Nature Connection: Harvesting Happiness

 In the fall of 1980, I began teaching an informal watercolor class at the then-new Green Briar Nature Center in East Sandwich. The old building was being brought up to code, and the jam kitchen was once again operational. We held class in the kitchen with plywood covering the gas burners before moving to the big classroom a few weeks later. A weekly tradition began that first day continues to this one, though we now meet in someone’s home.

 Over the years a wonderful group of mostly women came each Wednesday morning to paint, talk, laugh and paint some more. We painted in Shirley Cross’s new wildflower garden and tromped through the old Briar Patch to paint lady’s slippers in season. We painted baby swans and goldfish swimming in a bowl as well as many taxidermized animals that the Thornton Burgess Society had on display.

 Twenty years in, about half a dozen of us began to meet in each other’s homes, and to this day, we meet on Wednesday mornings to chat, paint, share lunch and laugh. One woman remains from the original group and she is now 98, hosting weekly get togethers that have included many new members over the years.

 Often, I leave home early to stop at one of my favorite beaches along the way, and this past week I left even earlier than usual because I hoped to find tracks of baby diamondback terrapins. These tiny turtles hatch from nests in the warm sand, often behind dunes, where their mothers dug their nests after leaving the salt marsh to follow nature’s calling. I occasionally see a little one scrambling to the marsh where it will hide and grow until it is large enough to not be an easy target for predators. 

 A lot of birds and animals prey on baby turtles, and since terrapins are a protected species, there are monitors who scoop up a certain number of eggs each year to incubate safely. Once hatched, the babies are often fostered by school classrooms and nature centers and released when they are about a year old. Crows, gulls, foxes, raccoons, skunks, coyotes, weasels and even domestic dogs will either dig up nests or pounce on newly hatched turtles, so fostering gives a percentage of babies a better chance of survival.

 I began my walk on the beach. Clouds and sun were competing, the sea was calm, and the shore was littered with stones, shells, remains of crabs and fish the gulls had caught, and various types of seaweed. There were skate egg cases, shed feathers so ragged they barely looked like feathers, and of course remnants of human celebrations such as charred wood and a stray flip flop. 

 When I reached the trail that went up through the dunes to the salt marsh on the other side, I stopped to survey my surroundings. I’ve lived here for almost 70 years and still the beauty of this unique landscape takes my breath away. Several crows flew overhead, cawing loudly, waking me from my revelry. The scent of bayberry mingled with that of the last of the blooming beach roses as I headed off through the deep, soft sand. 

 The towhees, prairie warblers, and kingbirds are no longer in evidence, but swallows were everywhere. Both tree and barn swallows gather by the thousands at this time of year, and they are easy to find in dune areas hosting a lot of bayberry bushes. Although the swallows are still feeding on flying insects over the salt marshes, they will soon switch to feeding on the fatty bayberries that will give them enough fat and energy to make their long journeys south. This is one of the most amazing spectacles of nature to be seen at this time of year, and I highly recommend standing beneath hundreds of swallows as they chitter and chatter and fly overhead. It’s an instant reminder that we are not alone on this planet and only part of an enormous ecosystem and cycle. 

 I rounded the corner and smiled. There, on the side of the trail, was a bush loaded with fruit. Some of us wait all summer for this day and here was mine. I had packed a bag for gathering in my pack and I began picking the dark, juicy beach plums that would soon sparkle in my cupboard as jelly. 

 If you pick wild fruits or berries you know there’s something magical about it. The world goes on all around you as you concentrate on cupping your hands just right, applying just the right amount of pressure to separate it from the branch and then shifting it into your bag or basket. 

 Picking beach plums can be tricky because poison ivy loves to grow with them, hiding under some branches, vining up and around others. 

 You may also not be alone. Mice enjoy beach plums as well as many birds. Foxes and coyotes will also partake when they are hungry or looking for a little snack, and it is not unusual to find scat with plum bits all through it. I disturbed a hog-nosed snake that was resting beneath one bush. It quietly slithered off and I apologized for ruining any immediate chances of a toad or mouse breakfast.

 The sun rose higher in the cloud-pocked sky, warming the sand and the back of my neck. A few bees worked flowers near the bushes I was picking, and patches of bright yellow golden asters cheered me as I walked back to the car, noting no baby turtle trails on this walk.

 By the time I sat down with my painting buddies, I was full up with happiness. We can never be sure of what we will find when we set out to harvest, but we will always gather something wonderful, whether flocks of swallows, beach plums or old friends.