Absence disembodies — so does Death
Hiding individuals from the Earth
Superstition helps, as well as love —
Tenderness decreases as we prove —
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #904)
grief
Category: Sally
exceptional drought
Our county has been in an “exceptional drought” since late June. This is the highest and most severe category listed on the U.S. Drought Monitor. For almost a year we’ve climbed through “moderate,” “severe,” and “extreme” to reach this new level, capped off with record-breaking dry spells in the spring.
It’s been very hot, too, and I suspect the sun-drenched water this poor squirrel is drinking is pretty warm, too. We keep breaking high temperature records. As I take pictures from the comfort of an air-conditioned room my heart breaks for the creatures struggling outside for days on end in the heat.
As the temperature rises, it will drive a great migration — of humans, of animals, of plants, of jobs, of wealth, of diseases. They will all seek out cooler ecological niches where they can thrive. Some will fare better than others. Robins can migrate more easily than elephants. Poison ivy can move more quickly than an oak tree. Farmers who grow wheat have more options than farmers who grow peaches. And some creatures have nowhere to go. Polar bears in the Arctic can’t migrate farther north. Frogs in Costa Rica aren’t going to hop up to Canada.
~ Jeff Goodell
(The Heat Will Kill You First: Life & Death on a Scorched Planet)
the best for last
On our way back to the car after a walk at Brumley North, Sally and I were delighted to encounter two male indigo buntings perched in a tree alongside our path. The one in the first and second pictures, taken from two different angles, was easier to spot. The one in the third picture was well hidden.
We heard several birds we hoped to see, like a white-eyed vireo and a catbird, but never managed to find them. We did see a few cardinals, white-throated sparrows, titmice, and Carolina wrens. Little did we know what surprise was waiting for us at the end of our walk. It was a lovely day with a cool breeze and lots of green on the trees.
Sometimes I think that the point of birdwatching is not the actual seeing of the birds, but the cultivation of patience. Of course, each time we set out, there’s a certain amount of expectation that we’ll see something, maybe even a species we’ve never seen before, and that it will fill us with light. But even if we don’t see anything remarkable — and sometimes that happens — we come home filled with light anyway.
~ Lynn Thomson
(Birding with Yeats: A Memoir)
It was good being outside again and while I enjoy taking and sharing pictures, to find the words to narrate the experience seems a little overwhelming. My grieving seems to have entered a new phase, where my brain is catching up with my body. (I was told it isn’t unusual to be in shock for six months after the death of a spouse.) It almost feels like anesthesia wearing off now. The fog clearing and numbness giving way to feelings of a deeper ache, a wound trying to heal. Understanding more clearly what has happened. That this is permanent. Thank goodness for friends and family listening to me and helping me through — I could never do this alone.
life as it is
I can see this year is going to have a lot of first-time-without-Tim occasions, but I’m starting to embrace them with a little more openness, letting the feelings be. The grief isn’t as raw these days, the waves of it feel more gentle somehow. And so I had a nice time visiting the Coker Arboretum with Sally while the college students were away on spring break.
with small milkweed bug
I did not notice that bug when I was taking the picture – it often amazes what the camera finds for me. We lingered quite a while near this beautiful patch of starflowers.
This bunch of spirea bushes was breathtaking – the camera tried but couldn’t quite capture the beauty. We also lingered here.
I don’t see nondual spirituality as a path to perpetual bliss. From my perspective, being awake is about total intimacy with life as it is. It’s not about escape or turning away. And it’s not about trying to find an explanation either, because ultimately, we can’t. Everything is the way it is because the whole universe is the way it is.
~ Joan Tollifson
(Right Now, Just As It Is!, August 21, 2025, “The Play of Life”)
Our lives teach us who we are.
~ Salman Rushdie
(In Good Faith)
Every once in a while the energy of a certain tree will attract me. This swamp chestnut oak was huge! There was something wise and majestic about it. I couldn’t get far enough away to get all of it, so I tried to get half of it. Conversely, because there are signs everywhere warning us to stay on the paths, I couldn’t get close enough to touch it, which is what I very much wanted to do.
But then I thought of my old gull friend with the mangled leg, and how I fed off his wise energy even though I never touched him. So I looked up into the branches and with the zoom lens saw some new leaves and catkins. It made me think of the quote about being intimate with life as it is.
The last two pictures were actually taken on the UNC campus as we were walking back to the car. These special cherry trees were presented to the university by the Class of 1929, making them almost 100 years old!
So many beautiful blossoms on such a lovely warm spring day. And so many peaceful thoughts to bring home with me.
a very muddy walk
We got a lot of much needed rain on Thursday and Friday so Saturday’s walk in the woods was very muddy. It was nice to see the creek filled with lots of water for a change.
It’s been said that one never steps onto the same path twice and I had that feeling when I spotted a huge boulder on the other side of the creek. It stood out like a sore thumb and I wondered how I had never noticed it before. It can’t be a glacial erratic because “there are no known, scientifically verified glacial erratics in the Piedmont of North Carolina.” I will have to ask my geologist sister about it.
It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen a new life bird so I was pleasantly surprised when Sally, looking through her binoculars, identified the bird we saw flying around the tree canopy with a flock of tufted titmice and other smaller birds. My camera’s zoom lens struggled to get these cropped shots of a yellow-bellied sapsucker!
On a walk through the forest you might spot rows of shallow holes in tree bark. In the East, this is the work of the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, an enterprising woodpecker that laps up the leaking sap and any trapped insects with its specialized, brush-tipped tongue. Attired sharply in barred black-and-white, with a red cap and (in males) throat, they sit still on tree trunks for long intervals while feeding. To find one, listen for their loud mewing calls or stuttered drumming.
~ All About Birds website
On our way out of the woods we found a patch of Lenten roses (aka Christmas roses, hellebores, winter roses) enjoying a little patch of late-winter sunshine. They’re not native and are not actual roses, but belong to the buttercup family. They are very popular in gardens here, probably because they are highly deer-resistant. Spring is around the corner!
at the suet feeder, after the snowstorm
2.1.26 ~ Arcadia
On the last day of January a snowstorm arrived in North Carolina, covering every one of its 100 counties with snow. We got about four inches and I had evacuated my place to get snowed in with my daughter and her family. The next day I put on my boots for the first time down south here, and walked across the yard to Sally’s for a brief visit. We had a lovely time there birdwatching outside her windows. We saw a couple of kinds of birds I hadn’t seen in quite a while, along with the regular backyard birds.
A female Purple Finch with a yellow throat is an uncommon, atypical color variation of the species, often described as having a pale, yellow-tinged patch on the throat, breast, or rump instead of the usual white and brown, likely due to plumage, diet, or developmental factors. These sightings are rare compared to the common white-eyebrowed, heavily streaked brown plumage of typical females.
~ AI
Following the ice storm of the previous weekend, this is the first snowfall, since I moved down here, that has been more than a dusting or a coating of ice. When Larisa drove me home two days later the roads were passable but still dicey in spots. It’s been so cold, with many nights dipping into the teens. It feels like New England and I can’t say I’m happy about that. If I have to live down south I want it to go back to its normally mild winter temperatures!
by the lake
(Ebenezer Church Day-Use Area)
Apex, North Carolina
On a cold January day Sally drove me out to explore one of her favorite birding spots. When we got to Jordan Lake the first thing I saw was a solitary great blue heron. It didn’t seem to be fishing or doing anything in particular, so I took lots of photos before it finally decided to slowly saunter away.
Jordan Lake is a 13,940-acre man-made reservoir with 180 miles of shoreline. The Piedmont here in North Carolina has no natural lakes. There are plenty of rivers and creeks, though, and a few temporary, very small, beaver ponds.
There were some gulls flying around way out in the middle of the lake, and the one above bobbing along the ripples. Too far away to identify. But, much to my delight, when my eyes came back to the shoreline, they landed on a killdeer! Like the heron, it didn’t seem to be occupied doing anything. I finally stopped waiting for it to do something and continued walking along the shore.
Sally pointed out a clump of greenery way up in a bare branched tree. My guess was mistletoe and it turns out it was indeed American mistletoe. I had no idea there are 1500 species of mistletoe.
Way up in another tree a goldfinch was singing from its perch. A little too far up for my camera, even with the zoom.
After our long walk along the lakeshore we took a mile-long loop trail into the woods, hoping to see ducks in the ponds, but we were out of luck on that idea.
It was nice being around so much water even though it’s not quite the same as the seashore’s salt water and air, which I still miss! And I didn’t realize that some killdeer do live their entire lives far inland, thousands of miles from the ocean. Always more to learn…
eye contact
northern mockingbird
On a mid-December visit to the botanical garden with a friend there were a lot of birds, all of them strategically avoiding my camera behind twigs and branches, but keeping a good eye on us.
The botanical garden had posted on its Facebook page that a yellow garden spider (aka a zipper spider) egg sac suspended between two Okefenokee hooded pitcher plants had been spotted in the Carnivorous Plant Collection – and we found it.
Inside are up to a thousand or more tiny, dormant eggs. Creating this warm silk sac was one of the last endeavors of their mother’s life – yellow garden spider adults usually don’t survive the first hard frost. If all goes well, the eggs will spend the winter safe in this sac, emerging as itsy bitsy spiderlings in spring. … This particular pitcher plant variety is native only to the Okefenokee Swamp in southeastern Georgia. (There’s also an introduced population in North Carolina.)
~ North Carolina Botanical Garden
(Facebook, December 17, 2025)
Quite impressive. Silk is very strong, but can be weakened by wetness and sunlight. Time will tell if this egg sac will make it though the winter. We’ve already had some morning temperatures in the teens.
late autumn lunchtime
I am often at a loss for words these days, but a couple of hours of birdwatching with a new friend was a welcome interlude in the grieving process.
The beauty, variety, and unexpected behaviors of birds can inspire feelings of joy, awe, and wonder, which can be a powerful counterbalance to grief.
~ AI