The autumnal equinox, which falls on September the 22nd, is a spoke in the wheel of the year — the brief pause when day and night are perfectly balanced, before the tipping into the darker half of the seasons. In the old calendars, it was a time of harvest and gratitude, a season of preparing pantries and hearts for the coming winter.
Across cultures, this threshold was marked with festivals. The Celts observed Mabon, a harvest rite of thanksgiving where fruits, nuts, squashes, and grains were gathered in and shared with kin and community. Herbs such as sage and thyme flavored the loaves and stews, while rosemary was woven into wreaths to bless the home. It was a season of pausing, giving thanks, and carrying the abundance of the fields inward. Continue Reading …
If you’d like to join us on August 30 or August 31 for an exciting day of ecology and geology, you can register here. These outings are great opportunities to explore beautiful ecosystems while learning tree identification, mushroom identification, forest history, geologic influences on plant communities, and much more.
I’d love to see you there!
And now on to the new video…
Are pawpaws neurotoxic?
It sounds like an absurd question to ask. After all, many people eat these wild fruits every year without experiencing any apparent negative effects.
But let’s consider the following pieces of information:
Studies have linked the consumption of fruits in the Annonaceae family to neurodegeneration in humans. Pawpaw, it turns out, is in the Annonaceae family.
A compound isolated from pawpaws is neurotoxic in laboratory studies.
And a case report from 2020 describes a man who developed a possible variant of a neurodegenerative disorder called progressive supranuclear palsy. The man was known to eat lots of pawpaws.
Of course, none of this information is conclusive, but it does make some people wonder. Are pawpaws neurotoxic? Should we avoid eating them? Or is this issue overhyped?
I’m sharing this recipe for Rose Sugar Navettes (little boats) in honor of the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene on July 22nd. Today these were eaten across Provence, as they have been for several centuries, to commemorate the arrival of the “Three Marys” at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer (after the crucifixion) in a divinely guided, rudderless boat. While they are traditionally scented with orange blossom water, I’ve substituted rose water in homage to the Magdalene’s secret flower, not to mention the crunchy sugar topping made with fresh rose petals! Positively redolent with a fragrance so divine, it’s no wonder the rose was the sacred flower of goddesses around the world. That’s the beauty of these simple, rustic cakes; they are suitable for any celebration honoring the divine feminine, whether Christian or pagan.
Every now and then, I’ll come across a decent-sized American chestnut and wonder: “Just how big did these trees get?”
I’ve always read that American chestnut was a dominant tree throughout eastern North American forests. I’ve heard people describe American chestnut as a tree that towered above all others. I’ve even seen references to American chestnut as “the redwood of the east.”
But how much of this is true? Was American chestnut an exceptionally massive tree?
Unfortunately, it’s difficult for us to know for sure. A fungal disease known as chestnut blight killed nearly every large American chestnut throughout the first half of the 1900s. Today, American chestnut still exists on the landscape, but almost always as a smaller tree.
Ecologists in recent years have been wondering about the size of American chestnut in pre-blight forests. I’ve been wondering about it too, which is why I decided to film a video on the topic. It turns out that we may have some answers after all.
Has the size of American chestnut been exaggerated in recent decades? What do sources from the 1800s tell us?
First, I want to say thank you to everyone who registered for the upcoming Old-Growth Forest Ecology Outing on May 31 and June 1. Both programs are sold out. Stay tuned for more Learn Your Land events this year!
I also want to mention that Exploring Wild Ecosystems will be open for enrollment on Monday, May 12. Thisis my newest online course intentionally designed to improve your practical knowledge of ecology. If you’re looking to develop ecological literacy and become a better naturalist, consider enrolling on Monday, May 12.
And now on to the newest video…
If you’ve spent enough time in tick-prone areas, you’ve probably seen ticks sucking the blood of deer. Logically, it makes sense that deer would at least be carriers of the Lyme disease spirochete. After all, white-footed mice and other mammalian tick hosts can be reservoirs for the bacteria.
But white-tailed deer are different. Their blood isn’t like the blood of other animals.
Scientists have been studying the relationship between deer and Lyme disease for decades. The newest research is quite fascinating, and in a brand-new video, I address some of the misconceptions surrounding the role of deer in transmitting Lyme bacteria.
Do deer ever get Lyme disease? If they don’t, what is it about deer that makes them immune? If deer are immune, why do ecologists still advocate for a reduction in the deer herd as a way to reduce Lyme disease rates in humans?
Years ago, I didn’t know anything about morel mushrooms. I didn’t know what they looked like. I didn’t know how they tasted. I didn’t even know they existed.
Then one day I attended a mushroom program with a local club. Experts in the club introduced me to morels. “Here’s what morels look like,” they said. “You’ll find them all over this park.”
“Great,” I thought to myself. “I now know everything I need to know.”
Except I still hardly knew anything.
Sure, I quickly learned how to identify morels, and I heard a few things about looking in certain areas: “Look for elms, apples, and poplars. Morels really like sweet soil.”
But where would I find elms, apples, and poplars? What the heck is sweet soil?
It soon dawned on me that knowledge of mushrooms wasn’t enough. If I really wanted to improve my skills, I needed to learn tree identification. I needed to learn ecology. I needed to learn geology.
And so I learned as much as I could. Slowly but consistently, I developed a wider set of skills. Eventually, I became a better mushroom hunter.
Today, I interact with wild landscapes a bit differently than I did back then. I now look for connections. I look for relationships. I look at the bigger picture.
All this to say, if you want to find morels this year, I strongly encourage you to learn the connections that bind morels to their ecosystems. In a brand new video, I discuss how to approach morel mushroom hunting through a more holistic lens.
Speaking of learning, consider enrolling in Foraging Wild Mushrooms to improve your foraging skills.
I created this 4-season online course to help you become a successful mushroom hunter. Included in this course are instructional videos on mushroom ecology, mushroom biology, common edible mushrooms, medicinal mushrooms, poisonous mushrooms, cooking techniques, and medicine-making.
If you want to find morel mushrooms this year, here’s a tip: don’t wait until spring to begin your hunt.
This might sound like unconventional advice. After all, current temperatures are too cold for morels. Wood frogs haven’t even bred yet. Spring is still another 50 days away.
All these things are true. But this next statement is also true: you can drastically improve your future chances of finding morels by doing a few things right now.
In a brand-new video, I discuss several tactics we can implement immediately. I also share my predictions for the upcoming season. Will the mushrooms be plentiful this year? Will they be scarce?
Paths I Walk 
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