“… hushed stony slopes and low ivied cottages in the lee of huge boulders in Rhode-Island’s back country. Scent of the sea and fragrance of the fields; spell of the dark woods and joy of the orchards and gardens at dawn.”
-H.P. Lovecraft, “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath”
This mode of viewing Nature in the universality of her relations is no doubt adverse to the rapidity desirable in an itinerary…
-Alexander von Humboldt, Personal Narrative
A wooded slope fell away steeply from the path where I stood, and then curved more gradually towards a surface of sparkling water I could only vaguely see as bright flashes through the trees. Through a trick of perspective it looked like a vast ocean far below, even though it was only a pond that began its existence, humbly enough, as a reservoir for the town of Lincoln in Rhode Island. This was Lime Rock Preserve, home of:
Red oak, hickory, a diversity of ferns, red and white baneberry, horse balm, violets, bellwort, nodding trillium, jack-in-the-pulpit, trout lily
I don’t know whether they gave up on enumerating all the different ferns, or if they just didn’t have an accurate list; but there were a great many. Being still very much a novice at identifying ferns myself, I haven’t keyed them out either, but there was a great diversity of form to be seen every few paces. These large, stiff fronds I’m reasonably confident are Christmas fern (Polystichum acrostichoides):
but am still working on these (among others):
A big limestone boulder was covered in a lichen with huge apothecia:
and mushrooms lurked in the shadows of the bigger ferns:
As I was almost back to the gate, a toad sprinted across the path and a little ways up a tree-trunk:
Initially I’d thought – well, let’s be honest, hoped – it was a gray tree-frog. Experts on iNaturalist gently let me know it was in fact the ubiquitous American toad; an old friend rather than a new acquaintance. As a boy I collected them down by the river, and sometimes even out back of the house, by the compost heap. But I never saw them climbing a tree, so that was new.
This was the day-trip I took while in Providence for NecronomiCon (see previous report, “The Gate of the Silver Key“). With only one day, the rapidity desirable in an inventory meant narrowing down on basically one thing to see. Going along the Blackstone River via Lime Rock meant not really seeing any ocean – Touisset Marsh, a salt-marsh, was another possible choice – which I regret a little, but it was a beautiful ride, and, as I later discovered, the hills and forests north of Providence were also haunted by the young Lovecraft on his bicycle. So really it ended up as part of the fabric of the whole experience, rather than being a digression! Even the life-cycle of ferns found its way into his stories:
“It reproduced like the vegetable cryptogams, especially the pteridophytes; having spore-cases at the tips of the wings and evidently developing from a thallus or prothallus … How it could have undergone its tremendously complex evolution on a new-born earth in time to leave prints in Archaean rocks was so far beyond conception as to make Lake whimsically recall the primal myths about Great Old Ones who filtered down from the stars and concocted earth-life as a joke or mistake…”
-H.P. Lovecraft, At the Mountains of Madness
The Blackstone River Bikeway itself runs to the town of Woonsocket which is right on the Massachusetts border. I didn’t go all the way through town to cross the border, which, again, is a slight regret, but I don’t imagine anything is radically different on the other side, and anyway I can take the Badger State Trail to Illinois if I want to enjoy the arcane thrill of riding across an imaginary line. Though the Blackstone Valley was ground zero for industrialization in the US – the first textile mill was built there in 1790 – it’s back to quiet and picturesque, except at the dams, which are loud and picturesque. A considerable amount of wetland has been restored, where I saw a vivid green dragonfly:
and some sensitive-fern (Onoclea sensibilis):
Garter snakes crossed the path in a relaxed manner, although they were a little touchy if you got close:
and altogether it was a pleasant cycling experience, nice and flat on an old rail-bed, almost more like being on a carnival ride than actually exerting any effort. The milestones were even real stones, which I thought was a great touch.
The bike was a rental, incidentally, and so my thanks go to the extremely nice folks at the North Providence location of Providence Bicycle, who set me up with a comfortable fat-tired Raleigh and a helmet to fit my long Irish head.