When you get a chance to get away from it all, you should take full advantage of the opportunity. I’ve been trying to follow that principle and get in a few last hikes around Deer Isle before we have to head back to civilization.
The Edgar Tennis Preserve is a pretty good place to appreciate nature in all its quiet, colorful glory. We’re at the tail end of the season, so there aren’t many hikers to share the trails — which means the Preserve is as quiet as the world gets. It is as if the moss and the ferns and the pine straw on the trail swallow any random bits of noise, and all you’re likely to hear is the whisper of the breeze through the branches of the pine trees towering overhead. If you like silence — and who doesn’t, from time to time? — this is a good place for you.
And the colors are brilliant — even if they are, for the most part, shades of green. The leaves of the trees and the ferns are clinging to the last bit of 60s temperatures to maintain their green finery to the last, until the fall colors finally emerge. If you were looking for a particular shade of green, this would be the place to come — the Preserve has the entire spectrum covered, from the deep green of the pine trees in shade to the bright, sun-dappled green of the moss and ferns as they are hit by rays of sunlight.
You can follow an old country road down to the foundations of a long-abandoned salt water farm where apple trees planted by the settlers — with green apples, of course — mix with the encroaching forest. A small footpath winds down to a tidal pool, where the water is clear as crystal and looks green itself, thanks to the algae-covered rocks below.
Green has never been one of my favorite colors, but after a long, gray, bleak winter I’m relishing the explosion of springtime color — all green, of course — in our backyard. The trees, grass, shrubs, and plants seem to have covered virtually every shade in the green rainbow.
Time to get out the green color chart. Chartreuse? Check. Lime? Check. Olive? Check. Emerald? Check . . . .
You can argue about the season in which rural Ohio is at its best. Throw out winter — of course! — and you could argue endlessly about the lush springs, the blue sky summer days, and the colors and tastes of autumn.
Spring, of course, has its own colors — they’re just more subtle. Standing on Cousin Jeff’s elevated deck, looking out at the trees and plants and fallen pine needles and grass, you see just about every shade of green you can imagine. Couple it with cool air that smells of growing plants and bright songs from a number of different birds, and you’ve got a feast for the senses.
In New Albany, we’ve had our April showers, and then some. The constant rain has been depressing, but it has worked its amazing magic.
The landscape has been transformed from dull, unrelenting, washed-out greyness to an impossibly lush expanse featuring every imaginable shade of green. The grass in our yard is a deep, fathomless emerald color, like the dense, verdant, waving stands of kelp found at the bottom of the ocean or a wet spot on the felt top of a billiards table. In the heavily refracted light of the early evening, the lawn looks thick and rich and irresistibly inviting, the perfect place to sink your tired feet, or to lay down, facing skyward, and let the cool blades caress the back of your neck and tickle your ears.
This article points out how difficult it is for people who want to make “green” transportation choices to make the most “green” choice. It turns out that, in some cases, driving to work in an SUV might have less of a carbon footprint than taking public transportation. What is an environmentally sensitive consumer to do?