hemlock bluffs

12.31.25 ~ Hemlock Bluffs Nature Preserve
Cary, North Carolina

As many of my readers know, I grew up surrounded by hemlock trees in Connecticut and miss having them in my life very much. I heard of this place not long after we moved down here but Tim & I never managed to visit it. So, while my sister and her husband were here for eleven days over the holidays a good day arrived, we packed a lunch, and then headed out to see these remarkable hemlock trees.

galax (aka beetleweed, wand flower), an Appalachian mountain native

Hemlock Bluffs is a special place because the north-facing bluffs combine with cool air from a creek below to create a “mountain” microclimate which the hemlocks favor. Sadly, here too they are plagued by the hemlock wooly adelgid but they are being monitored and treated for this insect pest here in this protected preserve.

We headed for East Hemlock Bluffs first and soon found ourselves descending from the top of the bluff over 100 boardwalk steps down to the level of Swift Creek. It was exciting seeing the trees from different elevations, and reminded me of the way the trees looked as I was climbing them in my childhood.

Swift Creek down below
evergreen Christmas fern also loves the moist shaded slopes of woodlands along streams
Swift Creek
…always my marcescent beech leaves…
the most I could capture of a whole hemlock tree

After climbing back up those 100+ stairs we headed over to West Hemlock Bluffs. There weren’t as many steps going down this bluff, but the descent was steeper.

a portion of the steps at West Hemlock Bluff

We were surprised to see a huge holly tree down below. I was amazed to be eye-level with the crown and took a few pictures with the zoom lens. I wondered if this was an American holly which is common here, or a mountain holly, since we were in that microclimate. But I learned that mountain hollies are deciduous so it’s probably an American holly, and probably was about 60 feet tall.

Beech Tree Cove was at the bottom of this end of the bluff and there we noticed a huge fallen beech tree. (below) I also learned that older beech trees do lose their leaves in the winter; it’s the younger ones that keep them in the cold months.

a small section of huge beech
the stump of the fallen beech
a beech grove, the younger ones save their leaves over winter

Back at the park entrance and the Stevens Nature Center they had three hemlock trees in the courtyard, some with those tiny cones I adored as a child. And, while Beverly & John were still inside looking at the center’s exhibits, I waited outside for them.

That’s when a friendly squirrel approached me with a message from Tim. He stayed with me for a few minutes, looking at me intently, and then, comforting tidings delivered, took off.

It was wonderful having my sister with me for so many days. We took three very long walks, hosted three holiday gatherings, and even went to the movies and saw Hamnet. Of course, there were tears of grief at times, and it was good sharing those, too.

as autumn becomes a memory

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)

as spring becomes a memory

5.31.24 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden
common yarrow

May ended on a very pleasant note, with lots of sunshine, mild temperatures and no humidity! Since we knew these conditions wouldn’t last we went out for a walk, in spite of us both being sick with colds. Who knows when such perfect weather will come around again?

bronze fennel

And of course, it being ten days since our last walk, different things were blooming. It’s never the same garden twice.

golden tickseed
bee visiting English lavender
purple coneflower

When I watched the sun rise this morning, due east, I felt that the universe, the solar system, the earth, the year, the season, the day, were still in order, no matter what stupidities man might achieve today. It is good to know such things about the place you live. It is good to know that there are certainties.
~ Hal Borland
(Hal Borland’s Book of Days)

hemlock cones
woodland pinkroot
crow poison (poisonous to humans and animals)
common sanddragon dragonfly
phlox

The single greatest lesson the garden teaches is that our relationship to the planet need not be zero-sum, and that as long as the sun still shines and people still can plan and plant, think and do, we can, if we bother to try, find ways to provide for ourselves without diminishing the world.
~ Michael Pollan
(Food, Inc.)

sun-drenched wings and petals

5.21.24 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden
sun-drenched female northern cardinal

It was a borderline-humidity morning, between comfy and muggy, and Tim was still coughing from the cold he caught in Italy, but we decided to chance a walk anyway. This is the time of year when the sun feels too bright and my camera sometimes responded by turning the blurry bokeh effect into solid black.

pipevine swallowtail butterfly

We forgot the bug repellent and I came home with two mosquito bites, one on each forearm. But the pretty (and non-biting) insects were out enjoying the sunshine, too! I’m not 100% sure of all my identifications here, but I’m giving them my best guess. Some of the butterflies, dragonflies and damselflies seemed new to me.

fire pink
common whitetail dragonfly
oakleaf hydrangea
dusky dancer damselfly on hemlock needles

Summer, for the cold-blooded, represents the Elysian days. Warmth brings life and animation. Their blood responds, literally, to every rise and fall of the mercury. Chill is synonymous with sluggishness, cold with immobility. The sun directly regulates the intensity with which they live.
~ Edwin Way Teale
(Grasshopper Road)

white waterlily
ebony jewelwing (aka black-winged damselfly)
grass pink orchid
mating silver-spotted skipper butterflies
tulip prickly pear
variable dancer damselfly
stokes’ aster
chamomile
downy wood mint
Coastal Plain Habitat boardwalk in May

Even though it isn’t technically summer here yet, either meteorologically or astronomically, it can now be called summer for all intents and purposes!

the electric hum of cicadas

5.16.24 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden
American columbo, going to seed?

Tim is back from spending an amazing week in Florence, Italy, with some of his brothers. They attended a cooking class and a three tenors singing performance, took a wine tour, ate at many great restaurants, visited museums and caught colds. (Not covid, thankfully.) While he was gone I tackled more of my family history boxes, sorting through and organizing.

The morning after he got home we took a quick peek at the botanical garden, and as expected, the columbo flowers had gone by, so I’m glad I got the blossom picture I did on that rainy day. Meanwhile…

new growth on the hemlock
new blooms on a rhododendron
tadpoles turning into frogs
a little Carolina rosebud
asters waiting to bloom
a spittlebug inside its foam shelter
(it will become a froghopper)
New Jersey tea flourishing

“The electric hum of cicadas, which was a low drone” continues. Tim says it sounds louder than it was when he left. If so, the sound must have increased so gradually that I didn’t notice it from one day to the next. (The quote is from a book, which I haven’t read, Abandoned Sulphur, Louisiana, by Mike Correll.)

The heat and humidity are creeping up now so there won’t be as many posts from me in the coming months. I will concentrate on my yoga and the massive family history project. But, I will post here on the rare occasions when the weather permits a walk and photos. And there might just be a few more frequent art and quote combinations…

dimpled trout lilies and other small spring things

3.3.24 ~ Piedmont Nature Trails
dimpled trout lily

On this Sunday morning my friend Susan and I set out to find dimple trout lilies at the botanical garden, only to find the gates would be closed until 1:00. No matter, we decided to saunter along the nearby nature trails for a couple of hours. And there turned out to be plenty of the tiny lilies in the woods. They are so tiny they barely poke through the leaves on the forest floor. They are native here in the Piedmont.

dimpled trout lily poking up through the fallen leaves

This post has way too many pictures but I couldn’t bring myself to cut out any more than I already did. The woods still looked like it was winter, unless one looked down and more closely at the leaf litter for tiny spring ephemerals.

Virginia spring beauty?
Meeting-of-the-Waters Creek
moss spores?
remembering to look up sometimes
a lone hemlock in the hardwood forest
eastern gray squirrel
tufted titmouse way up high
dimpled trout lily
rue-anemone
hepatica
little sweet Betsy (a trillium)
common blue violet
dandelion

The Dandelion’s pallid Tube
Astonishes the Grass —
And Winter instantly becomes
An infinite Alas —
The Tube uplifts a signal Bud
And then a shouting Flower —
The Proclamation of the Suns
That sepulture is o’er —

~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1565)

When the botanical garden gates opened we went in and found more dimpled trout lilies and what looked like more kinds of trilliums coming up.

North Carolina Botanical Garden
more dimpled trout lilies
hepatica
bloodroot

What a wonderful time we had enjoying springtime’s opening act in this part of the world! I’m sure there will be many more flowers coming soon.

they got snow!

2.13.23 ~ after the nor’easter in Connecticut

My sister estimates they got 9 inches of snow from Tuesday’s nor’easter, which left a winter wonderland behind it. I loved the pictures she sent me from the woods surrounding our childhood home.

eastern hemlock
the birds have found food here since the 1960s
the shed my father built more than 60 years ago
the wheelchair ramp my son and brother-in-law built for my father in the 2000s
(the house my parents built is barely visible behind it)

photos by Beverly

throwback thursday

1.20.24 ~ hemlock in the snow

Yesterday I posted a picture of a tiny cone on a hemlock tree struggling to survive at the North Carolina Botanical Garden. Today I’m sharing a picture my sister took last week back home in Connecticut. The snow covered branches belong to one of the few remaining hemlock trees my brother-in-law has been fighting to save.

And below is an illustrated poem someone shared of Facebook, Dust of Snow, written by Robert Frost.

image credit: Suzanne Schafer Bakert

Playing around and meditating under the hemlock trees in winter kept my heart full of joy all the winters I spent growing up there!