Thanks to your essay, my husband was on board with the idea. We spent our "extra" hour at Nubble lighthouse in York, Maine. The adult male Black Scoters have arrived, following the Surf Scoters last week. Many juveniles of who-knows-which Scoters have been here for a few weeks. Also a couple of Red-Throated Loons, the resident "Common" Eiders (nothing common about them!), and of course, confusing juvenile Cormorants. No Harlequins yet, but patience always pays off. A friend reported Buffleheads in Chauncey Creek.
Nov 5, 2023·edited Nov 6, 2023Liked by Bryan Pfeiffer
I did it! I spent the last precious hour of daylight on this November day of "fall back" exploring the woods - and found some real gems. Various fungi - puffballs, chlorociboria (so blue!), purple jelly discs, orange jelly spot, and yellow fairy cups (so much COLOR!). Numerous Bruce Spanworm Moths flitted about (42 degrees), a pileated flew overhead, and a small flock of chickadees dee-deed away around me as they picked up a few last morsels before darkness set in. Ravens and crows practiced their wind maneuvers. Upon checking out "my" patch of Fen Grass of Parnassus at the end of our driveway (looking for the basal leaves), I was rather saddened to find a dead porcupine, who must have been a traffic casualty. I stopped to admire the quills, the camouflage, the softening body of this former life, a somber reminder of how brief is our time...then I climbed to the top of our field to watch the skyscape and sunset and breathed in some serious gratitude. Thank you for giving me this idea. It was one wild and precious hour well spent.
Oh my, Tracy -- this is amazing. What an hour! An inspiration, to be sure. You've made my day. As it turns out, I made an impromptu trip to the coast of Maine. If I can pull it together, I'll report tomorrow on my extra hour here along the coast. But maybe I'd include your incredible account as well. What say ye?
Ahh, I miss the coast of Maine and the birds there. We used to have a family home in Georgetown, right on Sagadahoc Bay. I hope you had a very memorable hour! You are welcome to share, but do not feel obliged. I just wanted you to know that your lovely idea inspired a fellow nature chaser's hour of adventure.
Our clocks in the U.K. went back last weekend. Oh, thank goodness! I am a creature of the morning, and that extra hour has allowed me to swim in the sea in the light, rather than the dark, and walk at sunrise. I admit, though, I hate the dark afternoons... and will be wishing away the months until spring, but in between I can watch the thousands of jackdaws coming in to roost in a hidden valley as winter slowly turns.
From across that sea in which you swim in the light, I send you greetings from the western Atlantic shoreline of Maine, where I will find good use of my extra hour on Sunday. So many options ...
I'll be outside removing (eg, sawing down) more young invasive Siberian elms from my neighborhood arroyo, making space for the Rio Grande cottonwoods to return as they have in other parts of the arroyo where I've worked. Just helping the wild community of the arroyo gain a little more resilience in the face of climate change.
My view was silent (except for the cars behind me) so I think it was me giving that scream when they finally lifted up into sight. But now I'll be wrestling with this question. The race is on. The arrows are good, esp if there are two sides shooting back and forth, but I'm going to go for a verb where people don't die (lol) that still holds the thrill and sweep and magic.
I saw them, thanks to this! Those snow geese (as they unexpectedly lift from the corn fields and then do their back and forth almost swirl flight I have yet to be able to name, do you have a verb for it?), they never cease to amaze me. It's always such a gift to feel my five-year-old-self joy. Thanks.
We do indeed need a name for that. I've described the pent-up energy of a Snow Goose flock, just before the explosive liftoff, to be like thousands of arrows drawn on thousands of bows. Or dare I say even like Roger Daltrey's iconic scream in "Won't Get Fooled Again." The rumbling and liftoff go a bit like this: 😆 https://youtu.be/xe2oLauD1AM?feature=shared
Wonderful idea! I’ve been so relieved that all of my devices are automatically updated that it didn’t occur to me that I should ignore time and just be. We’ve been hearing wrens in Green Mount Cemetery so I will splurge on more time with them.
Wonderful way to celebrate this in-between time of year. I'm retired and live in Tucson. Arizona declined the invitation to mess with the clock. The Sandhill Cranes have arrived at their winter nesting grounds near Tombstone. I doubt they will recognize me, but I'm going to visit them anyway.
This is awesome. I've been cashing in my extra hour since I was 18 when I decided it was a shame to sleep that hour away. I'll probably spend it at my easel, but I usually decide in the moment. Enjoy yours!
Yay! Yeah, I'll probably decide in the moment this year as well. (Maybe I'll document in detail what I find in that hour and write about it next week.)
A couple-three years ago I decided to ignore Daylight Saving Time altogether and refused to set my clocks forward in spring. Since then all my timekeeping devices—other than those that automatically reset themselves back and forward—display what I call “sun time.” (Until fall, whenever DST rears its ridiculous head, it’s easy enough just do the math.) Eventually all other clocks will fall in line, albeit temporarily.
You're like the old Vermont farmers (probably Maine farmers as well) who pay no attention to such temporal trivialities! 😀 (Odie sends regards to The Captain!)
Last night a monarch emerged from a chrysalis unseen on the backside of a houseplant leaf brought back indoors from its summer vacation. It looks rather stunned but did crawl onto my hand. It spent the night in a cool room and I didn't put it out until the sun had been up a few hours shining on stragglers of zinnias. Not sure if in this 50 degree weather if it will survive, but I'm hoping. Isn't it too late to emerge just shy of November 1st?
It's late -- but not too late. These stragglers may not make it to Mexico. It depends on the location from which they begin the journey. I've seen Monarchs as late as early December on the Maine coast — there's fairly good evidence that those don't make it. But, you know, success with Monarchs falls on a bell curve. Yours isn't off the curve just yet!
Thank you. I am hopeful. Monarchs have manifested after our daughter's death and have special meaning in my life. That one should ""hatch?" in the house and crawl onto my hand, well, let's just say, it was something!
I love this idea! And you’ve inspired me to do the same 🌞 It’s so easy to forget that time is a construct. And I can’t resist sharing my essay (from almost a year ago!) on that mind-bending topic: https://kenshostudio.substack.com/p/measuring-the-infinite
Bending minds and bending time! Thanks for that essay.
"Time is malleable. We sculpt it to fit our needs, we organize it according to our values. This doesn’t just happen on a collective level, but is also reflected in our individual lives. What we do with it, whom we share it with, what we’re willing to exchange for it – time is a powerful choice. My wish for this year is that we cherish our time, however we define it."
Thanks to your essay, my husband was on board with the idea. We spent our "extra" hour at Nubble lighthouse in York, Maine. The adult male Black Scoters have arrived, following the Surf Scoters last week. Many juveniles of who-knows-which Scoters have been here for a few weeks. Also a couple of Red-Throated Loons, the resident "Common" Eiders (nothing common about them!), and of course, confusing juvenile Cormorants. No Harlequins yet, but patience always pays off. A friend reported Buffleheads in Chauncey Creek.
Ok, Bryan, spill! Just a list is fine...
I did it! I spent the last precious hour of daylight on this November day of "fall back" exploring the woods - and found some real gems. Various fungi - puffballs, chlorociboria (so blue!), purple jelly discs, orange jelly spot, and yellow fairy cups (so much COLOR!). Numerous Bruce Spanworm Moths flitted about (42 degrees), a pileated flew overhead, and a small flock of chickadees dee-deed away around me as they picked up a few last morsels before darkness set in. Ravens and crows practiced their wind maneuvers. Upon checking out "my" patch of Fen Grass of Parnassus at the end of our driveway (looking for the basal leaves), I was rather saddened to find a dead porcupine, who must have been a traffic casualty. I stopped to admire the quills, the camouflage, the softening body of this former life, a somber reminder of how brief is our time...then I climbed to the top of our field to watch the skyscape and sunset and breathed in some serious gratitude. Thank you for giving me this idea. It was one wild and precious hour well spent.
Oh my, Tracy -- this is amazing. What an hour! An inspiration, to be sure. You've made my day. As it turns out, I made an impromptu trip to the coast of Maine. If I can pull it together, I'll report tomorrow on my extra hour here along the coast. But maybe I'd include your incredible account as well. What say ye?
Ahh, I miss the coast of Maine and the birds there. We used to have a family home in Georgetown, right on Sagadahoc Bay. I hope you had a very memorable hour! You are welcome to share, but do not feel obliged. I just wanted you to know that your lovely idea inspired a fellow nature chaser's hour of adventure.
Our clocks in the U.K. went back last weekend. Oh, thank goodness! I am a creature of the morning, and that extra hour has allowed me to swim in the sea in the light, rather than the dark, and walk at sunrise. I admit, though, I hate the dark afternoons... and will be wishing away the months until spring, but in between I can watch the thousands of jackdaws coming in to roost in a hidden valley as winter slowly turns.
From across that sea in which you swim in the light, I send you greetings from the western Atlantic shoreline of Maine, where I will find good use of my extra hour on Sunday. So many options ...
I'll be outside removing (eg, sawing down) more young invasive Siberian elms from my neighborhood arroyo, making space for the Rio Grande cottonwoods to return as they have in other parts of the arroyo where I've worked. Just helping the wild community of the arroyo gain a little more resilience in the face of climate change.
A fine use of an hour! Our deltoides salute your deltoides!
Mine's wislizeni, but we'll take the salute anyway! :)
P. deltoides wislizenzii? (But species schmecies! 😀)
It's a matter of argument among taxonomists, but I'm with you--not the most important thing!
My view was silent (except for the cars behind me) so I think it was me giving that scream when they finally lifted up into sight. But now I'll be wrestling with this question. The race is on. The arrows are good, esp if there are two sides shooting back and forth, but I'm going to go for a verb where people don't die (lol) that still holds the thrill and sweep and magic.
Yeah. I agree -- I tend not to prefer weaponry metaphors. 😀
I saw them, thanks to this! Those snow geese (as they unexpectedly lift from the corn fields and then do their back and forth almost swirl flight I have yet to be able to name, do you have a verb for it?), they never cease to amaze me. It's always such a gift to feel my five-year-old-self joy. Thanks.
We do indeed need a name for that. I've described the pent-up energy of a Snow Goose flock, just before the explosive liftoff, to be like thousands of arrows drawn on thousands of bows. Or dare I say even like Roger Daltrey's iconic scream in "Won't Get Fooled Again." The rumbling and liftoff go a bit like this: 😆 https://youtu.be/xe2oLauD1AM?feature=shared
Wonderful idea! I’ve been so relieved that all of my devices are automatically updated that it didn’t occur to me that I should ignore time and just be. We’ve been hearing wrens in Green Mount Cemetery so I will splurge on more time with them.
Those Carolina Wrens will help us get through the winter!
Wonderful way to celebrate this in-between time of year. I'm retired and live in Tucson. Arizona declined the invitation to mess with the clock. The Sandhill Cranes have arrived at their winter nesting grounds near Tombstone. I doubt they will recognize me, but I'm going to visit them anyway.
Oh, the Arizona iconoclasts! 😆 Say hello to the cranes for me!
Beautiful photos!
Thank you for that affirmation. It means a lot.
This is awesome. I've been cashing in my extra hour since I was 18 when I decided it was a shame to sleep that hour away. I'll probably spend it at my easel, but I usually decide in the moment. Enjoy yours!
Yay! Yeah, I'll probably decide in the moment this year as well. (Maybe I'll document in detail what I find in that hour and write about it next week.)
Oooo, I like that idea!
A couple-three years ago I decided to ignore Daylight Saving Time altogether and refused to set my clocks forward in spring. Since then all my timekeeping devices—other than those that automatically reset themselves back and forward—display what I call “sun time.” (Until fall, whenever DST rears its ridiculous head, it’s easy enough just do the math.) Eventually all other clocks will fall in line, albeit temporarily.
You're like the old Vermont farmers (probably Maine farmers as well) who pay no attention to such temporal trivialities! 😀 (Odie sends regards to The Captain!)
Last night a monarch emerged from a chrysalis unseen on the backside of a houseplant leaf brought back indoors from its summer vacation. It looks rather stunned but did crawl onto my hand. It spent the night in a cool room and I didn't put it out until the sun had been up a few hours shining on stragglers of zinnias. Not sure if in this 50 degree weather if it will survive, but I'm hoping. Isn't it too late to emerge just shy of November 1st?
It's late -- but not too late. These stragglers may not make it to Mexico. It depends on the location from which they begin the journey. I've seen Monarchs as late as early December on the Maine coast — there's fairly good evidence that those don't make it. But, you know, success with Monarchs falls on a bell curve. Yours isn't off the curve just yet!
Thank you. I am hopeful. Monarchs have manifested after our daughter's death and have special meaning in my life. That one should ""hatch?" in the house and crawl onto my hand, well, let's just say, it was something!
Yes, of course -- it was indeed something. It absolutely has meaning. Deep meaning. 🙏
This is just delightfully rogue and also very wise.
Nature itself is rogue!
On February 29, we have a whole EXTRA wild DAY!!!!!!
I cannot decide right now, but it's a whole new present. Thanks.
I'll wager you'll be birding!
I love this idea! And you’ve inspired me to do the same 🌞 It’s so easy to forget that time is a construct. And I can’t resist sharing my essay (from almost a year ago!) on that mind-bending topic: https://kenshostudio.substack.com/p/measuring-the-infinite
Bending minds and bending time! Thanks for that essay.
"Time is malleable. We sculpt it to fit our needs, we organize it according to our values. This doesn’t just happen on a collective level, but is also reflected in our individual lives. What we do with it, whom we share it with, what we’re willing to exchange for it – time is a powerful choice. My wish for this year is that we cherish our time, however we define it."
So glad to spend my time with your insights and words Bryan 💚🌿
Mega-❤️