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
“Shelter along the Appalachian Trail” by Carol M. Highsmith
The forest behind my house is already becoming something new, I notice, as I walk trails that used to be shady. With so many fallen giants, the floor now lies under open sky. I count sprouting acorns by the dozens, arching their necks and reaching for a new bonanza of sunlight. I have so many hopes for this place I love. Mostly that we’ll rise like these seedlings from our scoured landscape, blessed with the kindness we’ve shared with our neighbors and the will to extend our care to those who follow behind us on these paths. ~ Barbara Kingsolver (Southern Living, May 2025, “The Heart of Appalachia”)
On September 27 last year Hurricane Helene tore through Appalachia, affecting the community in Virginia where author Barbara Kingsolver lives. It also devastated 29 of North Carolina’s 100 counties, which are part of the same geographic region. (The county where we live is in the Piedmont region.) For some reason I never mentioned this disaster on this blog last year, probably because I couldn’t process what I was learning about it in real time.
Our grandchildren had no school that day so we had planned to take them to the Carolina Tiger Rescue. The day before, the weather forecasters warned of torrential rain for our area but the tour is by reservation only and the website said it would happen rain or shine. So we were prepared and bought rain ponchos for the four of us. But that morning the Rescue cancelled the tour and we stayed home. I’m glad we didn’t risk getting caught in a flash flood on the roads. It rained a lot and we had two tornado warnings during the day, which sent us to hunker down in the bathroom, but thankfully we weren’t hit. The disruption to our lives was nothing compared to what was happening to our neighbors only a few hours away.
A year earlier in October, we had stayed for a weekend getaway in the beautiful town of Black Mountain. We had a wonderful time walking through the town, visiting Mount Mitchell, hiking the Balsam Nature Trail in the state park, and driving along the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway. Little did we know Black Mountain would experience catastrophic flooding from the storm. Roads and bridges were damaged or washed away. The pictures we saw on the news were shocking and sobering. But since then the stories being shared of kind people helping one another have been heartwarming. I hope we can plan another visit some day.
However, the severely limited federal response under the current administration has been disturbing. According to our governor:
In addition to the $13.5 billion that I am requesting of Congress in new appropriations, North Carolina has yet to receive billions of dollars that Congress worked together on a bipartisan basis to appropriate last December. Just as I asked in February, I am urging federal agencies to take action to unlock those funds so we can put them to work as soon as possible where they are desperately needed.
We are grateful for every dollar that brings us a step closer to recovery, yet current federal financial support is not enough. In total, federal support amounts to approximately 9% of the total damage western North Carolina suffered. Many of the largest, most devastating storms, like Katrina, Maria, and Sandy, saw upwards of 70% of damage covered by federal funding, and from available historical data, the federal government has typically covered between 40 and 50 percent of costs caused by major hurricanes. The people of North Carolina deserve a fair shake, just like the residents of other states and territories.
~ Gov. Josh Stein (Hurricane Helene Recovery, September 15, 2025, Federal Funding Request)
As we were driving out of our neighborhood we saw a fawn nibbling the grass on the side of the road. We pulled up near it and took some pictures. He/she was curious about us. When we decided to move on I suddenly spotted its mother hiding in the vegetation. She had no doubt been watching us the whole time.
mama had an eye on us
It was a tolerable day for a walk. The air wasn’t cool or refreshing like it would be in the fall, but it wasn’t unbearably hot. Dare I say lukewarm and muggy? But Tim decided he would like to give a walk a try. We needed to stop and rest frequently to accommodate his shortness of breath. It is what it is. I was just happy to be outside with my best friend. And the Riverwalk has benches.
Hillsborough Riverwalk
Last time we were here was July 7, just after Tropical Storm Chantal had dumped 10 inches of rain and had caused the Eno River to crest at over 25 feet, breaking previous records. It’s hard to imagine that everywhere we walked now had been under water. Some parts of the walk are still closed for repairs.
the water had come up over this footbridge
a piece of furniture, way above eye level, caught in the trees
underneath the South Churton Street bridge (Old NC 86)
It’s hard to imagine that the water flooded this bridge, too, and left so much debris underneath it that it’s hard to see the water now from the riverbanks.
looking at the sky from one of our resting benches
a fawn down by the river
a doe on the other side of the river
the opposite riverbank was pretty steep
fall webworm?
Occaneechi Indian Village
Occaneechi Village is a historic replica of a village located on the Eno River as it was in 1701. … In the early 1700s, the Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation lived in a bountiful land with little European presence. The village was an important trade location where the Occaneechi people would trade with the Europeans as well as nearby tribes such as the Tuscarora. ~ The Alliance for Historic Hillsborough website
This part of Riverwalk was closed until August 8 and the village itself is still closed while they keep working to repair the flood damage. In the next picture part of the village can be seen on the right, and the trees on the left are on the edge of the riverbank. Hard to imagine the water coming all the way up to the village!
flood debris from the structures caught in the palisade surrounding the village
Now, you might be wondering about this plucky katydid. Yes, it’s the same one pictured in the last post. She first appeared Thursday on the top of our car in the parking lot at Trader Joe’s in Chapel Hill. Tim took that picture with his cell phone. Much to our surprise, she was still on our car after we arrived home in Carrboro. We were even more surprised on Friday, when, after our walk, I noticed her sitting on the passenger side mirror of the car. (above picture) How did she manage to stay on the car from Carrboro to Hillsborough??? We nudged her but she stayed put. Well, when we got back to Carrboro, a 13-mile drive, she was clinging sideways to the car’s back door. So we decided to insist that she relocate and used a stiff tag to dislodge her and transport her to our back deck. (below picture) She didn’t stay there long, however. She waited until we stopped watching her so we missed her departure. I still wonder how she managed to hang on to the hot car for all those miles, over two days.
Lugh, the Celtic god of Sun and Light, celebrates the sun’s annual path across the sky. Each of the year’s solar events — solstices and equinoxes and the midpoints between these — marks the passing of the seasons on Earth. I have written the name of each solar holiday in Runes around the sun’s face and marked him with Celtic knots that represent this unending cycle. ~ Helen Seebold (36th Annual Sculpture in the Garden)
Everywhere, from sunup to sunup, the world is full of song. The days are hot, hot, and all the day long I listen to the bees lifting from flower to flower, to the watchful chipmunk sounding its chock chock chock alarm while the red-tailed hawk wheels, crying, high in the sky. I can’t see the songbirds in the dappled light of a thousand leafy branches, but I can hear them calling from the trees. ~ Margaret Renkl (The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year)
It looked like I might not get to see the ocean before we left Carolina Beach. (The kids got to go while I was sick.) Sunday morning was our last chance and we had quite a downpour as we were packing to go, with wind so strong it created waves on the lake. But after we checked out of the vacation rental the rain had calmed down to a drizzle so Larisa took Tim & me to the beach for a quick visit before lunch and heading home.
my first view of the Atlantic from North Carolina
An Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #931)
In a way it was nice to be on the beach in moody weather because we had the place to ourselves. Larisa took some pictures of us to mark the occasion.
On the way back to the car I spotted this little round leaf in the dune, standing vertically as if it was a little traffic sign. For some reason I was captivated. I took lots of pictures and even found a flower on one nearby.
largeleaf pennywort
Turns out largeleaf pennywort is a common native perennial that loves growing on the sandy dunes of the southeastern states. It was fun to learn about another plant found in this part of the world.
rain drops on the leaves
I had so much to think about on our way home. What a wonderful experience our anniversary was, and nothing at all like we might have imagined it was going to be 50 long years ago! 💙
2.2.25 ~ Bolin Forest, Groundhog Day (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.
Tim, Oregano & Basil bird-watching together
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…
“fine, multifaceted reflectors”
… and making the creek’s water sparkle in a few spots. So we had Oregano & Basil pose for a second Groundhog Day photo.
(shadows!)
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.
2.2.19 ~ Eastern Point Beach 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!
1.28.25 ~ Sandy Creek Park, Durham, North Carolina
It’s been a very busy month! I had a great time at the reception for the Birds of North Carolina: A Community Photo Exhibit at the botanical garden. In addition to appreciating my family and friends showing up for support, I met another photographer. She had several pictures of great blue herons I was admiring. She recommended Sandy Creek Park as a place to find lots of waterbirds. And so, when Tim was clear to resume strenuous activity, off we went to find the park.
Tim was recovering from two cardiac catheterization procedures this month. The first one was looking for the source of his worsening shortness of breath symptoms, and the second one was to insert three stents in his right coronary artery, which supplies blood to the right ventricle of the heart, which pumps blood to the lungs. What a difference those three stents are making.
Some of my readers may remember that Tim had a heart attack in 2007 and was flown by a medical helicopter to Yale New Haven Hospital in Connecticut where he had emergency triple bypass surgery. Those three arteries are still doing well, but this one had been narrowing.
Our “walks” in recent months were becoming shorter and progressively more difficult for him. In fact, we hadn’t walked in the woods together since early November and that one was very short. We’ve been spending most of our time in the botanical garden where he could sit on a bench while I took pictures. But on this lovely day it was like old times again, trekking through the woods with my sidekick pointing out many of the things he spotted along the way.
the uneven terrain Tim’s back appreciates
a bird blind
Even though everything was dull and drab for winter and we only saw three Canada geese, it was still a beautiful day, and we’re looking forward to coming back here to see all the scenery (and hopefully more waterbirds!) in the changing seasons.
