Calm after the storm

Early Saturday morning I headed for Schenley Park, so I could see for myself what Panther Hollow looked like after the violent storm last week.  Descending the steps from the Visitor Center, I was enclosed by trees and bushes still heavy with rain.

At the bottom, I headed right along Phipps Run. I could see what Phil meant when he said the stream bed the Conservancy had constructed a number of years ago was “working.”  Rushing water had carved channels in the trail, but it was otherwise sound, and trees and grasses planted in the bottom area must have slowed the torrents down.  What would the area have looked like if restoration work hadn’t been done?

Panther Hollow Lake, still muddy days after the storm.

Further on, at the far end of Panther Hollow Lake, I marveled at the line of muck left in the middle of a grassy area hundreds of feet from the Lake’s edge.  Looking back along the Lake, I realized that the torrential stormwater rushing down Phipps and Panther Hollow Runs must have had tremendous volume and force.  (It reminded me of when I lived in West Virginia where walls of water would thunder down a hollow and wipe out creek-side communities.  The topography is similar, but in WV there’s the added problem of strip mining.)

I help fundraise for the Conservancy, so my work keeps me in the office most of the time.  It had been a long time since I’d been in the park, and I realized how much I missed being in the woods.  My shoulders — full of tension from the week — began to relax.

Heading for Lower Panther Hollow Trail, I was stopped by a sharp tapping sound and spotted a hairy woodpecker on a black locust tree.  (Full disclosure: I had to later look at my tree and bird field guides to be certain about what I saw.)  There must have been a feast of tasty insects in the bark’s deep grooves because the woodpecker stayed in one place for a long while.

I continued to look for the effects of the storm and, from debris left behind, guessed that Panther Hollow Run –  now about 18″ wide — must have been 20′ to 30′ wide at the storm’s height.  I wished I could’ve been there to see the swollen stream, but knew I would’ve been swept off my feet.

Despite the violence of the storm, the woods still offered many delights.  A young tulip tree – a favorite from my childhood.  Chipmunks scampering across the trail and chattering away until I passed by.  The WPA-built bridges take me back in time, and I am surrounded by the many people who walked the woods before me.  One tufa bridge on the trail evokes Bilbo and the Shire.  Out of the thick moss blanketing its coarse surface are growing small columbine plants and ferns.  End-of-season wildflowers stun me with their beauty, but I can’t share their names.  (My husband is now planning to get me a wildflower field guide for my birthday.)

Daisies in the Bartlett Meadow

The trail took me to Bartlett Shelter and its wildflower meadow, which still stood after the rain.  I stuck to the park roads after that and wound my way through the golf course.  Behind me I suddenly heard a thin eerie scream and looked up to see two hawks (I think red-tailed hawks) soaring and circling the tree tops, talons ready.

A half hour later, I was back at my car, calm and happy — sated with the beauty and wildness in the park.