We are all woodland people. Like trees, we hold a genetic memory of the past because trees are parents to the child deep within us. We feel that shared history come alive every time we step into the forest, where the majesty of nature calls to us in a voice beyond our imaginations. But even in those of us who haven’t encountered trees in months or even years, the connection to the natural world is there, waiting to be remembered.
~ Diana Beresford-Kroeger
(To Speak for the Trees: My Life’s Journey from Ancient Celtic Wisdom to a Healing Vision of the Forest)
At last! A day arrived with low humidity and a chance for a walk in the woods. Though I was tempted to visit the botanical garden I was drawn here to visit a new-to-us park we had discovered some time ago while out running errands in the heat. We found lots of interesting things growing under the trees in this lovely park.
The trees at Cedar Falls Park are typical of an upland forest in the Piedmont, with oak and hickory predominating and here and there a pine tree. Second growth trees with a brushy understory line both sides of the trails near the northern part of the park.
~ This Way to Nature website
They would worry about wearing me out, but I could also see that I was a reminder of all they feared: chance, uncertainty, loss, and the sharp edge of mortality. Those of us with illnesses are the holders of the silent fears of those with good health.
~ Elisabeth Tova Bailey
(The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating)
The march of human progress seemed mainly a matter of getting over that initial shock of being here.
~ Barbara Kingsolver
(Animal Dreams)
Finding the snail moving across the blue mushroom and then the patch of partridge berries simply filled me with delight!
Tim recorded 5½ inches in his rain gauge from Tropical Storm Debby. We never lost power and I think the storm had technically weakened to a tropical depression by the time it reached here. (We never got a tropical storm warning here either.) All the same, it was good to be safe inside and hunkered down for a day.
We heard reports of tornados and flooding elsewhere in nearby counties so we were lucky. Today we drove down to Bolin Creek Trail to get a good look at the creek and it was close to overflowing. The pictures taken there last September show what the creek looked like when the water was low and the stones were visible in the streambed. See here.
Today the sky is blue with white puffy clouds and the sun is bright and warm. We already have a feels like temperature of 90°F and tomorrow promises to be even warmer.
Sometimes it hits me how much I miss celebrating the seasons of the year in New England. Strawberry picking in the field and beach sunsets for midsummer, apple picking in the orchard and visiting the old-fashioned cider mill at the autumn equinox, picking out a Christmas tree at the local tree farm before the solstice, visiting a sugar house and stocking up on maple syrup for the coming year on the spring equinox…
This year my daughter Larisa hosted a wonderful feast for Lughnasa/Lammas, complete with a loaf of challah bread in honor of the first harvest festival. Katherine read the poem I posted on my blog that morning before we started eating. Later, as we were finishing up one of the guests suggested we go apple picking from a neighborhood tree. I was startled and found myself blurting out for the second time this year, “I’m having trouble adjusting!” And then added, as if to explain to the puzzled group, “Apple-picking is for the autumn equinox!”
The first time I blurted that out was back in March, when everyone down here was busy picking strawberries. I had to explain then that to me, picking strawberries happens in June and means the summer solstice. To me. This is proving to be a most difficult adjustment for my brain.
For Lughnasa we used to visit Buttonwood Farm, walk through their huge sunflower field, go on a hayride and stand in a long line for ice cream made right there on the farm. This year, I joined my daughter and her guests for a short walk to a solitary little apple tree. I watched my grandchildren climb it and pick some apples. On the first day of August. (Sadly, I had left my camera at home, missing a great photo op…) My brain is still perplexed but hopefully some day I will find a way to adjust!
Yesterday was a great weather day! We took advantage of rare low humidity and temperature and scooted over to the botanical garden. There were many bugs out and about, doing their summer thing. I’m suffering from another batch of spider bites on my legs and I have no idea how they’re getting there. (I now know they’re spider bites because my reaction rash is so bad it drove me to a dermatologist. She was mystified and had a biopsy done on the rash to see what was causing it. I hope I won’t need another round of steroids!)
I hope you enjoyed the glimpse into the buggy summer botanical garden. Creepy crawlies go hand in hand with pretty flowers. I’m biding my time until autumn arrives!
It was too hot for a walk but I had to get my summer picture for Karma’s “same location for all 4 seasons” photo hunt. And my coastal plain habitat boardwalk picture for June. I darted into the botanical garden, got them, and then took two quick pics on my way back out.
These Fevered Days — to take them to the Forest
Where Waters cool around the mosses crawl —
And shade is all that devastates the stillness
Seems it sometimes this would be all —
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1467)
Living in a heavily wooded neighborhood I only get a peek through the trees to catch a sunrise. It happened at 6:00 am on the summer solstice here. Hours later, for solar noon I took my flower fairy out to the moss garden for a little photo shoot. There was a small patch of sunlight available to highlight the very short shadow she was casting.
As I was photographing the fairy, mama deer brought her fawn by to check out the scene. It was so hot outside!
In the evening, for some reason, the dew point dropped and even though it was still hot, it became much less humid. Midsummer magic? We packed up the grandchildren and headed to the Piedmont Wildlife Center. None of us had been there before and they were having a summer solstice celebration. What a great time we had! We got a closer look at some of the birds and turtles in rehab.
Katherine showed a lot of interest in the raptors and Finn was enchanted with the turtles.
We were all delighted with Pumpkin, a sweet little opossum. She’s full grown but only about a third of the size of an average adult. She had a rough start in life. The kids asked all kinds of questions, like, does she eat ants? The answer was not usually, unless they happened to be on something else she was eating, kind of like pepper or another seasoning. And opossums only eat the ticks that are in their fur when they’re grooming themselves.
We had a little walk through the woods and saw a few more birds and animals tucked inside their enclosures. Eventually we got to the solstice campfire where the kids could make their own s’mores. A man playing his guitar gently on the side added to the peaceful mood.
After a while we were invited to participate in a little solstice ritual: writing on a piece of paper what we wished to let go of from the old year and what we wanted to welcome into the next year. Then we burned our papers in the campfire. It was a meaningful way to pause and take stock of our intentions. I noticed Katherine took it very seriously while Finn, being four years younger, was naturally interested in other things.
The plan was to go to Maple View Farm next, for ice cream and to view the sunset. But, we finished our ice cream (sorbet for me) an hour before the sun was due to set, so we called it a day and headed home. It was wonderful celebrating the summer solstice for the first time with our grandchildren.
These pictures are from another walk we took when we were still sick, the weather being so nice we pushed ourselves out the door. It was good to see even more things blooming.
We stopped for quite a while to listen to a Carolina wren loudly singing from a high branch just off the path.
And I’m also glad we went because, finally, the lemon drop swamp azalea was blooming! It was back in January I first spotted the little buds and kept thinking it would bloom soon. I checked on it each and every visit, wondering what color the blooms would be. A lovely shade of lemon chiffon, perhaps.
I do miss my wild beach roses but down here I’ve happily discovered wild Carolina roses, also known as pasture roses. They look about the same to me!
For myself I hold no preference among flowers, so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous.
~ Edward Abbey
(Desert Solitaire)
The very tall (up to 8 feet!) giant coneflowers towered over me!
The height of a patch of native woodland sunflowers also caught my eye. Since I’m only 5 feet tall I guess I’m easily impressed.
And now, the weather is hot and humid, with no break in sight. But lots of flowers out there in the garden are surely thriving in it.
May ended on a very pleasant note, with lots of sunshine, mild temperatures and no humidity! Since we knew these conditions wouldn’t last we went out for a walk, in spite of us both being sick with colds. Who knows when such perfect weather will come around again?
And of course, it being ten days since our last walk, different things were blooming. It’s never the same garden twice.
When I watched the sun rise this morning, due east, I felt that the universe, the solar system, the earth, the year, the season, the day, were still in order, no matter what stupidities man might achieve today. It is good to know such things about the place you live. It is good to know that there are certainties.
~ Hal Borland
(Hal Borland’s Book of Days)
The single greatest lesson the garden teaches is that our relationship to the planet need not be zero-sum, and that as long as the sun still shines and people still can plan and plant, think and do, we can, if we bother to try, find ways to provide for ourselves without diminishing the world.
~ Michael Pollan
(Food, Inc.)