

Chinstrap Penguin





Black-Tipped Reef Shark (Marc Anderson)




Moray eel coming out of its hole (Jane Ball)



Chinstrap Penguin





Black-Tipped Reef Shark (Marc Anderson)




Moray eel coming out of its hole (Jane Ball)

The issue here is not just about dog poop.
It is more about caring for our wild spaces.
When we are out for a walk,
are we conscience of the land
and the parks we value so much?
Calling all dog owners, the city of Minnetonka is heading the first city-wide “Pick-up the Poop” day in the state of Minnesota (That may not be true). Saturday, March 14th 10 am to noon at Purgatory Park (17315 Excelsior Blvd, Mntka). Bring a bucket, big plastic bag, a “mutt mitt” or scooper and your pooch. If you are going to pick-up at another park, come to Purgatory Park for the weigh in. Early returns from Evergreen Park show a collection of 20 lbs.
Why pick-up poop?
Our suburban wild spaces are out of balance. Normally in an open space of 20 acres, there might be one family of foxes. Introduce 100 dogs into that space and nature’s balance is negatively impacted. 90% of  the dog owners  pick up after their dogs. The 10% (10 dogs/owners) who are not picking up, are creating the problem. We can estimate that those 10 dogs might leave 5 pounds of poop each week. Multiply that over a 5 month winter  (November to March). Now you have 100 pounds of poop on the land. When the spring rains come, the pet waste runs into our low areas, ponds and creeks. Now we have a water quality issue.  The poop that stays in forest is a public health problem . The bacteria and pathogens in animal waste can negatively impact wild and domestic animals that eat it.
We all love our dogs. But we also love the land that we walk on. We need to be as caring about the land as much as we do our dogs.
Three poets, Jeff Saslow, Rich Kessler, and Christina Gregory try to find light and balance during the darkness of winter and the stress of everyday life. Join them, as they express their connection to Nature through the written word.
                                                                                       Unless noted, all photos by Old Naturalist
River Otters

The river otter’s homes are the joy of open holes,
 Usually a foot in diameter,
and dot snowy Minnehaha Creek
 On a cold, February afternoon.
 The dark icy water of blackness houses a secret under the white world beneath my feet.
The otters enter the abyss to fish,
 But then use the snowy creek to slide along as a game and a ritual,
Much like us who walk, ski
and pull children’s sleds on the surface.
 The dogs sniff around the half open holes,
 Their nose in touch with an otter or two
 That danced, slid and fished eight to twelve hours earlier.
Now there are no otters in sight.
 No smells that we, of course, can decipher.
 But the open holes, the icy slides,
 The dog’s attention are a testament
 To something much deeper and unknown on the Creek,
Inside our bodies and just inside the walls of our world.
J. Saslow – Feb. 2015
White blizzard
 Low winter angle of sunlight
 Brown grasses through white frosting
 I ski through my cake
 Past twilight into the night
 Blanketed hills
 Tucked in dark woods
I push and slide
 Toward marshmallow prairies
 My insides are sucking on sweets
 While my winded face meets my self again.
J. Saslow
ice cracks underfoot
alone   silence broken
by my racing heart     
bare cold icy branch                         
 closed buds huddle together
 long for spring’s warm sun
  I profess my love
I profess my love
midnight    new year’s eve
full moon steals the show
 I live between two skis.
I live between two skis.
 Across a snow white sheet.
 On a sky-blue-pink March day.
 The wind blows a mystery.
I fall asleep between seconds.
 My body shudders
 I’m on the upward side of time
 I awake
 Sliding on a frozen, glass creek
 My heart is all that is warm.
J. Saslow March ‘09
Spontaneous Combustion
In the mist of mystery
 In the spheres of frozen longing
 You are born
 Quickened by the rise and fall of wind
 The mystical design of old.
Pure vapor is the womb
 Tossed about the riding tide of streaming air
 Agitated, perplexed, driven to create and birth your wonder for our viewing.
You trick us into thinking you are unique
 Yet you follow the manual; dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s
 Always 6 branches
 Always measured
 Always following your crystal destiny.
Condensing cold upon the nascent flake
 You grow tihe frenetic energy into branches, fern like and precious.
 Colonized symmetrically
 Randomized mathematically
 Stretched beyond the imagination
And in the chemical bond you join to others like yourself
 Lining up, marching as it were, into the form within your knowing
 And deep within you assemble
 Spontaneously
 Organically
 Magically,,,
Fresh baby snow
Christina Gregory, January 2015

Great Horned Owl
Dom Braud

Owl wing prints in the snow


Squirrel Track
The arrow shows the direction of travel.
The smaller front feet hit first and the larger hind feet jump over them.


Carpintero Crestado Pileated woodpecker

Carpintero Común Downy Woodpecker

carpintero vientre rojo Red bellied Woodpecker

Arrendajo azul blue jay

Cardenal rojo Cardinal

carbonero Chickadee

Trepador Azul White-breasted Nuthatch
I spend a lot of time on Minnehaha Creek. A sanctuary about a mile from my home. While skiing and hiking along the creek, I have seen and been part of some amazing things. If you have some memories of your time on the creek, share a comment and I’ll incorporate into the posting.
Reader Laura Arndt, shared the following comment: “Big Willow is my favorite place to be, no matter what season it is!!! “
Reader Dean Hansen shared this memory: “Ahh, Minnehaha Creek. (Actually, it’s pronounced “crick”, but you know that, right?) I grew up between Bloomington and Cedar avenues two houses south of 49th Street. We spent countless hours playing near the crick and in the surrounding Minnehaha Park when we were kids. There was a fine sliding hill just to the north of where 17th Avenue South hits 49th Street, and this hill was packed with kids in the winter. Back when we had real winters (1945 to maybe 1957). Somewhere in the attic are 16 mm color movies my dad took of us kids tobogganing on that famous hill. “
Lu Harland contributed the following memory: “I used to play down by the creek as well, but in Hopkins by Knollwood Plaza. I use to love catching crayfish under the rocks and tubing down the creek with our bumper tennis shoes on.”
Our readers ponder, the age old question, “What is Life?”
Each person contributing a 3 line form that is unique and a blessing in its own way.
Thanks to all the contributors (in order): Kathleen Kahlil, Dewey Hassig, Allison Platter, Carol Wade, Linda Hansen, Rich Kessler, Steve Casper, Judith Brook, Cathy Jordan, Lucia Harland, Dale Antonsen, Lyndra Hearn Antonson, Jennifer Parker, Paula Frakes
What is Life?
The aliveness in every cell
as the wind blows through
connecting, caressing, informing.
An oak tree
An acorn
A squirrel
Perpetual motion.
What is Life?
Fresh air, movement, and nature
Love, family and companionship
Growth, laughter and wisdom
The tiny fingers of a  newborn grasping yours
The joy in her parents faces
The wonder of all that is to come
What is Life?
Breathing in and out of fears and disappointments – letting go, leaning in, living on Inhaling hope in the sparkle of snowfall, exhaling angst, hurt & hurry,
A late day sun blanket, a swish of air when nature breathes too.
What is Life?
Sweet, cool, red chunks of watermelon quench my thirst
Crashing waves, salt air, hot sand and creosote boardwalks
Smell of old magazines, 60 years ago, in grandma’s attic.
“Stream stomping” with my two daughters
And sitting on the shore eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
Watching dragonflies mate and lay their eggs on the duck weed right before our eyes
What is Life?
Damp fresh smell by the ocean that clears my lungs from city traffic and city streets.
Hearing bird songs and thundering waves that clear my head from too much chatter in my mind.
Feeling my soul while walking in the woods surrounded by breathtaking grandeur.
                                                             What is Life?
It is the secrets of the forest,                                    The sound of wind in the summer leaves
buried below layers of pine needles                            The cold blue and white of winter
The babble of the brook teaming with life
The sway of the top-heavy grasses in the marsh
                                                         What is Life?
The Spark of the Creator                                                 Life is a gift from God 
Within the everlasting souls                                 A spiritual opportunity to learn
Of all who dwell in the sacred space                    How to give and receive divine love
Of this Garden we all share
What is Life?
It is the bent backs working steamy rice fields to feed families
The cacophony of colors reflecting the sunlight|
The innovation born in remote corners of our world to adapt and thrive
What is Life?
The brilliance of fresh newly fallen snow
Crisp air breathed in… warm breath breathed out
Another day … alive with purpose and hope.
Creating Life-Bearing Spaces
If you are interested in creating a life-bearing space in your neighborhood, download our booklet, One Vacant Lot at a Time, and learn more about our story, our management plan, and methods we have developed.
“Seeing native wildflowers fills my heart. So, being able to help take an empty strip of land and watch its hard, dry soil become looser, darker and richer after the very first wildflowers, was magical.” Veronica Smith
“Creating a thriving prairie out of a wasteland has been a wonderful education in land transformation. It’s also shown me a way to give back to the planet that does not bring immediate benefit to me, but provides a long term benefit for the health of the local environment.” Michael Smith
It was in 1993 that we first started working at our vacant lot. There was garbage littered everywhere and the land was hard-scrabble. We started small 30’ x 60 feet, and all of the work was done using pick-axes. The dominant plants were leafy spurge, Canada thistle, and ragweed, all indicators of extreme neglect of the land.
I did not know that the land would take on a life of its own, when it was given a caring human touch. Lawrence Wade
For 20 years we have been restoring this land that is sandwiched between a busy roadway in Minnetonka, Minnesota and a bike path. So people walking by can see what we are doing. Some people stare at us suspiciously or in disbelief when they see us working in such a “weedy” lot. The most classic comment ever made was on an evening when we were swatting mosquitoes and pulling Canada thistle. The passerby looked down at us and said, “What are you doing down there, do you know?”
In time we expanded the scope of the prairie. Today it is about an acre in size and is a source of food for bees, birds, rabbits, dragonflies, butterflies, and small mammals. Ducks and deer have nested among the plants. Now it has reached a point of aliveness and vibrancy that still requires some tending and weeding, it has a life of its own and the beauty continues to amaze us.
Friends of the Trail Photo Gallery
Poets at Gatewood School open their hearts to the changing season.
Photos contributed by Gatewood 5th graders.
This wonderful student opportunity was funded by the Gatewood PTO.
Rob Evers
The maple
A fallen friend.
Decaying slowly
Tree huggers crying
Rest In Peace
Emma Robinson
I smell the crisp autumn air
Hear the sweet chirps of the chickadees
The daylily pod rattles in the wind
The leaves crunch underfoot
The baby blue sky washes the clouds away
The sun is biting at my cheeks
 Conor Brace
Conor Brace
Leaves
leaves are masters of disguise
 as the seasons get colder 
they change their cloaks green to yellow yellow to orange orange to red
 then down they go using themselves as parachutes gliding
d
o
w 
n
to the cold snowy ground
 Cecilia Ritenour
Cecilia Ritenour
i am the mist only coming when it rains
i am the beautiful leaves on the ground
i am the bur oak tree standing strong
i am the maple snag, there all alone
i am the red oak/ Lucky’s tree
i am the cottonwood looking above the others
i am the mouse in the bird house
i am the tall wet grass
 Makenna Harris
Makenna Harris
I see a maple tree with a long shadow and bright spots of sunlight.
I smell nature’s fresh air
I feel the cold grass against my cheek
I hear leaves on a cottonwood tree crinkling and singing in the wind.
I touch the pine needles
Pointy like a porcupine and sticky like glue
I feel like a baby bird ready to spread my wings and fly.
 Zadyn Kallio
Zadyn Kallio
Red star
Fallen from the heavens
Going back to Mother Earth
 Nebat Mohammed
Nebat Mohammed
Flapping wings
Fly to Mexico
Orange
A leaf of life
I wonder if they are real?
Wings and flight
Joyful
 Ja’Ana Johnson
Ja’Ana Johnson
I see the blue sky
 washing over the clouds
 I hear the chickadee calling in the forest
 I touch the orange and red maple leaves falling on the ground
 I feel the sun warming my skin
 I smell Mother Nature growing inside me
Colorful Birds
Beautiful colorful leaves on a small flying tree
 like a bright airplane
 in the sky
 dazzling and joyful
 shall always fly high
 The bright feather leaves
 Justin Irseng
Justin Irseng
Little frog
Great little frog friend.
Found outside of school.
Resting on a hand.
 Lindsay Gaasch
Lindsay Gaasch
In The Tiny Mist Droplets,
In The Bark Of A Maple Tree,
In The Roots Of A Bur Oak,
In The Fur Of A Field Mouse,
In The Heat Of The Sun,
In My Heart Beauty Lies.
Ramsha Isaaq
Road Kill
 Brown, White, Black, and Gray
Brown, White, Black, and Gray
 Look’s like a stuffed eagle in display
 It makes me feel sad that it is
 Dead
Up hill , down hill, it was alive
 But now it is  dead before its time
 Who ever killed him
 Must be ashamed
 Cause
 Today is the day
 I don’t feel okay.
 Korbin Rear
Korbin Rear 
My shadow
Pitch black
Waiting there
Hiding from the sun
so fun.
 Nebilla Mohammed
Nebilla Mohammed
Fall is colorful
Animals are migrating
Nature is alive
 Tyus Carter
Tyus Carter
The sun
It’s amazing
light reflected off leaves
Feeling inspired
beautiful
 Nora Paavola
Nora Paavola
Bobcat
I have paws
The size of a baby’s palm
I am as fluffy
As a pillow
I am as fierce
As the wind
 Zach Johnston
Zach Johnston
Blue Phoenix
It’s as blue
as blue fire 
and it gives off
 the heat of the fire
 in the feather
 Celeste Moe
Nature
 I smell
I smell
the sweet smell of crab apple
I hear
the thudding of a woodpecker
pecking on trees
I feel happy
when I see the red leaves of the maple tree
I touch
the bumpy rough surface of the dogwood
I see
A little helicopter spinning in the air as it is falling
 Kristina Thompson
Kristina Thompson
Nature’s Kind
The crab apple tree springing from the soil,
The call of a blue jay coming home,
The helicopter that soars  through the mystic air,
The dogwood that is not hollow inside
Is  a beautiful tree,
The bumble bee getting pollen for the winter,
I feel the a flower sprouting out its beauty.
 Marriona Cameron
Marriona Cameron
I see a small brown pillbug
I smell the flowers and they remind me of strawberries
I hear a blubird calling its mate from up high
I feel smooth red and juicy crab apples
I touch a red dogwood branch
it has a rough surface
Bahja Jama
feels fuzzy
lying on the ground
trying to climb something
making its way to life
 Sadaq Abullahi
Sadaq Abullahi 
I am somebody
I can’t do as well as others
I can’t write as well as others
I can’t pretend to be somebody
I am somebody
I am tall
I am bilingual
I am kind
I am somebody
I have dark skin
I have brown eyes
I have a bro and a sis
I am somebody
I don’t own pets
I do like pizza
I don’t like being bossed around
I am somebody
I must be the best that i can be
I must be loved
I must be respected, protected, and never rejected
I am somebody
Amber Hysjulien
Smooth, colorful
Creative, special
Soft when wet
Beauty like an egg
Sleep softly little rock.
Lars Seefelt
I  see the leaves falling
Cracking in the air
I hear leaves dancing
And singing in the wind
they crunch in my hand
I feel them comfort me
I smell the winter air coming
leaves falling.
On the morning of September 2, 2014, I was thinking of all the students heading back to school and the excitement of their first day. My brooding thoughts were deeper as this morning was my first September day without any students of my own to send off on that yellow school bus, because I am now an empty nester.
 I headed down the path of Purgatory Park enjoying the park’s beauty and my dog’s company when I stopped dead in my tracks. The rocks below my feet were moving. I suspected that I was losing my mind. I looked closer as I pondered whether I had had enough coffee prior to my 9 am dog walk. I studied the first rock and indeed it was moving. Upon closer inspection, I watched a 2 inch baby snapping turtle totally covered in sand move down the pathway; at his best, he was a moving sandy rock. His five sisters and brothers were all within 6 feet of him and all six were marching directly down the center path at Purgatory Park. I took the time to say hello to each little baby, to admire its soft shell, to pick each one up and carefully placed it closer to a grassy edge of the pathway.
I headed down the path of Purgatory Park enjoying the park’s beauty and my dog’s company when I stopped dead in my tracks. The rocks below my feet were moving. I suspected that I was losing my mind. I looked closer as I pondered whether I had had enough coffee prior to my 9 am dog walk. I studied the first rock and indeed it was moving. Upon closer inspection, I watched a 2 inch baby snapping turtle totally covered in sand move down the pathway; at his best, he was a moving sandy rock. His five sisters and brothers were all within 6 feet of him and all six were marching directly down the center path at Purgatory Park. I took the time to say hello to each little baby, to admire its soft shell, to pick each one up and carefully placed it closer to a grassy edge of the pathway.
Flatlanders invade mountain country and discover the beauty of nature and family.