The UNC college students were off campus for their spring break so we took advantage of temporary free street parking and visited Coker Arboretum, which is one of the botanical garden’s properties. It was a chilly, gray day, which made the pops of color we saw seem all the brighter. The lovely deciduous saucer magnolias were starting to bloom, ahead of putting out their leaves.
saucer magnolia
Draw me a Robin — on a stem — So I am hearing him, I’ll dream, And when the Orchards stop their tune — Put my pretense — away — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #239)
Chinese redbud
My mother had a dearly loved andromeda planted by our house, right beside the dining room window. Birds would perch on it while waiting their turn at the feeder, which was attached to that window. As a child, I loved watching the morning birds while I was eating my own breakfast. Mom also said her favorite flower was lily of the valley, which looks very similar to these andromeda blossoms, and is why the shrub is often called a lily-of-the-valley bush.
andromeda aka lily-of-the-valley bush
golden ragwort
Japanese camellia
bridal wreath spirea
‘spectabilis’ border forsythia
‘waterlily’ star magnolia
English primrose
flowering quince
It’s always nice to find a little sign identifying the tree, shrub or flowers I am looking at, confirming or disputing my guesses. There were plenty of robins and sparrows singing and flitting about, and we even saw and heard a towhee, but none of them would stay put for half a second to let me capture a picture! This is our second spring in North Carolina and it’s proving to be every bit as enchanting as our first one.
Another lovely midday stroll through the botanical garden, noticing many small things. This has definitely become our go-to place, visited as often as we used to visit our little city beach back in Connecticut. We find ourselves checking out some regular spots, like the little patch of sandhills pyxie-moss, which is filling in nicely.
sandhills pyxie-moss with pine cone left after a prescribed burn
bloodroot
limestone bittercress aka purple cress
If you will stay close to nature, to its simplicity, to the small things hardly noticeable, those things can unexpectedly become great and immeasurable. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to a Young Poet)
golden ragwort
little sweet Betsy (a trillium)
patch of little sweet Betsy
bottlebrush buckeye
It is always safe to dream of spring. For it is sure to come; and if it be not just as we have pictured it, it will be infinitely sweeter. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery (The Story Girl)
Red-shouldered Hawk, #86
We heard a hawk calling and Tim finally spotted it. These were the best pictures I managed to get of it before it flew away. Turns out it was another life bird for me, even though I’ve seen them in captivity before I’m counting this one because it was in the wild.
Whether wheeling over a swamp forest or whistling plaintively from a riverine park, a Red-shouldered Hawk is typically a sign of tall woods and water. It’s one of our most distinctively marked common hawks, with barred reddish-peachy underparts and a strongly banded tail. In flight, translucent crescents near the wingtips help to identify the species at a distance. These forest hawks hunt prey ranging from mice to frogs and snakes. ~ All About Birds website
‘lemon drop’ swamp azalea buds (looking about the same as they did five weeks ago)
oakleaf hydrangea
tufted titmouse
After being delighted to finally get a photo of a titmouse closer to the earth and to my camera, another life bird suddenly came into the picture! What a sweet surprise and wonderful way to end this lovely spring walk.
White-breasted Nuthatch, #87
A common feeder bird with clean black, gray, and white markings, White-breasted Nuthatches are active, agile little birds with an appetite for insects and large, meaty seeds. They get their common name from their habit of jamming large nuts and acorns into tree bark, then whacking them with their sharp bill to “hatch” out the seed from the inside. White-breasted Nuthatches may be small but their voices are loud, and often their insistent nasal yammering will lead you right to them. ~ All About Birds website
Although winter is still with us, we sense the subtle renewing of life at the edge of our senses, visible in the growing light and the first greening shoots. Like a seed germinating in the dark soil, we, too, feel the bright spark of life that burns within us. Its call will soon drive us from the warmth and safety of the dark to the ever-quickening call of the light. For now, we must sit at Brigid’s hearth, dreaming and drawing nourishment and comfort from it until the lighter, warmer days. At Imbolc we honour those dreams and the inner fire that will create the world anew — we, too, shall soon become the spring. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
Last night an acorn awakened when the forest was still. Everything was off in its own dream world And she was lonely, maybe frightened. She was too shy to wake some company For they’d ask why and she’d have no answer. So she went to sleep again, And fell off the old oak tree. Having braved this alone she was free And felt truly beautiful falling in love with the earth now holding her. ~ Barbara Chomiak, age 16
I haven’t been posting — or walking — much lately because I’ve been working on a big project, which I hope to finish by winter solstice. While sorting through things I discovered the above poem which I wrote almost 50 years ago! It captures the essence of that adolescent angst I remember so well. Anyhow, I may not be posting for a bit longer but will return as soon as possible.
“Autumn Bouquet (Portrait of Vera Repina)” by Ilya Repin
The mind is never so open as such clear days in the fall, when the air has a special tang of flowers and frosty iron, and something flits lightly past you, a memory you can’t recall, a dream forever undreamt and forever far beyond. ~ Inger Hagerup (The Magic of Fjords)
This might be my last post tagged with “pandemic.” It’s been two and a half years! Not that I think we won’t eventually catch covid, but we have gotten our state-of-the-art bivalent booster shot now and we seem to be living in a new world, coexisting with a treatable endemic virus. We’re still masking inside public places but getting more adventurous…
The autumn equinox now seems like a perfect time turn over a new 🍁 and stop focusing on the virus. Yes, the mind is never so open as such clear days in the fall!
Trees in particular were mysterious and seemed to me direct embodiments of the incomprehensible meaning of life. For that reason, the woods were the places where I felt closest to its deepest meaning and to its awe-inspiring workings. ~ Carl Jung (Memories, Dreams, Reflections)
9.19.21 ~ Merritt Family Forest, Groton, Connecticut
There’s a web like a spider’s web Made of silver light and shadows Spun by the moon in my room at night It’s a web made to catch a dream Hold it tight ‘til I awaken As if to tell me, my dream is all right ♫ (American Folk Song) ♫
We used to sing that song around the campfire when I was a girl. It’s such a comforting tune but my spider dreams were never all right. The following pictures are of the pappi of American burnweed seeds caught in another cobweb. I don’t think this spider could have been pleased with what his net trapped!
From the first opening of our eyes, it is the light that attracts us. We clutch aimlessly with our baby fingers at the gossamer-motes in the sunbeam. ~ Lucy Larcom (The Unseen Friend)
I am an incurable arachnophobe so I was happy to not see any spiders out and about. But I couldn’t help appreciating the handiwork they left behind.
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs. How rivers and stones are forever in allegiance with gravity while we ourselves dream of rising. How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken. How people come, from delight or the scars of damage, to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.
On Christmas Eve morning we headed 13 miles north to find some snow without a sheet of ice on top of it. It was melting up in Ledyard but still looking lovely and was walkable. I was delighted! I was going to get my chance to walk in the snow covered woods!
trailhead, others had been here, too
In the winter there are fewer men in the fields and woods … you see the tracks of those who had preceded you, and so are more reminded of them than in summer. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Journal, December 12, 1859)
first glimpse of a wolf tree
The preserve’s website mentioned wolf trees, which are “relics from the agricultural era when trees along the edges of fields could spread their branches.” My curiosity piqued, I soon spotted one. I’ve seen trees like this before, but didn’t know there was a term for them.
winter shadows are long and enchanting
moss peeking through the snow
beech marcescence with splotches of lichen
part of the huge wolf tree, probably an oak
In the strictest sense, wolf trees are those spared the axe during widespread Colonial-era deforestation in order to provide shade for livestock or mark a boundary. As second- and third-growth woods filled in abandoned pasture and farmland, these titans have become crowded by dense, spindly youngsters. Where those upstarts are tall and narrow, competing fiercely for canopy light, the wolf tree they surround has fat, laterally extended boughs and a comparatively squat trunk—a testament to the open, sunny country in which it once prospered. ~ Ethan Shaw (The Old in the Forest: Wolf Trees of New England & Farther Afield)
wolf tree bark close up
wolf tree leaves high up on a branch
my favorite picture capturing the magic of the snowy woods
Avery Hill Brook
When we got to the brook we decided to turn around because there was no bridge and crossing over by stepping on the small rocks looked like a dicey proposition. But on the way back we paid more attention to the little things peeping out from under the snow.
ice, leaves, moss, lichen, rock
oak leaf in snow
chunky snow melting on rock
lichen, moss, leaves, snow
The winter, with its snow and ice, is not an evil to be corrected. It is as it was designed and made to be, for the artist has had leisure to add beauty to use. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Journal, December 11, 1855)
more beech marcescence
part of rock surrounded by melting snow
simplicity
puffs and sparkle
We will return some day, better prepared to cross the brook and make our way to the cove, where we might find osprey and waterfowl. It was good to get a great walk in before heading home to hunker down for the fast approaching Christmas wind and rain storm.
We wound up having a good Christmas, even though it was pouring rain all day. There were treasured video calls with family. We finished a jigsaw puzzle together while listening to my winter solstice playlist on shuffle. Watched the final episodes of a Norwegian TV series on Netflix, Home for Christmas, dubbed in English. (Hjem til Jul)
“In the Still Light of Dawn” by Alan Giana
As we started to close the drapes at dusk we found ourselves awestruck. The eastern sky, opposite of the sunset, was violet!!! We couldn’t believe our eyes! The color comes from the extra moisture in the atmosphere refracting the setting sun’s light rays so that the violet is reflected.
12.25.20 ~ eastern sky at sunset
Color! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams. ~ Paul Gauguin (Perception & Imaging: Photography as a Way of Seeing)
