Yesterday I had my second to last formal date with Salmon Hole. Luckily for me, the weather was warm enough to wear a t-shirt dress for my walk down. The afternoon sun was shining and the air was fluid and full of life. After all of the cold this winter I could not have been more grateful for the changes. The first sign of spring I noticed as I walked along the path towards the water, were on small bushes. I am still working on identifying the plant, as I made the mistake of not taking clear notes about the plant’s characteristics.

(Palmer, 2017)

As phonologists we are looking for movement, change and shape to the patterns on our phenology sites. This past winter, I felt as though the low hanging clouds suppressed that life, like the snow and cold took something away from it. It felt that way in my own life.

During my first fall semester at college, the air was fluid and life coursed through my veins and my hopes. My expectation for second semester was to feel the same lightness, yet I found myself struggling to take a full, deep breath.

This feeling wasn’t abnormal for me, but it was the first time I felt it in Burlington. It was the first time I felt it, even briefly, at Salmon Hole. Even with my excitement for tracking animals in the fresh winter snow. I still felt an emptiness, a disconnect from my present. It was as if every moment I spent trying to be present, trying to feel the earth supporting my weight, it was as if my brain and body were trapped somewhere else.

Questions arose about the purpose of all that darkness, all of the quiet, all of the stillness. I wondered about the lack of life, why couldn’t I feel alive? Yesterday I revisited Salmon Hole. For the first time in months the sun outstretched it’s rays, breaking apart clouds opening itself to me. The sound of the river crashing over the dam and the light breeze rustling the branches of the trees woke me up. The earth was solid, steady beneath my feet. With little effort I felt the energy of that support run up my spine.

(Palmer, 2017)

I was disappointed that I didn’t find any signs of amphibians. Unfortunately I only had so much time to spend there yesterday, due to an unusually busy schedule. I was grateful to find even a little bit of time to spend here.

Very few trees were flowering yet, other than the shrubs I talked about above. However, there is some brave species growing from the cliff face that seem to be producing leaves or flowers. I can’t get close enough to identify the species, but I am sure that it is a hardy one. As for the flowers I think that the next time I visit more will be out, I just don’t think they are quite ready.

A big characteristic of Salmon Hole is it’s size. The portion that I spend my  time at is less than a few hundred feet away from an auto shop and main road. It’s crazy how tightly intertwined the “human world” and “natural world”s of Salmon Hole are. The main species I notice at Salmon Hole are birds and maybe some smaller critters like squirrels and mice. However, very few larger species, other than domestic dogs, use Salmon Hole as habitat, due to it’s size. There is distinct edge effect that occurs on two sides of Salmon Hole: the first being the dam, the second the road.

The intersection of the human world and natural world is nowhere more evident to me now than at Salmon Hole.

Part of me is sad that I will soon no longer have this blog as a means to reflect upon my outdoor experiences. However, I don’t think I will stop going to Salmon Hole. I couldn’t abandon my new friend. For now, I will just have to wait until the final post, after that only time will tell where our relationship goes.