Both my wife and one of my daughters read an earlier draft of this essay and advised me that it didn’t really have anything to do with the Sourlands. All of my other essays have focused on a plant, an animal or an ecological process in the Sourlands. But, even though the Moon is 238,900 miles above the Sourlands, I think that it is an important part of the landscape and deserves it place in this series. I hope that you agree with me.

When I told a neighbor that I was going to write on squirrels, she said, "Don't be too nice to them, they are such a nuisance." If you maintain a bird feeder, or if you are tired of seeing your potted plants dug up to be replaced with a hickory nut, or--especially--if you have been driven crazy by squirrels racing around in your attic, you probably agree with my neighbor.

I was in a field one June with a friend, and I saw some ripe strawberries. I picked a few and, holding out my hand, said, "Here, John, would you like some?" John, who goes into fields as seldom as possible, vigorously shook his head no and responded, "I never eat anything unless it comes from the Safeway."

Plants do not live alone in a natural landscape, nor do they only live with others of their own kind. That is not to say that they simply appear higgledy-piggledy. They live in communities, and the make-up of those communities depends on the habitat.

Now that it is spring, I want to do something different. Instead of a picture and an essay, I am just presenting pictures of some of the lovely spring flowers that are found in the Sourlands in spring.