Tag Archives: G. Richard Thompson Wildlife Management Area

Spring 2026: Three Books and Some Flowers

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A couple of weeks ago, fueled by an idea and some energy, I wrote this title and then failed to write the article itself. Since then, I’ve read more books and seen more flowers, but I need to quit stalling and to get writing. Summer is only two days away.

My original idea was to write about three books I read one after another. Although the three books differ widely, I like each one a great deal and they seem to make a perfect, if motley, trio for these times.

First Book Sarah Kendzior published The Last American Road Trip: a Memoir in 2025.* 2025: after Covid-19, after fires and floods, after the Supreme Court overrode Roe v. Wade, after Trump was inaugurated again and DOGE came to town. Between her trenchant observations about American history and society and her mordant humor, this crackerjack writer ripped me to emotional shreds. Actually, Kendzior (a journalist and expert in conspiracies) got me at her book’s title. If you have read this blog for awhile, you know that I love road trips. I especially love them when Tom and I find some back of beyond place that is short on people, but serene and beautiful beyond words. Kendzior and her family have traveled some of the same roads as Tom and I, but also many that were new to me. As a researcher and journalist, Kendzior provides a world of well-documented information about skullduggery and violence throughout (and ongoing) in our American story. Because I procrastinated, it has been about two months since I read this book and I do not have it at hand. What I recall most strongly is Kendzior’s fierce love for her children. This love drives her family through the country: the morass we are in and the beauty that remains. This book was not an easy read for me. However, I ended up feeling that Kendzior and I were fellow travelers. Like Paul Simon’s, “America”  written almost sixty years ago, we’ve “…come to look for America.”

Second Book After the intense reading work of The Last American Road Trip, I needed something lighter. I usually go for a middle grade book for relief, but that didn’t happen this time. Tom had been guffawing over the latest Carl Hiaasen book, Fever Beach, which was also published in 2025. I am not typically a reader of comic novels. However, I’ve read and enjoyed more than fifteen of Hiaasen’s comic novels–adult and middle grade. I like Hiaasen’s constant and passionate call to save (what’s left of) Florida’s natural ecosystem. Beyond that, I enjoy his own mordant take on human nature. Bottom line: This novel was so slapstick, raunchy, and fun that I laughed aloud. My anxiety about the daily bad news even lessened a notch. Not going to share the plot of the book, but I will mention that there is a crowd of right-wing ninnies who get into crazy situations at fictional Fever Beach and elsewhere. Side Note: When I just wrote that some of the novel’s characters were “right-wing ninnies,” I chose words that were much milder than I really feel. “Stupid” and “idiots” are what I really wanted to write. I am sorry to say that in our fevered times, some of the crazed and feckless  book characters remind me of real people I read about in the news.

So, I traveled the country with Kendzior and found some comic relief with Hiaasen, but I needed more.

Third Book My local library offers several shelves of free used books.Those shelves are next to the doors I usually exit, so I find plenty of free middle grade books. About a month ago, I found one of my favorite books on a shelf: In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson written by Bette Bao Lord in 1984. With this latest read, I think I have read this book at least four times. This isn’t much of a feat. The book is quite short and the intended audience is for children in the middle elementary grades. This book is neither heavy nor slapstick. This book is full of humor, kindness, and empathy. The story tells of Shirley Temple Wong and her parents who have emigrated from China to New York City in 1947. World War II is over at last. It is the Chinese Zodiac Year of the Boar, and as fate or luck has it, also the year Jackie Robinson becomes the first African American Major League baseball player: exciting times for a young newcomer to Brooklyn. The rereading of this tale of immigrants and New Yorkers, baseball and hope, cleared my mind and helped sooth my troubled heart. Words can be true and powerful even in a little kids’ book.

Flowers (and  their allies) I love reading, but even books aren’t enough to make me feel like things are quite right with the world. I need a walk with Tom in some back of beyond place that is short on people, but serene and beautiful beyond words. Turns out, we’ve found such a place 63 miles from where I am sitting in my chair writing these words. On April 23, 2026 Tom and I drove to the Trillium Walk, part of the G. Richard Thompson Wildlife Management Area. This was our fourth spring hike along the Trillium Walk. I do not have words, but I do have some photos (below).

April 23, 2026, G. Richard Thompson Wildlife Management Area

large white trillium

mayapples

American cancer-root

native geraniums and star chickweed

eastern comma

trilliums and tree

Today I look to people, books, and nature to help me get through these challenging times. Also good food cooked with love, the gym, and, yes, TV. I am getting through and I hope the same for you. Today, for some reason, I feel more hopeful about our country than I have for many months. I thought of some words from Tolkien’s Return of the King and send them out to you:

Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond them.

*I usually provide internet links to most of the people, books, and other information I refer to. This time I provided only four links because I was annoyed with AI elbowing in everywhere.  Information about the people and books I mention in the article are all easily accessible on  the internet.

Puzzled, Edgy, and Seeking Comfort

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Puzzled For the last several months, I have been working assiduously on a variety of puzzles–even more than I had done previously (as a retired person with too much time on her hands). The New York Times informed me this morning that I have played 663 games of their online Spelling Bee. That’s my favorite game. For a year or so, I  also worked on the Times’ Connections. Now, because the newspaper doesn’t allow each of us to work separately on this puzzle, it’s Tom’s year to play. I enjoyed playing Connections, but I only solved the puzzle about 68% of the time. I also play Strands, which is a simple wordfind puzzle. Simple though the puzzle may be, I often have to use several hints to complete it. About the same time I started working on Connections, I started playing Wordle on NYT. I was never very good at it and had little patience for it. I think I had little patience because I wasn’t very good at it. In addition, I didn’t bond with the format. All these puzzles have led me to think about the way my brain works (or doesn’t work). For over a decade, Tom and I have worked on crossword puzzles. We worked on them when we still subscribed to paper versions of The Washington Post and the The New York Times. When we  were traveling and camping a great deal, we always had our trusty NYT crossword books with us. Now, I usually work on some Post crosswords and help Tom on some of the Times crosswords.

You may have seen those articles about how crosswords (and other puzzles) may (or may not) help old people retain high cognitive functioning. Who knows? So far, though, I am with my friend, Laura, who posits that people who work on puzzles become adept at doing those puzzles. I have recently taken up Sudoku again. More about that below.

Edgy An example of how edgy I have been lately: I was just writing this section of the article, but I felt the need to pause to reply to a political email from one of my score of anti-Trump friends.  I try. I really try to avoid overdosing on the Trumpworld news of the corrupt and the deranged. This far into the regime, I am only so successful at tamping down my anxiety. I am trying to do my part, but I need to do more. I need to do more than make a few calls and write a few emails, go to a couple of marches, surreptitiously place immigrant rights cards in stores and restaurants, and give a little money to the ACLU. I am trying to work harder to help preserve our government, our land, and our people from the would-be autocrats and their orcs.

resist tee shirt

my tee shirt for the gym and protests, circa early 2017

Franklin Park, May 1, 2025, MWashington D.C

Franklin Park, May 1, 2025, Washington D.C.

caricature, Franklin Square protest, May 1, 2025

caricature, Franklin Square protest, May 1, 2025

my sign of the times, May 1, 2025

my sign of the times, May 1, 2025

Puzzled and Edgy I am going nuts on the puzzles because they calm me down. Concentrating on becoming a “genius” in Spelling Bee every morning keeps me from reading too many news articles. I took up Sudoku again because, before bed, if I am not working on a crossword, I can fill my mind with nine digits again and again until it is time to sleep. I am puzzled about how day after day, illogical, unconstitutional, unethical, and cruel things happen in this country I love. Most of my life (white and middle class though I am) I have been aware of the many persistent problems facing our nation (e.g., racism, sexism, homophobia, access to healthcare, extreme wealth inequality, environmental issues, climate change, education, and more). In my own small way, I have tried to help work on some of these problems. I saw good (not perfect) things happening in the United States. Now, I am puzzled about how our society has veered into this ugly corner. It seems like we are in a horrible mash-up of the bumper cars and the haunted house in a carnival run by stupid and evil clowns. You can see I am feeling on edge. Lately, I have to keep reminding myself to take deep meditative breaths.

I am Seeking Comfort and I am relieved that I am finding it in many ways.

  • I have been working harder on my high-intensity interval training (HIIT). My 75 year old version of this exercise may be laughable to the younger and more fit, but working out as hard and sweaty as I can, relieves my anxiety and, generally, makes me feel more optimistic for much of a day.
  • I take walks alone, with Tom, with our daughter, Sarah, and with my friend, Donna. I watch and hear the birds. I see the trees. Occasionally, I hug them. I feel more calm when I walk among the trees–whether they  are in large forests (G. Richard Thompson Wildlife Management Area) or in one acre parks in densely urban settings (Hillside Park). I see flowers everywhere this time of year and that makes me happy. I also feel hopeful when I see more and more native plants growing in yards and parks.
  • Tom and I have filled our balcony with plants in tubs and pots. Our old iron birdbath is our current rock garden. We have put in a small bed of native plants at Sarah and Mike’s house. I spend some happy time there hacking back the English ivy and white mulberries.
  • Tom does most of the cooking and I do most of the cleaning up. Even though I am also a good cook, I like it that way. Cleaning our tiny kitchen gives me more small, repetitive tasks that make me feel efficient and  help keep the zeitgeist at bay. I still find pleasure in making the occasional pie, soup, or loaf of bread.

tulip poplar, Ft. C.F. Smith, May 2025

native plants on the balcony, May 26, 2025

rhubarb pie

Bedrock I am lucky to have family (human, avian, and canine) and friends whom I love and who love me. Since I was 17, John Lennon has been telling me, “All you need is love.” I am not sure that is accurate, but it is my mantra now during these difficult times. Please be well.

Old Growth

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I take lots of photographs of trees. I often take similar photos: I look straight up to the sky searching for the circling branches. I also take photos of leaves, pine needles, acorns, nuts, and twigs. I mostly haven’t been satisfied with my photos of trunks, but I keep trying. I’ve had a close relationship with trees my entire life and, if anything, I feel closer to them as I grow older.

Meadowlark Botanical Gardens, Fairfax County, Virginia

First Trees I started climbing trees when I was very young at our home in Detroit. The tree–I think my dad called it a silver maple–was also quite young and I was able to shinny up it and climb pretty far up the branches. I remember being proud of my skill because I was the youngest and the girl. My parents also planted a little cherry tree of some kind in the backyard. I remember swiping a maraschino cherry from the jar in the refrigerator and sticking it on a little twig and announcing that the tree had produced a cherry!  I didn’t fool anyone.* The street trees in our Rosedale Park neighborhood were elms. The trees from each side of the street met in the middle and made a comforting leaf canopy.  Back in the 1950s Christmastime was still reliably cold in Detroit. One night I walked around the block with my dad looking at the Christmas lights.  There was a blue spruce glowing with lights. I must have known it was a blue spruce because my dad told me its name. The magic was so strong that I feel it now, 66 years later.  That mix of the cold air, the holiday lights, the blue tree, and my kind father keep me–even through many long and sometimes trying years–looking up at the trees and sky.

A few years later, my family moved to a lake near Milford, Michigan. When we first moved to our house, trilliums still bloomed nearby in the springtime and we saw deer tracks on the beach. My parents made sure that the builders did not cut down any extra trees when they built our house, so our new world was guarded by a grove of tall oaks and hickories along with the odd little sassafras and wild cherry.  In most of the lawn, the grass grew a little bit thin, but the trees were almost like benevolent gods to my young nature-loving self.  When I miss my home, which is often for a place that I haven’t lived in since 1972, I sometimes miss the trees as much as the people who lived there.**

brother George’s photo of winter dawn with lake and trees from our house

*These early memories  are slightly fuzzy; I might not have been the only one involved in the maraschino gambit.

**(Some of these words are adapted from Losing It: Deconstructing a Life, unpublished work © Lynda Terrill, all rights reserved)

More Trees Through the years, I have been lucky to encounter many trees.  I’ve walked through Michigan woods, Appalachian and Piedmont forests, the grand ponderosa pine forests of the Kaibab Plateau, the bristlecone pines of Great Basin National Park, the redwood and sequoia cathedrals of California, and so many more tree lands. Not every forest or tree needed to be grand for me to love it.  I fondly remember the single small tree on a minuscule pull-out on U.S. Route 89A–then, the only tree to be found on the Arizona Strip between Fredonia, Arizona and the Kaibab Plateau. I can’t remember the species of that tree; it might have been a pinyon pine.

I only started taking photographs (first on little Nikons, now just on phones) about 13 years ago. Nonetheless, I find that I have hundreds of tree-related photos. Below are some of my current favorites.

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lake Shore, Michigan

redbuds, Sky Meadows State Park, Virginia

Eastern hemlocks, Cathedral State Park, West Virginia

autumn, Arlington, Virginia

Mathews Arm Campground, Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

sycamore, Theodore Roosevelt Island, Washington, D.C.

cherry blossoms, Tidal Basin, Washington, D.C.

Red Canyon, Dixie National Forest, Utah

Widforss Trail, North Rim, Grand Canyon, Arizona

November: Frick Park, Pittsburgh

Frick Park, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Great Basin National Park, Nevada

Beach Road, Meher Spiritual Center, Myrtle Beach, SC

Beach Road, Meher Spiritual Center, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

Sequoia feet

Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Park, California

North Rim, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

red mangrove, Florida

G. Richard Thompson Wildlife Management Area, Markham, Virginia

black walnut, Ft. C.F. Smith, Arlington, Virginia

Enough photos for now, I think.

Old Growth, Part 1 In March 2020, Tom and I heard environmentalist Joan Maloof speak about old-growth forests. Maloof, “Professor Emeritus at Salisbury University, founded the Old-Growth Forest Network to preserve, protect and promote the country’s few remaining stands of old-growth forest. (www.joanmaloof.com/).” Since hearing Maloof’s presentation, Tom and I have been visiting more of these special forests, most recently last month when we walked in the Youghiogheny Grove Natural Area in Swallow Falls State Park, Maryland. I was going to make a bulleted list of the old forests we’ve hiked in, but I realized I don’t really know how many we have encountered. I don’t want to sound like a gaga old woman, but I have two ideas to share. First: not only do forests provide the earth with oxygen, food, shelter, fuel, etc., but they provide me with a sense of wonder and contentment that I don’t often feel elsewhere.  Second, while I am a proponent of  preserving all the old-growth forests that are left, I also want to acknowledge that a tree, a grove, a forest, doesn’t need a special designation to be awe-inspiring.  I do encourage tree lovers to investigate the Old Growth Network and I still want to list a few of Tom’s and my favorite forests below:

  • Kaibab National Forest, Arizona
  • Great Basin National Park, Nevada
  • Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park, Michigan
  • Cascade Falls, Ottawa National Forest, Michigan
  • Congaree National Park, South Carolina
  • Red Canyon, Dixie National Forest, Utah
  • Fishlake National Forest (including Pando and Singletree Campground), Utah
  • Cathedral Forest, Cook State Forest, Pennsylvania
  • Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias, Yosemite National Park, California
  • The Giant Forest, Sequoia  & Kings Canyon National Parks, California

Old-Growth Forest Network sign, Swallow Falls State Park

Youghiogheny Grove Natural Area, Swallow Falls State Park, Maryland

Old Growth, Part 2 I realize that I think, talk, and write quite a bit about trees. I might even repeat myself sometimes. Part of that may be because I am old and prone to reverie, but mostly it is because trees (and birds, bugs, plants, and rocks) help me focus on beauty amid the terrible news that surrounds me almost daily. Side note: I once had an employer who gave me job–at least in part–because, she said, I was a life-long learner. Maybe I am. Now, though, I just want to grow like a tree–like a tulip poplar in flower or just hang on like a pinyon pine on a canyon rim.

tulip poplar flower, Arlington, Virginia

pinyon pine, Colorado National Monument, Colorado