As the sun sets and hills grow dark, as the birdsong ends and fields fall silent, as the people laugh and take their rest, I watch. My heart hurries to the twilit gardens of Ukraine. And I hurry. O, how I hurry with my thoughts, as my heart yearns for rest. As the fields grow dark, as the groves grow dark, as the hills grow dark, I see a star. And I weep. Hey, you star! Have you reached Ukraine? Do dark eyes scour the blue sky for you? Or don’t they care? May they sleep if they don’t. May they know nothing of my fate. ~ Taras Shevchenko (To N. N.)
10.6.26 ~ Sandy Creek Park (view from the bird blind)
The heat and humidity seem to have finally left us! For good, I hope. I put on my permethrin-treated anti-tick pants and socks and joined Sally for a good long walk at Sandy Creek Park in Durham. It felt so good to be outside at long last and to do some birdwatching. And I got to add another bird to my life bird list near the end of our saunter!
brown thrasher
Thought can keep the storylines alive, and the body reliably hums along with its somatic accompaniments that seem to confirm the storylines and then re-trigger them, but every re-telling is actually slightly different in content and always fresh in the act of remembering, and every somatic sensation, every breath, is fresh and new, however familiar it seems. ~ Joan Tollifson (Ungraspable Presence, October 7, 2026)
Joan Tollifson’s words spoke to me the other morning as my thoughts have been spinning, trying to come up with a story to explain a distressing somatic symptom. Is it psychosomatic, triggered by anxiety and/or grief? (plausible) Or maybe a side effect of a prescription drug? (equally plausible) Or both, or something else entirely? My doctor is investigating and running all kinds of tests. Hopefully we’ll figure it out soon.
red-capped brittlegill mushroom in a patch of partridge berry
eastern phoebe
Somatic worries aside, it felt amazingly good and healthy to be out in the fresh air with a wonderful companion, enjoying the perfect sunlight of this time of year.
nature trail through the dappled sunlit woods
focus on blue mistflower
focus on blue mistflower buds
Ever since I moved to North Carolina I have received repeated warnings and cautions about snakes. Well, after living here for three years I finally encountered one! A copperhead was lying very still across our path through a marshy area. We turned around and went back the way we came. (Yes, I used the zoom to get the pictures!)
eastern copperhead
And he who made kittens put snakes in the grass. ~ Ian Anderson ♫ (Bungle in the Jungle) ♫
a snake in the grass
broadleaf cattails
daisy fleabane
Eight months later, and the for the second time this year, Sally spotted another life bird for me with her binoculars. Even though it was at quite a distance, and moving around at a fast pace, she said it was one of the best looks at one she’s ever had. As with the yellow-bellied sapsucker we saw in February, my camera’s zoom lens struggled to get these shots, which are cropped.
Red-headed Woodpecker, #92
The gorgeous Red-headed Woodpecker is so boldly patterned it’s been called a “flying checkerboard,” with an entirely crimson head, a snow-white body, and half white, half inky black wings. These birds don’t act quite like most other woodpeckers: they’re adept at catching insects in the air, and they eat lots of acorns and beech nuts, often hiding away extra food in tree crevices for later. This magnificent species has declined severely in the past half-century because of habitat loss and changes to its food supply. ~ All About Birds website
Sandy Creek from the Kenneth R. Coulter Bridge
Sandy Creek was pretty low. In spite of the rain we’ve been getting sporadically we are still in a moderate drought. The pond and the creek look a lot different than they did back in January 2025, the last time I was here with Tim. It was interesting to see the difference in the pictures of the creek at the ends of that post and this post. The post from that walk was entitled three stents make a difference. Turns out that was wishful thinking. Tim kept getting worse as his lung disease was finally diagnosed later in the 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)
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.
star chickweed
violet
common whitetail dragonfly
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)
violet wood-sorrel
Virginia spring beauty
And for an everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #466)
wild azalea
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)
bluets
Bolin Creek
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.
Spring is made of solid, fourteen-karat gratitude, the reward for the long wait. Every religious tradition from the northern hemisphere honors some form of April hallelujah, for this is the season of exquisite redemption, a slam-bang return to joy after a season of cold second thoughts. ~ Barbara Kingsolver (Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life)
When Tim & I moved into our new home in July of 2023 we were delighted to have a flowering dogwood in our front yard, tucked under the towering pines. We looked forward to seeing it bloom. But when the springs of 2024 and 2025 passed by without it flowering we were disappointed. It seemed to be a healthy tree with plenty of green leaves.
After I did some research we decided to order some fertilizer for acid-loving trees. It came in spikes and, as directed, early last summer Tim was out there hammering the spikes into the ground at the proper distance away from the trunk of the tree. Then sadly, in October he suddenly died.
One lovely morning near the end of March I went out to check the mail and noticed the blossoms, mostly higher up in the tree. It was such a bittersweet moment, stopping me in my tracks. Tim never got to see the results of his efforts to bring these lovely dogwood blossoms into our lives. As time goes on I know I will think of him with deep gratitude every time they bloom.
7.18.22 ~ Groton, Connecticut great blue heron feeding
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. ~ Wendell Berry (The Peace of Wild Things)
11.27.24 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden northern mockingbird
November ends. I come across a poem by my favorite poet — she describes the sense of loss and disconnect I had been feeling all month.
She could not live upon the Past The Present did not know her And so she sought this sweet at last And nature gently owned her The mother that has not a Knell For either Duke or Robin ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1535)
I’m grateful for and encouraged by nature, poetry and my books, and family and friends, as I imagine most of us are. This squirrel came up to me on our last visit to the botanical garden, as if to say, “I’m here, too.”
The poorest experience is rich enough for all the purposes of expressing thought. Why covet a knowledge of new facts? Day and night, house and garden, a few books, a few actions, serve us as well as would all trades and all spectacles. We are far from having exhausted the significance of the symbols we use. We can come to use them yet with a terrible simplicity. It does not need that a poem should be long. Every word was once a poem. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (The Poet)
hemlock cones
looking up
mountain witch-alder
spotted cucumber beetle on a New England aster
sweetgum
simple healing in watching a mourning dove feed on the forest floor ~ Barbara Rodgers (In the Woods)
Our walks are usually taken in the morning but we decided to go for an afternoon meander this time. Autumn is in the air even though the temperatures are above normal. The sun felt so good on my bare arms!
chalk maple
A southern variation of sugar maple, chalk maple grows to 25 ft. and usually has 2-3 trunks. Its attractive, mature bark is chalky-surfaced. The significant landscape feature of this tree is its brilliant fall foliage. ~ Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center website
aster
a very busy bee
sassafras
tickseed
male northern cardinal
female northern cardinal
oakleaf hydrangea
Before we left the garden we took a peek inside a little, dark, windowless shed called the Herb House. It was air-conditioned and had a bench for Tim to sit on. He hadn’t been enjoying the warm sunshine as much as I had been!
Isn’t it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive — it’s such an interesting world. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables)
the tabasco pepper harvest
a dragonfly? ~ an angel?
This afternoon walk was a very nice change of pace. At home we’re getting more frequent visits from the cardinal couple and the juncos are arriving for the winter. The squirrels are busy burying their nuts. It’s a wonderful time of year!
