If you had come to North America from Europe, especially Great Britain, in the 1500 to 1700s, you had to have been overwhelmed by some of the differences between home and here, especially in landscape and species. The British coped by giving some American animals the same or similar names as more familiar ones, even when the animal was clearly different. The European robin lent its name to the American robin. The European hedgehog was transformed into the groundhog (aka woodchuck).
The.2024 emergence of Brood XIII and Brood XIX in Illinois makes me wonder about those who moved here from Europe or even the eastern cities. With only the annual dog day cicada for reference, what would you think when one May day you found numerous holes in the ground, insect-shaped husks clinging to branches everywhere, and red bug eyes staring at you by the thousands, millions, maybe billions? And then you are deafened by their calls until they die off en masse several weeks later? They don’t appear again the next year, or the next, or the year after that — not for another 13 or 17 years. Nothing would have prepared you for them.
I recall the last emergence only vaguely, although I don’t think I saw any cicadas. I may have heard them a couple times, mostly while dining outside. I assumed they occur in western New York, but a U.S. Forest Service map shows they occur in a small area east of my hometown,
This time, however, I was able to see them in a few places — first at Black Partridge Woods, finally at Bremen Grove, with Riverside, Morton Arboretum, and Chicago Botanic Garden in between.
I love them and am going to miss them. If I live that long, I’ll be just shy of 79 when Brood XIII next appears.
When you think about a frail nymph burrowing underground, eating for 17 years, emerging, shedding its exoskeleton, drying out its wings (sometimes imperfectly), finding mates, laying eggs that hatch into nymphs that burrow underground to emerge and repeat the cycle in 17 years — it’s nature at its weirdest. Only through sheer numbers do they survive. As the Field Museum said, “Here for a good time, not for a long time.”
I hope the numbers are on their side in 17 years, with not too many paved over. Broods can go extinct, and I’d hate to see (or not see) that happen in 17 years.
Spotted during a short visit to Black Partridge Woods near Lemont, Illinois. Seen but not heard. Yet. Presumably the famous Brood XIII. I wish I had more and better photos, but I was being swarmed by another insect — mosquitoes.
Brood XIII is on the merge of emerging. Although I don’t expect to see them in my Chicago neighborhood, I’m ready with cicada postcards and a new “Love is in the Air” cicada t-shirt from Christopher Arndt. Then a co-worker alerted me to this video from the Forest Preserve District of DuPage County explaining the life cycle of the 17-year cicada. Enjoy.
I was disappointed that the Campfire, Carols, and Chestnuts program at Isle a la Cache was full, so went to a bonfire at Camp Shabonna Woods instead. Although it was gloomy and rainy, it didn’t look like it’d been canceled. And this was the sort of thing I’d bought a poncho for, right?
Surprisingly, the Forest Preserve folks managed to get both a good bonfire and campfire going and maintain them. Not surprisingly, not that many people showed up (maybe they didn’t have ponchos, unlike me). There were so few the Forest Preserve representatives told us to have as many cookies as we wanted.
Fortunately, as a campground, Shabonna Woods has a good-sized covered picnic shelter, so except for checking out the fires we could stay dry. The shelter is where we and a couple families gathered to hear ghost stories — ghost stories featuring people the teller had known that happened in places in Chicago area residents would know. Oooh — scary. One is not far from me . . .
At some point, I noticed I’d gotten an email earlier in the afternoon through Yahoo, which I rarely use — except for the Forest Preserve District of Will County. As it happened, they were letting me know they’d opened the program to the wait list. By the time I realized this, however, it was getting late in the evening, and Isle a la Cache is far from Shabbona Woods. It also wasn’t going to be any drier. Maybe next year . . . but the bonfire and ghost stories were worth it.
On August 12, 2021, the United States Postal Service issued “Backyard Games,” sure to appeal to the nostalgic baby boomer like me.
“Backyard Games” issued by the United States Postal Service August 12, 2021 (usps.com)
Per USPS:
The stamp pane features eight unique designs illustrating eight backyard games:
badminton
bocce
cornhole
croquet
flying disc
horseshoes
tetherball
variation on pick-up baseball
Each design emphasizes the movement of the game pieces, giving a dynamic quality to the artwork, with a simplified style that evokes the nostalgic feeling of playing backyard games as a child.
Later my brother scanned some old slides, likely taken when he was home from the Army. They included photos of two of my aunts and me playing Pop-A-Lot, a backyard game from Tupperware I’d half forgotten.
Our trailer was at the end of a row, with a field beyond. My dad and the trailer park owner had an understanding. We could use the field next to the trailer rent free if we were willing to mow and maintain it. Our yard on the other side was small and shrank more when my dad planted a shed in the middle of it, so this was a great perk.
Part of the trailer park’s field
The field offered us two to three times the space, up to the point it turned into an uneven, weedy, wet depression. My dad had borrowed a glider, which he put on that side of the trailer along with a table and umbrella. (Later he moved them behind the shed for shade. Your choices were roast in the sun all afternoon on one side, or get eaten alive in the evening shade by mosquitoes on the other.)
Dad put up a trellis or two for morning glories and, later, a wild rose he dug out of the wet depression. He got enormous tires to use as raised flowerbeds. He planted a rectangular garden with flowers like zinnias and vegetables like bell peppers, anchored by Virgil’s Arbor Day ash tree at the southwest corner.
Dad’s garden with fence and a piece of the orange-painted metal table; this was around the time of the Pop-A-Lot games (I’m wearing the same shirt)1979 high school graduation photo shows horseshoes, garden minus fence, and trellis. The glider and table had been moved to the other side
A light pole next to the trailer sported a board with horseshoes tacked to it. I have no idea where they came from. We may have used them once or twice. I loved the idea of having horseshoes, once associated with luck, and wondered if ours had been worn by a horse.
Of course we tossed a flying disc around (maybe a Frisbee). We played badminton; I remember I hit the birdie too hard like it was a tennis ball. Virgil and his friends played a few games of pick-up baseball and even flag football. They were surprised that I could sometimes hit the ball almost as far as the woods. Not bad for a girl eight years younger than her brother and his friends. The trailer park also had a basketball hoop stuck to a light pole in the field. The last time the basket went missing it wasn’t replaced. By then, most of the people who would have used it were gone.
The backyard games we played that aren’t on the list: Jarts and Pop-A-Lot.
The last (and possibly first) time we broke out Jarts, my brother (if I recall correctly) speared the top of his friend’s foot. It was quite gory.
Pop-A-Lot’s packaging said:
Fun
Safe
Develops coordination
Could “safe” has been in response to Jarts, which were as unsafe as anything could get?
I recall it was fun. It looks like my dad’s sisters liked it too (as long as it didn’t muss their hairdos).
Aunt Marietta playing Pop-A-Lot by the drivewayAunt Thelma playing Pop-A-Lot in the field (I recognize the sumac behind her)Me playing Pop-A-Lot in the field with woods behind me
Although it wasn’t a game, the other backyard activity we indulged in involved water. For a while I had a wading pool — two, actually, one boat shaped and the next round. I outgrew both quickly. We also had a sprinkler attachment for the hose that spun around — it was great fun. The only reason I can think of for not using it more was not wanting to waste too much water.
I’d forgotten about this sprinkler attachmentThe boat wading pool
Sadly, by the time I was old enough to play some of these games, my brother had left for the Army, and his friends had dispersed to begin their own futures. The demographic of the trailer park changed, too, with the families moving out and retirees trying to stretch their pensions moving in.
The Forest Preserve District of Will County’s “Winter Wonderland” at Messenger Woods reminded me of Pop-A-Lot and backyard games, even if they weren’t all “real” games. I could see myself working to consistently get a plushie snowman’s head into a basket on my head. After all, it’s fun, safe, and develops coordination.
When I first visited the Dan Ryan Woods aqueducts in autumn, they were dry, so I wanted to go back in spring when there was more likely to be water. According to the Forest Preserves of Cook County, “The limestone aqueducts at Dan Ryan Woods were constructed by the CCC to prevent water from washing away soil on the steep ridges. Visitors can still walk alongside the aqueducts as they wind their way through the woods south of 87th St.” The aqueducts are one of my favorite things in Chicago.
While it didn’t snow, this Forest Preserve District of Will County event had a lot to recommend it:
Campfires with fixings for smores, plus hot chocolate and doughnuts
Bubble machine and music
A dancing Bumble
Games, including giant Jenga
Crafts
Tchotchkes
Crafts
Photo “booth” with the Bumble
Enthusiastic Forest Preserve employees and volunteers
And probably more I’m not thinking of. Afterwards, J. and I went to La Crepe Bistro in Homer Glen, then stopped near Swallow Cliff Woods, where the structure befuddled me. I suppose it’s a blind of some kind.
Sunday I had the brilliant idea of going to Powderhorn Prairie and Marsh Nature Preserve. This is the only place in the city of Chicago with remnant prickly pear cactus. I wouldn’t disturb it; I just wanted to see the flower if possible.
Later, the idea didn’t seem so brilliant when I realized I couldn’t find a trail. Some nature preserves don’t have trails (the better to preserve), but people had mentioned walking around. They must be better spotters than I. At least we saw a great egret across Powderhorn Lake. And an amazing amount of trash around it (egret and trash not pictured).
Impenetrable but lovely
Beaubien Woods Forest Preserve
There was no Plan B but we stopped at the Beaubien Woods boat launch. At some points you could feel like you’re in the country near a hill, but you’re in a former industrial area adjacent to I-94 and a large landfill. Allow me the solace of my imagination.
I-94 lies beyondCalumet River at Beaubien WoodsLandfill across from Beaubien Woods
Calumet Fisheries, Chicago Skyway, train, and boats
Since we were in the area, I suggested J visit Calumet Fisheries, a Chicago institution he’d never been to. I can’t eat fish, but he likes it. He was excited to see smelt on the side of the building. He got some. Meanwhile, I took photos and videos from the same bridge that Jake and Elwood jumped in The Blues Brothers (which I don’t remember that well anymore). The Chicago Skyway is in the background, and the closer bridge is the one my Amtrak trains use. It was great to see the bridges from this angle, and even better when a freight train came along. A pair of boats on the Calumet River completed the picture.
A Chicago institution with the bridge the Blues Brothers jumpedCalumet FisheriesChicago Skyway and train bridge over Calumet RiverCheeky tourist
Freight train crossing the same bridge I passed over last week on the Amtrak Wolverine
Now boats passing under the bridge — no planes, but later a helicopter made a brief appearance
Finally, we picked up sandwiches at Potbelly’s and dined at the University of Chicago campus, which was aglow in the setting sun.
