My little area has been spared the devastating floods.

The road to Hawk Circle is flooded, but everyone is safe.

Thunder, lightning and intense heat have me spending less time outdoors than I had envisioned. I rarely watch TV, so seeing the subject of Global Warming as the only topic on Oprah, watching John Stewart interview Al Gore and watching footage of our northeast US climate crisis had me wondering. Are my neighbors and fellow citizens ready to take the issue seriously?

At the end of her show, Oprah encouraged viewers to go out and buy compact fluorescent light bulbs. If we all do, that would cut down on coal consumption. If we all get hybrid cars, we’d save billions of gallons of fuel oil. I’m fortunate enough to be able to walk to the post office and the store.

My parents built the first solar house in Guilford, CT in 1979. Our entire lives were about respecting the land, so it would provide for us. Growing up on a farm taught me to use resources judiciously.
Conspicuous consumption was discouraged and delay of gratification was
rewarded.

Since monsoon season set in several days ago, my hikes are limited to those breaks between cloudbursts. I timed it wrong, which meant the last 20 minutes of the hike were enough to test the value of my new Quik Dry garments from Sierra Trading Post.

I was literally soaked to the skin.

I’m fortunate enough to live where grapevines grow.

More than just a wild edible, this plant can provide water and cordage in a survival situation. It also attracts a wide range of birds and animals for nature observation.

Here’s one fun way to learn about grapevines. This activity is perfect for a short hike and even better for a repeat hike.

It’s so oppressively hot, even the insects are not moving. If you’re lucky enough to be near water, then you might get a breeze.

Weather like this is conducive to a thunderstorm, so if you have to get to shelter, how much time will you have?

I love the poem Summer by Walter Dean Myers.

The
line “Bugs buzzin’ from cousin to cousin” puts a smile on my overheated
face. Hot summer days and nights are perfect for studying all kinds of
insects.

Since I take steps to make myself inedible to insects, it’s much easier to observe and get to know the ones that crawl or fly across my path.

Here is a list of insects you’re likely to see in
northeast North America and some interesting facts about each as spring turns into summer:

Happy Summer Solstice.

It’s the beginning of summer and the longest day of the year. Little by little the days will get shorter. Dawn and dusk times are changing and so is the behavior of the animals and plants.

The wild edible leaves are way too big for salad. Most have to be cooked. The shadbush is at peak, but the blueberries, huckleberries and mulberries are not yet ripe.

I’m really glad that Al Gore has devoted himself to understanding how and why nature’s cycles are being impacted by our relentless pursuit of conspicuous consumption. I’m grateful that he has been able to convey his message in an engaging and articulate manner. An Inconvenient Truth is a valuable investment of time.

I cannot imagine what my life would have been like had I not been raised in rural America. I am always amazed when I learn something new. Yesterday I was awed by nature’s presence in Battery Park City and the Liz Christy Garden. Today I am aghast to learn that if global sea levels rise more than 20 feet as a result of global warming, these coastal areas will be devastated by floods.

I’m back on Manhattan Island watching the choppy waters of the Hudson River ahead of an impending thunderstorm. The lush willows and basswoods are tall enough to block New Jersey buildings and the light breeze off the water carries the scent of basswood flowers. This urban environment has evolved from a weed-strewn rubble heap (created when the World Trade Center was built) into a well-designed living complex for the birds, squirrels, pets and humans who live here.

I don’t know who decided to plant native trees, shrubs and ground cover here, but the plant life is thriving. I shared a feast of shadbush berries, one of my favorite wild edibles, with a squirrel and a pigeon. I watched a house finch feed its newly-fledged chick. What is most striking is how wildlife has the freedom to ignore humans. This
would be dangerous behavior anywhere else but Manhattan Island.

I moved to New York in 1976 and lived in the city until 1996. Most of that time I was
on Elizabeth Street near the Liz Christy Garden, where I was a
gardener for several years.

This poem was written in 1995 when I was still a Liz Christy gardener.

My Dad turned 80 this year. Our family and friends celebrated.

One of his buddies has a local column and asked for a bio. It’s fun to see “Dad” from a whole new angle.