Tag: Nature

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Marshlands

This entry is part 1 of 2 in the series Marsh

With the proximity to two international airports and seaports, northeastern New Jersey is crowded with rail yards, shipping terminals, and industrial complexes. The sceneries alongside the main arteries, namely NJ Turnpike and the rail lines, are harsh and disorderly. Coexisting yet contrasting to this man-made chaos were vast wetlands, alongside Hackensack and Passaic Rivers, as well as the ocean shores.[1] Pleasant to the eyes, these marshes are also important habitats for fish, amphibians, and migrating birds.

In summertime, reeds and shrubs extend thick carpets from higher grounds into the water, soft and moist. On sunny days, their deep green color, shiny and vibrant, makes the river seemingly cooler. Geese, swans, and ducks float leisurely on the open water, diving swiftly from time to time for their catches. Turtles line up on top of deadwood sunbathing. Egrets rest low among the reeds or high on some branches, like spontaneous polka dots on an impressionist painting.

Later in the season, reed flowers will take over the palette, first adding reddish brown on top of jade green, then gradually turning tan and, finally, ashy grey. Under autumn sun, their silky brushes wave in celebratory golden hues. They spread out inviting soft beds for south-bound birds on their international journeys. Even after the unavoidable winter freeze, they strive to stand tall and make their marks.

風蕭蕭兮易水寒

As a child, I read about the melancholy beauty of reed flowers in Chinese poetry. Although there were tall weeds with feathery flowers in Taiwan, I was told that true reeds didn’t grow on the island. I always dreamt of seeing them someday. Now, having watched them repeating their growing cycles, year after year, I am still fascinated by them.

Similarly, I am captivated by marshlands. To me, their vastness embodies unrestrainable spirits. Yet, at the same time, under the cover of thick vegetation, they harbor so many mysteries. Watching the tides rise and fall on the marshes, I always wonder how far the saltwater reaches inland and where the freshwater ends. Having been caught between cultures for most of my life, I always want to know if some fish are living happily in brackish water.

[1] New_Jersey_Meadowlands Wiki,
Environmental-effects-shore-protection: Raritan-Bay-Meadowlands.pdf

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Winterization

I spent hours mulching the front garden. (One gets bagged mulch in Manhattan since there is no place to store shredded wood chips in bulk.) I moved the bags to the flower beds and, carefully, applied mulch around the base of plants. Some of them were showing signs of dormancy; others were fighting to stay active as long as possible. The moist, slightly fermenting smell of chips quickly filled the air.

As I worked around the yard, I also cleared away end-of-the-cycle annuals and fatigue perennials that were no longer productive. In their places, I put down a few new bulbs—just the standard daffodils and tulips. I fed flowering plants for the last time before next year. Fellow gardeners on neighboring property were also busy preparing for upcoming seasons. We took a break exchanging greetings and discussing our plans for next year.

Every autumn, when I pile mulch up around the shrubs and trees, I do so with faith. I trust that blanketed under a few extra inches of protection, in the darkness, roots dormant comfortably. In their dreams, they quietly accumulate strength. So, when the east wind kisses the earth again, they will reach out for new territory like children rushing to the playgrounds.

Every autumn, when I cover the newly planted bulbs with soil, I do so with hope. I hope that, with good appetite, they feast on the food that I offered. I hope that the darkness does not frighten them. I hope that they are ready to put on colorful garments when snow melts.

And, the worms—my little friends who I rarely see. . . I pray that, with mulch and new soil, I have brought them a little more wiggle room. I know that their gentle massages bring comforts to my plants, letting them know that they are not alone in the darkness.

I ask myself if I tend to my life with same kind of care. Do I do so with the same kind of faith and hope? When uncertainty comes, am I strong enough to survive the darkness and the icy surroundings? Thankfully, I never stop finding inspiring things that enrich my soul. Thankfully, there are always people who care for me, who push me forward with exuberant cries of “coraggio.” I trust that there are always brighter days ahead.