Autumn hiking at Bell Smith Springs

Shortly after passing a cemetery in the forest on Halloween, Chance and I pulled into Red Bud campground in the Bell Smith Springs Recreation Area in Shawnee National Forest in Southern Illinois. We hoped daylight would show some autumn colors on the trails.

Bay Creek, Bell Smith Springs

When dawn came, we found most leaves were on the ground, but spots of yellow remained on some trees. We headed down a trail that was the first one Chance and I explored together shortly after we adopted him in 2020. He had great fun exploring the smells under all the leaves. And it seemed X marked the spot.

White trail, Bell Smith Springs

A surprising delight came from under the leaves. Looking where there was some rustling in the leaves was a sight I hadn’t seen growing up in Florida. My friend Ken and I would head out into the woods to go “snake hunting.” Sometimes we’d actually find a snake, but it’d be just as exciting if we’d find a blue-tailed skink

Blue-tailed Skink

A highlight of this trail is a feature called the Devil’s Backbone. Some large hunks of sandstone have fallen off the cliffs into the water.

Autumn color in Shawnee National Forest

Though the water was low, it still provided nice reflections and a nice end for an autumn hike.

Devil’s Backbone, Bell Smith Springs

A Kettle of Color

The Northern Unit of Kettle Moraine State Forest sits about an hour north of Milwaukee. Begun with about 850 acres in 1936, this unit of the state forest is now about 30,000 acres. In October it lights up with autumn colors.

Moraines are the ridges of sand, silt and boulders left behind as glaciers retreated and melted. The moraines at Kettle Moraine rise 250 to 300 feet. They were so large here because two lobes of the last glaciation met here. What is now the Door County Peninsula stuck up above the glacier and split it into two lobes—the Green Bay lobe to the west and the Lake Michigan lobe to the east—and then they later pressed back together here.

The last major glaciation across the world which ended about 20,000 years ago left so many major effects across the state that it is named the Wisconsin Glaciation. The National Park Service administers the 1,200 mile National Ice Age Trail across the state. About 700 miles are currently protected through national, state and private lands, and Congress authorizes annual funds to purchase rights to complete the trail.

Other glacial features in Kettle Moraine include conical hills that were deposits of sand left by streams that cut through holes in the glacier and eskers which were deposited by streams that ran below glaciers.

The other namesake feature of the forest are kettles. Sometimes huge chucks of ice would break off the glacier and then get covered by sand and dirt. When the ice eventually melted huge depressions—or kettles—were left behind.

The National Park Service also administers the Ice Age Scientific Reserve which consists of nine locations in the state that preserve geological evidence of glaciation. In addition to the Northern Unit of Kettle Moraine State Forest, the Reserve also includes Horicon Marsh State Wildlife Area. I’ll post some images from there next week.

This unit of Kettle Moraine State Forest protects the origins of the Milwaukee River. The State Forest protects waters and provides recreation on the waters including fishing and canoeing.

Illinois Meditations

On a sunny autumn morning, Chance and I hiked up Illinois Canyon at Starved Rock State Park to the tiny waterfall and large pool at the head of the canyon. We were alone, and I got lost photographing the colors and forms in the water as the fall leaves floated slowly toward the stream that emptied the pool.

I hope you can enjoy the stillness and beauty of this morning and imagine what you want in these images. I will also share some parts of three poems from Roberta Hill Whiteman. She was a professor of English and American Indian Studies at University of Wisconsin-Madison until she retired last year, and is an enrolled member of the Oneida.

. . . Through their songs,

the wind held on to visions.

We still help earth walk

her spiral way, feeling

the flow of rivers

and their memories of turning

and change.

From These Rivers Remember, Roberta Hill

. . .

In their songs, the wind held

on to visions. Let’s drop our burdens

and rest. Let’s recognize our need

for awe. . . .

From These Rivers Remember, Roberta Hill

. . .

Sit where there’s a center

and a drum, feel the confluence

of energies enter our hearts

so their burning begins to matter.

. . .

From These Rivers Remember, Roberta Hill

. . .

This is Maka co-ka-ya kin,

The Center of the Earth.

From These Rivers Remember, Roberta Hill

I hope you can take a few minutes and let her read the entire poem to you. The full text of the poem is also found on this Library of Congress link. She then goes on to offer some of her background and of this poem. She mentions that she lived on Roberts Street in St. Paul in the 80s and 90s, and that was the address of the NTEU local I would work at often in Minnesota during that time.

. . .

Yet within this interior, a spirit kindles

moonlight glittering deep into the sea.

These seeds take root in the hush

of dusk. Songs, a thin echo, heal the salted marsh,

and yield visions untrembling in our grip.

. . .

From Dream of Rebirth, Roberta Hill

. . .

I dreamed an absolute silence birds had fled.

The sun, a meager hope, again was sacred.

We need to be purified by fury.

. . .

From Dream of Rebirth, Roberta Hill

The National Park Service announced this week that it is partnering with the American Indian Alaska Native Tourism Association

to help facilitate regular, robust and meaningful dialogue between Tribes and the NPS. Strengthening relationships with Tribal governments is a cornerstone of the Biden-Harris Administration and this partnership will ensure that the perspectives, voices and traditions of indigenous communities are incorporated into exhibits, outreach and cultural tourism programs in national parks.

. . .

as if without a history, I should always walk

the cluttered streets of this hapless continent.

Thinking it best I be wanderer,

. . .

From In the Longhouse, Oneida Museum, Roberta Hill

. . .

I rode whatever river, ignoring every zigzag,

every spin. I’ve been a fragment, less than my name,

shaking in a solitary landscape,

like the last burnt leaf on an oak.

. . .

From In the Longhouse, Oneida Museum, Roberta Hill

You can read the full text of In the Longhouse, Oneida Museum at the Poetry Foundation website. Each of these poems are also in the anthology When the Light of the World was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through compiled by U.S. poet laureate Joy Harjo which you can get for Native American month in November.

I hope you enjoyed the visit to the pool by Illinois Canyon.