Jim’s Community Bench
The bench features red poppies, which were [Jim] Huegerich’s favorite flowers. The flowers, bench, and tubing have a “whisper” function: people sitting on the bench can whisper into one flower and listen on the other as the piping carries the sound. The bench was created by nationally known sculptor Jim Gallucci, based on input from the Huegerich family.
~ Triangle Blog Blog
Although I have been diligent about walking on my treadmill, due to weather and plans cancelled by winter illnesses, I had not walked outside in over a month! It rained Saturday morning and things didn’t look too hopeful for a weekend walk. But, the weather app promised a dry time slot at 2 pm and my friend Susan was willing to take advantage of it with me. The sun even came out!
I suggested Bolin Creek Trail, a paved greenway, so we didn’t have to get our shoes muddy. Paved trails might be a good idea in the summer, too, as a strategy for avoiding seed ticks. Maybe. We found lots of pretty little weeds along the way, passed by lots of other people enjoying the day, and saw lots of art work painted on concrete pipes and bridge underpasses.
by Mike Waller & Leah Foushee Waller
(bronze, concrete, aluminum)
In spite of the gentle, dreary rains we’ve been getting lately after the snow and ice storms, we are still in a severe draught. The weeds seem to be all right, though, but Bolin Creek isn’t very full.
(these shrubs like to grow along creek banks)
Alder Catkins
Male Catkins: Long, slender, and dangling (pendulous), these are initially reddish but turn yellow as they mature, reaching 2–10 cm in length. They produce large amounts of pollen, which is wind-dispersed.
Female Catkins: Smaller and initially reddish-purple, these are located on the same twigs as the male catkins. After pollination, they mature into woody, dark brown or black, cone-like structures that persist on the tree through the winter.
~ AI
There remains a hole in my world, a hole that my being futilely tries to fill in with memory flashes and pangs of heartache. Tim & I started to follow this trail the first year we moved down here, but we didn’t get as far along it as Susan and I did this day. Walking on the smooth pavement was too painful for him and thereafter we focused on trails with uneven terrain. It felt a little strange going past the point where Tim & I had turned around. At the time I was disappointed that we couldn’t continue down the path. Now I could. Part of me didn’t want to go on without him. Maybe all of me. Nevertheless, I did enjoy myself, even without him. It’s weird how both things can be true.