Maytag Trail – In the Woods

The last time Tim & I walked here was in October, eleven days before he died. We had finally got our hands on a good map of the maze of trails in Carolina North Forest and were excited to be more sure of the names of them. The leaves were still green. (see here: suspended)

This time my sister and her husband were my companions, but I walked a little ahead of them on this leg of Tripp Farm Trail, quietly talking with Tim, telling him how much I missed him and how sad I was that we missed seeing the autumn colors together in November as we had anticipated.

When we got to the place where Tim & I had turned around to retrace our steps, the three of us decided to continue following the trail. Much to my surprise, we eventually reached an intersection with the OWASA Corridor at the same bridge I came to with my friends back in November. (see here: remains of a colonial gristmill)

And now I’ve learned that the path I often follow in the woods along Bolin Creek near my home is called the OWASA (Orange Water & Sewer Authority) Corridor. Well, we learn something new every day.

Bolin Creek view downstream from the bridge

Instead of going to see the colonial gristmill ruins we decided to take another route. We took the Glade Spur, which connects Tripp Farm Trail and Maytag Trail, which we followed back to the main road and the car. The three trails essentially made a big loop.

A couple of years ago, in November 2023, Tim & I found a little pumpkin sitting on a stone on the Wormhole Spur. (see here: moderate drought in the woods) I bet the same person placed another one here in this branch crook on the Glade Spur.

While on the Glade Spur a couple coming from the opposite direction said they had just seen a pileated woodpecker. It’s so hard to see so high up in these trees but a few minutes later I did hear one and then spotted it. The picture I got is cropped and basically a silhouette, but it will have to do.

Not sure how far we walked but we were gone for a couple of hours. We were exhausted when we got back to the car and wound up staying in to recuperate the next day, which turned out to be a gloomy day anyway.

July went down as the hottest month ever recorded in North Carolina history, but what a surprise, August turned out to be the coolest August in over thirty years. With all the recent medical appointments we didn’t get out much to enjoy the fresh air, but on Labor Day we did get a chance to walk out in the woods.

We kept thinking we were hearing a creek’s water running but finally figured out it was a breeze stirring the leaves above our heads. The first autumn we were here we learned to look up if we wanted to see any leaf colors, and we applied that lesson this day, looking up to see the leaves, still in their lovely summer greens.

It was slow going and there were many stops for Tim to catch his breath, but we managed to walk three quarters of a mile and he seemed none the worse for wear after we got home. The rests gave us time to notice all sorts of little treasures on the forest floor, too.

A woman once described a friend of hers as being such a keen listener that even the trees leaned toward her, as if they were speaking their innermost secrets into her listening ears. Over the years I’ve envisioned that woman’s silence, a hearing full and open enough that the world told her its stories. The green leaves turned toward her, whispering tales of soft breezes and the murmurs of leaf against leaf.
~ Linda Hogan
(Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World)

My respiration and inspiration….the beating of my heart….the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves.
~ Walt Whitman
(Leaves of Grass)

Category: Maytag Trail

returning and going farther

green leaves whispering tales