Michigan Forest Life - July 2, 2026

Greetings friends,

Last week we spread our mother's ashes at Winterfield Pines Nature Sanctuary, in a stand of tall white pines and maples between the pond and the river. A lovely spot. To get there, we took a deer trail into the woods for about 100 yards. We dispersed the ashes around the bases of three mature pines. It is a shady spot with the sound of the river rippling over a shallow rocky run, tree branches rustling in the breeze, and all the sounds of the forest nearby.

I thought about our mother as I mowed the pond clearing today - where the deer trail begins. I wondered if Mary Jo smells the sweet aroma of milkweed blooms along the pond's edge (Photo 1). What do they smell like to her now? Lilacs perhaps? Does she watch monarch butterflies gliding from bloom to bloom? 

Did she already find the wild irises in the river that I accidentally noticed for the first time this morning? I wonder if they are blooming so unusually for her. I have not seen irises in the river before (Photo 2, 3, 4). Where did they come from?

I wondered if she was soaring with the eagle gliding in wide circles over the pond, or just watching? Did she see a fawn being born this week? This is where it would happen. Perhaps she helped the fawn along. That would be like her. 

Did Mary Jo already find the deer antler I picked up off the forest floor this morning? A shed

that dropped like a loose tooth from the brow of a young buck four months ago (Photo 5). Perhaps she left it there for me to find. They are so elusive. 

I picture Mary Jo befriending bobcat kittens, river otters, and back bear cubs as they learn about their forest surroundings. Porcupines, chipmunks, raccoons and turtles. I hear her laughing as a family of black squirrels chase each other from one tree to the next. 

I imagine her listening to the rapping of pileated woodpeckers, answering chickadees, and waiting for daybreak as an owls hoots.

What a wonderful place for one's ashes to blend in with all that is natural. To become part of the beauty, the power, and peace of the forest.

A drop of rain.

I wish you a milkweed and a monarch. 

Until next time,

Dan

The Rest of the Story:

July 4, 2026

In one of life’s mysteries that connect nature’s spiritual world with the physical world, the consciousness of humans and animals, and the awareness of place, two days after writing the original Michigan Forest Life email, a raccoon came to the Treehouse to have its babies. I kept an eye on it for most of the morning and afternoon. It was lethargic, resting in the shade like a tired puppy, not scooting away when I walked close by. It looked into my eyes in a deep, longing, friendly way. About seven hours later I noticed it nesting in the pine straw below the Treehouse drawbridge – a cool shaded spot. When I walked by later, I could tell that she was giving birth – a litter of kits below the Treehouse. I simply continued my walk up the steps to my shelter and hoped I did not disturb her. In the morning, the mother and kits were gone, but I saw the mother 70 yards down the trail briefly, foraging in the pine straw for grubs.

I could not help but think of our own mother and what I had written only a few hours before the raccoon came to the Treehouse. Is it coincidence? Certainly serendipity. Or is it evidence of the way our minds and spirits mingle inside a natural world we do not fully understand? I see the encounter as a gift communication. “Dan, I am here in the forest with you. I sent the raccoon.  I knew you would know. All is well.” After all, where does life really begin and end?

…Did she see a fawn being born this week? This is where it would happen. Perhaps she helped the fawn along. That would be like her. … I picture Mary Jo befriending bobcat kittens, river otters, and back bear cubs as they learn about their forest surroundings. Porcupines, chipmunks, raccoons and turtles. I hear her laughing as a family of black squirrels chase each other from one tree to the next…