These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God to-day. There is no time in them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence. Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more; in the leafless root there is no less. Its nature is satisfied, and it satisfies nature, in all moments alike. But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present above time. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Self-Reliance)
3.21.25 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden sandhills pyxie-moss
Last year the sandhills pyxie-moss was blooming on January 28 and was still blooming on March 7. This year we saw only one flower on the clump on February 26, but finally, on this March 21 visit we found a full bloom! We will keep checking on it. You may remember that this miniature shrub is very rare and found only in a couple of North Carolina counties.
trailing arbutus
hepatica
little sweet Betsy
When our eyes are graced with wonder, the world reveals its wonders to us. ~ John O’Donohue (Beauty: The Invisible Embrace)
rue-anemone
purple cress aka limestone bittercress
bloodroot
It seems reasonable to believe that the more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction of our race. Wonder and humility are wholesome emotions, and they do not exist side by side with a lust for destruction. ~ Rachel Carson (Silent Spring)
eastern red columbine
eastern redbud
sassafras (redbud in the distance)
After enjoying this wonder-filled morning, a pleasant surprise was waiting for me at home in the evening. As I went to close the drapes in the living room I noticed a pretty mourning dove sitting on the edge of the birdbath on our deck. She was watching me. We made eye contact and we gazed at each other for the longest time. Tim finally went and got the camera and took this picture of her, still looking at me. Years ago, and shortly after my mother died, a pair of mourning doves used to keep me company in my garden while I was out there weeding it, but it’s been many years since I’ve had one make contact with me like this. I felt comforted.
mourning dove photo by Tim
Things have been pretty discouraging around here since Tim had his stents put in. Thankfully he seems to be doing well in cardio rehab. But my dear sister has been diagnosed with the same kind of endometrial cancer I had back in 2017, and her prognosis may not be as favorable as mine was. Also, due to osteoporosis I’ve had to give up my beloved yoga practice. I’ve replaced it with tai chi, which I am liking well enough, but I still find myself grieving for yet another loss. I was very grateful for the solace the mourning dove was offering me.
“When Icicles Hang by the Wall, & Dick the Shepherd Blows His Nail” by Edward Robert Hughes
Soon shall the winter’s foil be here; Soon shall these icy ligatures unbind and melt — A little while, And air, soil, wave, suffused shall be in softness, bloom and growth — a thousand forms shall rise From these dead clods and chills as from low burial graves. Thine eyes, ears — all thy best attributes — all that takes cognizance of natural beauty, Shall wake and fill. Thou shalt perceive the simple shows, the delicate miracles of earth, Dandelions, clover, the emerald grass, the early scents and flowers, The arbutus under foot, the willow’s yellow-green, the blossoming plum and cherry; With these the robin, lark and thrush, singing their songs — the flitting bluebird; For such the scenes the annual play brings on. ~ Walt Whitman (Sands at Seventy)
“Woodland Stream in a Winter Landscape” by John Henry Twachtman
I cannot tell you how the light comes. What I know is that it is more ancient than imagining. That it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us. That it loves searching out what is hidden what is lost what is forgotten or in peril or in pain. That it has a fondness for the body for finding its way toward flesh for tracing the edges of form for shining forth through the eye, the hand, the heart. I cannot tell you how the light comes, but that it does. That it will. That it works its way into the deepest dark that enfolds you, though it may seem long ages in coming or arrive in a shape you did not foresee. And so may we this day turn ourselves toward it. May we lift our faces to let it find us. May we bend our bodies to follow the arc it makes. May we open and open more and open still to the blessed light that comes. ~ Jan Richardson (How the Light Comes)
When we arrived at the botanical garden on Friday, Tim needed to tie his shoe, which gave me a minute to look at the roof of the gazebo he was sitting under. It was full of reindeer lichen and all kinds of moss so I took a few pictures with my zoom lens. When I got home I noticed those tiny red dots on the lichen. (above picture) Apparently these are called lichen fruiting bodies (apothecia) which contain spores that are dispersed in the wind. Just a little biology lesson for the day…
bee hotel
(female) Purple Finch, #80
A quick stop by the bird feeders and there I found another life bird, this time a female Purple Finch!
The Purple Finch is the bird that Roger Tory Peterson famously described as a “sparrow dipped in raspberry juice.” For many of us, they’re irregular winter visitors to our feeders, although these chunky, big-beaked finches do breed in northern North America and the West Coast. Separating them from House Finches requires a careful look, but the reward is a delicately colored, cleaner version of that red finch. Look for them in forests, too, where you’re likely to hear their warbling song from the highest parts of the trees. ~ All About Birds website
Carolina rose hips
We listened for a long time to a Carolina wren singing its heart out in the branches above us…
If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment. If a shower drives us for shelter to the maple grove or the trailing branches of the pine, yet in their recesses with microscopic eye we discover some new wonder in the bark, or the leaves, or the fungi at our feet. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Journal, September 23, 1838)
And finally, tucked away in a shady spot in the herb garden we found a patch of Lenten Roses blooming. They’re not actually roses, they are in the buttercup family. There are many varieties, flowers ranging in color from deep red to white and many shades in between.
It was a lovely surprise to find these flowers blooming so abundantly on a gloomy February morning!
It’s been a challenge getting outside with all the rain we’ve been getting lately. It was drizzling when we got to the botanical garden Sunday afternoon, even though the weather people had promised that the sun would be coming out. We decided to walk anyway.
Along the path we met a staffer named Lauren, who was out in the rain looking for salamanders. We fell into a nice conversation and when we told her about our hunt for seedbox a couple of weeks ago she suggested another plant for us to hunt down. A tiny pyxie-moss was flowering now. She showed us a picture of it on her cell phone, and gave us directions to its location. We found it!
By then it had stopped raining so I went back to the car and got my camera. What a treat to see this plant so rare and unique to the Carolinas!
A rare minute creeping subshrub of xeric areas in the Sandhills region of North Carolina. This is the smaller of our two species of pyxie-moss. Very range-restricted, the entire known range of this species is a handful of counties in North and South Carolina. … The tiny succulent evergreen leaves are less than 5 mm long. … The flowers rarely set seed and the seeds rarely sprout. ~ Carolina Nature website
After enjoying our discovery we went on to explore more of the soggy gardens. There is always something different to see. It was still a damp, gray day.
pretty sure this is a longleaf pine
This resurrection fern was growing abundantly on one side of a tall tree stump. On the other side of the stump it was all mushrooms.
I couldn’t get around to the back of the stump for a full all-mushroom shot, but you can see where the ferns ended and the mushrooms began in the photo below.
I close my eyes and listen to the voices of the rain. … Every drip it seems is changed by its relationship with life, whether it encounters moss or maple or fir bark or my hair. And we think of it as simply rain, as if it were one thing, as if we understood it. I think that moss knows rain better than we do, and so do maples. Maybe there is no such thing as rain; there are only raindrops, each with its own story. ~ Robin Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge & The Teachings of Plants)
lichens on a fallen branch
‘lemon drop’ swamp azalea buds
‘Spain’ rosemary flowering
Atlantic ninebark (rose family) seed head
Ozark witch-hazel blooming
witch-hazel marcescence
winterberry aka black alder
And you know the light is fading all too soon You’re just two umbrellas one late afternoon You don’t know the next thing you will say This is your favorite kind of day It has no walls, the beauty of the rain Is how it falls, how it falls, how it falls ~ Dar Williams ♫ (The Beauty of the Rain) ♫
Lauren had mentioned that rainy days are the best time to look for salamanders. On warm wet nights from January to March here in the Piedmont they emerge from their underground burrows and head for vernal pools to mate and lay eggs. A week after that artic blast it did get unseasonably warm. I wonder if she found any salamanders after we talked. We kept our eyes open but didn’t see any.
Our first winter holidays in North Carolina were amazing! Our walks were few and far between, though, due to all the other activities. Time to get back on track and back to the blogosphere.
Look back on Time, with kindly Eyes — He doubtless did his best — How softly sinks the trembling Sun In Human Nature’s West — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1251)
eastern bluebird
I think if I’m going to photograph more birds we will have to visit more gardens than forests. The trees seem to be so much taller down here and my zoom lens just doesn’t reach those high perches to capture the winged creatures that well. But I’m including this bluebird picture anyway to remind me how nice it was to see and hear a few of them, way overhead, that day. 🙂
I was looking for a course, a way and meaning in my life and thought the answer could be found in all that wise men wrote. And they are surely not to blame if I ended up no wiser. That mystery so clear, so deep, is not to be found in books. It was in your eyes, shining, blue, that I first saw it once. Eternity opened a tiny crack, And earth and heaven sang. ~ Olav H. Hauge (The Magic of Fjords)
..we take another walk 8.2.23 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden
When I woke up yesterday morning the dew point was only 61°F and the temperature was only 65°F (18°C)! Surprise! I couldn’t believe my eyes!! Perfect walking weather. Where on earth did it come from? Canada, the TV meteorologist informed, and it wasn’t going to stick around. So off we went, determined to make the most of a seemingly rare opportunity.
In the rush to get out the door I was so focused on not forgetting my hat that I forgot my camera! (How was that even possible???) So I made do with my cell phone’s camera, which I found very awkward to manipulate, especially since I couldn’t hang it around my neck with a strap and have my hands free whenever I wanted them. But it didn’t matter — I was OUTSIDE and enjoying every precious minute.
The flowers that sleep by night, opened their gentle eyes and turned them to the day. The light, creation’s mind, was everywhere, and all things owned its power. ~ Charles Dickens (The Old Curiosity Shop)
I couldn’t find identification tags for many of the flowers and plants we saw, but some of the ones I matched up had very curious names.
American bladdernut
yellow pitcher plant (carnivorous)
I found this specimen of eastern hemlock, my childhood spirit tree, in the Mountain Habitat section of the gardens. Looking at a range map I see they do grow in the mountains of North Carolina, but not naturally here in the Piedmont region. It seemed scraggly but trying its best to grow in this locale. Notice the tiny new green cones growing above the brown ones.
♡ eastern hemlock ♡
plumleaf azalea
eastern tiger swallowtail
stokes’ aster
this large patch of oregano smelled yummy
It was such a refreshing morning saunter. And the low humidity stuck around for our afternoon visit to the farmers market, adding another pleasant outing to our day. Last week, when we went to the market for the first time on Wednesday, it was in the 90s and very humid. Two days later, when we picked Katie up on Friday, her last day of camp, it was 95°F (35°C) with a heat index of 105°F (41°C)!
