A UVM blog Erik’s Phenology Blog

A short saunter away from my home on Spring Street there is a park – Prospect Park. I have been coming to this park all my life. I have seen her in all her seasons, in all sorts of weather, at all times of day, but perhaps my favorite time of all are those mornings in early spring; when the snow has begun his retreat from the sun, who himself has once again found the confidence in his rays to stick around a little longer each passing day; when the hustle and bustle of forest-dwelling critters who are once again falling into their day-to-day routines can finally be heard; when the birds in the trees begin to sing their serenade to the season of rebirth. This is when the park truly reflects her history, and serves as a living testament to the axiom that death is nothing more than the beginning of new life.

Nonetheless, the spring is still young, evidenced chiefly by the young buds on the trees. Only the ivies have begun to show their leaves, taking early advantage of the lengthening days. Despite a lack of foliage, the birds have already set about their business, and their songs have begun a mighty crescendo, which will rise all the way until the onset of autumn. Even the birds of prey have once again taken to the skies in hopes of an easier search for food, now that the snow has retreated far enough to reveal the creatures who, during winter’s harsh and bitter cold, took shelter within. Come another month or so, the flowers and the trees will all have begun to bloom, and the park will be cast in a tint of green until Earth once again turns us away from the sun.

Before the park was established, the land had been used as a private estate, and also as a hospital later on. In one of the photos below, you’ll see the crown attraction of the park, which is her beautiful gardens and old ruins. This place is known as The Garden of Sweet Remembrance. As the name suggests, the ruins have been a place of solace for people throughout history going through the ultimate loss. In 2020, a girl I went to high school with at the time took her own life. To immortalize her spirit, residents of my town undertook efforts to restore the park to better reflect her former beauty. In doing so, they restored much more than just a park, but also a place in which people can come to reconvene with loved ones now passed. And now, at the beginning of spring, as the world glows brighter and greener with the rebirth of life, that garden reminds us all that those we lose are never truly gone; only scattered to the sands of time – destined, as we all are, to someday become something beautiful and new.

Alas, even the trees in the limestone bluff natural community have lost the vast majority of their leaves, and the rustling of the wind through the trees has gone silent in their absence. Only the pines, hemlocks, spruces, and cedars remain green. A few shrubs cling desperately to their leaves, save for the mountain laurel. There is little motion in the trees, as most of the animals have hidden themselves away to conserve energy. However, life has not disappeared entirely. Every now and again, you’ll see a squirrel dart through the trees, a mouse scurry across the trail, or a bird flying up above. If you’re lucky, you’ll maybe even see bigger rodents and mammals, perhaps even a deer or a fox, looking for a meal amongst the slim pickings. The ground is littered with leaves and other organic debris, providing ample food for decomposers. There were mushrooms growing on old, decaying stumps, as well as on the ground.

It was nice to come to Rock Point throughout the fall and into the onset of winter. The place is incredibly unique, boasting ecological and geological phenomena which don’t occur anywhere else in the northeast. Perhaps my favorite part about coming to Rock Point is finding a new place to explore in the park every time. While I used the same spot to observe phenological changes, I found myself taking a little extra time each trip to find my way around and see what there is to see. I can’t wait to come back to Rock Point to see how the place changes in the winter and spring.

Prospect Park is a small plot of forest that is now under the custody of the Town of Shrewsbury, which is where I grew up for the better part of my childhood. The land has had a lot of interesting uses in the past, having served as both an estate for the powerful Whittall family, and as a hospital. What’s left now are a little over two miles of hiking trails and some beautiful old ruins, covered with graffiti. The ruins have been renovated recently to include a well-manicured garden full of beautiful species of plants and flowers, and serves today as a testament to loved ones who have passed on.

The surrounding forest is in good health; this much is evident even during the onset of winter. There is a clear understory and overstory. It seemed as though the majority of the trees there were hardwoods, the majority of which consisted of various oaks and maples. Although, I did come across a couple of Bigtooth Aspens! The only brushes I could identify were Mountain Laurel, since they still have their leaves, though I noticed some trees covered in a type of ivy which I could not recognize. Otherwise, there were also a fair number of Eastern White Pines, Eastern Hemlocks, and Red Pines scattered in small patches throughout the forest.

Now that winter is soon approaching, Prospect Park sits blanketed in stillness and tranquility. There isn’t much color or movement to be found, as all the plants and animals have braced themselves for December’s cold embrace. However, once spring rolls around, the park will once again bloom in an explosion of color and life, as all the plants and animals come back to the ruins.

This weekend was a phenological circus; the temperature soared into the 70’s on Saturday, despite the fact that Autumn’s time is already halfway through. In the Cedar-Pine forest on Rock Point’s limestone bluffs, you’d hardly be able to tell that Winter is well on his way. When I climbed the steps up to the Cedar-Pine forest, I felt an immediate increase in humidity. I could understand why the growing season there is so long; the climate felt ideal for plants to continue to grow. Trees in the community still had a majority of their leaves, although they were well underway in the transition from an emerald green to a multitude of shades of yellow, red, and amber. Listening to the wind rush through the leaves was deeply gratifying and refreshing. However, I imagine that Winter will soon enough take hold of the Cedar-Pine forest and strip the trees of their leaves, coating the cliffside in snow and ice.

Attached is a map of the location in which I sat and listened to the leaves.