sky – In the Woods

a tolerable day for a walk

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.

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.

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

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.

bonnets touch the firmament

In lands I never saw — they say
Immortal Alps look down —
Whose Bonnets touch the firmament —
Whose sandals touch the town;

Meek at whose everlasting feet
A myriad Daisy play —
Which, Sir, are you, and which am I —
Opon an August day?

~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #108)

god of sun and light

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)

the days are hot, hot

“The Summer House” by John Henry Twachtman

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)

an everywhere of silver

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.

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.

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! 💙

southern light, a hawk, groundhog shadows

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…

… and making the creek’s water sparkle in a few spots. So we had Oregano & Basil pose for a second Groundhog Day photo.

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!

three stents make a difference

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

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.

it’s no wonder why blue is my favorite color

moss on wood sculpture that Tim pointed out

Sandy Creek from the Kenneth R. Coulter Bridge

❤️❤️❤️

thunderstorm

A — Cap of Lead across the sky
Was tight and surly drawn
We could not find the mighty Face
The Figure was Withdrawn —

A Chill came up as from a shaft
Our noon became a well
A Thunder storm combines the charms
Of Winter and of Hell

~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1735)

when the sun comes out

2.6.24 ~ Parker Preserve, Chapel Hill, North Carolina

When the sun comes out the world brightens up, even the browns and grays in the winter woods. It was a very sunny morning the other day, but too cold for a walk. So we opted for an afternoon walk. Even then it was still cold, Tim wore a coat, and I was bundled up with hat and mittens, too.

We found a new place to walk, another property belonging to the North Carolina Botanical Garden, Parker Preserve. It connects to the Mason Farm Biological Reserve we had explored back in December. At the beginning of the trail is Parker Meadow, the site of the former home of Bill & Athena Parker.

The huge bench above is one of two sitting in the meadow, where a 19th century log cabin was destroyed by a fire in 1995. (I assume it was the home of Bill & Athena.) After noticing what we presume to be dozens of patches of daffodils about to bloom, we headed into the woods, following the Woodland Trail.

this leaf was probably stranded here all winter

Off in the distance we saw a huge log, covered in moss with sporophytes sprouting out of it. I used maximum zoom but could only manage the fuzzy picture above. We have been warned repeatedly about copperhead snakes so I resisted every urge to go off the trail and wade though the leaves to get a closer look.

in the spotlight: a maple leaf surrounded by oak leaves

illuminated roots from a tree that fell long ago

The disadvantage to taking an afternoon walk is that the traffic on the way home is very congested and slow. We found ourselves sitting in the car for a very long time at a traffic light near the James Taylor Bridge. From the road this bridge is unremarkable, the only hint that a bridge is there is a small sign identifying it and a short cement wall with a low fence on either side of it. But it’s located a mile from JT’s childhood home and it goes over Morgan Creek, which he wrote about in one of his songs, Copperline. We’ve encountered Morgan Creek a couple of times on our walks. This is all of particular interest to me because James Taylor was my idol when I was a teen, and he was the first singer I ever went to see in concert. I had all his albums. It’s a small world.

Half a mile down to Morgan Creek
I’m leanin’ heavy on the end of the week
Hercules and a hognose snake
Down on Copperline
We were down on Copperline
~ James Taylor
♫ (Copperline) ♫