Technical Writer

Saturday Flowers June 27; Birds of Culler Lake

This immature night heron was fishing this morning by the edge of Culler Lake, about 20 feet from the security of his roost in the tall trees.  His siblings were spaced along the edge of the lake, those who weren't strolling nearby under their heronry.  They are wary city dwellers, but as long as I stay on the path and do not venture onto their territory, they seem content to fish and stroll, not too bothered by me.

Here is the great blue heron, which stabbed a small something a moment after I took this photo this morning.  He is fishing well downstream from Culler Lake, in Baker Park.  This must be a very good place for fishing, and I have shown photos of this handsome bird as well as an adult night heron fishing from this very spot.

Off the subject of birds, here is the bouquet of flowers I arranged yesterday on the kitchen table.  They will brighten the kitchen all week.

Night Heron Fishing

With all the hungry young at home high in the tangle of trees by Culler Lake in town, this night heron is getting a jump on the day by fishing downstream from the family brood.  The immature herons were too high in their trees this morning to capture on camera, but I found a parent, already at work on their behalf.  I hope the kids appreciate the fish.

Nine Herons Sitting in a Tree

My feet hit the floor at 4:21 this morning, and I felt a surge of gratitude toward the cat who acknowledged me with a low, specific purr, "Yes, I let you sleep in, but don't get used to it."  Leaving my husband sleeping quietly behind, I have come downstairs to begin the morning routine. I feed Miss Tammietta.  She examines her kibble, then goes to the kitchen door with another expectant purr and I let her out.  One minute later, she's back inside having breakfast.

I have a friend who gets up every morning at this time.  Her forebearers are from an old village settled in the early 1600s on the coast of Maine.  She is such that I can imagine her, leaving her family sleeping peacefully, beginning her day by thinking with intent on the day ahead.  Had she been born in an earlier century, she would have stood in her kitchen and turned her mind to binding the rugged Maine coast against any storm that could lash it asunder.  My friend is such that she could probably call up a strengthening, binding spell upon need.

The clock has struck 5 a.m., and in minutes, when it is light, I will hit the pavement and walk over to Culler Lake.  I walked through the park Sunday evening, when all of Frederick seemed gathered at Baker Park for a concert, those who were not walking their dogs, or jogging or picnicking with their families near the city swimming pools.  The town was alive with robust enjoyment of a perfect, near-Solstice evening.

I went to the trees at the end of Culler Lake and saw that people had gathered beneath them and were taking photos at eye level.  The young night herons were displaying themselves.  These charmers are still quite young, with immature feathering still, but for baby birds, they are sturdy little things, quite larger than footballs, and poised in the gnarled intertwined branches of the trees, perfectly safe from their many admirers.

My friend Nannette told me that her husband counted nine young birds this year, and she can hear their raucous calls from her own house near the lake. In a few minutes, I will return to the stand of trees to visit the birds.

A Dietary Revision

Recently, around the time I began to take long early morning hikes through my town, I changed my dietary habits of a lifetime.  I have always liked Haagen Dazs, for instance, but I no longer eat ice cream.

I really like ice cream.  When I lived on Stone Mountain, before leaving the grocery store I would roll a newly purchased pint of ice cream in the day's entire newspaper, wrap that in plastic, and pack it all into a special bag to preserve cold foods.  I would drive the jeep home to the bottom of the mountain and hike to the house.  I would unpack my treat and sit on the porch to read the paper, and tuck into the ice cream, now the consistency of soft-serve.

I am a bit like an alcoholic.  Hello, my name is Ann, and it has been 6 weeks since I ate any food with any dairy (think of butter and yogurt), gluten-bearing grain (that means wheat and oats), and sugar.  I and my husband have increased our daily fiber intake to at least 35 grams, and we have so many vegetable and fruit leavings from meal preparation that we have to buy a compost bin because it seems a crime to throw it all down the sink disposal.

Alternatively, I could take the garbage out on my morning walks and strew banana peels and carrot tops along the way.  I won't do that, of course, because that is not a reasonable liberty a person may take and yet remain a member of an orderly society. 

Urban Birds

The stand of pines at the end of Culler Lake in town is the home of a preposterously noisy family of four immature night herons, one of which alighted in front of me at 5:30 this morning.  I have avoided this stand of trees because the birds were just fledglings, but now they are old enough to fly to safety.  This youngster left his siblings squabbling overhead and visited briefly.  Night herons are widely spread in the region, and the brown and speckled-white feathers of this stocky young one will be replaced by the white, grey, and black mature plumage of his parents. The living must be good, and I have seen one parent fishing nearby.

I walked back to the herb garden at Schifferstadt, opened the gate, and went in the fenced-in garden.  There is a no-trespassing sign on the garden gate, but surely in a reasonable world, that did not apply to me.  (My criminal life is confined to this order of behavior, but my rational is shared, I believe, by more egregious criminals.  For them, however, there may be no compensatory belief in the exceptions a reasonable person may justify in an orderly society and yet maintain the society for the good of all.) 

I examined the herbs, pinched a tip of tarragon and savored its aroma. This is an admirable herb garden, being true to its time.

Behind Schifferstadt, a fine example of German Colonial architecture, now more than 250 years old, the stretch of Carroll Creek is less tame than in the city center. 

Here is an old willow by the creek, and the town has left it alone, which means that knowledgeable gardeners and arborists work for the city of Frederick.

On my way home, I stepped into the street to see what was holding up a few vehicles, which began moving slowly through the intersection.  Look to the left side of the street in this photo and you can see what had stopped traffic.  What a great town.

In the Wilds of the City

I didn't see the tall, lanky fellow and his bounding black dog on my walk.  I set out in the cool damp at 5:30 this Sunday morning, when the few joggers and dogs with their people I meet on most mornings were still abed.  I imagine an extra dog bone later for Spot, and a mug of hot coffee for the skinny guy who runs by me most mornings and gives me a thumbs up. They'll be out later, but I think that they'll stick to the paved paths and sidewalks, and that is not were I was bound this morning. It was a perfect day to explore the creek bank by Schifferstadt.

Frederick may have been laid out in the mid-1700s, but there was a settlement here long before that, and as early as the late 1600s, there were cabins along the rivers and creeks.  By time Joseph Bruner and his family, immigrating from southwest Germany, built this beautiful house, families were actually pulling back from the western edge of settlement in Western Maryland in fear of the French and their Indian allies at war with England in the colonies. The house Bruner built was staunch enough to house many people, should they have needed fortification.  The house was solid enough that it is still here, and is one of the finest examples of Colonial German architecture in the country.

The walls of Schifferstadt are three feet thick.  Herr Bruner made a window sill in the kitchen that even today I admire because it took work to chisel the granite to form a drain from the stone sink inside to the outside.    Getting waste water outdoors without having to slosh it out in a pail is a great boon to civilization in a household, even greater than having water running into the house, and I know this to be true.  I have written (see the link on the right to Backwoods in New Hampshire) about my simple, rustic life on Stone Mountain, and I do not take for granted efficient water management.  I know that only a loving husband would have made this sink drain for Mrs. Bruner.

Behind Schifferstadt is Carroll Creek, which runs through town.  At this end, the creek is managed for wildness.  This is a tame stretch, and behind me, the banks are obscured by fern and grass, and all manner of flowering bushes.  I flushed the beautiful great blue heron, and I did not intend to do so.  The stream must be clean because there is a little sign that this section of Carroll Creek is reserved for trout fishing by children and the blind, by order of the Maryland Dept. of Natural Resources.  There would be no trout if the stream were polluted.

I spent some time walking on the banks of the creek and got quite soaked.  It has been raining for days, and this weekend has been a break in the weather.  The giant arts festival in the town center is this weekend, so a break in the rain meant that the streets of Frederick were crowded yesterday, and will be today because Frederick is a beautiful small city.  No one comes up here, however, and I am glad to be alone on the creek.

Saturday Flowers

I will change the water and trim the stems and these flowers will last the entire week on the kitchen table.  The roses will be gone in a few days, but by then the tight lily buds will open, and they will remain throughout the week. 

Here are the flowers from last week, and I have moved them, much reduced, to the dining room on the sideboard Franklin Rappold copied from a Hepplewhite piece.  The painting is by Paul Wilson and it reminds me of the wilds of New England, at dusk.

1840 Dear & Much Beloved Sister

Here is the letter I wrote about a few days ago.

Canton, January 25, 1840

Dear & Much Beloved Sister

Saturday afternoon as the week is drawing to a close and as I had determined that another week should not pafs without attempting to write a few lines to the best of sisters I received your kind letter the Friday after you sent it    Darius called and left it as he was going to a sing at Brother Jeds it was quite late past nine I was all alone my Husband and Children in bed   No one knows the lonesome hours I have

I sat down before I could open the letter and examine the _______ best of sisters have I one friend left on earth that can sympathize and feel for me    Unfolding the letter I found I had a Dear and Beloved Sister one who if she was near me would sooth some of my lonely hours   

O Elizabeth!   I never shall forget your kindness to me  I am very much pleased with my present it is very pretty and propper for me  I can never repay your kindness to me  My pen is but a poor instrument to express my gratitude  I have often thought of writing to you but when I thought of the subject I should dwell upon the tears would flow so freely I could not    O my Dear Maria that lovely child is gone where I never more can see her in this world again how can I endure the thought never more to see that lovely face and hear that sweet voice that has comforted and consoled me at all times  O Elizabeth how can I endure it

No one can confess my feeling but those that have felt it.  I know it is all right for the Lord has done it but I can not help grieving we are not forbidden to weep  I think it is my ernest desire and prayer to God that it may answer the end for which it is sent.   I feel that affliction does not come by chance, but that God sends them for our good.  I feel that I needed chastisement Dear Sister if you did but know the lonsesome hous I spend here all alone your heart would ache  I know I have a great many blessings left  I have a very kind Husband & affectionate Children, they do everything in their power to make my life pleasant.  But they dont know a Mothers feelings. 

You my Dear Sister have seen a dear child brought near the grave but she was spared and I cannot describe to you my feelings.  While ____ and then to see the bereaved Husband and that Dear little babe.  It is a lovely child it looks very much like her Mother, her Father almost worships her & you would not wonder at it if you could see her  Whats a solumn sight to see a little babe left without a Mothers watchful care  Who can do for her like a Mother no one possibly can  It has the best of fathers. He is one of the best of men he is a kind son to me.

Elizabeth has been there ever since Maria died. Her year will be out in four weeks. He would like to have her stay another year but I think I shall have her come home this spring for me to come to Warren I think if nothing happens.  I think I shall come in April.  Jesse thinks of coming with me. 

I went up to see Mother yesterday and carried her bundle  She was very pleased &  She looked first to one and then to the other. She says they have all thought of me, and Mr. Nichols has sent me a snuffbox , and she appeared very much pleased with them all. Jesse carried Mary's bundle to her this morning. She was very much pleased but he thought Granny Cafren was full as much.

I want to see you all very much.  Tell the girls I think much of them. 

Your affectionate Sister

Great Blue Heron With an Eye Out for Breakfast

Baker Park in Frederick is a 44-acre stretch of green that follows the course of a creek through the center of this town of 60,000 people, the second largest city in Maryland. The park is cut through by a few roads, and the roads cross bridges over Carroll Creek.  Here is an enterprising great blue heron waiting for a good catch early today. I saw this fellow last week with a big fish in his beak, flying toward a roost near the covered bridge by the high school.

This morning I also saw a night heron about 100 feet upstream from the great blue, and he, too, was fishing, and at the bottom of a small spillway across the creek. 

It is a fine thing to live in a city with enough open space to support such birds.  I see them only in the early morning; I do not walk in the park when the rest of the world is awake and bustling about--mothers with baby carriages, runners, people having lunch as they sit on the benches throughout the park.  The early morning is my time for observation.

Frederick is a great small city.

Saturday Flowers May 31; a Walk in the Park

Here is a picture of the flowers I arranged early Saturday morning for the kitchen table. The tablecloth is from a small village in Alsace where cloth has been made and printed since 1837 (with a cessation during World War I).  The manufacturer is Beauville, and the village is Ribeauville, of approximately 5,000 people.  The cloth manufacturer is on the outskirts of this compact village, at 21 Route de Ste Marie-aux-Mines, a quick walk from the village center.  http://www.beauville.com The village is one of the most beautiful in France, and I have been there many times.

_____

My morning walk today was most welcome because yesterday hard rain was falling and I did not go out in the wet. 

Here is Baker Park, one small view of it, at about 5:30 a.m. 

I came upon a family out for a stroll to Carroll Creek.  Madame still has all ten ducklings that I counted a few days ago.  She is doing rather well, because Baker Park is not without its perils.