I've lamented this before. The lack of a physical space to go to in order to feel her presence. And, really, it shouldn't matter. Wherever I go, her memory goes, too. But some days it just seems like having that space would make a difference.

It's been more than a decade, and I miss her every day. And most days, that's fine. It's something you learn to live with. It becomes a part of you, the missing. Just as much as their memory is a part of you, too.  But as the anniversary of her death nears every year, I feel an obligation to find a way to honor her life, and her loss. 

I've been visiting sunflower farms over the past month or so.  I put together a list of Sunflower Farms as a feature on the website. The other day I was remembering how much my mom loved sunflowers. She had a couple large framed sunflower posters in her kitchen. She enjoyed the blooms, and the cheer they spread. And it occurred to me, finally, that I should honor her with a sunflower bouquet. ​

My husband and I took a drive to Lannon Sunflower Farm, and picked a bouquet of sunflowers. Then brought them home and made an arrangement that included some flowers from our garden, too.
​
I put it together with the invitation to, and memory book of, her memorial at the St. Croix. I took some time and read through the book again.

I took a photo of it all and sent it to my sisters, a way to share the day. Seems it was the right thing to do, this year. Next year, well, time will tell.

I'm reminded that every stage of life has its own allure. In spring we sow seeds and watch over them, wait anxiously for them to sprout and grow. We marvel at the magic of it all. Then the buds come, and the flowers, and we smile as we admire their colors blowing in the breeze, beneath a summer sky. We preen them, hoping for a second bloom, and on and on, until, as the summer fades, the petals fade, too. A little straggly, worn, crisp on the edges. But the seedheads, now, are teeming with potential. The birds know it and they will feast on them. 

Then autumn comes, and the leaves become the flowers, their colors bold and warm. Until they, too, fall, and decorate the ground. Leaving the trees to stand naked, branches making room for snow to settle.
​
Yes, then winter arrives. And we are enamored of the crisp white artistry of it. The way it sparkles over everything.  At least in the early days. Like the blooms of summer, the glory of winter fades, too. And our thoughts turn towards spring. Anticipating the melting of the snow, spring rains, the greening, again. 

Living here in Wisconsin, we are accustomed to these stages. We anticipate them. It's an innate feeling. Even though we long for summer to linger, we are drawn towards fall, and so on.  There's a reason writers liken the seasons of the year to the seasons of our lives.

​We are born, we grow, we bloom, we struggle, we love, we laugh, we lose, we start over again. And if we are lucky, we can recognize the beauty in all of these stages, though sometimes it takes looking back to do so. 

I look through my mother's 70th birthday photo book, and find all the seasons there. Some more colorful than others. But all part of her story. Her final season was too short, if you ask me.

​But it was still beautiful. She was surrounded by the love of her daughters, family, and friends. Laughter was shared. Tears, too. But her impression was indelible, like the beauty and cheer of a sunflower in bloom.

Last summer, in the lead-up to my knee replacement surgery, and for several months after, I sought out local parks and preserves with easy paths and trails. And they were always worth the effort. But, this summer I've taken advantage of the stronger knee, and adventured further from home. I've been thoroughly enjoying it. Even so, sometimes I get so caught up in the search for new parks, trails, and preserves to explore, that I neglect to visit the ones nearby. 

This week, en route to run some errands,  I decided to make a quick trip to Greenfield Park in West Allis.  As I pulled over and parked along the lagoon, I immediately spotted a thicket of Milk Thistle in bloom, bustling with butterflies.  I decided to get out of the car and take a closer look. ​​As I got closer I could see several Fritillary and Swallowtail butterflies fluttering about from bloom to bloom.

When the Goldfinches moved on, I did, too. Just a short ways down the path to an opening on the lagoon where I could see a Great Blue Heron doing a little fishing by the small island out there. A woman and her young son, and an older gentleman with camera in-hand, were sitting on a bench watching the heron, and a family of ducklings preening on a log.  

Their conversation turned to talk of an Osprey that has been seen at the park throughout the summer. The woman mentioned she saw it earlier. When I pulled up I saw a large bird fly over the trees of the little island. I had assumed it was a hawk. Turns out I was wrong, and it was an Osprey.  How do I know?
​
​As I walked just a short distance further, I could see it perched on a large tree branch on the other side of the lagoon. I asked the gentleman if that was it. He quickly popped up and came over to look. Sure enough, it was. He snapped some photos and headed off on his way.  I took a photo with my phone, just for proof, but even that would be a stretch.  The best thing was that I had seen it.  

​I used to fish from the dock, watching the bobber go under water, thrilling to the bend in my fishing rod, reeling it in. Most often it was sunfish, sometimes perch. Sometimes we kept it for eating (though I'm not a fish eater), most often I wrestled up enough courage to hold the fish in my hand to release it from the hook and put it back in the lake. On the drive home I would close my eyes and see that bobber dancing on the surface of the water, then lunge under. I haven't fished in decades, but I can still recall the thrill of it. The peace it can bring, too. 

In the evenings the fireflies lit up, dancing among the trees and the wild grasses and flowers that lined the dirt road to the cabin. The air was clear, as was the sky. Stars appeared after dark in numbers I could never imagine seeing from our home in the city. Like magic.

Fast forward a few decades, and here I am wondering When was the last time I had to clean a multitude of bugs from my windshield?  I can't even recall. And this, in fact, makes me sad. I spend a fair amount of time driving to parks and preserves out in the wilder spaces of Wisconsin, and I rarely come home having to clean my windshield of anything more than leaves and dust. Which begs the question, Where have the bugs gone? 
​
"Entomologists call it the windshield phenomenon." So says Gretchen Vogel, in an article she wrote for Science.org back in 2017: Where Have All The Insects Gone? In it she explains how there have been ongoing studies by entomologists in Germany, since the 1980s.  Their tracking showed a decrease, within three decades, of nearly 80% in the number of insects in the 100 nature reserves studied. ​

​I have to say, the details of the article are sobering. As they explain, the decrease in insects of all kinds, means a depletion in food sources for other animals. Birds, for example. Which leads to declines in their species, and on and on.
​
What is causing this loss? The usual suspects, of course. Over development, loss of habitat, pollution, pesticides. The research continues in an effort to find out more. But now what? 

I'm not going to get in to the politics of climate change, clean energy arguments, and all that. Clearly climate change is hard at work, and we need to act. But how to enact a difference in our day to day lives can seem an overwhelming prospect. ​

 I'm looking to conservationists and gardeners for inspiration. To the idea of preserving existing, and building new, prairies, and forests. Restoring wetlands, woodlands, and wildflower fields.

And to the idea of adding native plants and trees to our existing gardens, no matter how small, in an effort to increase the food and shelter sources for our birds, bees, butterflies, and everything in-between.

In the state of Wisconsin alone we have an abundance of conservancy organizations that have taken up the task of preserving our existing wilderness, and restoring it as well.

​Gardening organizations and clubs offer information on how to add natural habitat to even the smallest of yards. They provide details on what plants, shrubs, and trees can benefit the wildlife and ecosystems they need to survive, maybe even thrive again.

Community gardens have sprung up in cities and towns, rural and urban. Planting fruits and vegetables for personal sustenance, and to benefit the community at large; insects, animals, and humans alike. 

Finding hope for the future from a local perspective, there are lots of organizations that can provide guidance to make a difference at a more personal level. Something as simple as carving out a bit of space in your yard for native bird and pollinator friendly plants can help. Avoiding pesticides on your lawn can make a big difference. If you don't have a yard, but have space for a planter or two, plant natives and pollinator friendly plants in those. Every little bit can make a difference.

Volunteer for a clean-up or weeding day at one of your local parks or preserves. Join a community garden where you can learn along with others how to plant and grow produce, flowers, and other plants. Following is a list of organizations and websites that might be of help. 

Homegrown National Park
​
National Wildlife Federation 
​
Wild Ones 

Monarch Joint Venture 

Natural Resources Foundation of Wisconsin 
​
The Nature Conservancy, Wisconsin 
​

Wisconsin Pollinators 

Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center

Home Gr/own Milwaukee 

The Gardens Network 
​
Urban Ecology Center Community Gardens
​
Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources
​

Some things are meant to be shared. Nature is one of them. Along the Eagle Nature Trail, in Eagle, Wisconsin, a new garden sculpture has added another element to nature viewing. 

The Sharing Garden Kaleidoscope offers two viewing stations in one sculpture. A rotating planting bowl in the center provides the blooming color palette. Put your eye up to the scope, spin the rotating bowl, and, Voila! Magic!

Early in 2022, Beth Dobberstein, an art teacher at Eagle Elementary School, and Alli Chase, Library Director at the Alice Baker Memorial Library, had a vision to place one of these garden sculptures along the Eagle Nature Trail. They took their idea to the Trail Board meeting, where they determined that if the community would fund it, the Sharing Kaleidoscope could become a reality. 

​After months of community outreach and fundraising, the new garden sculpture was installed and presented at a public event on Tuesday, August 9.  

I spoke with Beth Dobberstein, who praised the local community for coming together to make the project happen,  "It all comes down to community".

She's right. When we come together at the local level, we can make good things happen. Adding a garden sculpture to a nature trail may not bring world peace, but it can instill a sense of peace, beauty, and pride to a community working together for a common goal.  

The sculpture, designed and created by Robert C. Anderson, is made with steel, and brass viewing scopes, and includes a rotating steel bowl for placement of plantings. Several design styles are available. A Door County artist, Anderson's garden sculptures can be found in both private and public installations across the United States, and in other countries as well. 

The Sharing Kaleidoscope is a unique and artful addition to the Eagle Nature Trail.  It is available for public viewing and is located near the outdoor classroom area of the trail (near the elementary school parking lot).  Thanks to Alli, Beth, the board of directors, volunteers, and the support of local community members, the kaleidoscope of color that is the Eagle Nature Trail continues to spin beautifully.

The nature trail is located at 820 E. Main Street, in Eagle, behind the Alice Baker Memorial Library.

EUGSTER'S FARM MARKET
Sunflower Days (Stoughton)

Eugsters has plenty for everyone to enjoy. A petting zoo, a cutting flower garden, sunflower fields, and an apple orchard (in autumn). And a market with homegrown fresh produce as well. They offer lavender fields earlier in the season, and sell lavender products in their market, too.

3865 WI-138    Stoughton, WI

ROOTS & STEMS
Frest Cut Flowers & Sunflowers (Mequon)

If you're looking for a beautiful summer bouquet, Roots & Stems has you covered. Their summer cutting garden is filled with colorful blooms. And their Sunflower Fields have just opened for the season. Photo opportunities are abundant, and a bouquet of fresh cut flowers are at your fingertips.

​11627 Highland Road, Mequon, WI

WEST OF THE LAKE GARDENS
915 Memorial Drive, Manitowoc

The formal gardens of yesteryear are blooming brightly at West Of The Lake Gardens in Manitowoc.  The stunning 6 acres of gardens found their roots in 1934, when local residents John and Ruth West purchased the property.  Entering the grounds there is a distinct mid-century modern vibe to both the buildings and the gardens.

Scattered throughout the gardens are patio seating chairs and tables with a modern style. Some inset among the flowers, offering whispers of social gatherings past. If there's time, have a seat, linger a bit. Take in the beauty of the gardens around you, and the sounds of the waves crashing along the Lake Michigan shore. 

Read More About It

CHERNEY MARIBEL CAVES COUNTY PARK
15401 County Road R, Maribel

Cherney Maribel Caves County Park is 75 acres along the West Twin River. Featured among mountain biking trails, picnic areas, and a children's playground, are a multitude of hiking trails, along with a stunning portion of the Niagara Escarpment. These naturally formed caves, rock formations and ledges, hint at the long and intriguing history of the land. Some of the caves are open daily, some only for guided tours.

The hiking trails traverse woodland terrain, as well as along the ledges and ridges of the rocks and caves, and along the West Twin River, culminating in a stunning view of the spring fed waterfall that empties into the river itself. 

Read More About It