Detours in life can be a blessing and sometimes not so much. Detours are sometimes meant to keep us out of dangerous situations like a bridge being out. Oftentimes,  we take detours to try to avoid what we think might be a messy situation and then end up getting a little lost.
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The Cambridge Dictionary's website,  defined the term as "a different or less direct route to a place that is used to avoid a problem or to visit somewhere or do something on the way."
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A quote by Sir James Jeans, stated, “The really happy person is the one who can enjoy the scenery, even when they have to take a detour.”

Despite a little life detour, I decided to enjoy the scenery and took a little time for myself. There was a lot to see and learn during my digression from the path that I had been traveling.

Of course, our daily walks were filled with detours and distraction mostly thanks to curious canine noses. Most of the time, the dogs can be rerouted back to the beaten path. However, I tried to curb Sherman's detours. He had a terrible sense of direction and the rest of us usually ended up traveling to where Sherman is.

Nonetheless, I too was guilty of being detoured by distractions. A fifty-yard digression from the path netted me a photo of a spicebush swallowtail. I had been trying to get one to pose for me for weeks.

Butterflies weren't the only creature that had me bypassing the beaten path. The call of a scarlet tanager sent me traipsing into parts unknown.

The Cornell Lab's All About Birds website said the birds  "spend much of their time skulking among the wide leaves of deciduous trees in the forest canopy, where they are hard to see. They sing a burry, rambling song and give a distinctive, harsh chick-burr call."
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Longtime local birder and author Gary Edwards in his book "Birds of Venango County" also mentioned how difficult it could be to spot the bright birds.
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"However, be aware that the red part of the spectrum is weak in dull light. As a result unless the bird is in full sunlight, it can be surprising difficult to see in the green canopy," Edward wrote.

"The female ovenbird builds a nest in thick leaf litter on the open forest floor at least 60 or 70 feet from the forest edge. She chooses a spot under or near a small break in the canopy, often near where a tree has fallen or near regrowth from some other disturbance," the site continued.

A common yellowthroat was also a recent diversion.

"Yellowthroats are vocal birds, and both their witchety-witchety-witchety songs and distinctive call notes help reveal the presence of this, one of our most numerous warblers," said a post on the All About birds site.
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The warbler is an abundant summer resident, according to Edwards. He also wrote that the bird was one of the most widely distributed warblers in Pennsylvania.

Of course one photo subject that was always worth the detour was the barred owl. The owl continued to hang around the area and provided some haunting calls.

The nursery located in  Orefield, Pa., described the pinxter bloom azalea as the first to bloom of the native azaleas and that still found naturally in most of state.

​The digressions to find the honeysuckle led to the discovery of a couple of new patches of pink lady slippers. While they weren't huge patches, it was nice to see that the orchids were doing well.

According to a post on www.gardeningknowhow.com, "Lady slippers need well-aerated soil and moist conditions....  Dappled sunlight under tall trees is ideal for growing a lady slipper wildflower."
After the post I surmised that the wet spring conditions may have contributed to the additional lady slippers.
The post also claimed that the pink orchids exhibit a slightly sweet-smelling aroma. I may have to digress off the path to confirm this.

​​ It continues to be widely used as an ornamental and can be found throughout North America," said a post on www.invasive.org.

​I had been making weekly detours off our path to check on the vernal pool full of wood frog tadpoles.
There seemed to be more, yet they didn't appear to me to be growing.
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"Females lay masses of 1,000 to 3,000 eggs, which hatch between 9 and 30 days later," according to a post on www.nwf.org. It is possible that I may have missed some small frogs hopping around.

However, the post went on to state, "Maturity may be reached in one to two years, depending on the sex and the population of frogs. A wood frog’s lifespan in the wild is usually no more than three years."

Meanwhile, back the neighbor's pond a frog also concerned about its lifespan quickly rerouted out of the range of Sadie's frog hunting exploits.

The neighborhood deer may have been doing some detouring of their own. In the past, there were fawns in the area by this time. However a neighbor reported seeing a doe with two fawns and then finding one of the fawns had been attacked by a predator.

​I haven't seen the one doe that frequented the area around the pond with her fawn. It is possible that she had chosen a safer haven as the trail cameras picked up some coyotes in that area.

The trail cameras also caught a fox detouring through my parents' backyard.

Some detours might be inconvenient. Some could be lifesaving.
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I think I will still chose to enjoy the scenery while trying to find a good path as long as Sherman stays with the group.

That's just the nature of things 'round here.

 Finally, it felt like we had progressed to spring.

​Actually with temperatures in the 80s, it seemed like perhaps the area had bypassed the season and went straight for summer.

While the spring plants were coming along nicely, members of the Applegate gang didn't follow suit.

Meanwhile, frogs, brought out by the sunshine and warmer temperatures, paid no mind to the muddied waters and splashing canines.

Unfortunately a break in the May monsoon season, had left the wood frog tadpoles almost high and dry. I checked shrinking pool daily. There was still water, but not much. I hoped that more spring rains would be coming along to help fill the pool back up, as there was no way to really haul water back to the area.

While the wood frog tadpoles were on the verge of not doing well, area violets were coming along nicely.

It appeared to be more violets this year than in previous years. There were so many varieties and shades. They seemed to be everywhere, in the woods and in the yard. The only variety of which I was certain on the name was the yellow halberd-leaved violet. 

Just as the violets covered the ground, the trees were also breaking out in blossoms. It seemed like the apple trees had flowered overnight. Then after a few days, the warm wind was already driving petals off of the branches.

As the apple blossoms came and went, so did the tulips in the garden. The earlier tulips had already lost their petals as the stragglers provided pops of color here and there. I was always surprised at the varieties that came up. I had a tendency to plant and forget. I surmised that this is why when we moved into my grandparents' home, we saw flower bulb packages stapled on the old garage wall. I did, however, remember that I had added to my mom's tulip bed next door last fall. However, I couldn't remember which ones they were, as the tulips of the same variety that were planted in my yard had been consumed by Kyle, the goat.

Meanwhile, other woodland plants were coming along nicely. Wild strawberry blossoms dotted the landscape.

The tulips have burst forth with color.

It felt that spring may have finally sprung. Of course, April showers seemed to transform into a May monsoon season. Despite the rain, the flora and fauna were stirring.

Ernest Hemingway no doubt said it best with “When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest.”

After enduring many false springs, the tulips displayed their vibrant colors to put on their annual show.

Lil' Bit was forced to endure some posing with a posies photography sessions.

While the garden was filled with showy tulips, the yard was dotted with purple as the violets popped up. The rain kept the mowers at bay and so the violets ruled the day.

The flowering crabapple had begun to show its true colors as well.

Seemingly devoid of color, a white daffodil captured my interest. Perhaps it was the lack of the bright yellow that made it easier for me to see the delicate form of the flower.

However, there was no lack of color at the bird feeders. The orioles have returned and are consuming grape jelly at a high rate. While filling two jelly feeders, I felt that I should just put the grape goo on autoship from Smuckers.

The orioles were not solely to blame for the exorbitant jelly consumption. A pair of catbirds also helped out.

More hummingbirds have arrived.

​At first all I had seen were the males, but the females showed up a little later. The need for another hummingbird feeder was quickly realized when our local feeder guardian was reinstated to his post. He sat on the feeder's hook and chased all the other hummers away.

​However, an additional feeder on the other side of the house, meant he can't be in two places at once.

In addition to the hummingbirds, I was finally able to get a shot of the white crowned sparrows that have been visiting.

Several male rose-breasted grosbeaks enhanced the color around bird feeders.

Not to be outdone by all the birds, a red squirrel decided to strike a pose.

While my bird feeders saw several visitors, a solitary sandpiper made its annual appearance at the neighbor's pond.

I kept checking my next favorite watering hole beside the neighbor's pond, a vernal pool home to many woodfrog tadpoles. The pollywogs have thrived despite temperature fluctuations. I loved to check on their progress and was waiting for some legs to start forming.

However, my curiosity about the vernal pool quickly drew unwanted attention from some other animals, mostly mine. First the dogs felt the need to muddy the waters. Then Kyle decided he desperately needed a drink. I think he may have slurped up some tadpoles in the process.

Admittedly my critters are known to sometimes disrupt the tranquility of the woods. However, there was one wild creature that seemed utterly unaware of the chaos my creatures create.

I spotted a what I thought was racoon sleeping high up in a hemlock tree when we ventured out for a morning walk. When we returned to the woods in the afternoon, the racoon had not moved. I spoke up and clapped my hands to see if there was any response. There was no reaction. I wondered if had taken a photo of a racoon taking its final nap. It was in the tree where the barred owl had been seen. However, the next day, there was no racoon. Whether or not the raccoon had awakened or succumbed to a dirt nap, is something that only Mother Nature knows.

​That's just the nature of things 'round here.