The
wind is steady, at sixteen miles per hours, and out of the west today. More importantly, the air is dry, remarkably
warm at seventy degrees, and autumn is upon us.
Leaves fall regularly now. They sail
twice; first from the sky, and then on the water’s strong currents; ever pushing
onward and Southerly.
I’ve
been on the verge of a cold, but I always joke and tell myself, “I don’t do
colds.” I’ve gotten a couple of nights
of good sleep, drank a lot of water, and clicked a few outdoor things off my “to-do”
list before things freeze and the snow flies.
I’m hoping that will “hold the cold at bay.” I figured I’d take an hour this afternoon to
drive west, hike in with the dogs, and sit on the bank of one of my favorite
rivers.
Kati (foreground) and Kora
I
have a lot of favorite bodies of moving water, each for different reasons. This is one of my favorites because it’s close,
and runs through as wild of country as you’ll find in Illinois. Today the sky is as blue as it can get, as
the sun begins to set over the tree tops on the opposite bank. Shadows are beginning to extend over me. Our smaller, two year old dog, Kora, sits
tight beside me. Sometimes she can’t get
close enough. Growls rumble in her
throat as two friendly kayakers paddle by.
She is ever alert. Our larger dog
Kati, now a month off from being thirteen years old, lays off to the side. At first she was in the mud, but I managed to
coax her back into the more spongy ground.
She enjoys watching across the water, and smelling the scents upon the
breeze. Both are almost always in
picture-perfect poses whether I can ever capture them with my camera or
not. They’re stately, and I like that.
I
don’t know how many more times I can bring Kati out on adventures, but I’ll
continue to for as long as possible. She’s
been with me on countless of them over the years, since the days when I first
started exploring Winnebago County’s natural areas. Kora picks up where Kati leaves off. She’s a good “pup,” and although she could be
refined a bit, that will come in time when I can work more one on one with her. Right now I hate to take her too much without
Kati. Kati still wants to be a part of
the action, albeit at a slower pace, and Kora sometimes follows her more than she
listens to me. They’re good companions
for the woods though, and I’m glad I have them here beside me on this beautiful,
fall day.
The
winds are blowing now at 20 mile per hour from the south by southwest on this warm,
Monday night. They carry with it memories
of a week and a half ago. It was a weekend
of bustling about. I’ll take a break now
from correcting school work, to put together a collection of pictures and
videos from that weekend. I’ll do that for
no other reason than to remember it when the winds shift out of the north, and
bury us in a blanket of snow a few months from now. As if we should be so lucky!
Sunrise from a bypass over I-90
The unofficial weekend
started on a Friday that was a “School Improvement Planning Day.” Having a day like this without classes meant
that I could take time to enjoy the sunrise, and then spend it with colleagues
that supported each other with positive attributes in an activity designed
especially for our staff. We needed that
with the winds of change that we’ve had as of late.
Heading South on Highway #2
On Saturday, October 8th
I got up early, took Jodi to meet the cross-country bus, and then went for a
short run in our neighborhood. Cindy
gathered her things, and then headed out to coach the junior high volleyball tournament that
our conference has for the end of the season.
When I got a text from Jodi that said she was going to run one of the
earlier races down in Sterling, I took off as soon as I got cleaned up and ready. It was a beautiful drive south along
Highway#2. I made it to the course about
2 minutes before the 10:00 start, let her know I was there, and then set off on
a sprint so that I could cheer her on as many times as possible. Over the years I’ve found that if I “Put the
Hammer Down”, and cut along the hypotenuse between each corner, I can see my
kids about 11 times along that course. I’m
whipped afterwards, but the kids have always appreciated it, and I secretly
enjoy it. Jodi ran an excellent race,
and cut about 30 seconds off her previous time from a race a few weeks prior.
In the meantime, I got a
text from Cindy that said her team of 6th and 7th grade
girls had won their first two games, and advanced to the championship (a great
run for the #3 seed). I said goodbye to
Jodi, and headed back north along the Rock River; hoping I could maybe make the
final couple of points, but it was not to be.
I was greatly disappointed that I couldn’t be in both places at once to
see her and her team as well as Jodi run.
Apparently Cindy's girls had played well, but they fell to a good team, and so took 2nd
place. I shook it off as best I could,
and went home to mow the yard. Soon
afterwards, I got another text from Cindy that informed me that the varsity
team had also advanced to the tournament championship. I went and picked up Jodi from the high
school, and we headed down to watch the 7th and 8th grade
girls, coached by one of my fellow 5th grade teachers, Jacqui. It was a great run, as they came back from a
loss in the first game, to win the next two and capture 1st
place. It was pretty exciting, and Jodi
enjoyed seeing them play. It reminded her
of her 7th grade year where they too had won the volleyball championship
on that same gym floor. We came home,
and they cleaned up while I finished mowing, before we all went out to get
something to eat. It had been quite a
day.
Jacqui and Cindy
On Sunday, October 9th
I got up and ran 7 miles with some friends, before heading to church. It was a great sermon from a guest speaker on
having freedom in Christ. Our pastor was
spending his Sunday morning down cheering on his own daughter in the Chicago
Marathon. I sent them a few texts for
motivation.
Once home I gathered my
fishing stuff together and then met my Dad.
We planned on heading into Wisconsin for one of the last trout
fishing outings of the year. To show
just how fickle the whole process can be, we went to the same creek that I had
visited two weeks beforehand. Yes, the
one where I had caught 30 fish in one day (See "Documenting the Story"). Dad and I enjoyed a nice day on the water,
and saw a few fish here and there, but we literally caught absolutely zero
trout. It was unbelievable really, but
it was a beautiful day to be together and talk, so for that reason it was well
worth the travel and energy spent. My
Dad did catch one thing, a small piece of barbed wire with a loop on the
end. One of the barbs on his spinner
snagged it. Afterwards we sent a text to
my uncle who had caught a perfectly smooth rock while salmon fishing a week or
so before. Similarly a barb on his
spinner had caught the one little dimple on its surface. We told him we’d match him and raise him one.
When I returned home, I
put away my gear, and then headed for the store to buy the supplies I would
need for our traditional “Columbus Day Outing” with the Gulo Adventure
Clan. (See "C.F.A." ) Due to some other
commitments by a few of our members, there would be five of us riding the
currents of the river the following morning.
I stayed up and prepared the food and equipment, and then collapsed into
bed.
The following morning
was cool and brisk, but it was beautiful, and promised to be a remarkable day. We met, did our traditional portaging of
vehicles to drop off our kayaks and canoe, and headed down the river by
9:00. The water was high, and covered
all of our usual sandbars that we get out on to cook or stretch our legs.
We finally found a bank we could skid up onto,
and enjoyed a great meal cooked on the good ole fifteen inch skillet. It’s quickly becoming a classic, and worth its
weight in what it takes to haul it along.
The iron got so hot though, that it burned right through the brand new
hot pad that my Mom had recently bought me.
I hated telling her that the nicely decorated hot pad, with the nature
scene, now had a large melted spot through the silvery backside. She was glad it at least wasn’t my hand. It just shows how hot that skillet can get
though. Let’s just say that I’m really
moving fast with the spatula and spoon as the food nears being finished.
We completed the trip in two and half hours
on the faster currents, and all of us agreed that it was a great trip. I tried to foil the outcome by accidentally
leaving my keys in the vehicle back at the put in site, but after flagging down
a passer-by with my hitchhikers thumb and a wooden paddle, we sent one of the “rookies”
back with the stranger to retrieve his truck (and my keys) so that we could
load it all up. In reality, no time was
lost in the process, but we did have to break down and use a little ingenuity
to solve the problem. It was all in a
day’s work. Speaking of work, we had to
work that day too as we neared the finish of our paddle, and bucked the wind
coming out of the south.
Doug, Ted, Tyler, Louie, and I on the Sugar River
I better post this entry;
it’s going to be good sleeping while listening to that wind blowing through the trees
tonight.
This is a revised journal article I originally wrote in the fall of 2010. The following year it was printed in the "Notes From The Dells" newsletter put out by the Severson Dells Nature Center (Part of the Winnebago County Forest Preserve). This year's Creek Walk Day was held on Friday, September 30th.
----- Dry
Run Creek. Its history is marked since
the early 1800’s when the first white settlers came upon the land in Illinois’ northern
Winnebago County. Winnebago County
itself was not established until 1836, after Illinois become a state in December
of 1818. Earlier that year the northern
counties of Illinois almost became part of Wisconsin until the territorial
representative in Congress, Nathaniel Pope, suggested that they move the state
line further north. Before that time we
know only bits and pieces of information in regard to this region. That information was passed down through early
voyagers, as well as the tribes of native First Nation peoples who lived in, or
traveled through, the vast sand prairies and the great river-ways.
For
twenty-eight years now Prairie Hill School District students have had a small
taste of the importance and excitement this area once held. From where I sit now, writing in my journal
on this oak covered bluff, I am overlooking the big bend on the Rock River’s
journey south into Rockford. Dry Run
Creek is only a hop, skip, and a jump north toward the Stateline. It’s a tributary, and a small one at that,
but essential none-the-less. For as its
cool, clear waters trickle over shallows; twisting and turning its way
southwest toward Hononegah Forest Preserve and the memories of the area's original trading post
at "Bird’s Grove." It has a story to tell.
It began in the creations of time, and yet still it captures my heart
when I take this hike each year.
At
first it was the intrigue of moving waters, and the memory of my family and
youth from which I felt too far removed.
When I first began teaching in the Prairie Hill District, the area was
new and unfamiliar, but this creek I could relate to. This creek I could immerse myself in; and so
I did. In the autumn of 1989 I brought the students of my two 5th grade science classes down to the bank of the
creek, and simply started sharing small excerpts of what I knew of water and
land. There is so much to the environs
along this waterway, that I hardly scratched the surface of the plants and
animals here. My cherished trees of
Northern Michigan were far away, and I knew none of these. Life’s creation is immersed in symbiotic
relationships, however, and so it was these that I attempted to share.
The 5th grade Creek Walk
has grown year by year; giving information, leading discussion, allowing for
exploration, sharing the excitement, imploring the conservation, and modeling
the connection. It has grown from our
science classes to an entire day-long 5th grade experience. It is a holistic endeavor. The Creek Walk now encompasses every 5th
grade teacher and subject. Over the years the team of teachers involved Deb, and Heather, and Tyler, and presently Chuck, and Jacqui, and I. With the
region’s growth, the original two 5th grade classrooms have grown to three and four classes over
the last eighteen years. It involves the
parents, and hence the community. It has
grown beyond the biological relationships of science, to the rhythms of history,
stories, game, and verse. As the walk to
Dry Run Creek has grown, this one day each fall embodies what we strive for;
that sense of excitement that comes from creative learning. One is left wondering how it can be improved
for next time. One wonders how its
influence will ripple outward as the students remember and share what they’ve
sensed, experienced, and learned. One
ponders what the life of a teacher would be like if they had opportunities such
as these in which to teach; and teach within these opportunities consistently. Would it
still hold its awe? Would it still be
held sacred?
It
is what it is, because it is what it has become. The Creek Walk requires effort. The Creek Walk requires involvement. And that
is the irony. When one thinks about Dry
Run Creek, it is still out there, still trickling along, always running, always
eroding one side and building onto the other.
It is a living entity. It has
been living for hundreds of years now since the bison and elk last drank from
its waters, and yet Dry Run Creek continues to find a way to satisfy my thirst. As the sun sets to the west on my back, and
the dry breezes blow, I realize that the Creek Walks have helped me in my own
connection to this land. For that I give
thanks.
See you along
The Way…
Merel and I clearing trees & brush
Merel mowing a path along the soybean field
A classroom cleared & ready for students
A trail in the woods
Chuck, Jacqui, and I set the tone by reading "Stone Soup"
In My Science Station "Classroom"
Learning that everything in nature is important
Creatures found in the currents of this watershed
An activity to show connection in our ecosystem
Homeroom class in front of the beloved silver maple
(See the past blog post of this tree by clicking: Acer Saccharinum )
