Swan Song

April 6, 2012

OK, it’s a turkey, not a swan, but this preening, fan-tailed creature is as close  to a swan as I’ve seen at Radnor. I needed an appropriate photo to use to close my Radnor Reflections blog, and look what waggled and gobbled in! I’m still going to walk and wonder at Radnor Lake, and I will take photos, but they will show up in Three Dog Studio along with my other ramblings and photographic efforts. I have loved sharing my walks with the Deers at Radnor through this blog. Thanks to everyone who read and /or commented over the past two years.  Please join me over at Three Dog Studio!

Spillway

Radnor Reflections, December 15, 2011

It is rare to be able to photograph a view of the spillway when the thinning  of vegetation in winter combines with a rain heavy enough to send water over the rim. Also, the poison ivy needs to be in winter retreat so you can step just a few feet off the trail for a better angle. I didn’t, however, say that I actually did that.

Edge of the World

Radnor Reflections, December 14, 2011

The fog was so thick on our walk today that you could not see the other side of the lake. Eerie, and beautiful.

Pretty as a Flower

Radnor Reflections, December 10, 2011

It’s hard to find a flower at Radnor in December, but lichen are everywhere, and they can be as pretty as flowers

Frostweed

Radnor Reflections, December 9, 2011

This strange phenomenon stopped us in our tracks today. When the temperature drops to around freezing, the stem of this plant, called Frostweed, exudes water that freezes into interesting shapes. In the summer, when there are some leaves and flowers present, I would recognize Frostweed as Tickweed. It has dozens of other common names because of its unique characteristics, but the scientific one that encompasses them all is Verbesina virginica. Whatever its called, I have a new appreciation for it.

Tickweed

Misty Morning

Radnor Reflections, December 7, 2011

It misted/rained this morning. Snow is expected to mix in through the afternoon. The lake is lovely in these conditions, if you can just get there over icy roads!

Breakfast Delayed

Radnor Reflections, December 6, 2011

As mad as this red tail hawk looks, there is an equally frightened, and grateful, squirrel below it.

It rained buckets yesterday, and it was still misting as we walked. I once heard an old country Tennessean describe a light rain as a dry drizzle, and I’m sure that description fits the weather this morning. It was gray and still, when suddenly the peace was interrupted with a powerful thunk. A bit alarmed, I turned to see the squirrel shooting like a rocket into a hollow log. I couldn’t imagine how it might have made such a loud noise. It wasn’t the squirrel, however, but the hawk, sitting on the ground at the precise point where the squirrel had been. The hawk had a hard time accepting the fact that his breakfast had escaped, but finally flew off.  I saw the red feathers in its tail this time.  The squirrel will probably be in that log for a good long time.  I know I would be!

Frosted Leaves

Radnor Reflections, December 5, 2011

The bright autumn colors are spectacular, but the winter’s muted artistry is equally appealing.

Frost Patterns

Radnor Reflections, December 4, 2011

Frost is a graffiti artist!

December Begins

Radnor Reflections, December 1, 2011

This day at Radnor was made to order for the first of December. Deep frost coated every leaf and branch with an outline of icy white crystals. Frosted seed pods on plants looked like cotton candy on sticks beside the trail. Bright sun burned  the fog off the lake, sending it in waves over the spillway along with excess water from the past several days’ rain. Mr. Redtail Hawk sat on a branch and enjoyed the morning, or maybe he was waiting for the fog to clear so he could enjoy breakfast. The honeysuckle (reviled by militant gardeners) that lines Otter Creek Rd at the eastern end was sugar coated with frost, glowing with an inner iridescence against the gray of the fog and lake. No apologist for the disparaged honeysuckle, I still see beauty in it, and would rather fall into an invasive honeysuckle bush than a native poison ivy patch.