An update from me: First, everyone is safe. On October 4th, 2024, Steve and I experienced an extensive house fire that destroyed our family home. We are dazed and very sad, with a very long road ahead of us. Our home was quirky and spare and had begun to show its age, but it fit us and our unusual professional-creative lives well, and was the place both of our children will always think of as “home.” There is good news amid the bad. Nobody was hurt, including our dog who was in the house when the fire started. We have found a stable living situation for the year or more it will likely take us to rebuild. There is really nothing anyone can do to help right now, and in the midst of this minor tragedy we remain acutely aware of greater tragedies all around us, and of people in greater need than we. The most clarifying outcome of this has been a reminder we didn’t really need—that our family, our respective food and creative communities, and a few close friendships, are what sustain us and keep our wells filled and our souls intact.

As many of you here know, I also have an 88 year old Mom who is requiring significant attention. As a result, my plate has officially runneth over. The chain has been broken, and I will be taking a break from STILL for the near-term. All my camera equipment was destroyed in the fire, along with all my nature collections. The interesting thing is that I already miss my daily practice and I sense it would be a very healing ritual right now. As gutted and dazed as I am, I am still noticing little moments of beauty every day and thinking to myself “oh, that would be perfect for STILL”. I plan to come back to STILL, switching back to a black background when I do (that was planned prior to the fire :-). I hope to resume STILL no later than January 1, 2025. But it could be sooner once we get ourselves–and my mom–settled into new homes.

In the meantime, thank you all for being part of a web of healing connections that is both virtual and very real. Much love. Mary Jo

never fail sumac

It’s shaping up to be a weird year for fall colors here in the Twin Cities. Unusually warm days have thrown the trees into confusion. Most of the leaves are still green, and many may fall from the trees without really turning color this year. But old-reliable sumac is here for us. These citrusy colors look unnatural here in the North. And not all sumacs do this green-to-yellow-to-orange-to-raspberry-red display–most just skip the middle steps an go straight to red. I’ve been eyeing this patch of sumac for a week, hoping I could find the time to snag a branchlet or two before they all turn red. Today I made the time. And I am glad I did, it may be our best fall color display of the season.

staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina)

You say buckeye, I say conker

Loving the abstract patterns that the whitish scars leave behind on these horse chestnut conkers. They are like finding striped rocks at the beach–you can’t help but pick them up and slipping them into your pocket. I picked these up while I was in Seattle. The common name horse chestnut originates from the similarity of the tree’s leaves and fruits to sweet chestnuts–to which it is not related–together with the alleged observation that the fruit or seeds could help panting or coughing horses. It is sometimes known as buckeye, for the resemblance of the seed to a deer’s eye. Conker. Chestnut. Buckeye. Call it whatever you want. But always pick them up and squirrel them away in a jacket pocket to remind you later where you were when you found it. Especially if you are traveling.

horse-chestnuts (Aesculus hippocastanum)

grace

Found this garnet jewel in the driveway this morning. One wing was torn, and the abdomen damaged. Which suggests an encounter with a bird. But only a few species of birds eat monarchs because they store toxins from milkweed plants, and thus become toxic to most predators. It could have been pathogens. Or even simply cold nights. Or, simply old age. Godspeed madame monarch.

A few facts from Wiki:

Monarchs transition from eggs to adults during warm summer temperatures in as little as 25 days, extending to as many as seven weeks during cool spring conditions. Adults typically live for 2–5 weeks during their breeding season. In North America, monarchs migrate both north and south on an annual basis, making long-distance journeys that are fraught with risks. This is a multi-generational migration, with individual monarchs only making part of the full journey.

female monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus)

new-to-STILL

Another new-to-STILL subject: tulip poplar. I picked these leaves up last week in Seattle and stuck them between the pages of one of Steve’s books. It’s a fun new leaf shape for me! I’ve been doing some research to see if tulip polar grows in Minnesota. It is native to much of the eastern US, including Michigan and Vermont, but weirdly not Minnesota. Tulip poplars, I have learned, are technically hardy in MN but do not do well in harsh northern winters. There is supposedly one example of a tulip poplar tree somewhere on the University of Minnesota campus. I love learning these fun facts about my bioregion. I tell you, pick up a leaf, any leaf and spend just 5 minutes researching it: ID it using the Seek App, find out if it’s native, introduced, ornamental, or invasive? what’s it’s range? does it have any medicinal or nutritional uses? what animals rely on it? What doess the plant look like in each season?  Google informs me these tulip poplar leaves turn yellow in autumn. I would have like to have seen that.

tulip poplar leaves (Liriodendron tulipifera)