Within the grip of winter, it is almost impossible to imagine the spring. The gray perished landscape is shorn of color. Only bleakness meets the eye; everything seems severe and edged. Winter is the oldest season; it has some quality of the absolute. Yet beneath the surface of winter, the miracle of spring is already in preparation; the cold is relenting; seeds are wakening up. Colors are beginning to imagine how they will return. Then, imperceptibly, somewhere one bud opens and the symphony of renewal is no longer reversible. From the black heart of winter a miraculous, breathing plenitude of color emerges. ~ John O’Donohue (To Bless the Space Between Us)
Groundhog Day was one of our favorite holidays. We had a tradition of taking our groundhog stuffy outside to see (or to not see) his shadow. We named him Basil (Wasyl) after my grandfather, who was born in Ukraine on February 2, 1882. By 2014 Basil had a companion, who was at first named Basil, Jr. At some point Tim, with his endless sense of humor, started calling the little one Oregano, and it stuck.
I cannot bear to continue this tradition without my beloved. So I decided to dig up some of the pictures I took of it over the years, in memory of Tim. I am definitely within the grip of winter, the one outside and a winter of grief. I still can’t imagine how a future without him will ever feel like spring.
Tim, Oregano & Basil bird-watching together (2025, Bolin Forest) this turned out to be our last Groundhog Day together
definite shadows (2024, North Carolina Botanical Garden)
Tim waiting for the parade to begin with Basil & Oregano (2023, Essex Ed Groundhog Day Parade)
fun in the snow (2022, Haley Farm State Park)
by the sea (2019, Eastern Point Beach)
Tim waiting with the Basils (2014, Essex Ed Groundhog Day Parade)
Basil, Oregano and I will stay inside and light a candle this year.
George & Julia Brumley Family Nature Preserve 9.9.25 ~ Chapel Hill, North Carolina
An atypical lovely September day dawned and invited us to explore another wonderful nature preserve. There we were delighted to find a labyrinth and two new kinds of butterflies. Tim was pondering how to describe his current style of walking, coming up with strolling, but not entirely satisfied with that word. Thinking of Thoreau, I suggested sauntering to him. He tried it on and used it a few times. Looked it up at home. It’s sticking.
St. John’s wort
fence holding up an apple (?) tree
part of the labyrinth
American beautyberry
🍃
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology —
Because he travels freely And wears a proper coat The circumspect are certain That he is dissolute
Had he the homely scutcheon Of modest Industry ’Twere fitter certifying For Immortality —
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1701)
🍃
red-spotted purple
We couldn’t get enough of the bright color of these red-spotted purples and couldn’t wait to get home to identify this butterfly!
eastern redbud seed pods
Carolina satyr
There were hundreds of these satyrs flying around the labyrinth and nearby. They were tiny and didn’t stay still long enough for a good photo shoot.
?
pokeweed
To be honest, I forgot to think about ticks before taking this walk. Then, about half way through the walk we encountered three serious birders coming down the trail, carrying large camera lenses and binoculars. I noticed they all had their pants tucked into their socks, which jogged my memory and started me worrying since I had no tick repellent on.
sunlit mulberry leaf
Later that evening I felt a strong itch near my knee and the next morning saw the seed tick bite. Just one. Why do I never see an adult tick? Why do these invisible seed ticks get me every time??? (And never bother Tim…) But one bite is better endured than the 27 bites I got the first time this happened. I’ve got to learn to not let my guard down.
Even though I’m seeing lots of bluebirds these days, they are proving to be very challenging to photograph! The one above cooperated by staying put for a little while, but his position in the available light left a lot to be desired. Still, I kind of like that thin crescent outline of light on his breast and belly.
sassafras blossoms
I’m paying more attention to the small grove of sassafras saplings. Right now there is a patch of pretty violets surrounding their trunks. By April other wildflowers will be blooming there.
violets
We checked on the sandhills pyxie-moss and found it still blooming, in spite of all the grasses, pine needles and cones, and assorted leaves trying to cover it up.
sandhills pyxie-moss
red maple seeds
Two weeks after the controlled burn the cinnamon ferns are coming up!
cinnamon fern
evergreen blueberry
golden ragwort
Alabama snow-wreath
rue-anemone aka windflower
Look who we caught making himself right at home in the birds’ tray feeder.
Who robbed the Woods — The trusting Woods? The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and Mosses — His fantasy to please — He scanned their trinkets — curious — He grasped — he bore away — What will the solemn Hemlock — What will the Fir tree — say? ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #57)
Tuesday’s visit to the botanical garden was bright and sunny, and we enjoyed seeing the gentle, even light of the approaching equinox illuminating grasses, spring ephemerals, and shrub buds and blooms. Every year before spring arrives there are controlled burns in some of the piedmont and coastal plain gardens, and we happened to catch sight of one that day. We even spotted a squirrel along a path, so busy eating a bundle of plant stocks and leaves that he didn’t notice how close we were to him.
I can scroll and worry indoors, or I can step outside and remember how it feels to be part of something larger, something timeless, a world that reaches beyond me and includes me, too. The spring ephemerals have only the smallest window for blooming, and so they bloom when the sunlight reaches them. Once the forest becomes enveloped in green and the sunlight closes off again, they will wait for the light to come back. ~ Margaret Renkl (The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year)
dimpled trout lily
little sweet Betsy
‘lemon drop’ swamp azalea
‘Georgia blue’ speedwell
Lenten rose
By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted — Which blossom in the dark. ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #37)
weeping forsythia
The native wildflowers and grasses in these gardens beds evolved with periodic wildfires, which keep trees and shrubs from growing in and return nutrients to the soil. In a few weeks, new growth will be emerging from the ashes. ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden (Facebook, March 10, 2025)
a yearly controlled burn in the Coastal Plain Habitat
So many simple ‘chivalries’ exist and noticing even a few of them can bring us great pleasure and help us to ‘remember how it feels to be a part of something larger.’
Counting one’s blessings has a particular poignancy at this festival because, as we mark the longest day, we are reminded that from this point the year will begin to wane and the days will gradually shorten. Transience is a reality for all of us and so we learn that our capacity for joy and happiness — like an inner sun — must radiate from within. It’s worth taking a moment to ponder the mystery that at the height of summer winter plants its own seed. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
I noticed how similar the shape of a cicada wing was to the shape of a maple seed. In this sculpture I decided to merge the two. ~ Sam Spiczka (“Cicada Maple Seed” sculpture)
after, autumn ends
This is my selection for Karma’s Before & After Photo Hunt. The sculpture was taken down shortly after the second picture, much to my disappointment, as I thought it would be great for a four season series. But it will do well enough for this before-and-after autumn. Most of the leaves on this beautiful southern sugar maple have stayed on the tree for the winter, a good example of marcescence. It’s become my favorite tree in the North Carolina Botanical Garden.
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)
Every day the North Carolina Botanical Garden Facebook page adds a post about something currently happening or growing in their gardens. Recently they posted a picture of a square seed capsule with the following information:
This funky plant grows in wet areas like ditches and freshwater tidal marshes. Its small yellow flowers drop their petals quickly, sometimes after just a single day, but we get to enjoy the beautiful seed capsules through the fall and winter. You’ll find seedbox alongside the goldenrods and ferns in our Coastal Plain Habitat.
So I decided we would hunt for this interesting looking seed capsule. We had no idea what size it would be but we headed for the Coastal Plain Habitat and searched and searched with no luck.
We then looked for identification signs for goldenrods and ferns, found some and located what looked like a promising patch of dried up vegetation near them.
red bay tree with several burls
Then Tim googled seedbox and found out that these seed capsules were very small, about 1/8 in. cubed. So my eyes kept inspecting the area ever more thoroughly…
We did see lots of pretty dry plants…
And then, at last, I found some!!! In the picture below the seedbox capsules are tangled up with another kind of plant.
Tim used his walking stick to move one stem of the capsules away and turned them so we could see the tops of them. Cute little cubes. I imagine there is a seed in each box. Seedbox! So tiny! (picture below) Our persistence paid off and I doubt we would ever have noticed these little gems if we weren’t looking for them.
After that bit of excitement a hermit thrush flew by us and landed in the bushes. It stayed put for quite a while and I thoroughly enjoyed the photo op.
The botanical garden also has a bird blind with bird feeders in the Children’s Wonder Garden so we walked over there, spotting some cardinals and lovely trees along the way.
southern sugar maple leaves
northern cardinal
river birch bark (reminds me of the one I had outside my kitchen window in Connecticut)
another northern cardinal
And lo and behold, there on the feeder was a new life bird for me, a Carolina Chickadee!!! I couldn’t zoom in fast enough before it left but I was happy to spot one. 🙂
Carolina Chickadee, #79
John James Audubon named this bird while he was in South Carolina. The curious, intelligent Carolina Chickadee looks very much like a Black-capped Chickadee, with a black cap, black bib, gray wings and back, and whitish underside. Carolina and Black-capped chickadees hybridize in the area where their ranges overlap, but the two species probably diverged more than 2.5 million years ago. ~ All About Birds website
A Carolina wren kept us amused for quite a while with his antics on the feeder.
There was much to see in the winter garden, many delights for the eyes. It was only 32°F (0°C) when we left the house so I had put on my thermal leggings and wool hat from Norway and managed not to get too cold.
deciduous holly
The hunt for seedbox was good stimulation, exercising our brains along with our bodies.
“Chestnut Trees, Louveciennes, Winter” by Camille Pissarro
This is the season of the long night and the leafless tree. The cold seeps into our bones and life sleeps beneath the soil. ….. We know that the worst of the winter is yet to come, and we must endure this, but the solstice sun is reborn and, with it, our hopes for growing light and warmth. In the depths of winter, summer plants its seed and the dark stillness explodes with starlight. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
