A tour of Paradise ... Springs

You can take a tour of paradise. It won't even take very long. Paradise Springs, that is. Part of the sprawling archipelago of public lands known as the Kettle Moraine State Park, Southern Unit, it's located just outside of Eagle, WI. The short loop--a bit over a half mile--is well-used, if my visit there on a weekday afternoon was any indication.

The ruins of a spring house, once copper-domed but now roofless, make it easy to find the grand attraction.

The pure, clear--and cold--water that still pours through the spring house at 500 gallons per minute was once bottled on site with the label "Lullaby Baby Drinking Water."

The long history of the site's mostly private ownership includes such well-known pillars of Milwaukee industry as Petit and Pabst.

Paradise Springs, although it may not quite live up to its romantic name, is lovely. In addition to the eponymous springs I found numerous wildflowers--this one is motherwort--and a working bubbler!

You can learn more about Paradise Springs from the WDNR. 

Quarry Lake ramble: Photographs and poetry

--> On the first day of December--before the snow started falling--I went to Quarry Lake Park in Racine. Actually, I went to the Wustum Museum of Art in Racine to pick up work that had been in their exhibit, Wisconsin Photography 2016. I've been to the Wustum many times over the years and since it is located next to Quarry Lake Park I have driven past said park just as often--twice as often if you count to and fro! Nearly every time I've wondered about the park and thought that one day I ought to stop. This time I did. 
I shot a series of photos, all with my iPhone. (I had brought my camera along but left it in the car, erroneously anticipating few opportunities to use it, the day being gloomy and with a light drizzle that continually threatened to turn heavier.) I enjoyed the walk far more than expected. 

Adjacent to a golf course, the 40-acre park boasts a “spring-fed lake” in the former quarry, along with a beach, pavilion/bathhouse, dog park, picnic tables, and a fishing pier. The Racine County Parks website doesn’t mention the Root River, which also runs through the park and which was of more interest to me when I decided to stop to explore. 

A narrow, wall-like ridge of un-quarried stone separates the lake and the river. The authorities had erected a chain link fence to prevent people from walking up the ridge, which is essentially a two-sided cliff. This was primarily to discourage cliff jumping into the lake, an illicit activity that had unfortunate consequences last June. However, the appeal seems insatiable. The fence has been violated, making it easy to step through.

After I finished exploring and photographing the park I found in the experience further inspiration. Although I hadn't written any haiku for over a year I ended up with a series of them. The poems are not meant to be read as captions for the photos. They are a complimentary expression of my encounter with Quarry Lake Park.

heavy overcast

the surface of the water

the color of stone

in three rows

twelve vacant tables

cemented in place

visible

through chain link fence

a well-trodden path

reeling

the fisherman draws a line 

in the scum

separating

quarry lake from river 

two-sided cliff

an icy gust

on the cliff top 

bare footprints

standing on uncut rock

surrounded 

by the crowns of trees

I plod along

snarl of thorny underbrush

roar of ascending airplane 

 

on the opposite bank

through leafless trees

house lights

at the water’s edge

a young couple 

posing for selfies

quarry lake

a million grains of sand 

trucked in for the beach

December afternoon

the darkening sky

drizzles  

 

Water communion

I am blessed. Last night, after a week of occasionally heavy downpours, I walked from my house to the Milwaukee County Grounds where I was treated to one of the more spectacular sunsets I have had the pleasure to witness. Brilliantly lit by the setting sun, a thunderhead moved off to the north, still visibly drenching the earth below it. The sun on the horizon in the west lit up the underside of the thunderstorm and created an intense perpendicular rainbow, like a scene from Close Encounters. (The image, shot with my iPhone, doesn't do it justice!)

Caught up in the spectacle, I didn't stop at the time to think further about the thunderstorm or the role that rain plays in the water cycle. But the theme of the service at church this morning brought that image into sharper focus, metaphorically speaking. I am a member of Unitarian Universalist Church West (UUCW) and it was our annual "Water Communion" service, which signals the start of the church year.

Smallmouth bass, Riveredge Nature Center, Mke River, 5/16

The Water Communion is a ritual that symbolizes not only the importance of water to all of life but also the spiritual community of the congregation. Congregants are encouraged to bring water to church that comes from a place we have visited over the summer or that represents a meaningful event that happened. During the ritual people pour their offering into a common bowl, mingling the waters.

The litany that accompanied the ritual included this: "We bring water water of sunrise and new beginnings..., water of harvest and sunset; the sweat of a job well done; the tears of endings..., water of quiet and peace...." We paused in meditation, to reflect on our water, its source and its meanings in our personal lives. As I reflected on this I was struck, not for the first time, by how much my life is blessed. I have been privileged with experiences relating to waters both near and far. 

Kayaking the Menomonee River, 5/16

Here I offer a selection of images and brief reflections. (The links embedded in the text will take you to previous blog posts.) I fulfilled a long-time goal in May of kayaking the Menomonee River. In the process I found it to be surprisingly wild even given my already high expectations. The smallmouth bass (above) was caught by naturalists at Riveredge Nature Center as part of World Fish Migration Day.

It's true that I saw many scenes involving Lake Michigan that were quite similar to this one. But in June I had the great fortune to spend the solstice in Finland. This sunset occurred at approx. 11:45 pm. over the Gulf of Finland. I was on a cruise-ship-size ferry on my way from Helsinki to...

St. Petersburg, Russia. The highlight of my two days there was the Hermitage, seen here from across the Neva River.

The UUCW house band played Joni Mitchell's The Circle Game for the Water Communion. I hadn't heard it in years:

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

"A community is a network of relationships and the places where those relationships interact."

Water and more specifically the Kinnickinnic River was the theme of my most important art exhibit of the year. Concrete River: Memorial and Promise on the Kinnickinnic, a collaboration with Melanie Ariens, opened at the Alfons Gallery in May and ran through July. Collaboration continued when the dance duo of Andrea and Daniel Burkholder, pictured here, performed a site-specific dance created especially to harmonize with the exhibit.

And while the Concrete River exhibit showcased the planned rehabilitation of the KK River, it was gratifying to see the last stretch of concrete channel finally disappear from the Menomonee River this summer (near the stadium, visible in the distance).

The limestone ledges and cliffs of the Niagara escarpment along Green Bay framed a week at The Clearing, a self-styled "Folk School" where I attended a writer's workshop in July. Along with few (well, more than a few) photos, I returned with a water-related haiku:

sitting on stone

scent of cedar

clear horizon

August was a busy month and water was a constant theme. On August 7 the Milwaukee Water Commons staged its annual We Are Water celebration on Bradford Beach.

"People want more community these days because contemporary life in mainstream America can be pretty discouraging. We're bombarded every day by messages that promote individualistic behavior--and the more disconnected we feel the more...we consume." To me these words from the Water Communion service extend beyond the human community to include all life.

Because we are an activist denomination, the Water Communion included a call to action. One of this summer's actions was the second annual "Convergence at the Confluence" rally to promote oil train safety. It took place at the confluence of the Menomonee and Milwaukee Rivers on August 14.

"In community we lend our strength and support to one another--in community we can do things we could never do alone!"

August 25 marked the centennial anniversary of the founding of the National Park Service. I marked the occasion by visiting the closest National Park to Milwaukee, Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. There, along with some of those Lake Michigan horizons, I discovered a wealth of other habitats, including this wetland called the Great Marsh (although the discerning eye will note that it is in fact a swamp!) (It's the trees.)

September got off to a watery start when I decided to explore the Root River sections of the Oak Leaf Trail for the first time. Here you see it in high water, a condition that will be far more common when the Waukesha water diversion project is implemented and that community's wastewater will be dumped into the Root River.

Another quote from the Water Communion: "The water we have gathered comes from the world's far corners and our own kitchen sinks. It is as salty as tears, as cool as a deep spring, as turbulent as a rushing river, as calm as a deep blue lake."

My most recent water-related adventure was just yesterday, when I led a stalwart group of Sierra Club members on a guided hike along the Menomonee River. In the rain. I was concerned that no one would show up. It being the Sierra Club, however, they knew what to wear and we all enjoyed the wet. An Englishman named Alfred Wainwright is credited with a saying I am fond of recalling in these situations: "There is no such thing as bad weather, just unsuitable clothing."

One of the hymns we sang for the Water Communion included this line: "When our heart is in a holy place we are blessed with love and amazing grace." I saved what I consider my most amazing photo for last. It is an undoctored image of the sun rising out of Lake Michigan.

I am blessed. The best week of the summer was not my voyage to the foreign shores of Finland but, as I said, right here on our own Great Lake. I spent a very relaxing week staring at that horizon. I saw the sun rise each day. Each day it was different and new. It looked like this only once. My heart was in a holy place that day. (And my camera was on a tripod!)

But one last water story. My favorite.

Until she started school for the first time last week I took care of my granddaughter once a week, as I've done for the past 4 years. The best day of my week was when Lynncita came to play with me. On hot days in the summer we liked to walk to Hoyt Park Pool. Even in cold weather when all we have is the sink, she enjoys playing with water. This summer she invented a new game. I would fill the watering can with water from the hose and then she would pour the water into pails. Then she lifted the pails and dropped them to watch the water splash. There is nothing like a 4-year-old to make you feel young again!

One warm day she was doing her pail splashing thing over and over, continually asking me for more water. Then suddenly, with no warning or hint of her intentions, instead of dropping the lifted pail she turned it upside down over her head. I watched as she sputtered and wiped her eyes, wondering what would come after. She erupted with the most gleeful chortling laugh.

And then she did it again. And again...

I did not get a still photo of it. But you can see it on YouTube.

I promise it will make you smile.

I do feel blessed.

Menomonee River reconstruction nears completion

The limestone rip rap gleams in the hard mid-day sun, a beautiful sight to see. And, yes, I think it will look even better after a few years, when vegetation grows through and over it, softening its hard edges and obscuring the gleam of the white stone. But this corrective measure has been years in the making and it's good to see it nearing completion.

This one short section, right next to the Wisconsin Avenue viaduct, is all that remains of the concrete channel that was installed in the Menomonee River between the stadium and Miller Brewing in the 1060s as an ill-conceived and ultimately ineffective flood mitigation strategy. To read more about the project go to the MMSD website. To see my previous post, a photo essay showing the beginnings of this phase of the project in 2015, click here.

Meanwhile, the Kinnickinnic River project, which will remove even more concrete from that much more maligned waterway, is underway and projected to be completed in 2022. If you haven't seen it yet, my exhibit, Concrete River: Memorial and promise on the Kinnickinnic, is still on display at the Alfons Gallery through July 31. For more information, click here.

World fish migration day at Riveredge Nature Center

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Did you know there was a World Fish Migration Day? I didn’t. But Riveredge Nature Center in Ozaukee County was honoring it and I found out when I got a Facebook invitation to attend. So I went. It was on Saturday and the weather—finally—was splendid and warm enough to feel like summer had arrived. Reason enough to go for a walk in the woods along the Milwaukee River!

According to the official World Fish Migration Day website, the one-day “global-local” event is intended “to create awareness of the importance of open rivers and migratory fish.” Although I don’t really need a reminder that open rivers are healthy rivers and fish need to migrate freely, I was curious about the event.

I arrived at the river just as a team of fish specialists from the Ozaukee Fish Passage Program, which co-sponsored the day, was wrapping up a fishing expedition. Clad in hip waders, they used electroshocking to stun the fish and scooped them up with nets. Then they brought the catch back to a floating dock where visitors including several families were waiting to see what they had.

The fish were dumped into a tank on the shore where children could press their faces up against the glass and get a good look. Some of the kids eagerly reached in and held up a wriggling specimen. Most of the fish were no more than a few inches long. The prize of the day, however, was the approximately 18-inch smallmouth bass (top). I asked if that was an unusual size and was told that the record at Riveredge was 20 inches, so yes indeed, it was a good find.

In the tank along with the fish there were a couple of healthy, native crayfish. This was a good sign as the invasive rusty crayfish has been aggressively competing with the natives in Milwaukee’s rivers.

Later I went for a walk in the woods where I found a wealth of spring wildflowers and, of course, collected some photographs. 

Phlox

Trillium

Tangles of roots, dead trees and branches in the river provide good habitat for migrating fish, as the crowd was told by the fish specialists.

A particularly lovely fungus specimen on a stump

 The may apples, which were budding but mostly not quite ready to flower, were the most spectacular ground cover species I noticed. Here they carpet a hilltop.

May apple, worm's eye view

I only saw this one tent caterpillar colony, however it doesn't take but one to give me the willies. The devastation the caterpillars can cause to a woodlot is one of my earliest childhood memories relating to the balance of nature.

The forest was full of trees bearing bright red-orange markings. I enquired about them. Some years ago a team from U.W. Stevens Point had done a tree study in order to improve forest management techniques. The types of marks indicate a variety of tree species and conditions.

The original owner of the land that is now Riveredge Nature Center had developed a modest version of a Dells-like resort, I was told. Crumbling and overgrown foundations are all that remain of the endeavor.

false rue anemone, vole's-eye view