“Woman Seated Beneath a Tree” by Gustave Caillebotte
Some people take their troubles to a particular tree and gain refreshment and solace from its company; others derive inspiration from sitting at its foot or in its branches; still others have discovered that trees are truly mediators between the worlds, living bridges between our apparent world and the unseen realms of the otherworld. When we approach a tree, we need to slow down our breathing, slow down our rapid pace, our mental busyness, in order to be attuned to the spirit of the tree itself. … With our heart, we ask the tree to show us part of its nature. … We listen and give thanks. Even when we are just passing a tree, not visiting, we can still send out a greeting to it. ~ Caitlín Matthews (The Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning Year)
When the act of reflection takes place in the mind, when we look at ourselves in the light of thought, we discover that our life is embosomed in beauty. Behind us, as we go, all things assume pleasing forms, as clouds do far off. Not only things familiar and stale, but even the tragic and terrible, are comely, as they take their place in the pictures of memory. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Spiritual Laws)
Hard, hard it is, this anxious autumn, To lift the heavy mind from its dark forebodings; To sit at the bright feast, and with ruddy cheer, Give thanks for the harvest of a troubled year.
From the apprehensive present, from a future packed With unknown dangers, monstrous, terrible and new— Let us turn for comfort to this simple fact: We have been in trouble before . . . and we came through.
In the human order creativity is neither a rational, deductive process nor an irrational wandering of the undisciplined mind but the emergence of beauty as mysteriously as the blossoming of a field of daisies out of the dark Earth. ~ Thomas Berry (The Sacred Universe: Earth, Spirituality, and Religion in the Twenty-First Century)
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments; love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand’ring bark Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom: If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. ~ William Shakespeare (Sonnet 116)
For many of the early years of our marriage we had this sonnet taped to our bedroom door, and over the years I’ve never found a better estimation of true love. It was printed with an old-fashioned font on paper that looked like parchment. At some point when we moved from one home to another it got lost, but I’ve never forgotten Shakespeare’s insights.
When we were young and wide-eyed, we used to wonder what it would be like to grow old together. Decades later, after heart disease and cancer entered our lives, we started wondering if we would grow old together. But somehow we made it, and now we know. ♡
2.4.25 ~ Confluence Natural Area, Hillsborough, North Carolina
The first thing to catch my eye as we started down Rocky Water Path was a patch of Christmas ferns (above) growing down the edges of a gully, hanging like drapes. They usually grow up in a fountain-like shape.
And then there was a large group of boulders, not something we’re used to seeing in the woods in these parts. Our trail was leading us sharply downhill to the West Fork Eno River. But just before we reached the river we encountered a box of walking sticks.
Need a stick? Take a stick. Return the stick for another to use.
The sign on the box (above) and the sign next to it (below) had us scratching our heads. Why would we need a stick? We already knew what path we were on, why a sign in the middle of it? Why was there a lost and found, also in the middle of nowhere?
We soon learned why we might need a stick! Turning around towards the river we saw a sign for another trail, pointing across the river. But how to get across? Checking the map we found our location and noted that we were at the “River Crossing.” Hmmm…
We sat down to rest on a conveniently placed bench and after some time figured out that there were some stones going in a straight line across the river. (below) Apparently that was the river crossing. The stones were far enough part that we would not have dared to cross, even with two sticks in hand! Maybe if we were 20 years younger, but it’s hard to remember what having that sort of confidence feels like…
From studying the map it looks like there is no other way to get to Poplar Bend Loop. But if you crossed back over from that trail and happened to forget how you got there, at least you would find the sign and know you had made it back to the Rocky Water Path and could choose to follow it in either direction. As for us, we passed by the crossing and continued on our way along Rocky Water Path. Niste:kmani:hątkóx, means Rocky Water Path in Yesnechi, the language of one of the Sioux tribes who first lived in this area.
holly tree growing over the river (a bit of green to go with the Christmas fern seen earlier)
Rocky Water Path along West Fork Eno River
Fresh air is as good for the mind as for the body. Nature always seems trying to talk to us as if she had some great secret to tell. And so she has. ~ John Lubbock (The Use of Life)
the trunk of a very tall beech tree
As we were leaving we disturbed a flock of robins foraging for food on the trail. One of them was standing his ground, keeping a close eye on us.
I’m not sure if we’ll come back to this wonderful nature preserve because the cell phone reception wasn’t good. (Tim’s walking app wouldn’t connect to the cell phone towers.) It was remote enough that we were concerned about calling for help in an emergency. But I imagine it must be quite beautiful here in the spring.
3.30.24 ~ ‘old blush’ rose North Carolina Botanical Garden
It’s always a pleasure to be greeted by the roses dangling from their arbor each time we visit the botanical garden. It never gets old! Like sunrises and sunsets, I suppose. A steady presence. But we were on a new mission this day to locate a Virginia dwarf trillium, another tiny ephemeral we heard was blooming. Along the way we saw…
Spanish lavender
hermit thrush
This (below) was the only undamaged dwarf trillium we could find, surrounded by other kinds of plants. We had torrential rains for a couple of days and I think they did a number on the tiny trilliums. But I’m grateful we got a chance to see this one. It is much smaller than all the other regular size trilliums we’ve been seeing this spring.
Virginia dwarf trillium
spreading Jacob’s ladder
white-throated sparrow
Only by living for many moons in one region, my peripheral senses tracking seasonal changes in the local plants while the scents of the soil steadily seep in through my pores — only over time can the intelligence of a place lay claim upon my person. Slowly, as the seasonal round repeats itself again and again, the lilt and melody of the local songbirds becomes an expectation within my ears, and so the mind I’ve carried within me settles into the wider mind that enfolds me. ~ David Abram (Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology)
yellow trillium
twisted trillium
pine warbler
sweet shrub aka Carolina allspice
great white trillium (?)
tufted titmouse
red chokeberry
squirrel going out on a limb to reach maple seeds what a mess he made discarding the “helicopters”
carpenter bee (thanks to Eliza for the identification)
As we were making our way back to the parking lot this giant bee (above) was hovering over the walkway, blocking our path. Well, if it was just going to stay there I might as well get a picture of it. I don’t know if these creatures are unique to this area but sometimes they hover outside our windows and crash into them repeatedly. It sounds like someone is throwing pebbles at the window.
So we’ve lived here for ten moons I think, not very many so far, but our senses are slowly getting familiar with the seasonal changes.
..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)!
