Tarot and Natural History in the Exurban Wilds By Matt Stansberry with Illustrations by David Wilson People have used Tarot [...]
I became obsessed with wildflowers last spring. One April morning I had been slumped on my couch with my laptop, and suddenly panicked as if I was on a plane falling out of the sky.
It was the kind of morning I would never spend outside: 46-degrees Fahrenheit, rain running down the bare trees and pooling up on the muddy ground. Nothing looked alive.
Our pilgrimage began on a freakishly warm day in early November. A south wind calmed the lake as David Wilson and I crossed the four-mile stretch from the Marblehead Peninsula to Kelleys Island.
Thunderheads had been building, scudding across the northern plains for weeks, dumping rain into basements, swelling the rivers. Over eight and a half inches of rain fell in the month of June, the third wettest in Cleveland’s history.
On a hot, wet morning in May, I jumped into a pickup truck with Brett Rodstrom, VP of Eastern Field Operations for the Western Reserve Land Conservancy, and headed out to look for Eastern Massasauga rattlesnakes.
On a cold wet night, practically still winter, wood frogs are improbably crawling out onto the dark road. These frogs are about two-inches long with tan bodies and dark robber’s masks.
It lurked in a dark corner of the Cleveland Metroparks’ Rocky River Nature Center, past the taxidermy turkeys and the fish tanks full of pedestrian minnows. The Dunkleosteus.