It’s been almost two years since we followed this trail in late December 2023. Tripp Farm Trail is part of the maze of trails weaving through the 750 woodland acres of Carolina North Forest. We finally got ourselves a detailed map of all the trails from the University of North Carolina.
As you can see, the woods are still decidedly green. Fall colors don’t peak around here until the second week of November. Which makes November less bleak than we were used to in New England, but makes October here feel more like a September up north.
not all leaves make it to the ground when they fall
not all broken-off branches make it to the ground, either (this one made Tim think of the sword of Damocles)
how many of these will make it all the way to the ground?
hanging on to a twig
refusing to let go
We don’t see birds often in this forest, but the last time we did this trail I found a bluebird. This time Tim spotted a woodpecker, way high up on a tall snag. There’s a reason we never see birders here — or even people with cameras — but I’ll accept this small gift with gratitude. We’re there mainly to forest bathe in the phytoncides the trees give off!
this leaf made it all the way down!
The world of machines is running Beyond the world of trees Where only a leaf is turning In a small high breeze. ~ Wendell Berry (This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems)
10.7.25 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden 37th Annual Sculpture in the Garden
So, we haven’t visited the botanical garden since the end of May, over four months ago. I wasn’t about to risk any more seed tick attacks. On this new try, I had Tim spray my shoes and pant legs with picaridin, giving up on previously tried deet and permethrin. So far, so good, but I’ve not been attacked in the month of October before so maybe I didn’t need it. Not taking any chances, though.
October skies aster
I didn’t get too many pictures of the sculptures this year. I guess I was starved for the beauty of flowers and berries!
deciduous holly
eastern carpenter bee
“Sonoran Sentinel” by Gary Taber A contemporary reimagining of a desert giant, drawing inspiration from the formidable presence of arid landscapes. ~ Gary Taber
wildflowers in the sassafras sapling grove (this spot always enchants me)
ditch daisy
asters
black-eyed Susan
When we got to the boardwalk going through the Coastal Plain Habitat we were amazed to find ourselves surrounded by a sea of black-eyed Susans, some of them quite tall, enjoying the sunshine.
Even though there were a lot of old favorites to delight my eyes, some new-to-me flowers presented themselves, sending me peeking into the greenery looking for id signs. If none could be located there was research to do at home. It felt good to get back out there and into the swing of things again.
“Marshland Morning” by Forrest Greenslade My egret reaches for the sky to greet the day. ~ Forrest Greenslade
coastal plain tickseed
boneset
blue mistflower
“Guardian of the Night” by Nana Abreu Taíno Moon Goddess symbolizes renewal, mystery, and unseen life forces, representing the feminine rhythm of existence while illuminating the shadowed side of nature. ~ Nana Abreu
phlox
Chinese aconite aka Carmichael’s monkshood
‘Pampas Plume’ celosia
“Opossum in the Cherry Orchard” by Bronwyn Watson Local opossum in early summer after an enjoyable night dining in a cherry tree. ~ Bronwyn Watson
George & Julia Brumley Family Nature Preserve 9.9.25 ~ Chapel Hill, North Carolina
An atypical lovely September day dawned and invited us to explore another wonderful nature preserve. There we were delighted to find a labyrinth and two new kinds of butterflies. Tim was pondering how to describe his current style of walking, coming up with strolling, but not entirely satisfied with that word. Thinking of Thoreau, I suggested sauntering to him. He tried it on and used it a few times. Looked it up at home. It’s sticking.
St. John’s wort
fence holding up an apple (?) tree
part of the labyrinth
American beautyberry
🍃
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology —
Because he travels freely And wears a proper coat The circumspect are certain That he is dissolute
Had he the homely scutcheon Of modest Industry ’Twere fitter certifying For Immortality —
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1701)
🍃
red-spotted purple
We couldn’t get enough of the bright color of these red-spotted purples and couldn’t wait to get home to identify this butterfly!
eastern redbud seed pods
Carolina satyr
There were hundreds of these satyrs flying around the labyrinth and nearby. They were tiny and didn’t stay still long enough for a good photo shoot.
?
pokeweed
To be honest, I forgot to think about ticks before taking this walk. Then, about half way through the walk we encountered three serious birders coming down the trail, carrying large camera lenses and binoculars. I noticed they all had their pants tucked into their socks, which jogged my memory and started me worrying since I had no tick repellent on.
sunlit mulberry leaf
Later that evening I felt a strong itch near my knee and the next morning saw the seed tick bite. Just one. Why do I never see an adult tick? Why do these invisible seed ticks get me every time??? (And never bother Tim…) But one bite is better endured than the 27 bites I got the first time this happened. I’ve got to learn to not let my guard down.
July went down as the hottest month ever recorded in North Carolina history, but what a surprise, August turned out to be the coolest August in over thirty years. With all the recent medical appointments we didn’t get out much to enjoy the fresh air, but on Labor Day we did get a chance to walk out in the woods.
Carolina elephant’s-foot
We kept thinking we were hearing a creek’s water running but finally figured out it was a breeze stirring the leaves above our heads. The first autumn we were here we learned to look up if we wanted to see any leaf colors, and we applied that lesson this day, looking up to see the leaves, still in their lovely summer greens.
this made me think of a still life
It was slow going and there were many stops for Tim to catch his breath, but we managed to walk three quarters of a mile and he seemed none the worse for wear after we got home. The rests gave us time to notice all sorts of little treasures on the forest floor, too.
fleabane
A woman once described a friend of hers as being such a keen listener that even the trees leaned toward her, as if they were speaking their innermost secrets into her listening ears. Over the years I’ve envisioned that woman’s silence, a hearing full and open enough that the world told her its stories. The green leaves turned toward her, whispering tales of soft breezes and the murmurs of leaf against leaf. ~ Linda Hogan (Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World)
quartz surrounded by moss
Carolina elephant’s-foot
honey fungus (?)
turkey tail fungus (?)
My respiration and inspiration….the beating of my heart….the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves. ~ Walt Whitman (Leaves of Grass)
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1560)
identical twin spider webs
8.29.25 ~ Battle Branch Trail Chapel Hill, North Carolina
We tried out this trail on another lovely, low humidity day. We wound up getting lost and reluctantly decided to cut through somebody’s yard to get back to a road. Summer is fading away, as it always does, each day a minute or two shorter than the last. Emily’s poem has an added layer of meaning for me, now, as I take note of Tim’s breaths becoming shorter, too.
As we were driving out of our neighborhood we saw a fawn nibbling the grass on the side of the road. We pulled up near it and took some pictures. He/she was curious about us. When we decided to move on I suddenly spotted its mother hiding in the vegetation. She had no doubt been watching us the whole time.
mama had an eye on us
It was a tolerable day for a walk. The air wasn’t cool or refreshing like it would be in the fall, but it wasn’t unbearably hot. Dare I say lukewarm and muggy? But Tim decided he would like to give a walk a try. We needed to stop and rest frequently to accommodate his shortness of breath. It is what it is. I was just happy to be outside with my best friend. And the Riverwalk has benches.
Hillsborough Riverwalk
Last time we were here was July 7, just after Tropical Storm Chantal had dumped 10 inches of rain and had caused the Eno River to crest at over 25 feet, breaking previous records. It’s hard to imagine that everywhere we walked now had been under water. Some parts of the walk are still closed for repairs.
the water had come up over this footbridge
a piece of furniture, way above eye level, caught in the trees
underneath the South Churton Street bridge (Old NC 86)
It’s hard to imagine that the water flooded this bridge, too, and left so much debris underneath it that it’s hard to see the water now from the riverbanks.
looking at the sky from one of our resting benches
a fawn down by the river
a doe on the other side of the river
the opposite riverbank was pretty steep
fall webworm?
Occaneechi Indian Village
Occaneechi Village is a historic replica of a village located on the Eno River as it was in 1701. … In the early 1700s, the Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation lived in a bountiful land with little European presence. The village was an important trade location where the Occaneechi people would trade with the Europeans as well as nearby tribes such as the Tuscarora. ~ The Alliance for Historic Hillsborough website
This part of Riverwalk was closed until August 8 and the village itself is still closed while they keep working to repair the flood damage. In the next picture part of the village can be seen on the right, and the trees on the left are on the edge of the riverbank. Hard to imagine the water coming all the way up to the village!
flood debris from the structures caught in the palisade surrounding the village
Now, you might be wondering about this plucky katydid. Yes, it’s the same one pictured in the last post. She first appeared Thursday on the top of our car in the parking lot at Trader Joe’s in Chapel Hill. Tim took that picture with his cell phone. Much to our surprise, she was still on our car after we arrived home in Carrboro. We were even more surprised on Friday, when, after our walk, I noticed her sitting on the passenger side mirror of the car. (above picture) How did she manage to stay on the car from Carrboro to Hillsborough??? We nudged her but she stayed put. Well, when we got back to Carrboro, a 13-mile drive, she was clinging sideways to the car’s back door. So we decided to insist that she relocate and used a stiff tag to dislodge her and transport her to our back deck. (below picture) She didn’t stay there long, however. She waited until we stopped watching her so we missed her departure. I still wonder how she managed to hang on to the hot car for all those miles, over two days.
What a strange month August has been so far. After July ended with the distinction of being the hottest month ever recorded in North Carolina history, in stark contrast, the first 17 days of August never reached the average high temperature of 90. But the dew point has remained very high, giving me a new appreciation for the term warm and muggy. We’ve had a lot of rain and every day feels damp, dark and dreary.
8.15.25 ~ an evening mushroom surprise
On August 6 we spent two and a half hours seeing a pulmonologist and received an alarming diagnosis for Tim, interstitial lung disease. This finally explains his increasing shortness of breath and the cough, in spite of having all his heart disease issues addressed. We’re still trying to come to terms with all this new information and future uncertainties. It didn’t help having the washing machine and the air conditioning break down in the middle of things.
8.15.25 ~ wondering what those bugs are
I’m more and more impatient for some better weather in the autumn so we can get outside again. In the meantime, as far as blogging goes, I distract myself with searching for and then pairing quotes and paintings, and have scheduled quite a few of them to be published many months from now. I’m making good progress with my resistance training, treadmill walking, and tai chi, but it’s not the same as walking among the trees. Work on my family history boxes has stalled.
8.18.25 ~ clavaria in my moss garden
Returning home from the laundromat early one morning I discovered these ghostly white things sticking up out of the moss in our front yard. My first thought was ghost plants but these are much smaller and don’t have a flower on top. I learned they are a fungus called clavaria. There may be 1200 species in the genus and I don’t know which species these are. They do seem to love my very damp moss garden, though.
a schist sculpture of a Buddha figure from the 3rd century CE, from the Gandharan region of Pakistan, seated on a lotus throne, wearing ascetic robes
Friday we took Kat and her friend with us to the Ackland Art Museum in Chapel Hill and saw the special Radical Clay: Contemporary Women Artists from Japan exhibit. We made good use of Tim’s new disability parking tag — a game changer. Once inside I quickly realized I forgot to leave my handbag in the car and was relieved when Kat offered to carry it for me.
Matsuda Yuriko enameled and glazed porcelain In Her Shoes, 2007 “This comically large foot, complete with long, painted toenails and a banana shaped heel, alludes to the fetishization of dainty feet.”
It was interesting seeing what interested the girls — they lingered and had lengthy discussions at a lot of the sculptures but zipped past all the paintings. It was nice listening to Tim asking them the kinds of teaching questions he’s so good at with kids. When he got tired there was a couch in the lobby where he rested.
I was distracted by the history of the museum itself, founded through the bequest of William Hayes Ackland, a Tennessee native. On the museum’s website, the Biography of William Hayes Ackland notes: “The Ackland is in the process of reckoning with its history and rethinking how we tell the story of William Hayes Ackland. Stay tuned for changes to these pages.”
Ackland’s body lies in a stone coffin in a little room off of the museum’s lobby. The exhibit label traces where his inherited money came from. He not only wanted the people of his native south to know and love the fine arts, but it seems to me he also wanted to make sure they remembered him!
“[His] will stipulated that the museum be named the William Hayes Ackland Memorial Art Center and that Ackland himself be interred in the building in a marble sarcophagus with a recumbent effigy.”
I can’t help wondering if the enlightening exhibit label will be changed if the current administration finds it out of alignment with its agenda. It will be nice when autumn comes and this cursed heat and humidity disappear. Getting back outside and enjoying the natural world; escaping from the reminders of tyranny that seem to be around every corner.
