Dogwood Flowers

 

Photo taken by Mattie Speece Villines

 

     This year the dogwoods are stunning! Go out and witness the beauty for yourself because a 8 mega pixel shot on a screen will not come close to doing the forest justice. Not every year is as remarkable as the next. Every plant has good and bad years depending on circumstances such as weather and disease. In the past, the dogwoods as well as the rest of the forest, has had its share of dramatic sagas.
     When my parents first arrived at Owls' Knob in the early 80s, the property was covered with dogwoods. In springtime it looked like snow was falling as those white flowers opened. As a child, one of my best friends was an old dogwood tree I called the Horsey tree. Like many dogwoods, the Horsy tree had four trunks growing from the same base and branching off close to the ground in opposing directions. Each trunk grew out on an angle, parallel with the ground at some point before shooting up to the sky. To me the four trunks looked just like a horse, a phoenix, a serpent, and Falkor, the luck dragon from The Never Ending Story. I played out many fantasy games in the Horsy tree.
     In the early 90s a fungus began creeping through the Ozark forests. It was the dogwood anthracnose fungus and it killed its victims quickly and silently. At first it was just a dead dogwood here or there along the road. But I began noticing the dying trees on Owls ' Knob in 1996. I left Owls Knob for many years and when I returned in 2006 dogwoods lay dead all over the property. I walked out to the place where the Horsey tree stood and found its four trunks splayed out in a cross. To most people it was nothing more than some hunks of decaying wood in the forest, but to me it was a grave site. I picked a bouquet of dandelions and left them there. That spring, and for many springs afterwards, the snowy effect just wasn't the same.
     In February of 2009 the Ozarks experienced an epic ice storm. It wiped out power everywhere, blew transforms up all over town, and took out so many trees and tree limbs that it looked like God came out of the clouds with a whim-wham or weed eater to trim the forest. At the time, thought I gawked at the destruction, I didn't realized the a lasting impact it would have on the forests. Not only did it knock out entire groves, but it weakened the trees that survived. Nearly every tree had some broken limbs and many were missing significant portions of their canopy. After the ice storm, many trees became sick or infected with borers and have since died. My beloved oak tree died as well. The one that stood beside the house and gave our western windows shade in the summer. The tree I hung a swing from. I swung that tree all year. The death of the oak tree hit me harder than any other. We turned her stump into a chair and when I sit in it, I think of her and the ice storm that led to her death.
      Five years after the ice storm you can still see where the ice hit hardest because the forest is completely different in those areas. There are gullies that were hit hard, huge trees lay dead over entire hillsides. There are deep forests were the canopy, which was once shading the undergrowth, is now open and exposed to the summer sunlight. Today those forests are completely different, where once huge old growth oaks, hickories, and walnuts stood, are now filling with understory growth like sumac, red buds, and (yes I have finally found my way back) dogwoods.
      Nature has its mysterious ways. I pained seeing the dogwoods die and I pained seeing the oaks die. Each of those tragic events hit me as hard as loosing a friend. At the time I wanted to scream, "Why?" But I now see why. I recognize the need for an ebb and flow of life. There is a give and take that is necessary. Though it seemed tragic at the time, the death was an opening for new life. Nothing stays barren when it is dead in nature. Death equals new life, every time.
 This year we shall morn the death of many a great oaks, but we can rejoice in the beauty of many a young flowering dogwood.

Hello Trees!



"Hello tiny flower!"



Last week, Zane and I went many places to admire the colors of autumn's leaves. First we went to the park. There the falling leaves were mostly from Osage Orange trees. My son was more impressed by the huge Osage Oranges fruits than the yellow leaves. He is an observant young boy, and very curious. I stopped often because he was busy examining a stick, tree, bug, or flower. He also took time to say hello to many of these things.


The following day Grand-ma, her friend Zan, Zane, and I went to Yellow Rock at Devils Den state park. The round trip hike is about 3 miles long and it is categorized as moderately difficult trail on the Devils Den website. But Zane is a trooper, so we set off on the hike. At first the rough terrain kept him completely occupied and moving briskly. Every rock was an opportunity to climb a mountain and jump off a cliff. Often he stopped to greet a tree. I am not sure why he has decided he must greet the trees or what makes one tree so inviting while he passes so many others by. I have learned that it is pointless to argue, not worth the fuss. So we waited and watched him as he said hello and good bye to many a tree.

Half way through our journey we rested on a large rock and ate snacks. Then we descended the hill and rounded the mountain towards Yellow Rock. Upon the huge rock, in front of the amazing view, my three year old was not so impressed. A leaf or a tree is tangible, but a view is just vast. He does not recognize the size and scope of an entire valley and the mountains beyond yet. So we only stayed on the rock a short while, before walking back.
On the hike back, Grand-ma had to carry the boy often. As she became tired, she devise a game that encouraged him to walk. Grand-ma and Zane would hurry ahead and hide behind the biggest tree they could find. As we approached, they would jump out and scare us. It delighted the boy and kept him moving. Even after the long hike, the three year old was full of joy and energy. So we went down to the river at the Devil's Den picnic area to let Zane do what he loves most: throwing rocks in the water!

The next day, Grand-ma drove Zane and I out to Owl's Knob for a much needed visit. All summer, during the intense heat and drought, finding the time and energy to go out to Newton County was hard. But the colors of fall lured us deep to the wilderness. We drove out the long way, along highway 16, where the hills were dotted with color and cyclones of yellow leaves circled the car. All day we walked around the mountain. All around the cabin a halo of yellow glowed. Sunbeams turn golden as they were filtered by the wide compound leaves of hickory trees. As I walked through the forest to the north the rock, yellows gave way to deep reds of tupulo trees and joyous oranges of maples. Along the edge of the pond brilliant reds from the sumacs are set off among deep maroons of water logged sweet gums. I took a stroll down the long driveway and collected leaves. My favorites were oaks and maples that had just been touched with hues of red, as if fairies had come a painted their tips on the night. 

When the day was done, we said good bye to Owl's Knob. Zane said good bye to the trees.

Perhaps there is something to learn from the boy who talks to trees. I am not saying we should all go out and literally speak to trees, but maybe we would all feel better if we took the time to stop and silently greet the world around us, understanding and appericating it better in the end.  



"Hello, tree... Good bye, tree!"



Bark Scorpion Girl

Striped Bark Scorpion

At the Ozark Natural Science Center, before I take students on our first hike together, I always ask the students to each tell me what they want to learn more about. Most of them either name the first animal that comes to mind (bears, snakes, or deer) or they flip through their field guide and read a heading to me, even if they don't know what it means and are not interested in it. One cool fall day last year I got a surprising answer, "I want to learn more about the Striped Bark Scorpions," said a little girl with black hair and wide wandering eyes.
"Bark Scorpions?" I mused. "I'm not even sure we have them around here..."
"Oh yes, they are here. They live under rocks during the day and then climb trees at night in search for food. They hunt insects and stuff. They are only, oh, about this big..." she showed me a little over an inch with her fingers. "They blend into the bark, especially because it is night, so when you put your hand on a tree they sting you. But they won't kill you, its like a bee sting."
"Wow, I think you might need to teach me about them! Obviously you know quite a bit more about them than I do."
"I like to study them." Her gaze lowered and she seemed slightly embarrassed. Other students were snickering and rolling their eyes at her. At her age, being smart is NOT cool.
Throughout the rest of our time together, the girl continued to teach me things and I taught her what she didn't already know. She was full of questions and answers both. The bark scorpion did not come back up since I felt stupid not knowing anything about them.
This past week, while walking with fellow Ozark Natural Science Center teachers, during staff trailing, we flipped over a rock in the glade and found a stripped bark scorpion. Immediately I thought of the bark scorpion girl. As I asked teacher naturalist more about this species, I realized the girl had been right about everything she had told me, from its size to its habits.
"I knew a guy who picked them up!" someone said.
"I dare you to pick it up, Caleb," said Adam.
Caleb smiled.
"I will rub nose burn on my nose if you pick up the scorpion." Adam dared. (Nose burn is a plain little plant or weed that grows in Ozark glades. People who touch it get a stingy or burning sensation that rarely last more than 20 minutes. However, Adam found it not to be painful when he lost this bet and rubbed it on his nose.)
Carefully, Caleb crept up behind the scorpion and then quickly plucked it off the ground. The scorpion curled its legs in and froze in the giant's grip. While taking a picture of the only Ozark scorpion I have ever seen, I wished the bark scorpion girl was there to see it too.

Caleb Wardlaw Holding a bark scorpion

Black Bear



Bears have been on my brain. Last Sunday a co-worker photographed a Black Bear at the Ozark Natural Science Center. We talked about it all week. Then I went out to Owls' Knob and found a bear track beside the pond. Late at night, while driving home from a neighbor's house, I spotted a black bear near my driveway.
But finding a bear at the Science Center, where I work, and finding a bear at my home, where I only sometimes live, are two very different things. The Ozark Natural Science Center is located in "Bear Hollow" beside "Bear Hollow Creek" and we teach children about the wilderness  and wildlife  of the Ozark Mountains. Therefore, we welcome a native bear. It would give flavor and excitement to our programs. On the other hand, bears around my house is a bit more troublesome. In the past, we have had problems with bears.
The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission relocates "problem bears," bears that raid cars and trashcans and become to dependent upon residential waste. These naughty bears get a red ear tag and are relocated to the deepest parts of the Ozarks, in places that far away from towns, where only the wildest roam... places like Owls' Knob! In the past, bears have broken windows and trashed our kitchen to lick a honey pot clean. Bears have destroyed bee hives, knocked over compost bins, and eaten entire bags of dog food. It is not that I am unwilling to share Owls' Knob with a bear, it is just that I hope it is a shy yet friendly sort of fellow. I hope this bear is a good neighbor.

Read More about bears and bear history in my ONSC blog post!

Boat Ride

There is nothing that delights Zane more than a simple boat ride. He enjoys watching the water swirl and the dog swim around us. We spy fish and listen to frogs. Sometimes we are lucky enough to swim with ducks or spot a blue heron. Zane loves the country and cried yesterday when we put his boat on top of the truck. He cried when he woke up from a nap to find himself in town. He sobbed, "No town house, go home!" His town house is just a house to him; he already misses his country home! We are seriously thinking about when we are going to move back to Owls' Knob!

Big Green Frogs

Bean Mountain Farm Plants

Winter strips the leaves off trees and turns the grass from green to brown. Gardens are mostly barren. Only the most hardy plants remain.
At owls knob, even without water this summer or any attention during fall or winter, a few plants seem to always persist. Kale is the main vegetable. I posted back in fall about how kale is an amazing food. It grows despite drought and even keeps producing green edible leaves through most winters. This year has been mild so far and my kale is still flourishing. I was delighted to pick delectable fresh greens to spice up my burrito last weekend!
Herbs also persevere through the winter months. I once had an old rosemary bush that lived five years and produced food all winter. I also had an old thyme plant that kept  its leaves in the snow and ice. Though they died back each cold season, it grew bigger than ever before each spring.
This year oregano is my herb. Underneath the blown leaves I find hairy oregano leaves hiding. It is nice to flavor pasta with fresh oregano in January!
But I can not take credit for these herbs and hardy vegetables. The plants I grow from seed rarely last long, grow big, or produce in hard seasons. The plants in my garden that thrive are all from Bean Mountain Farm.
Bean Mountain Farm sell small and large plant starts every spring. They always have a booth outside the Ozark Nature Food Co-op on different weekends in spring. This year some of their sale dates are March 24, April 14 (Owner Appreciation Weekend) and May 12, all at ONF. Their annual Mother's Day Sale always inspires me to finish planting before the cool spring weather expires. I have bought plants from the Walmart plant department or from Lowes with much less success. Often the plants I buy from these big stores are half the price as local plants. But when the plants dies and all my money is lost I realize that investing in quality plants is very important! Something about the Bean Mountain Farm plants is special. They live a long time, grow bigger, and are very hardy. When preparing your garden this year, consider buying your plants from a local farmer!

Boxely Valley Spring

At the foot of a mountain, on the south side of Boxely Valley, a fast flowing spring brings clean, clear water forth from the depths of the earth. Locals from all around fill water jugs and drink the pure water that flows there. To many of us, water are sacred. Water is at the base of all life. Clean, drinkable water is becoming harder and harder to find. However, near the headwaters of the buffalo river springs feed every stream and ripple throughout the valley. In fact, these mountains are actually part of a plateau which was originally flat on top when it was formed. Over the years, spring fed streams and creeks have shaped the land, creating deep valleys. The old saying goes: "It is not that our mountains are high, but that our valleys are low."

Down stream from the spring's opening, water crest grows. Water crest is an edible aquatic plant that will only grow in the clearest springwater. Above the spring, grows the largest beech trees I have ever seen! Many of the largest trees have died in recent years, presumably from old age. One of the large dead trunks is covered with carvings and initials tracing back through time. On the road nearby lies the remains of an old one room school house that burnt in 1997. I was a young girl then and I remember that the school house fire was the talk of the county for weeks. Beside the school house a smaller building, probably a root seller, still stands.
While examining the ruins, my son found a sweet gum ball. He brought it to me, asking "that". I explained it was a seed and would grow into a big tree. We walked up to a big tree. Zane look back and forth, from seed to tree, trying to wrap his mind around how such a change could have taken place. Meanwhile, I tried to imagine what the little valley must have looked like when that huge tree started out as a seed so many years ago.

Boxely valley has a rich history of settlers, natives, and animals. Once is had been a favorite hunting spot for Osage and other tribes of Natives to hunt buffalo. Settlers found the valley to be beautiful and hospitable. During the late 1800s and early 1900s, the valley had a much larger population than it has today. People in the valley were divided by the civil war, brothers were fighting brothers in their grandparents yards. After the war, the valley became a center of 'progress'. Timber was gathered from ever hill and valley, leaving the steeps barren. Every last buffalo, elk, bear, cougar, and wolf was hunted to extinction. Once the resources were all used up, the people moved away. Years later the Buffalo River became the first national river. The surrounding land fell under nation wilderness protection. The forest service reintroduced elk and bears. Deer and other wildlife populations increased under new protection laws. Today the upper buffalo wilderness area is a favorite vacation spot for nature lovers, campers, hikers, and canoeing adventurers.
My favorite spots are the hidden springs and ancient trees off the trail. The valley contains magic. In the mossy cliffs, crystal clear water, and arching ferns the purest beauty can be found. You just explore with open eyes.

Ozark Area Community Congress Annual Event

The Ozark Area Community Congress, otherwise known as OACC, meets every year to share ideas, knowledge, and to celebrate the Ozarks. Though the event has taken place at the Ananda Kanan yoga retreat center for years, it used to be at a different location somewhere in the Ozark bioregion each time. It attracts environmentalists, healers, and friendly country folks from all corners of the Ozarks.

This year was their 32^nd annual meeting and I drove to Willow Springs Missouri to attend. As child my father took me to OACC just about every year. I didn’t appreciate the workshops and collective group that got together back then, I just wanted to play with Rose, a friend who I saw only once a year. As I became a teenager Rose and I kept in touch with letters but eventually we grew apart.

As an adult it is still partly about meeting with like-minded people and talking over breakfast or late into the night around the campfire. But it is also nice to attend workshops. In past years I have lead a workshop. Most workshops are organized and held by the people attending the event. As people arrive on Friday they write descriptions of workshops they want to teach on pieces of paper and stick them to the ever changing schedule board. The people who come to OACC make it what it is; therefore, it is different every year.

But this year was entirely different because I am a mother now. The weekend became keeping Zane happy in a strange environment with strange people. My son started out by getting car sick during our four hour long drive. When we arrived at the lovely Anana Kanan yoga retreat center, the opening circle event had just begun. We stood in a large circle outside the dining hall with a grand old white oak tree as a key member of the group. I tried hard to listen to the announcements but Zane was anxious to run and play. His anxiousness did not fade for dinner or bedtime. He ran around outside and through the dining hall giggling. Though most people thought it was cute, I found it to be exhausting.

The second day Zane was still disturbed by the strange event. He refused to eat the delicious vegetarian food in the dinning hall; it just wasn't like meal time at home. Though he was interested in the other children there, he just didn't have the social skills to play. Most of the day I spent following him up and down the stairs between the kid's playroom area and the dining hall.

I was only able to attend one workshop on primitive skills and edible plants. Bo Brown from the First Earth Wilderness Schoolin Springfield Missouri taught us how to knap flint, make stone tools, weave rope out of dogbane fibers, and how to make a fire using a bow drill successfully. The we went on a short plant lore walk in which everyone taught everyone else what they knew about the plants we came across. At was a great break from the kid.

When I returned to being a mom, I found Zane even more disturbed than before. I tried desperatly to feed him but he still didn't want to eat. He suddenly fell asleep while eating dinner and so let him snooze in my arms while I watched the annual open-mic talent show. Though there were many talented people, my favorite performance was singer/songwriter Stan, the Eco Troubadour. His songs were fun and geared towards kids but deep in meaning and full of information. During one of his songs, Zane woke up and immediately started clapping.  

As we got ready to go on Sunday, I realized I had missed out on many much of the weekend. It would have been easier if Zane had been older or if I had brought along a helper. But as it was, I had to stay in mom mode all weekend.

While I packed the car to go, a tattered butterfly landed on Zane and rested there. I coaxed it onto my finger. Two children came by and wanted to hold it as well. We all took turns letting the delicate creator rest on our fingers. It brought great delight to all involved. And I was reminded why I go to OACC every year. Moments like this is what it is all about!