Upon visiting my site, the first change I noticed since my initial visit was the difference in foliage. When I first visited, the site was decorated with brilliant greens. Then, the world transitioned into vibrant reds and dull yellow-oranges. Now, only the conifers remain, standing tall and out of reach. A few long-dead, curled-up leaves cling to the rare sugar maple, but other than that, the ground, which was once covered in conifer litter, has a healthy blanket of decomposing leaves from the maple, birch, buckthorn, and beech surrounding the stream.
It seems life has slowed down. The river’s usual babble has calmed to the faintest trickle as a thin layer of ice has begun to crystallize atop it. Frozen snow inhabits holes in the logs and leaves are crusted to the cold earth with frost.
Yet, some life prevails. A trio of crooning chickadees has yet to vacate the site and could be seen flying around through the branches. I found a track on a sandy area that belongs to some kind of small mammal. No claws were visible, but five toes were. I’m not sure what creature this belongs to. Animal activity has never been super present here, but the tracks are a reminder of the other furry friends that inhabit it. Some non-woody plants and mushrooms are also sticking the winter out. A yellow crust fungus shines vibrantly against the fading colors of late autumn, and the invasive asiatic bittersweet is a bright red against the same backdrop.
As I trodded alongside the frozen stream, I quickly noticed a pattern of rotting wood. It was everywhere- downed trees, standing trees: no tree was safe. The ecological process behind it, decomposition, wasis in full swing. The shelf fungi I observed clinging to the undersides of fallen trees are just one crucial decomposer during this time of year.
Reflecting on my phenology spot, I think the fondest thing that sticks out to me is the sound of the stream. It is a constant backdrop to my time at the spot, and I feel like I’ve grown close with its familiar babble and have seen it morph and change as fall descends into winter. I find myself wanting to record the noise often, although the trickle never shows up on audio from my videos. You just have to be there to experience it.