When the Timing Is Right

Every January we climb up the ridge after a snowmelt to hunt for earthstars.

It’s one of several “treasure hunts” to enjoy on our mountain (finding jack-in-the-pulpits, wild ginger blooms, and salamanders are three of our other favorites).

The earthstars here are hygroscopic earthstars, which means they open in response to moisture. When they’re closed, they’re nearly impossible to see—just another dark little ball in the leaf litter.

But when they open, the light-colored spore sac and the white on their “rays” make them easier to find—if you’re patient and know where to look.

We didn’t actually go up the ridge today—this is the waiting part of the ritual—but snow is coming, and we’ll go once it melts. I’m posting an earthstar photo for you because I can hardly wait.

I never get tired of them. I think I never will.

We didn’t whistle up the cats for our walk this time, although they’ve both grown a bit less interested in hiking with us as they age. I’m not sure where Bee was, but Pippi said she would enjoy a walk from her sunny spot on the couch. I told her it isn’t called “a walk” if you’re napping. She mostly ignored me.

So we headed down out of our holler, then walked up the road past Blaze’s barn which stands quiet and empty these days. I’ve painted this barn several times, and can’t seem to pass it without wanting to take yet another photo. For me, it’s filled with good memories, and I don’t mind lingering there.

While the road is free of ice and snow, our quarter-mile of driveway is still about half in ice, so we picked our way carefully up, stopping here and there to gather a few winter-dried stems of rumex and goldenrod, as well as a fat pretty acorn.

I left them all on a snow-capped stump as an offering of gratitude—for the walking, for the waiting, for what reveals itself when the timing is right.