A moss covered pile of fallen trees provides the only color just a few days into spring along a creek in Miami County, Kansas.
LOUISBURG, KANSAS
What day is it again?
Oh yes, March 24, a week and a half after the federal government officially recognized that what was ripping across a couple continents was here too.
Coronavirus. Covid-19. Since the Friday the 13th declaration of a national emergency, millions of people are hunkered down. I don’t need to tell you all the changes that are under way, because you are likely inundated with the advice, information and unfortunately, misinformation too.
Here in our corner of the world, we feel quite fortunate in some ways, but not in others.
We came here to help our daughter Jana and her fiancé Murphy prepare for an April 18 wedding.
Now, the wedding has been postponed. They joined hundreds of other couples now hoping to get another date set, and in a new place because their venue is booked through 2020.
The two have been engaged for 13 months, working their tails off to save up for a wedding at a great venue a half hour from their home in Louisburg. When the pandemic hit, they held out for some hope that perhaps the crisis would pass in time to let the wedding take place. We quickly gathered that it was up to the couple to decide, not us. So it was day to day. We had no frame of reference on how long a pandemic would last and move all gatherings off the schedule.
One day last week, before the wedding was called off, we visited the venue, an elegant former horse ranch, with brick roadways and all, owned by Johnson County. So the couple and the future in-laws got to visualize how the big event would unfold, with the wedding party staying in the large main house with the bride getting ready in the cottage. We visualized the reception, dinner and dance plans. It was going to be a great place for a wedding.
I’m glad we got to see it. It has been the couple’s project now for months; something they discussed countless hours and prepared for, and they were really excited about the place. They are young, smart and resilient and will have another place and date selected soon.
The response to the virus also meant that a bridal shower, set this weekend in Lincoln, had to be postponed. But we'll another trip home, after all. Early in March, my dentist in Wahoo put in a temporary crown, and virus or no virus, the permanent crown needs to be installed. He didn't want to wait a month or two before we could make it back to Nebraska.
So we are preparing to drive north, stay at my brother's house, while also keeping our distance. We have to be careful as well when we stop to see Maya, and Angie's mother, Connie. I couldn't imagine getting this far in the distancing process only to slip up now.
It recently dawned on me that if we hadn't returned to Lincoln in mid-February to help Maya through the surgery, we likely would have stayed in Texas longer. Instead we came up and rented a house for three weeks, so Maya wouldn't have to contend with three flights of stairs to her apartment.
Despite all our anxiety and difficulties of running around the country, we know that other people face issues that are 100 times more dire, making our struggles look quite small.
We are adjusting on the fly. Before things got complicated, we had planned to stay in eastern Kansas so Angie could begin therapy for her ankle. Remember the ankle she had repaired in late January in Texas? But now we're moving on to Plan B: Traveling on to southwest Kansas, to Minneola, where we'll park at Angie's cousin's place for a month or so while Angie goes to a local clinic for physical therapy. We planned to go to Minneola after the wedding, and now we'll see spring unfold out on the plains. I'm looking forward to wide open spaces and to explore some hidden gems of southern Kansas. The cousins tell me there will be grass to mow.
Hitting the trail
OK, now some explanation about the mossy tree photos.
On Saturday, the camper walls were closing in on me, so I checked out a hiking trail that begins at the edge of the RV park. It circles a large pond and ends down by a creek that runs into Middle Creek State Fishing Lake a half mile to our south.
When I came to the end of the wide path, I was disappointed. But I could also see that the creek bottom, a tangle of old hedge and thorny locust, plus a variety of washouts and fences, wouldn't be an easy place to maintain a trail.
The creek bottom would be a good setting for a horror movie. Still, it was nature. The animals were in full spring mode, with northern cardinals proclaiming their territory and bullfrogs calling mates in an oxbow pond. It was too early to return to the camper, so I sat on a log to
soak up the surroundings and listen to the creek tumbling over the stones nearby.
Looking west up the hill I noticed the only color in the otherwise drab brown and gray. It was like someone knocked down a row of trees and painted them green. Later that night, back at the camper, I realized the moss and lichen of those trees just might provide a photo subject after all.
Sunday, after another round of gloomy drizzle cleared, I changed to a wider lens and headed for the fallen trees. I was rewarded with the color of the moss and a fungi called wood ear. Auricularia auricula-judae. Only later did I learn that it's an edible fungus found worldwide and it's used for a variety of cuisines and medicines. No, I didn't try any or bring any home.
I told Angie I would be going back to get some wood ears today, and she said she would have 911 ready on her phone.
The tree pile made my week. Just by sitting and watching, and not trying to hard, I had found some unexpected shapes and color. I decided to follow the creek on to the lake and make another stop at the tree pile on my way back. Maybe, by then, I'd have some late afternoon sun to change the colors.
I grew up exploring the creeks around my home town, Red Cloud, Nebraska, especially Elm Creek, whose clear waters ran along our farm. It was here that I hunted with my brothers, walking around the thickets and swamp to push the deer or pheasants past their "post" or tree stand. I did more bird dogging than hunting.
This creek was no spring fed Elm Creek, but it revealed that it was a deer haven, crisscrossed with trails that were flowing with water from the springs uphill. The hedge trees, alive and dead, provided more color, with their yellowish red trunks and the green moss on their boughs. Besides sidestepping the mud holes, I had to watch out for thorny locusts and the small thorny bushes that will grab you if aren't looking. I had my hat removed more than once.
Before I knew it I had been gone for three hours. I stopped back at the mossy tree pile to capture the green with a different light. The sunlight changed the hue of the wood ears.
The hike provided some relief to the incessant news of the virus outbreak and the politicized fight over the response. We left the TV off for the rest of the day.
Making the best of it
Even though this virus response made a forced separation from our daughter, we couldn't have found a better place to land in these uncertain times. All the people here, from the RV park staff to our neighbors, have been friendly and helpful.
Along with the trail, we have the park's fishing pond and horseshoe pits to provide a break from the camper walls. It has been reassuring to see the families with their kids playing over at the park playground, making life as normal as possible for the little ones.
With no wedding on the April calendar, we're ready to move on. But we'll be back. It looks like a late summer wedding could be in the works.
Until next time, stay safe and healthy.
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