we forded the high waters of the mississippi river yesterday to get out to pike island for one of my favorite walks in the twin cities. pike island sits at the confluence of the minnesota river and the mississippi river. it sits below the high sandstone bluffs of the city of saint paul, and it is hard to believe that such a wild and peaceful place still exists in the city proper. we waded through knee-high, ice cold water to get to the island. but then we had the whole place all to ourselves. before we rolled our pant legs up for the chilly slosh back to solid land, i grabbed a handful of greenery more or less at random, to make this simple composition.

a collection of may greenery

pike island, saint paul, minnesota

we almost didn’t take a walk this morning. i had a desk full of unfinished business. my husband had an inbox full of unanswered emails. it was chilly and windy. but for no particularly virtuous reason we took a walk, and were rewarded with this handful of morels–among the first of the year. it was a good reminder that no amount of email inbox maintenance ever produces a dinner of sauteed morel mushrooms poured over an omelette of freshly laid eggs.

morel mushrooms

along an undisclosed portion of lake vadnais, saint paul, minnesota

yesterday we heard the first toads begin their spring trilling in the cattails. soon there will be long skeins of jellied eggs in the shallows all trying to turn into toads. then today, on my morning walk, i found myself under an elm branch loaded with fruits all trying to turn into elm trees. the fruits, i decided, looked a lot like little tadpoles. so what you get this morning is an elm-seed paisley, trying to turn into a tadpole.

elm tree samaras

pike island, saint paul, minnesota

our sweetest and most fragile hen, clove, is molting. so are all of her sisters, but clove is taking it the hardest and looks the scruffiest. she’s listless and moving slowly. early on, she was the only chick who got pasty butt, whose life my husband saved by cupping her in big man hands, and gently wiping her bony, 5-day-old rear end with warm water. she is the hen who looked egg bound this winter, and who spent the holidays inside with us next to the fire, in the dog kennel, surrounded by bowls of steaming water to loosen her up. now she’s back in that still, staring-ahead place where animals go when they’re sick. but she’s such a resigned and unassuming personality, that she doesn’t give off any sense of grievance. she just shakes her head a lot, and drifts off by herself when things get hard, and comes home first to the roost at night, accepting her lot with a matter-of-fact animal grace. i wish i could sit with her all day, and feed her double handfuls of sweet, young clover.

white clover in may

vadnais lake, saint paul, minnesota