Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay (Letter to Witter Bynner, October 29, 1920)
The above words perfectly describe this strange new chapter in my life. Widowhood. I am still numb but doing well, thanks to all the love and support of family and friends. There is so much to do!
It took me a whole week to suddenly understand that I had no idea how to transfer photos from my camera to my laptop. Countless times Tim had offered to teach me how to do that and now it’s too late. What a gut punch that realization was.
Writing an obituary took a lot of time, it felt like a labor of love, trying to honor this wonderful man who shared over fifty years of life with me. It finally got published in a local newspaper but I also put it on a permanent page on this blog.
Family and friends have been taking walks with me. At some point I hope I will start posting with new pictures again, and trying to catch up with my blogging friends. All in good time.
10.7.25 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden 37th Annual Sculpture in the Garden
So, we haven’t visited the botanical garden since the end of May, over four months ago. I wasn’t about to risk any more seed tick attacks. On this new try, I had Tim spray my shoes and pant legs with picaridin, giving up on previously tried deet and permethrin. So far, so good, but I’ve not been attacked in the month of October before so maybe I didn’t need it. Not taking any chances, though.
October skies aster
I didn’t get too many pictures of the sculptures this year. I guess I was starved for the beauty of flowers and berries!
deciduous holly
eastern carpenter bee
“Sonoran Sentinel” by Gary Taber A contemporary reimagining of a desert giant, drawing inspiration from the formidable presence of arid landscapes. ~ Gary Taber
wildflowers in the sassafras sapling grove (this spot always enchants me)
ditch daisy
asters
black-eyed Susan
When we got to the boardwalk going through the Coastal Plain Habitat we were amazed to find ourselves surrounded by a sea of black-eyed Susans, some of them quite tall, enjoying the sunshine.
Even though there were a lot of old favorites to delight my eyes, some new-to-me flowers presented themselves, sending me peeking into the greenery looking for id signs. If none could be located there was research to do at home. It felt good to get back out there and into the swing of things again.
“Marshland Morning” by Forrest Greenslade My egret reaches for the sky to greet the day. ~ Forrest Greenslade
coastal plain tickseed
boneset
blue mistflower
“Guardian of the Night” by Nana Abreu Taíno Moon Goddess symbolizes renewal, mystery, and unseen life forces, representing the feminine rhythm of existence while illuminating the shadowed side of nature. ~ Nana Abreu
phlox
Chinese aconite aka Carmichael’s monkshood
‘Pampas Plume’ celosia
“Opossum in the Cherry Orchard” by Bronwyn Watson Local opossum in early summer after an enjoyable night dining in a cherry tree. ~ Bronwyn Watson
Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night; and thus he would never know the rhythms that are at the heart of life. There is a time of sprouting, a time of growth, and a time of harvest, and all are part of the greater whole. There comes the time now to savor the harvest, to pause and know another year not yet brought to full finality. ~ Hal Borland (Sundial of the Seasons)
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)
10.18.24 ~ Pritchard Park Chapel Hill, North Carolina
There’s hardly a spot of color on the hardwood trees in our yard, but the light is glorious, as it always is in October, and the signs of fall are unmistakable. ….. Always, when nature works as nature must, there are joys for every grief, a recompense for every sorrow. ….. Night falls earlier with each passing day now, but the recompense of shorter days is the glorious light of October. I wish you could see what happens to the magnificent colors of berry and bird and flower in the slanting light of October. ~ Margaret Renkl (The New York Times, October 14, 2024, “Growing Darkness, October Light: A Backyard Census”)
These pictures were taken on Friday morning, the day we stood in line at the Chapel Hill Public Library to vote. Afterwards we took a walk on the trails in the woods surrounding the library. North Carolina has early voting, something new to us. Before we left Connecticut we had voted in favor of bringing early voting to our old state. I wonder if it passed. Our habit was to get up early on election day and get to the polling place before it opened. We were always near first in line.
Something new for the citizens of NC is having to show a photo ID when they check in to vote. We always had to do that back in CT. It’s so interesting getting to know the different ways the governments of different states run things, something I never thought about before, having lived in only one state my whole life.
As I stood in line I reflected on how encouraging it was to learn that our 39th President, Jimmy Carter, made the effort to vote while in hospice care at the age of 100. He was the first president I ever voted for. My thoughts also returned to the sacrifice so many of our ancestors made for us in the Revolutionary War, so that we could have the right to vote today. As the granddaughter of Ukrainian immigrants on one side and the descendant of several Mayflower passengers on the other, my complex place in American history has always fascinated me. While appreciating the myriads of reasons Europeans have crossed the Atlantic over the centuries to make better lives for themselves here, I also feel deep regret for the harm they have caused to the original people who lived, and still live here.
When we moved down here I started looking for southern nature writers who might help me get acquainted with my new environment. I’ve become a big fan of Margaret Renkl, who lives in Tennessee at the same southern latitude as we do. Her lyrical writings resonate with the seasonal observations I’m experiencing here. I’ve read three of her books, checked out from the same beautiful library where we voted, and enjoy her occasional editorials in the New York Times.
I tried to capture some of the slanting light of October to match Renkl’s words. This is our second autumn down south and the way it is unfolding feels much more familiar now, it’s starting to feel more like home.
sculpure at Chapel Hill Public Library parking lot
At the Autumn Equinox, as with the spring, we take this moment of equal day and night to focus on a point of balance. In the mellowness of early autumn, we can quietly observe this brief stillness. There is a certain relief in letting go of the hectic growth of summer. With the slowing that autumn brings comes a certain restfulness and acceptance. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
On this botanical garden visit we were totally captivated by a new life bird. We couldn’t get over how tiny it was! How could any songbird possibly be smaller than a chickadee? I couldn’t stop taking pictures.
Ruby-crowned Kinglet, #88
A tiny bird seemingly overflowing with energy, the Ruby-crowned Kinglet forages almost frantically through lower branches of shrubs and trees. Its habit of constantly flicking its wings is a key identification clue. Smaller than a warbler or chickadee, this plain green-gray bird has a white eye ring and a white bar on the wing. Alas, the male’s brilliant ruby crown patch usually stays hidden—your best chance to see it is to find an excited male singing in spring or summer. ~ All About Birds website
Of course there were other things to notice on that beautifully sunny day.
the frog egg embryos are looking more and more like tadpoles
snails presumably climbing a rock (we didn’t actually see them move)
Alabama snow-wreath (rare)
eastern redbud
Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy, that we can scarcely mark their progress. ~ Charles Dickens (Nicholas Nickleby)
red-shouldered hawk (might be the same one we saw five days earlier)
‘finch’s golden’ deciduous holly
wild columbine (aka eastern red columbine)
We enjoyed seeing all the redbud trees, promising spring, with their vibrant blossoms appearing to accent the gray landscape well before any leaves come out. So many delightful changes are in the offing. It will be fun noticing as many of them as possible!
“Chestnut Trees, Louveciennes, Winter” by Camille Pissarro
This is the season of the long night and the leafless tree. The cold seeps into our bones and life sleeps beneath the soil. ….. We know that the worst of the winter is yet to come, and we must endure this, but the solstice sun is reborn and, with it, our hopes for growing light and warmth. In the depths of winter, summer plants its seed and the dark stillness explodes with starlight. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
