10.15.25 ~ Ann & Jim Goodnight Museum Park North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh, North Carolina
This will be my third Walktober post from North Carolina; my first three were posted while living in Connecticut. Again this year Dawn, over at her Change Is Hard blog, will be hosting. There is still time to participate if you wish to share a walk or other experience this month, and you can find the simple instructions to do so here.
I decided to try a new location for the walk this year. The North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh is 27 miles away from home so it was a bit of an expedition getting there. (And due to rush hour traffic in the late afternoon it took us one and a half hours to get home afterwards!) The museum is surrounded by a lovely park with walking trails, so we picked the Upper Meadow Trail.
Butterflies and bees were all over the hillside meadow we explored, and we spotted two new-to-us kinds of butterflies. We even saw a honey bee with a pollen basket on her leg, filled to the brim. There was an interesting sculpture to ponder, and wildflowers and grasses as far as the eye could see. It was definitely worth the trip!
gulf fritillary aka passion butterfly
gulf fritillary aka passion butterfly
muhly grass
female sleepy orange
Upper Meadow Trail
“No Fuss” by Mark di Suvero I don’t build small models or draw detailed plans first. I start with a vision, a dream of what I want to do, and see where it goes. ~ Mark di Suvero
There blows the yellow crested reed, The autumnal queen of flowers. ~ Samuel Alfred Beadle (The Golden Rod)
eastern carpenter bee
painted lady (?)
calico aster (?)
honey bee
To see my past Walktober posts select the Walktober tag in the categories below this post. When Dawn collects the links to everybody’s posts in November, and then posts them on her blog, it’s fun to take a look at all the different places other bloggers have visited, and read about the experiences they have had.
“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)
George & Julia Brumley Family Nature Preserve 9.9.25 ~ Chapel Hill, North Carolina
An atypical lovely September day dawned and invited us to explore another wonderful nature preserve. There we were delighted to find a labyrinth and two new kinds of butterflies. Tim was pondering how to describe his current style of walking, coming up with strolling, but not entirely satisfied with that word. Thinking of Thoreau, I suggested sauntering to him. He tried it on and used it a few times. Looked it up at home. It’s sticking.
St. John’s wort
fence holding up an apple (?) tree
part of the labyrinth
American beautyberry
🍃
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology —
Because he travels freely And wears a proper coat The circumspect are certain That he is dissolute
Had he the homely scutcheon Of modest Industry ’Twere fitter certifying For Immortality —
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1701)
🍃
red-spotted purple
We couldn’t get enough of the bright color of these red-spotted purples and couldn’t wait to get home to identify this butterfly!
eastern redbud seed pods
Carolina satyr
There were hundreds of these satyrs flying around the labyrinth and nearby. They were tiny and didn’t stay still long enough for a good photo shoot.
?
pokeweed
To be honest, I forgot to think about ticks before taking this walk. Then, about half way through the walk we encountered three serious birders coming down the trail, carrying large camera lenses and binoculars. I noticed they all had their pants tucked into their socks, which jogged my memory and started me worrying since I had no tick repellent on.
sunlit mulberry leaf
Later that evening I felt a strong itch near my knee and the next morning saw the seed tick bite. Just one. Why do I never see an adult tick? Why do these invisible seed ticks get me every time??? (And never bother Tim…) But one bite is better endured than the 27 bites I got the first time this happened. I’ve got to learn to not let my guard down.
Sometimes when one is feeling cooped up with summer cabin fever, the universe will send a little gift from the great outdoors right to one’s window. This little molting Carolina wren was sitting on a dead rhododendron branch, singing very loudly and with marked enthusiasm. A bright streak of sunshine bathed him in a magical aura. After I got my camera he started to preen, and preen, and preen.
Just now the wren from Carolina buzzed through the neighbor’s hedge a line of grace notes I couldn’t even write down much less sing.
Now he lifts his chestnut colored throat and delivers such a cantering praise — for what? For the early morning, the taste of the spider,
for his small cup of life that he drinks from every day, knowing it will refill. All things are inventions of holiness. Some more rascally than others.
I’m on that list too, though I don’t know exactly where. But, every morning, there is my own cup of gladness, and there’s that wren in the hedge, above me, with his
blazing song.
~ Mary Oliver (The Wren from Carolina)
‘Twas my lucky morning! You never know who might stop by. These pictures were taken through a dirty window with my neighbor’s wall and window in the background. I’m glad her shades were closed — there were already enough reflections cluttering up the shots. I’m surprised the photos came out as well as they did.
No doubt about it, it is summer now. The field daisies have been in bloom since mid-June, and now come the black-eyed Susans, whose color smacks you in the eye. I find in Gray’s Manual of Botany that color is given simply as orange-yellow. To me it is a special brassy golden color, full of sunlight, a color that no artist I can remember except Van Gogh ever used. ~ Hal Borland (Hal Borland’s Book of Days)
A June landscape is incomplete without water. Best of all, the river; but if not this, then a creek, a brook, or even the quiet mill-pond. However pleasant the day may be, the breeze cool, the blossoms bright, the shade dense, the sunshine tempered, there still is something wanting. The world has an unfinished look when there is no water in view, and wild life is largely of the same opinion. I have often found many an upland field almost deserted when the meadows and the river bank were crowded. ~ Charles Conrad Abbott (Days Out of Doors)
We chanced across a patch of yet another species of trillium. This lance-leaved trillium is the 12th kind of trillium I have pictures of on this blog. There are about 50 known, worldwide.
lance-leaved trillium
wild blue phlox
Last fall when we saw the huge leaves falling down around the bigleaf magnolia I did some research and learned that people often miss seeing the flowers in the spring because they are so high up in the tree. So I’ve been looking up on every visit since spring got started. On this day I saw some buds and new leaves emerging and used the zoom lens to get a picture. (above)
spreading Jacob’s ladder
spreading Jacob’s ladder
Florida anise tree
Mountain witch-alder or large fothergilla is a 6-12 ft., sometimes taller, deciduous shrub with picturesquely crooked, multiple stems. Dense, dark blue-green, leathery foliage becomes colorful in fall. The fragrant flower, appearing as a mass of stamens, is white and occurs in thimble-like, terminal spikes after the leaves have appeared. ~ Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center website
mountain witch-alder
Venus flytraps
Maybe the sunlight was different this year but the Spanish lavender’s hues seemed a lot deeper, compared to last year’s photos. I love this vivid color!
Everything outdoors is filled in and green now! I came home with hundreds of pictures Sunday afternoon and struggled to narrow my selections down to 36, so I’m splitting them down to sharing a dozen a day for three days.
We were delighted to find a pair of house finches enjoying a late lunch at the feeders.
And then there were plenty of flowers, of course!
crossvine
wild columbine (aka eastern red columbine)
wildflowers in the sassafras sapling grove
sandhills bluestar
eastern bluestar
I noticed this well-defined fern shadow on the boardwalk (above) and then found the beam of sunlight on a Christmas fern (below) that was creating it.
The cinnamon ferns (below) have grown so tall since I photographed their fiddleheads on March 26th!
Blooming wild azaleas scattered around the botanical garden looked so pretty there, accenting all that new greenery.
Tuesday’s visit to the botanical garden was bright and sunny, and we enjoyed seeing the gentle, even light of the approaching equinox illuminating grasses, spring ephemerals, and shrub buds and blooms. Every year before spring arrives there are controlled burns in some of the piedmont and coastal plain gardens, and we happened to catch sight of one that day. We even spotted a squirrel along a path, so busy eating a bundle of plant stocks and leaves that he didn’t notice how close we were to him.
I can scroll and worry indoors, or I can step outside and remember how it feels to be part of something larger, something timeless, a world that reaches beyond me and includes me, too. The spring ephemerals have only the smallest window for blooming, and so they bloom when the sunlight reaches them. Once the forest becomes enveloped in green and the sunlight closes off again, they will wait for the light to come back. ~ Margaret Renkl (The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year)
dimpled trout lily
little sweet Betsy
‘lemon drop’ swamp azalea
‘Georgia blue’ speedwell
Lenten rose
By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted — Which blossom in the dark. ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #37)
weeping forsythia
The native wildflowers and grasses in these gardens beds evolved with periodic wildfires, which keep trees and shrubs from growing in and return nutrients to the soil. In a few weeks, new growth will be emerging from the ashes. ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden (Facebook, March 10, 2025)
a yearly controlled burn in the Coastal Plain Habitat
So many simple ‘chivalries’ exist and noticing even a few of them can bring us great pleasure and help us to ‘remember how it feels to be a part of something larger.’
