Sometimes in the autumn, we’re so busy looking for the colors way up there in the trees that we miss the bright colors right there, in front of our eyes, on bushes, shrubs and smaller (or young) trees, or at our feet. These are some of the autumn (2020) colors from our yard in River Forest, Illinois. Photos by rjzimmerman November 8, 2020.

Painted turtles, Thatcher Woods, River Forest, Illinois. Photos by rjzimmerman November 6, 2020.

Red-tailed hawk, not appreciating our invasion of his hunting spot. Thatcher Woods, River Forest, Illinois. Photo by rjzimmerman November 6, 2020.

Huts and teepees constructed by some very creative people (most likely, young adults and teens) in Thatcher Woods, River Forest, Illinois, using the bits and pieces, large and small, from fallen trees. Our grandson Andrew decided to explore the “little houses,” stepping into many of them and having a seat. Imagine being a little kid and “discovering” these treasures!

(We were, for the most part, alone in the Woods, so I decided he could explore without a face covering. He knew that washing his hands after we got home was the deal; no hand washing, no little house visits.)

Photos by rjzimmerman November 5 and 6, 2020.

Thatcher Woods, River Forest, Illinois. This area experienced a relatively wet year, with a dry spell during late summer. Thatcher Woods is categorized as a remnant flood plain forest, so the Woods are frequently revealing ponds, particularly in the spring with the snow melt and the spring rains. Photos by rjzimmerman November 17, 2020.

Autumn (2020) colors, Thatcher Woods, River Forest, Illinois. Photos by rjzimmerman November 5, 2020.

Thatcher Woods, River Forest, Illinois. Photo by rjzimmerman November 5, 2020.

Sandhill cranes on their autumn 2020 migration from their summer place of residence (somewhere in Wisconsin or further north), over our house in River Forest, Illinois, to their resting/recharge spot in northern Indiana, and then to their winter place of residence.

I have a “fair” telephoto lens, not the best, so these photos are the best I could do, without using my tripod. (Tripods are such a pain in the butt; they take away the spontaneity I enjoy with my typical on-the-run amateur photography.)

Photos by rjzimmerman November 17, 2020.

Joshua Tree National Park, during a short visit in February 2020. The winter of 2019-20 was relatively dry, so the wildflowers weren’t particularly eager to be showing off. But I saw would I could see and took a few photos. Photos by rjzimmerman February 2020.

From top: viewscape toward the Chocolate Mountains, desert lavender (two photos), chuparosa, Mojave aster, bladder pod, California barrel cactus, golden poppies.

Other than the first photo, which is one of my favorite “view scapes” at the Living Desert Zoo and Gardens, Palm Desert, California, some of the inhabitants at the Living Desert Zoo. The fourth photo is a Mexican Gray wolf, one of the three at the Zoo as part of the species recovery plan. It’s kind of important today because today (October 29, 2020), the trump administration removed wolves from protected status under the Endangered Species Act, other than the Mexican Gray Wolf. Photos by rjzimmerman November 11, 2019.

Butterflies from the Butterfly Exhibit at the Living Desert Zoo and Gardens, Palm Desert, California. Photos by rjzimmerman November 11, 2019.

On August 2, 2020, a wildfire started at the Whitewater Preserve, in Whitewater, California, which has been my volunteer “home” and “go-to-place-for-peace-of-mind” for ten years. The fire started at the peak of the Apple fire (and before the El Dorado fire), which was burning to the immediate west of Whitewater Preserve. It was been determined that this fire, which was called the Water fire, was not related to the Apple fire. Regardless, although it only burned 50 acres, it was a heart-breaking occurrence, because it burned in the area where we volunteers, as docents (including me) had been taking the elementary school kids for desert hikes, introducing them to local ecology. Included in the destruction were two very old cottonwood trees, probably well over 100 years old each. I used to have a game with the kids, where they voted whether the trees were part of “The Hobbit” or “Harry Potter.” The trees were that gnarled.

Anyway, I took these photos on October 8, when I had returned to the desert for the first time since the preceding November. While the destruction was as awful as I had expected, it was great to witness the incredible green growth already, with new willow trees sprouting, and new growth of baby cottonwoods from the roots of the old cottonwood trees (cloning). Fire has been the friend of growth and renewal for eons, and I was witnessing it. In a way, it takes the sting away.

The last photo is sort of a feel-good photo. The Whitewater River was still flowing, this part of the Preserve escaped damage, the San Bernardino Mountains remained in place, surrounding the Preserve, and the sun still made beautiful sunsets and sunrises. It felt good to wade in the River along with the dogs that accompanied us on the short hike.

Photos by rjzimmerman October 8, 2020.

Whitewater Canyon, with the San Bernardino Mountains in the background, Whitewater Preserve, Whitewater, California. Photos by rjzimmerman November 7 and 22, 2019.

Whitewater River in Whitewater Preserve, Whitewater, California. Photos by rjzimmerman November 7 and 22, 2019.

Strange looking red rocks in the Whitewater River, Whitewater Preserve, Whitewater, California. About ten months prior to the date of these photos, a really large flood occurred in the Preserve and the Whitewater Canyon (over 9″ of rain in a short period of time), which may have disrupted the soil composition upstream. The rangers thought at first it was an algae growth, but on further study, the stain is deeper than one would expect from algae. Perhaps iron?

Photos by rjzimmerman November 7 and 22, 2019.

Big Morongo Canyon Preserve, Morongo Valley, California. Photos by rjzimmerman October 13, 2019.

Our son’s memorial tree

Because of the crowd-size limits during the pandemic, we have yet to convene any sort of memorial service for our son who died on May 13. We hope that COVID-19 will have loosened its grip by May 2021 so we can do a memorial service in our yard.

One of our neighborhood friends gifted us with a beautiful wind chime, with Tom’s name on it, and we knew that the wind chime needed its tree. So we bought a horse chestnut tree for our backyard, to join the other 46 trees on our property, and we dubbed it the “Tom Tree.” We planted it, and followed up as soon as the rains let up by placing some of Tom’s ashes and ashes of Tom’s deceased feline companions. (We would have placed the ashes of Tom’s dog Jack there, but Jack’s ashes were placed elsewhere in the yard back in November 2019.)

Here are some photos telling this story. The stick you see our grandson Andrew placing into the tree soil for his Uncle Tom is actually a hollow stick that contains some of Tom’s ashes. We learned that some people who visit Israel return home with a similar stick, containing soil from Israel. Some have used that concept to provide for the strategic burial of human ashes, as we did. The Israel part fits our family well. Tom’s maternal grandfather was Jewish, so how nice to start a tradition respecting that heritage.