wordless wednesday
Tag: woodlands
strawberries and two more trolls
(inside the giant troll’s mouth)
A month after we went tulip picking at this farm we came back with our grandchildren and their parents for some strawberry picking. This was their first visit, in spite of having lived in the area for many years. Of course, Kat and Finn noticed the half-buried giant troll right off the bat and wasted no time running up the hill and climbing up and down his legs and getting into his head.
(good thing the troll didn’t sneeze)
While the kids played Dima waited in a very long line to get a bucket for strawberry picking. Then he led the gang way out into the field, at the direction of a staffer, who assigned them a row, and gave them detailed instructions. We came along with Larisa at a much slower pace and finally spotted them when Kat waved to us, and I got this picture with a zoom lens. This was larger than any strawberry field I’d ever been to in Connecticut!
(strawberry rhubarb pie?)
I still can’t get over how early strawberry picking season comes here! On our way back to the store to pay for our haul we passed by some blueberry bushes. Maybe we’ll be back some day to pick blueberries — I wonder what month that will be in…
The plan was to play on the troll again while Dima waited in line again to pay for the full bucket. As Kat and I went on ahead of the others, and she a bit ahead of me, she circled back to me and exclaimed, “Grammy, there’s another troll in the woods!” So I followed her as quickly as I could. Up another path we found two more giant trolls, not quite as big as the half-buried one, but these were completely above ground.
Our best guess is that the troll catches children in the cage and then keeps them in the “guest” house he stands guard over.
Eventually the others caught up and Kat was very proud to show them what she had discovered. I never would have noticed these extra trolls.
The line for ice cream was too long to wait in so we decided to go into Hillsborough and find a small ice cream shop. Good choice! Had to get those strawberries home sooner than later. 😉
bluebirds and friends
Visitors to our deck and birdfeeder are fun to watch, and sometimes, even hold still long enough for getting some pictures through the sliding glass doors. The birds have already eaten one seed cylinder and we decided to move a new one a little closer to the deck and birdbath. So far the squirrels have not been able to get to it.
We have a large red mulberry tree which has been tagged for removal. 🙁 I think the birds will miss its branches, where they perch waiting for their turn at the feeder. From the nuts and blossoms deposited on our deck, from way up high, I know we also have a sweet gum tree and a tulip tree, but they don’t have nice eye-level branches.
Blue has always been my favorite color, and I love the blue and brown color combination found on bluebirds. Up north, I got my fix of blue from the blue jays who came for peanuts along with the squirrels on our balcony. Down south here I rarely see a blue jay. But the lovely bluebirds are everywhere!
spring continues
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.
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.
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.
Two weeks after the controlled burn the cinnamon ferns are coming up!
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)
a blessing of spring
When the Spring is in the offing,
And the early birds are freezing,
When one-half the folks are coughing,
And the other half are sneezing;
When the sun is getting higher,
Though the fact’s hard to remember;
And you huddle by the fire
Twice as cold as in December;
Life and all its cares would crush us,
Floor us in a brace of shakes,
If it weren’t for the luscious
Maple syrup on the cakes.
But a fellow keeps postponing
Day by day his preparation
For the final telephoning
For old Charon’s transportation.
Though he knows the Spring is lying
And his grippe is undiminished,
Still he does put off his dying
Till that can of syrup’s finished.
Then, at last, the north winds waver,
And the sleeping Spring awakes;
But we know the true lifesaver
Was the syrup on the cakes!
~ Walter G. Doty
(The Christian Advocate, March 22, 1917)
on certain mornings
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)
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)
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)
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.’
summer in the light
As we walked along the Streamside Trail, our Merlin Bird ID app indicated that we were hearing a phoebe singing. I was delighted to finally spot the little sweetheart and get a couple of pictures before he flew away to the next tree.
After walking that trail we went through a back gate into the botanical garden to see what signs of spring we could find there.
An American hazelnut shrub (close-up above) was flowering. The dangling yellow catkins are male and the tiny magenta flowers are female, but the shrub does not self-pollinate. We’ll have to come back in the fall to see if there will be any hazelnuts on this one.
A walk through the Mountain Habitat provided glimpses of a few spring ephemerals just getting started…
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold — when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
~ Charles Dickens
(Great Expectations)
We stopped by the bird blind at the Children’s Wonder Garden but the feeders were empty. However, scratching around on the ground with the squirrels, through a pile of discarded sunflower seed hulls, I spotted a couple of song sparrows!
They weren’t singing and they were hard to catch, but I was happy to capture with the camera my first song sparrow in North Carolina!
rocky water path
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.
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.
(a bit of green to go with the Christmas fern seen earlier)
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.
southern light, a hawk, groundhog shadows
(no shadows at first)
On Groundhog Day last year we took our groundhogs, Basil & Oregano, to the botanical garden to check on their shadows, so this year we decided to take them out into the woods. Our friend Susan joined us for a nice long walk down by our neighborhood’s Bolin Creek.
The weather was chilly, cloudy, damp and gray. It had been raining recently so there was plenty of mud along the path, making for some dicey footing. Susan spotted a red-shouldered hawk who visited a couple of trees before settling on one where I could get a picture.
Only the beech trees and their marcescent leaves, looking like sand or wheat, bring light to such dark, wet woods, standing out vividly among the dark-gray oak and hickory trunks and the cyanine green of the cedars. A few of our beech trees are large and well spread out, but many more are saplings, six to twelve feet high, present and proud and serving as fine, multifaceted reflectors.
~ Bland Simpson
(Clover Garden: A Carolinian’s Piedmont Memoir)
A funny thing happened after a couple of joggers passed by us. Apparently it took them some time to realize what their eyes had just seen. (A grown man carrying two stuffed groundhogs.) They stopped running, looked back around and one called out to us, “Wait a minute! Is it Groundhog Day?” We all had a good laugh.
Bolin Creek was gurgling away, pleasantly full of water and sounding so very soothing.
The sky was so gray, but then, as we started heading back home, the sun made an effort to break through, lighting up the beech leaves…
… and making the creek’s water sparkle in a few spots. So we had Oregano & Basil pose for a second Groundhog Day photo.
Looking at pictures of our groundhogs’ shadows back in Connecticut I happened to notice that they were a lot longer than the ones down here.
Groton, Connecticut
AI Overview tells me that “shadows are generally longer in the winter, especially in locations further north, because during winter the Northern Hemisphere is tilted away from the sun, causing the sun to appear lower in the sky and cast longer shadows; the further north you go, the more pronounced this effect will be.”
I find this so fascinating!