.

He was also one of the funniest people I have ever met and his humor and crazy wisdom was entirely woven through his dying process. I used to laugh myself to sleep after jotting down "Frankisms" on a notepad I began to keep next to the bed when I stayed at his house (my childhood home). I didn't know at the time they would inspire me to write a book.

The book is quite far along and then I put it aside for a while (I'll bet many memoirs and tributes share that kind of course). But I'm ready to get back to it, and I'll be sharing much of it (maybe all, who knows) with you here as I go. What I'll share today is a video of a public reading I did of two excerpts a while back.

The first clip is entitled "Just Skin and Bones" and captures one of the last times I saw my father. I had a photo in a gallery show at Water Street Studios in Batavia which you will hear referenced in the opening reading. Here is the photo, taken of my father's legs just three weeks before his death.

And, no. I never imagined I would show that photo to anyone, let alone see it hung in a gallery show.

The second excerpt will tell you all about the summer the orioles first arrived. The story doesn't end there with the orioles, as you can see from other entries at this blog, but there return...that is a story for another day... 

Waterline Writers April 21, 2013 - Laura Young from Waterline Writers on Vimeo.

And the Award for Most Plentiful Species on This Acre Goes to...

TOADS!

We've long noticed that every year seems to have its own "boon species" on this acre. When we moved in, it was frogs but we've had snakes, crickets, dragonflies...this year it is toads. Babies by the thousands and just completing their transformation from tadpole to land creature and are making their way from the marsh to the gardens.

They are ridiculously tiny...

And I do mean ridiculously so...

and astonishingly plentiful... How many can you count on this stick?

I can make out fifteen.  And as for this scene...I don't even know where to begin. 

All I can say is that knowing how hard amphibians have been hit so many places in the world, I feel blessed to be able to see them thrive here.

Want to see them in action?

On A Misty Saturday Morning...

A little coffee for me, a little jelly for him.

I'll share a little story with you tomorrow about why these little orioles are so special here...