Jeanne E. Akins is our featured poet this week. She lives in Geneva with her
husband Charles and is a tour guide at the Limberlost Cabin.  



Where did Gene's River Go?

River gone!
Where did it go?
Someone moved it long ago.
No fishing here.
No boats.
No bridges.
No skinny-dipping.
No rolled-up breeches.
Earth alone now makes a bed
For this river's sod-filled head.

Gene is gone!
Where did she go?
With her river long ago.
Yet she lives.
With books
With words.
With photographs
With stories told
And though the land is rearranged,
Gene kept her river never changed. 

Cover Our Losses

Make the bridge twice over
Look back and forth through time
Once a bridge with purpose
Now it bridges grime
Once it was important
Serving as a way
Now it serves scribbled words
"Sweet Nothings" on display
Standing on this covered bridge
Sadness covers me
Left alone it would be gone
Except its memory
The sense of loss by renovation
Is suddenly profound
Love isn't always better
The second time around



​My Haiku Hike

Bright sunlight;
Peeking, piercing revelations
In my eyes

Silhouetted trees above:
Branches raised to frighten me
I am small

Snapping twigs:
Happy cracking, popping sounds
​made by forest feet

Enjoy the poetry created by Laura Schwartz at Shari Wagner's poetry workshop on October 12 2019: "Writing Poems at Ceylon Covered Bridge and Rainbow Bottom" 

Laura is the head librarian in Geneva for the Adams Public Library System and is active in the community.  

Cathedral

Before entering the woods alone along
resolved riverbed, I hid my bicycle behind
the creek's ridge. Softened under worm

moon, braced for nettle's greetings, I hopped over
the cracked clay mud, cottonwoods enveloping canopy.
In the shade I would walk those hours alone, eating

flower heads, drinking from stems, chewing roots,
whispering my poems. Now together under hunter's
moon, this arc, this sanctuary still silences me.


Bottomland

My shadow passes 
easily through the days as
curious clearweed,

beneath hunter's moon,
this giant gray sycamore,
or sanctuary.

Where cacophony
of the crickets, birds and frogs
become our prayers.


Sanctuary

The open mouth

of a giant sycamore swallowed
us whole, on our bellies we slid
inside its sanctuary to explore each

other, our breath as quiet prayers
inside the silent weeping walls
of this dark bottomland cathedral.

Phosphorescent life alights against 
wood's porous lined decay. Our quiet
communion an intimate sight in this

cavernous emptiness, enveloped
in warmth looking up into the trunk's 
two mysteries that we embrace

as one of our own.





 

Photos were taken October 12 2019 at Rainbow Bottom along the Wabash River.

Thank you to Kimberley Roll for her sharing her January Limberlost eagle adventures in photographs. For our SANJO (Southern Adams Northern Jay Ouabache) Christmas Bird Count, we had 18 bald eagles tallied on the count on January 1 2020. In our SANJO CBC National Audubon Society circle, we now have five bald eagle nests and a sixth nest only a couple miles outside the circle. Gene Stratton-Porter would be amazed at the number of bald eagles and the patience of Kimberley to photograph them. Gene would be envious! Gene had to travel to northern Michigan to see bald eagles and was never able to photograph them. 

Juvenile bald eagle

Adult bald eagle. One of the Loblolly Marsh pair. 

Bald eagle by the Loblolly Creek. 

Juvenile bald eagle

Juvenile bald eagle

Bald eagles

Loblolly Marsh bald eagle pair

Juvenile bald eagle

Invitation to Rainbow Bottom

Smell the dank, dark soil
of the cracked river bottom

and enter nature's grasp, your
tromping boot soles sinking

into mud. See the flames of
autumn ivy spread near your path

beside the water's forced banks,
straightened, pooling in

memories of where it once was.
Savor the warmth of sun reaching

through enchanted branches 
and waking up creatures dulled

by coolness of night.
Find the caterpillar on a stem

and the birds in the branches. Listen
to the Brown Creeper as he climbs

and the low chatter of song sparrows
among red berries. Watch for the last

serenade of small frogs, for paths
that lead through growths

of lizard tails. Poke your finger
in the mouth of a false snapdragon

and lightly stroke the prickles
on a pudgy cucumber----baby hedgehog

of the plant world. Walk around
beaver-chewed trees

and a cavernous sycamore. Follow
your guide into the hollow

womb carved by floodwaters, into
darkness that suckles a cacophony

of DNA. Hold the slim green
song of a bush cicada

and the shadow of a clear weed.
Hold the song and the shadow--

hold them in Rainbow's Bend
till they become the flight

of a bald eagle
circling above the Wabash

on a wind river in the sky.


Collaborative Poem by Shari Wagner's 10-12-19 workshop.
"Writing Poems at Ceylon Covered Bridge and Rainbow Bottom."

Beaver chewed tree.

A touch of autumn.

Caterpillar

Wild cucumber

Wabash River at Rainbow Bottom

Song sparrow by Kimberley Roll.

Bald eagle in flight by Kimberley Roll. 

Guide naturalist Curt Burnette at one of the giant sycamore trees in Rainbow Bottom. 

Ceylon Covered Bridge. Poetry group is exploring the area with a morning hike on October 12 2019. 

Poetry at the Limberlost

During 2017 and again in 2019, I had the privilege of offering poetry workshops inspired by the ecology and history of the Limberlost. These workshops were sponsored by Arts in the Parks and Historic Sites, a program of the Indiana Arts commission. Much of workshops' success was do to the promotion efforts of Friends of the Limberlost and to the expertise of Curt Burnette, Bill Hubbard, and Jeanne Akins, staff members who served as guides as participants visited the Cabin or walked a trail. Each workshop included the discussion of prompts and models and individual and collaborative writing activities. By scrolling backward, you can read some of the poems from these workshops.

In preparing for workshops, I spent time reading Gene Stratton-Porter's nonfiction books. I was amazed by what she observed in nature through her patience and attentiveness. A story that's particularly special to me is her account of seeing what may have been the last known passenger pigeon. Until reading about his experience, I had assumed (like most people) that the last living passenger pigeon was "Martha," a caged bird on exhibit at the Cincinnati Zoo. What follows is a persona poem inspired by an account in Tales You Won't Believe. 

Gene Stratton-Porter Identifies the Last Known Passenger Pigeon

"Martha, the Passenger Pigeon, passed away on September 1, 1914, in the Cincinnati Zoo. She was believed to be the last living individual of her species after two male companions had died in the same zoo in 1910. Martha was a celebrity at the zoo, attracting long lines of visitors."
                                                                                   ----Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History

I saw him three miles west of the Limberlost
with my camera set to film the brooding hen goldfinch.
A whistling of wings and then that singular bird
settled on the telephone wire above me, I recognized
his bright red beak and feet, hue of blue-gray feathers,
distinctive See? See? As a farm girl, I heard that call
when flocks thick as storm clouds eclipsed the sun.
Fervent wings rumbled in ceaseless thunder. Roosting
birds broke limbs and toppled trees. See? See?
they whimpered in our neighbor's yard---dozens
clubbed and captured, with broken legs, backs,
and wings, soon to be dropped into the pot-pie kettle.
See? See? See? this one cried, cocking his head
and looking in every direction. But by then, Martha
had been shipped to the Smithsonian inside a block
of ice. Among Objects of Wonder she was paired
with an Ectopistes migratorius shot years before she
hatched. If I could have shifted my camera, then
you could see for yourself how the last passenger pigeon
was nameless and perched by himself on a wire.
How iridescent shone the bronze patches on his throat
with nothing but the sun behind him.

By Shari Wagner
Indiana Poet Laureate 2016-2017   

​

LIMBERLOST VIEWS
~Inspired by Bill Hubbard's Photographs

Oriole
Little and yellow
mindful but lost
gliding through the clouds

By Lydia Shaffer
        * * *
Swan on the lake
White, curved neck
Ice floats by

By Callie Shaffer
        * * *
Monkey cry, a flash of red
Swooping through the trees
Pileated woodpecker

By Simon Brainerd
       * * * 
The Old Schoolhouse
crumbling walls
wood patched windows
I stand
empty
floor covered in greens
rotting wood planks
empty
I stand

By Emily Scase
      * * * 
Tiger swallowtail on
the purple flower
smelling the butterfly bush.

By Ella Shaffer
      * * * 
Bald Eagle
Bald Eagle creeped
feathers shadowed, banana nose
Perched on leaning tree

By Allisyn Scase
      * *  *
Swoop, glide, float
lovely white feathers
Tundra swan afloat

By Kaity Scase
       * * *
   The Sunset
Bright and bold
Orange and blue
Heavenly sunset to look to

By Abby Waymire
          * * *
   Cabin in the Dusk
As the lights flicker
at night the owl watches
them while they sleep

By Josiah Scase 


TWELVE SNAPSHOTS OF LIMBERLOST CABIN

I remember the limestone fence
traveling around the house---
dirty, unique, and weird
to the human eye
but to cute, crawling creatures
it's a gateway to a world full of love.
                    * * *
I remember the old wood smoker---
like a small red fire extinguisher
or a red cylinder.
                   * * *
I remember the conservatory's
colossal windowpanes
with ferns and fluttering movement
all about.
                    * * * 
I remember pink fragrant flowers
and,through the window, a tall oak tree.
                    * * *
I remember arrowheads painting
pictures of the past. 
                    * * *
I remember skillful ceilings, artistic
designs leaping out of placid plaster.
                    * * *
I remember the elegant moths
of gorgeous colors
and delicate wings.
                    * * *
I remember the luna moth
captured in the moment 
like a photograph of nature.
                    * * * 
I remember the pictures of Gene,
Jeannette, and Charles, close family
frozen in time.
                    * * *
I remember Gene's painting
of blue irises where guests 
would slumber when visiting.
                    * * *
I remember the glass doll rocking
near the fireplace in the sitting room.
                    * * *
I remember stories
like moths tucked into cocoons
waiting to hatch.

Collaborative Poem from Participants
In Shari Wagner's November 13 2019 
Workshop for Kids "At Limberlost Cabin"


DAUGHTER OF MRS. PORTER

I remember the glass doll
rocking by the fireplace
in the sitting room.

I remember the playhouse
under the porch floor
sipping on tea in cups.

I remember Mom painting
watercolor pictures of caterpillars crawling through
the swampy grass.

I remember a screechy owl
flying through the window
to see the candle.

I was Jeannette.

By Ella Shaffer


THE SCREECH OWL

I remember. 
I heard Gene talking to me in the midst of the night.
I thought about going in or not. Later I glided
softly though the window. I stared at the candle.
I realized I was trapped! Then in the morning
Gene took a picture of me while I was sleeping.

By Josiah Scase


FREEDOM

I am ready to get out.
My legs squishing together.
My wings aching to be free.
I started to scratch.
It feels as if a lifetime has passed.
I am ready to breathe.
Emerging
I am greeted by flashing lights.
And two round eyes.

By Lydia Shaffer


 THE SURGEON'S SWORD

I am old, I am worn, I am blunt.
I am guilty.

As I gaze from my mantel, I begin to dull.
Am I guilty?
It becomes official,
The red stain, though washed off,
Lingers.

By Simon Brainerd


THE PIANO

Once, I was beautiful. My black and white dress shone
like the sun, reflecting off a lake. The young ones banged on me,
producing imperfect chords. Soon, the banging became music.
I sang the same songs. Christmastime was my favorite season.
I sang "Jungle Bells," "Silent Night," and "Away in a Manger."
Then, one by one, the little ones grew up and moved away.
I was alone in the house. Now, my only companions are the mice.
My once radiant dress now faded and dirty. My once beautiful voice
now out of tune. And yet, though my pedals are broken
and my spirit crushed, the memories of happier times live on. 

By Callie Shaffer

THE MOTH

I remember when I was free
Flying through the night
No worries, carefree
But now I'm trapped 
Trapped under a glass panel
My color slowly fading 
My beauty still there but quickly disintegrating
I have been trapped for so many years
Just staring.

By Abby Waymire


MIGHTIEST OF SWORDS

Cabin in the wild swamp
Birds calling from the tree
Take the brick path to the cabin
See.
The rusted Civil War sword
Sitting on the mantle of the old brick fireplace
Look closely at the blade
Noting the memory of Charles D. Porter's dad
A Union Captain, a surgeon
Feel the symbolic, sharp, sword
Marking the furnace with self-respect
Peace.
Why leave a sword for us?
What does it mark?
Leaders become great not because of heir power but 
Because of their ability to empower others.
A leader is one who knows the way
goes the way
Shows the way.

By Allisyn Scase


THE GUARDIAN

As I lay against the wall
I hear laughter traveling through the house
I see guests come and go
I watch over the sleeping body that lay in bed
The restless nights and calm ones
I saw them admire me, and I wonder if some fear me
I watch the humans put on their riches
The owls on the headboard stare at me
The moth lay between the owls in sleep
I feel like the guardian of the room

By Kaitlyn Scase

INVITATION TO LIMBERLOST CABIN
   ~In memory of Gene Stratton-Porter
 
Smell the mustiness of books,
their brittle, coffee-stained pages.

Curl up on a settee to hear
the crackle of fire, the warmth

of Gene's words. See the blue heron's 
marble glare, and the golden eagle's

regal stature and talons. Look
at the porcelain doll holding memories

of Jeannette. Come examine the moths
trapped under glass--touch their tales

and disintegrating beauty. Visit
the kitchen where Gene wore a canvas

apron to dip photographs in the flash pan
of a turkey platter. Savor the story

of Gene hooting like a screech owl
and the bird gliding to the candle.

Taste oyster stew and table laughter
as Major, perched on a chair, clenched

an oyster in his claw. As you leave,
listen to the creaking wood floor.

Take with you the desire to read
Gene's books and the inspiration

to write a story, like a cabin
with many windows.

Collaborative Poem from Participants 
in Shari Wagner's November 13 2019 Workshop for Kids
​"At Limberlost Cabin"

Kimberley Roll is an excellent nature photographer. She has shared her photographs from her October hikes at the Limberlost Wetland Preserve and the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve.

Wood ducks in flight.

Turtles catching some sun on a warm October day.

Savannah sparrow

Male bluebird. We will have some bluebirds stay all winter and others will migrate south.

Deer at the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve.

Lesser yellowlegs migrate through Limberlost in October.

Bald Eagle surveying his territory.

Song sparrow

Sandhill Cranes

Limberlost Swamp Wetland Preserve: Miller's Pond on the Jay County side.

Cormorant. They are now summer residents at Limberlost.

Great Blue Heron

Savannah sparrow

White-crowned sparrow

Bald eagle in flight.

Northern Leopard frog

Yellow-rumped warbler

Northern Harriers are back for the winter. Randy Lehman and Curt Burnette first spotted them on October 5 at the Limberlost Swamp Wetland Preserve. 

Field sparrow

Lincoln's Sparrow

Beaver dam

Ruby-crowned kinglet

Canada Geese. October is a month of migration at Limberlost. 

Collaborative Poems from Participants in Shari Wagner's 9-25-2019 Workshop for Kids.
"Among Sights, Sounds, and Silences: A Writing Workshop"

LOBLOLLY MARSH INVITATION

See the grass in the distance
moving the way a cat
sashays side to side.

Watch the geese flying over,
an arrow that leads us
into the prairie.

Hear the flock's babble, laughing
at us, and the honking
of its clown horns.

Listen to the crickets' chirp
and chatter, high-pitched
jingle bells in a cicada choir.

Smell the gold in the goldenrod.
Touch its corn-like tassels
complimented in September

by purple asters' royalty. Feel
beebalm between your fingers
like the crinkling of tinfoil.

Come to Loblolly Marsh
like a monarch
riding the waves of the wind.


THE SHAGBARK HICKORY

is a rough man
with a shabby beard
and leathery clothes.

His one good eye
is a swollen knot.

Nuts fall
through the holes
in his pockets.

He waves his hands
to the toad at his feet.


THE BUTTERFLY WING

It was by a lot of asters 
and laying on the path,
orange and black and white.

I walked with it for a minute.
It made me happy 
like a gift. 

By Maggie


The Catydid Choir

Hear the Catydid Choir
chirping, singing, deafening.
Feel the wind blowing
cool and refreshing.
See the goldenrod blooming
bright, tall, and yellow.
Smell the different flowers
perfumy and sweet.
Taste the sweet berries
black and juicy.
Don't ignore it. Explore it!

By Callie Shaffer


HAIKU

Red mosaic leaf
Flitting, bouncing
Monarch butterfly

White, hard aged
Cracked open, honeycombed
Deer Bone

By Simon Brainerd



​

Shari Wagner, Indiana Poet Laureate 2016-17, conducted a poetry workshop at Limberlost on Saturday, October 12. The day started with a hike led by Limberlost Naturalist Curt Burnette at Rainbow Bend Park. A place that Gene Stratton-Porter called Rainbow Bottom.  Gene set "Song of the Cardinal" and "At the Foot of the Rainbow" at this location.

Enjoy some of the photographs of the hike. We will be sharing some of the poems created that day in a later blog. It was a group of talented poets. 

Photo of the poetry group in front of one of the Giant Sycamore of Rainbow Bottom.

Group begins hiking with Curt pointing out interesting things along the way.

Some obedient plants were still blooming.

A beaver chewed this small tree down.

Bald cypress tree. The Friends of the Limberlost own this preserve and have planted trees on it.

The poison ivy is turning red.

Caterpillar

Interpretive signs placed in 2018 by the Friends of the Limberlost with a grant from the Indiana Historical Society and the Lilly Endowment.

There is just a touch of fall color in the trees.

Wild 

Our native wild cucumber. Everyone had a chance to hold it.

Wabash River

.Bridge at Rainbow Bottom.

Trees of Rainbow Bottom.

Curt leads the group to the first giant sycamore tree. This tree would have been there in Gene Stratton-Porter's time. 

Ever the gentleman, Curt spreads a tarp for those that want to crawl into the tree.

How many adults can fit into a tree? Four were in the tree at this time.

Melissa Fey took this picture of the group of four in the tree. It was warmer in the tree than outside. 

Exploring a second large sycamore tree. Each tree has its own personality. 

Melissa inside the sycamore.

Sycamore leaf.

The hike ended at the Ceylon Covered Bridge. The poetry group was going to meet at the bridge but with the chilly temperatures, it was decided to have the workshop at the the Carriage House at Limberlost State Historic Site. 

Thank you to Shari Wagner and Curt Burnette and to all that participated.