Did you know there are freshwater jellyfish that float around in Midwestern ponds? I didn’t. I’ll never forget the day I discovered it. I was floating in our pond and the sun was beating down on me in a brutally soothing way. I thought I felt something swim past my hand and opened my eyes to the horror of hundreds of JELLYFISH surrounding me!
I couldn’t figure out if I was having a heat stroke or about to die by a thousand stings, so I froze. They surrounded my legs and torso, tickling me, but did not sting. They were the size of nickels. My mind was shooting reels of people in Florida being stung by venomous box jellyfish and their flesh falling off. I remained still until they disappeared, then I swam like hell to shore when they were out of sight. I had to find my husband!
He told me I was full of it. He said he never heard of such a thing. Upon further investigation on Google, I was pleased to find out that freshwater jellyfish do exist and I wasn’t having a stroke. We were blown away. We called the DNR office and asked about them. They said they’re quite rare because “the conditions must be just right.” He kept stressing that point. We have a natural spring fed pond that is over an acre in size and hasn’t been disturbed in decades. It’s as clear as a bottle of water.
Nature has done it’s job in creating a perfectly balanced aquatic ecosystem. The Peach Blossom Jellyfish arrive every August and stay for a couple months to eat the zooplankton. They surface and swarm us in the late afternoon and around sunset on clear, warm days. It is probably our families greatest treasure on the land. We get extended family and friends to come down and experience this rare treat.
August and September have become the most influential months in my life because of the Peaches. It’s a time where I’m tired of long, hot summer days. Every year I wait in anticipation of the first day where I dip in the pond to cool off and my see-through friends float up to greet me. It brings a childlike squeal and massive smile to my face each time. It’s better than Christmas, because I never know when, or even IF, they’re going to come. Their conditions are fragile and they’ve been accustomed to no one being around for decades. We’ve only inhabited the land for four years now. Will our frequent swims with sunscreen, removing dead trees, and adding a dock contribute to their demise?
It reminds me to stay present with them. Each time I see them could be the very last time. I want to memorize how their translucent color looks magical over my bronze skin, a perfect backdrop to analyze all their tiny tentacles. I notice how I’m equally grossed out and enamored with how it feels as they glide across my skin by the dozens. They capture my full attention with their various sizes. The babies that are fully formed, yet hardly the size of a pin head, melt my heart. I wade around with them for hours.
My daily struggles and worries have no place when I’m with the Peaches. My stresses will always be available when I need access to them. They don’t discriminate or require any special conditions. They can be put on the back burner.
August and September are months where I actively choose to stay present with Mother Nature. I want to soak in every detail before the darker months begin to hit. I naturally notice how the sun is lower on the horizon and closer to the tree line. I see the leaves slightly start to shrivel in preparation for their big fall. I notice the animals coming out earlier in the evening. I notice the Peaches enjoying the warmth of the water 15 feet off the bank. I see the wildflowers in full bloom, putting out their all before it’s time to go to seed. I see the fox in his burrow.
It reminds me that I am a part of nature too. How should my behavior be changing with the upcoming season? Should the fact that I have a waterproof home with heat/air conditioning and electrical lighting really require me to function at the same capacity year round and reject Mother Nature’s natural cycle changes? If I really think about it, that sounds like a recipe for disaster. It sounds like a surefire way to get burnt out, sick, angry, exhausted, and dysregulated.
Lessons From Nature 