Here’s the puzzle I started on the Autumn Equinox and finished this morning. This is the second stop on my journey around the Wheel of the Year by myself. And a little trip down memory lane with some photos from past celebrations. Enjoy!
2021 ~ Old Mystic, Connecticut
Clyde’s Cider Mill
The two main things we used to do to celebrate the equinox were apple picking at Holmberg’s Orchard and picking up freshly pressed apple cider and pumpkin bread at Clyde’s Cider Mill. At home Tim used to make me a great cup of hot cider with cinnamon sugar on the rim of the cup. And although I don’t have too many pictures of leaf beds, an autumn day wouldn’t be complete without a walk through the ‘fresh, crisp, and rustling leaves‘ in the woods. 🍂
2020 ~ Holmberg Orchards, Ledyard, Connecticut
2020 ~ Holmberg Orchards
2016 ~ Holmberg Orchards ~ hanging gourds
2016 ~ Holmberg Orchards
It is pleasant to walk over the beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling leaves. How beautifully they go to their graves! How gently lay themselves down and turn to mould! Painted of a thousand hues, and fit to make the beds of us living. So they troop to their last resting place, light and frisky. They put on no weeds, but merrily they go scampering over the earth, selecting the spot, choosing a lot, ordering no iron fence… How many flutterings before they rest quietly in their graves! They that soared so loftily, how contentedly they return to dust again, and are laid low, resigned to lie and decay at the foot of the tree, and afford nourishment to new generations of their kind, as well as to flutter on high! They teach us how to die. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Autumnal Tints)
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind, Except that it is gone Are ignorant of it’s Concern As if it were not born.
Through all their former Places, we Like Individuals go Who something lost, the seeking for Is all that’s left them, now —
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1066)
It is often said that grief comes in waves, and I would add that some of those surges are more intense than others. On September 12th I finally made it up to Connecticut to the cemetery to see installed the flat granite grave marker I designed and ordered for Tim and me. Traveling with chronic radiation proctitis isn’t a pleasant experience, to say the least, but I felt compelled to make an effort to see for myself our final resting place.
Elm Grove Cemetery is an exceptionally beautiful cemetery running along the Mystic River, and the view from our ancestral plot is lovely. It was established in 1853, and my 2nd-great-grandfather, William Martin White (1836-1925), purchased a large plot for his family. He had buried there his former father-in-law and mother-in-law, Robinson & Lydia Hill; his own parents, Austin & Lucy Ann (Thompson) White; his grandparents, Oliver & Lydia White; and his 16-year-old son, James Courtland White, who died from a gunshot wound. William lies buried there with his second wife, Martha Bennett. We don’t know where his first wife, Ellen Hill, my 2nd-great-grandmother, is buried, or whatever happened to her after they were divorced in 1876. When Larisa inquired she learned there was still space enough to bury our ashes there, too, since I am a direct descendant, and could prove it. Tim & I spent most of our married life nearby and so this seemed like the perfect place for us to end up.
Part of the rural cemetery movement, of the mid-nineteenth century, Elm Grove represents the Victorian approach to eternal rest in a park setting of rolling hills, brooks, and trees, showcasing ornate sepulchers decorated with flowers, willow trees, crowns, and trumpeting figures. ~ Elm Grove Cemetery Association webpage
It was a bittersweet day, as so many wonderful things happened but of course, I deeply missed having Tim to share them with. My son and daughter-in-law, Nate & Shea, had driven me up and after we visited the cemetery we met my sister and brother-in-law, Beverly & John, at an old favorite family seafood shack, Dad’s Restaurant, in Niantic. To our surprise, it had been beautifully renovated in our absence! The new deck for eating outside was higher than the old one, so we could see over the elevated railroad tracks out over Long Island Sound. Did I mention the weather was perfect that day? And they have the best fish and chips in the world, in my opinion, and I enjoyed every morsel.
After our lunch Nate took Shea to visit her relatives while Beverly, John, and I took a long nature walk through a marsh and up and down the beach it led to. Later, we wound up at Eastern Point Beach, “our beach,” and sat for a couple of hours on the bench where Tim & I used to spend our summer evenings. I went wild taking pictures of the gulls. (450 pictures on the camera for the one day!) The day already feels like a distant sweet dream now. I hope to write two more posts with pictures of these two adventures soon.
I chose the Dickinson poem above because I think she used the word homesick aptly to describe what grief can feel like. But the home we yearn for, our person, is gone, missing as if he never existed. And I could identify with the second stanza, feeling lost, as I visited some of the former places we so often used to be at together. I think I will never stop seeking Tim. Last night in line at the grocery store I was overcome with a strong urge to turn to him and rest my head on his shoulder, as I often did, and to receive a comforting hug. (Grocery shopping has ever been exhausting for me.) I never know when another wave will sweep over me. But I’m glad I went and have found some peace from being there.
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)
My dear sister-in-law, Fran, and I attended a Dar Williams concert on Tuesday, February 10, at the A. J. Fletcher Opera Theater, in Raleigh, with Seth Glier opening. We had such a great time listening to her wonderful story-telling melodies. The little anecdotes she shared between songs were very amusing and heartwarming.
The words to one tune in particular, from her new Hummingbird Highway album, resonated with me deeply, especially at this time in my life:
In the parking lot the dark becomes two panes of light There’s a charcoal slash of ocean and a smoky plank of sky Now they’re changing colors Laurel green with alabaster, Agate blue with snowy aster. And as the blues are brightening and the cars are coming in, You see a seagull weave a path upon the wind, Like a thread that can begin and then begin While the world just goes about its day As the ground beneath you falls away In this time when there’s no time, there is no place to be, What bird did you see?
You think a goldfinch is enchanting and you know you told her, Now a goldfinch lands above you like it’s on your shoulder, Yesterday you saw a red-tailed hawk Around a corner proud and still Out of place, a sentinel. And at the window when sparrows flew away, A single cardinal seemed to know he had to stay, He had to be the bright vermillion in the gray, While the world just goes about its day As the ground beneath you falls away In the presence of this absence, was there one bright flash, a simple song, a revery What bird did you see?
And You will feel the summer sun and autumn rays, You will return to busy friends and busy days but now, In this time between the here and the hereafter there’s a feather at your door, Love will find its way, In the very life you have today, You’ll go back to what you understand, Maybe unbelieve But tell me now, what bird did you see? It’s okay to know it’s me.
What fire could ever equal the sunshine of a winter’s day, when the meadow mice come out by the wall-sides, and the chickadee lisps in the defiles of the wood? The warmth comes directly from the sun, and is not radiated from the earth, as in summer; and when we feel his beams on our backs as we are treading some snowy dell, we are grateful as for a special kindness, and bless the sun which has followed us into that by-place. ~ Henry David Thoreau (A Winter Walk)
“Shelter along the Appalachian Trail” by Carol M. Highsmith
The forest behind my house is already becoming something new, I notice, as I walk trails that used to be shady. With so many fallen giants, the floor now lies under open sky. I count sprouting acorns by the dozens, arching their necks and reaching for a new bonanza of sunlight. I have so many hopes for this place I love. Mostly that we’ll rise like these seedlings from our scoured landscape, blessed with the kindness we’ve shared with our neighbors and the will to extend our care to those who follow behind us on these paths. ~ Barbara Kingsolver (Southern Living, May 2025, “The Heart of Appalachia”)
On September 27 last year Hurricane Helene tore through Appalachia, affecting the community in Virginia where author Barbara Kingsolver lives. It also devastated 29 of North Carolina’s 100 counties, which are part of the same geographic region. (The county where we live is in the Piedmont region.) For some reason I never mentioned this disaster on this blog last year, probably because I couldn’t process what I was learning about it in real time.
Our grandchildren had no school that day so we had planned to take them to the Carolina Tiger Rescue. The day before, the weather forecasters warned of torrential rain for our area but the tour is by reservation only and the website said it would happen rain or shine. So we were prepared and bought rain ponchos for the four of us. But that morning the Rescue cancelled the tour and we stayed home. I’m glad we didn’t risk getting caught in a flash flood on the roads. It rained a lot and we had two tornado warnings during the day, which sent us to hunker down in the bathroom, but thankfully we weren’t hit. The disruption to our lives was nothing compared to what was happening to our neighbors only a few hours away.
A year earlier in October, we had stayed for a weekend getaway in the beautiful town of Black Mountain. We had a wonderful time walking through the town, visiting Mount Mitchell, hiking the Balsam Nature Trail in the state park, and driving along the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway. Little did we know Black Mountain would experience catastrophic flooding from the storm. Roads and bridges were damaged or washed away. The pictures we saw on the news were shocking and sobering. But since then the stories being shared of kind people helping one another have been heartwarming. I hope we can plan another visit some day.
However, the severely limited federal response under the current administration has been disturbing. According to our governor:
In addition to the $13.5 billion that I am requesting of Congress in new appropriations, North Carolina has yet to receive billions of dollars that Congress worked together on a bipartisan basis to appropriate last December. Just as I asked in February, I am urging federal agencies to take action to unlock those funds so we can put them to work as soon as possible where they are desperately needed.
We are grateful for every dollar that brings us a step closer to recovery, yet current federal financial support is not enough. In total, federal support amounts to approximately 9% of the total damage western North Carolina suffered. Many of the largest, most devastating storms, like Katrina, Maria, and Sandy, saw upwards of 70% of damage covered by federal funding, and from available historical data, the federal government has typically covered between 40 and 50 percent of costs caused by major hurricanes. The people of North Carolina deserve a fair shake, just like the residents of other states and territories.
~ Gov. Josh Stein (Hurricane Helene Recovery, September 15, 2025, Federal Funding Request)
10.21.24 ~ Stone Knoll, Calvander, North Carolina a glimpse of part of it from the road
Located less than three miles from our home in Calvander is a sacred monument nestled beside a large field, created by a housing developer for nearby residents to use for contemplation and connecting to nature. It was built 30 years ago, and even though it is on private property, belonging to a homeowner’s association, respectful visitors are welcome.
The reason people compare Stone Knoll to Stonehenge is because the spacious outdoor monument — like the one in England — is composed of giant boulders and stone slabs that spark curiosity about how they got there and what their significance is. At Stone Knoll, the stones are arranged in a spiraling pattern that is, by design, soothingly mesmerizing. Large, monolithic slabs mark the four compass points — north, south, east, and west — each adorned with animal footprints and thought-provoking poems by the likes of Maya Angelou and Carl Sandburg. ~ Jimmy Tomlin (Our State: Celebrating North Carolina, November 2024, “Sacred Respite”)
South ~ Coyote ~ Noontime
the waning gibbous moon was not to be overlooked
East ~ Eagle ~ Sunrise
the center of the spiral
The stones closer to the center of the spiral were progressively smaller and more closely spaced than the stones father out from the center. I climbed up the step seen on the center rock (above) in order to get the picture of the flat plaque in the picture below.
the words were difficult to make out
North ~ White Buffalo ~ Old Age
the adjacent field was full of these grasses, making for a purple haze effect
pretty grasses and orbs
West ~ Bear ~ Sunset
this was my favorite poem
a peaceful setting
We had the place to ourselves and appreciated very much the quiet moments spent there.
5.31.24 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden common yarrow
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?
bronze fennel
And of course, it being ten days since our last walk, different things were blooming. It’s never the same garden twice.
golden tickseed
bee visiting English lavender
purple coneflower
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)
hemlock cones
woodland pinkroot
crow poison (poisonous to humans and animals)
common sanddragon dragonfly
phlox
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.)
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.
