nature – In the Woods

remember how he loved you

5.14.26 ~ Elm Grove Cemetery, Mystic, Connecticut
photo by Larisa

It rained all day on May 14th. I didn’t take a single picture for the entire day. But I’m glad Larisa captured this last moment Finn had with his Grandpa, checking to see how heavy his ashes were. The two of them shared a birthday and were two peas in a pod. I will never forget how much fun it was to watch them playing together.

I chose to bury Tim’s ashes in Elm Grove Cemetery because it is located in the county where we lived for 47 years of our marriage, and because the plot was purchased by my 2nd-great-grandfather, who lies buried there with his own parents and great-grandparents and other relations. They all also lived in southeastern Connecticut, and there is still room there to bury ashes, so it seemed like a good choice. Tim & I took many walks in this beautiful cemetery, which sits on the banks of the Mystic River, just north of Mystic Seaport.

We may fear change or we may embrace it, but the planets turn, life goes on, the Great Cycles continue. These cycles move Nature and our lives through death and rebirth, through containment and release, through holding and letting go. The seed pod tightens and hardens around its precious cargo, then it breaks and releases the new life into the waiting earth.
~ Philip Carr-Gomm
(Inspiration for Life, May 25, 2026)

image credit: Wolf Rock Nature Preserve website

Later in the day we all drove up to Wolf Rock in Mansfield, our northeastern Connecticut hometown, to scatter some of Tim’s ashes along with the remaining ashes he had kept of his brother, Toby. Still raining, it was a quarter-mile hike up very rocky and very muddy terrain through the woods to the glacial erratic where Tim and his brothers used to hang out as teens. Tim and Josh scattered some of Toby’s ashes here in December 2013, but now Dan, Matt and Jed had a chance to be here to scatter the rest of them.

The next day, on May 15th, we held an afternoon celebration of life at the Zbierski House at “our” little city beach. Besides the family, we were now joined by old friends and neighbors and lots of Tim’s buddies from the ham radio clubs he belonged to. It was wonderful. I had spent weeks working on a slide show of Tim’s life which was playing on a TV continuously and started many pleasant conversations and quite a few trips down memory lane…

Below is one of my favorite pictures, taken before the first heart attack and the battle with heart disease began. The fun, empty nest, middle-aged period of our lives. He was 51 and only just beginning to go gray…

Zbierski House at Eastern Point Beach ~ photo by Jenn

I feel more settled now that Tim’s ashes have been returned to the earth and that his family got to be together to say good-bye. The trip was grueling for me physically but somehow I made it and the emotional healing was worth the effort. I’m still incredibly sad and lonely for him but am learning how to carry the grief. How to take walks without him pointing things out to me…

I think my last hurdle will be resuming family history research. It’s going to be hard not having him in the next room, doing ham radio stuff, but always ready to drop everything when I came in to share new discoveries with him. I still have those last three boxes to go through… And several other projects waiting in line…

sunset from the Zbierski House ~ photo by Jenn

lasting for a very short time

A lovely walk with friends down by the creek, dotted with fleeting spring ephemerals at every turn. The trees are leafing out and the sky was as blue as it gets.

People have no respect for impermanence. We take no delight in it; in fact, we despair of it. We regard it as pain. We try to resist it by making things that will last — forever, we say — things that we don’t have to wash, things that we don’t have to iron. Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things.
~ Pema Chödrön
(When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times)

And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky —
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #466)

We are seeing, then, that our experience is altogether momentary. From one point of view, each moment is so elusive and so brief that we cannot even think about it before it has gone. From another point of view, this moment is always here, since we know no other moment than the present moment. It is always dying, always becoming past more rapidly than imagination can conceive. Yet at the same time it is always being born, always new, emerging just as rapidly from that complete unknown we call the future. Thinking about it almost makes you breathless.
~ Alan Watts
(The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety)

green-and-gold (thanks to Nina for the identification)

bluets, anchored in moss, clinging to the creek bank

The green-and-golds and the violet wood-sorrels were new wildflowers for me.

the soft influences of spring

When Nature made the bluebird she wished to propitiate both the sky and the earth, so she gave him the color of the one on his back and the hue of the other on his breast, and ordained that his appearance in spring should denote that the strife and war between these two elements was at an end. He is the peace-harbinger; in him the celestial and terrestrial strike hands and are fast friends. He means the furrow and he means the warmth; he means all the soft, wooing influences of the spring on the one hand, and the retreating footsteps of winter on the other.
~ John Burroughs
(Wake-Robin)

around the botanical garden

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.

I didn’t get too many pictures of the sculptures this year. I guess I was starved for the beauty of flowers and berries!

“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)

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

“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

Chinese aconite aka Carmichael’s monkshood

“Opossum in the Cherry Orchard” by Bronwyn Watson
*Local opossum in early summer after an enjoyable night dining in a cherry tree.*
~ Bronwyn Watson

longleaf pine and sand dune forest

5.10.25 ~ Carolina Beach State Park
Carolina Beach, North Carolina

For our anniversary our daughter treated us to a weekend getaway at the shore, and our son and daughter-in-law came up from Georgia to join us!

Dima is still an avid climber and his children are likewise inclined

Things didn’t go exactly as planned. Tim’s shortness of breath has returned and now he has a cough that might also be related to his diastolic heart failure. (He’s had additional tests and the cardiologists still don’t have any answers.) So we knew ahead of time that he wouldn’t be able to take this long morning walk with me.

It wound up being an afternoon walk because I wound up sick with a flare-up that morning. I needed several hours to recover while the rest of the crew enjoyed visiting, and some time spent at a nearby playground and a walk down to the beach.

When I finally rallied Nate took some of us for a short ride in his huge truck — quite a thrill for me! Arriving at Carolina Beach State Park we then walked about three miles, looking for Venus flytraps in their native habitat and a 50′ high sand dune overlooking the Cape Fear River. The weather was lovely with comfortable temps and just a few drops of rain near the end.

coastal plain forest,
most of our walk looked like this

an abundance of huge pine cones along the trails
provided Finn with plenty of kicking options

The cones of longleaf pine are the largest of the southern pine and range in size from 5 to 12 inches in length. Because of their large size, only animals like the fox squirrel are sizable enough to manipulate and open the longleaf pine cones to eat the seeds before they fall to the ground.
~ The Longleaf Alliance website

reaching the top of the 50′ Sugarloaf Dune

resting at the top of the dune,
looking out over the Cape Fear River

a tree trunk that must have some story to tell…

The urge to run down the dune to the river proved to be irresistible for the kids, but Nate and I continued to rest at the top, and discussed possible routes back to the parking lot. Tried to get some pictures between all the trees with the zoom lens. Not sure if I’ve ever seen a dune covered with a forest before.

lichens and Spanish moss on some of the tree branches

We basically decided to retrace our steps and never did see any Venus flytraps. But, there were lots of pitcher plants in the area where the flytraps were supposed to be. And, as we got back close to the parking lot Finn spotted a broad-headed skink hiding in the leaves.

It was fun climbing up into the truck for the short ride back to the vacation rental. I was so happy to have shared this walk with my son who I don’t get to see often enough. A happy memory to cherish. Each one is precious, and all the more so the older we get.

a forest spirit

Last night we attended a reception at the Chapel Hill-Carrboro City Schools district Visions Art Show with Kat, to see which of her creations her art teacher had submitted. This is Kat’s interpretation of Totoro, an animated nature spirit from one of her favorite movies, My Neighbor Totoro, a sweet Japanese animated fantasy film about two young sisters, Satsuki and Mei, who meet Totoro and other friendly spirits while their mother is sick and in the hospital for an extended stay.

After the others went outside to watch Finn practicing cartwheels on the lawn, Kat and I lingered in the hallways to view and appreciate all the other art on display, so much creativity and variety from kindergarten to high school. We were the last to leave!

they are for what they are

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)

4.2.25 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden

rocky water path

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)

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.

on the quality of life

Special Note: I hesitated to share the following post because it might come across as a big dose of self-pity. I know many people quietly contend with chronic illnesses without complaint, but somehow after five years I wanted to acknowledge my daily struggle. In spite of it, though, there is still much in my life that I enjoy, including being with my loving family and the things I usually write about, and take pictures of, in this space. My next offering will be back to the usual.

🍂

Given the ease with which health infuses life with meaning and purpose, it is shocking how swiftly illness steals away those certainties. It was all I could do to get through each moment, and each moment felt like an endless hour, yet days slipped silently past. Time unused and only endured still vanishes, as if time itself is starving, and each day is swallowed whole, leaving no crumbs, no memory, no trace at all.
~ Elisabeth Tova Bailey
(The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating)

It’s hard to believe it’s been five years since I received my radiation proctitis diagnosis on January 3, 2020. It’s been a difficult journey, learning how to live with a chronic illness. I feel like Sisyphus, continually pushing a boulder up a hill, with no reasonable hope for relief.

I’ve learned that radiation proctitis is called pelvic radiation disease by the medical system in the United Kingdom, a much more comprehensive description than we have here in the United States.

In the last few decades radiotherapy was established as one of the best and most widely used treatment modalities for certain tumours. Unfortunately that came with a price. As more people with cancer survive longer an ever increasing number of patients are living with the complications of radiotherapy and have become, in certain cases, difficult to manage. Pelvic radiation disease (PRD) can result from ionising radiation-induced damage to surrounding non-cancerous tissues resulting in disruption of normal physiological functions and symptoms such as diarrhoea, tenesmus, incontinence and rectal bleeding. The burden of PRD-related symptoms, which impact on a patient’s quality of life, has been under appreciated and sub-optimally managed.
~ Kirsten AL Morris & Najib Y Haboubi
(World Journal of Gastrointestinal Surgery, November 27, 2015, “Pelvic radiation therapy: Between delight and disaster”)

Quality of life — how on earth can it be measured?

The necessary low fiber, low fodmap diet is terribly restrictive and makes eating with others and/or eating out in restaurants very awkward. I need to bring my own food.

The unpredictable and painful flare-ups of symptoms keeps me from making too many plans and the plans I do make need to be tentative. It’s frustrating, but the alternative is to never go out and do anything.

In my darkest moments I feel like this steep price paid for cheating death is not worth it.

The Heart asks Pleasure — first —
And then — excuse from Pain —
And then — those little Anodynes
That deaden suffering —

And then — to go to sleep —
And then — if it should be
The will of it’s Inquisitor
The privilege to die —

~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #588)

Coping mechanisms — there are quite a few…

Gathering information and helpful tips from my sympathetic gastroenterologists (both in Connecticut and North Carolina) — I’ve been lucky with that. (On the other hand, the radiologist and oncologist who dished out the radiotherapy were shockingly unsympathetic about the iatrogenic disease this cancer treatment caused.)

Finding the Pelvic Radiation Disease & Radiation Colitis support group on Facebook. It’s validating to know others who understand what it feels like to be living with this.

Working on my original 2020 goal “to take a walk in the woods.” Spending time with nature and capturing its wonders with my camera is very healing.

Reducing stress by practicing yoga, reading poetry and books, and listening to music. (I’m so grateful for the beautiful Chapel Hill Public Library and for my playlists on Spotify!)

Distraction = long hours of family history research.

Learning to say “no” (and trying not to feel guilty about it) when I need to rest and recuperate.

What a long strange trip it’s been these last five years, running concurrently with the pandemic in the beginning, and complicating our move to North Carolina. Most of all, I’m grateful for my husband. Tim lends a patient and supportive listening ear, bearing witness to my pain and struggle. I honestly don’t know how I would have gotten this far without him!

🍂