walks – In the Woods

high surf

They all worship the sea. But not me. I like to be near it but I’m afraid of it. It’s so powerful.
~ Emma Freeman Thompson White
(Katie’s maternal great-great-grandmother)

As I watched my granddaughter contemplating this powerful sea my thoughts turned to these words my grandmother wrote to my mother when she was passing on her memories for the next generation. My grandmother’s father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all sea captains. (And many of her other ancestors were, too.) The “they” she was referring to were her ancestors.

My grandmother’s words resonated with me because I feel the same way she did about the sea. She always told me the sea was in my blood, but I never had the desire to sail the seas the way my ancestors did. Like my grandmother, I did want to be near it, but safe on land!

These pictures were taken with my cell phone Sunday morning before we left for our trip home. I haven’t seen such high waves in a very long time! My app said they were 4′-6′ high. I’m pretty sure the tiny birds were sandpipers and there were dozens of them darting quickly around between the crashing waves. They were only about 6 inches long. I zoomed the cell phone camera as much as I could but they came out fuzzy. Well, at least I have my memories!

If wrecked opon the Shoal of Thought
How is it with the Sea?
The only Vessel that is shunned
Is safe — Simplicity —
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1503)

drizzly day by the sea

10.10.26 ~ Bodie Island Lighthouse
Cape Hatteras National Seashore, Outer Banks, North Carolina

The only full day of our visit to the Outer Banks was wet. I only took my camera out of its protective case once, in the afternoon when we visited the Bodie Island Lighthouse. There is a nature trail on a boardwalk extending out into the marsh from the lighthouse site. At the end there are stairs up to a viewing platform that had a roof overhead. So I took out the camera and got a great picture of the lighthouse and another one of a great egret that was hunting in the marsh below. The camera got wet anyway because a breeze blew the rain under the roof. I dried it off as best I could.

I was so glad I invested in a good raincoat earlier this year. (I had made good use of it before, as it rained all day when we buried Tim’s ashes.) Even though I couldn’t take pictures it was a joy to be able to watch my Katie be captivated by all the crabs she spotted in the water, skittering around on the mud between mounds of marsh grasses.

One goal I had when I was younger was to visit every national seashore. Life got in the way, but I was happy to add Cape Hatteras N.S. to the ones I have been to, Cumberland Island N.S., Assateague Island N.S., and of course, Cape Cod N.S.

In the morning we had visited the Wright Brothers National Memorial. I was awed to be standing on the grounds where those historic first four flights took place. They had markers where the plane landed, with the distance of the flight, how long it took, and who flew it. They took turns, Orville went first, so I’m guessing that is Wilbur watching in the photo below. They wanted this sandy spot so they could have soft landings. Each flight was a little farther and my Finn decided we would walk the distance to see all four markers. The fourth flight, with Wilbur, went 852 feet and lasted 59 seconds.

17 December 1903 ~ First flight of the Wright Brothers.
They were the first men in history to fly a controlled, powered airplane.
image credit: U.S. National Park Service

I’m relying on photos donated to Wikimedia Commons to remember the rest of the day. More walking, it was a half-mile walk from where the flights happened to the 60 foot tall monument that was built in 1932 on top of Kill Devil Hill. About 95 feet above sea level, the hill was a huge sand dune where the brothers conducted their glider experiments. What a view there was up there! And then half a mile back to the visitor center, which was full of interesting artifacts and historical information on the whole Wright family.

Wright Brothers National Memorial
image credit: Yuming Huang (2017)

After all that walking we returned to our vacation rental for lunch and then headed down to see the lighthouse. After the lighthouse we drove farther south, enjoying the breathtaking scenery. I had no idea that Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge was next to the national seashore! Driving over the bridge in the picture below (I think) we could see these spectacular dunes. (Again, due to the rain I’m borrowing someone else’s pictures.) It was getting late so we pulled into a road to turn around, and that’s when I saw the sign for the wildlife refuge. I have often heard birders raving about this place. According to AI, it is “a world-renowned birding hotspot that has recorded over 370 bird species.” Well, I hope I can come back here and explore someday!!!

sand dunes by Ken Lund (2014)
Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge, Outer Banks, North Carolina

And so another wonderful day ended with supper, working on puzzles, and enjoying some good conversations, followed by another good night of sleep.

awed and spellbound

10.9.26 ~ Ashville Drive Beach
Kill Devil Hills, Outer Banks, North Carolina

When we arrived at our vacation rental in Kill Devil Hills Friday evening we brought in our luggage and then walked straight down to the beach. Before we even got over the dune or saw any waves, grandson Finn spotted a little crab on the walkway, perfectly disguised in the sand.

Standing out on the beach was a sculpture someone had left. I’m guessing the 26 stands for 2026 but I can’t decipher the other bits. Katie couldn’t make sense of it, either.

the two dots on the right are my grandchildren

I spent a lot of time watching three willets hanging out somewhat close to me. The lighting wasn’t great, it being evening and cloudy with the outer bands of Hurricane Isaias over us. The sea was relatively calm, but a day and a half later there would be some impressive waves here.

The woods are never solitary — they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity. We can never pierce its infinite mystery — we may only wander, awed and spellbound, on the outer fringe of it. The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only — a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music.
~ Lucy Maud Montgomery
(Anne’s House of Dreams)

It felt so good being by the sea again. There’s something about that salt in the air and the sound of the waves that is so healing. I slept very well that night.

every somatic sensation, every breath

10.6.26 ~ Sandy Creek Park (view from the bird blind)

The heat and humidity seem to have finally left us! For good, I hope. I put on my permethrin-treated anti-tick pants and socks and joined Sally for a good long walk at Sandy Creek Park in Durham. It felt so good to be outside at long last and to do some birdwatching. And I got to add another bird to my life bird list near the end of our saunter!

Thought can keep the storylines alive, and the body reliably hums along with its somatic accompaniments that seem to confirm the storylines and then re-trigger them, but every re-telling is actually slightly different in content and always fresh in the act of remembering, and every somatic sensation, every breath, is fresh and new, however familiar it seems.
~ Joan Tollifson
(Ungraspable Presence, October 7, 2026)

Joan Tollifson’s words spoke to me the other morning as my thoughts have been spinning, trying to come up with a story to explain a distressing somatic symptom. Is it psychosomatic, triggered by anxiety and/or grief? (plausible) Or maybe a side effect of a prescription drug? (equally plausible) Or both, or something else entirely? My doctor is investigating and running all kinds of tests. Hopefully we’ll figure it out soon.

red-capped brittlegill mushroom in a patch of partridge berry

Somatic worries aside, it felt amazingly good and healthy to be out in the fresh air with a wonderful companion, enjoying the perfect sunlight of this time of year.

nature trail through the dappled sunlit woods

Ever since I moved to North Carolina I have received repeated warnings and cautions about snakes. Well, after living here for three years I finally encountered one! A copperhead was lying very still across our path through a marshy area. We turned around and went back the way we came. (Yes, I used the zoom to get the pictures!)

And he who made kittens put snakes in the grass.
~ Ian Anderson
♫ (Bungle in the Jungle) ♫

Eight months later, and the for the second time this year, Sally spotted another life bird for me with her binoculars. Even though it was at quite a distance, and moving around at a fast pace, she said it was one of the best looks at one she’s ever had. As with the yellow-bellied sapsucker we saw in February, my camera’s zoom lens struggled to get these shots, which are cropped.

The gorgeous Red-headed Woodpecker is so boldly patterned it’s been called a “flying checkerboard,” with an entirely crimson head, a snow-white body, and half white, half inky black wings. These birds don’t act quite like most other woodpeckers: they’re adept at catching insects in the air, and they eat lots of acorns and beech nuts, often hiding away extra food in tree crevices for later. This magnificent species has declined severely in the past half-century because of habitat loss and changes to its food supply.
~ All About Birds website

Sandy Creek from the Kenneth R. Coulter Bridge

Sandy Creek was pretty low. In spite of the rain we’ve been getting sporadically we are still in a moderate drought. The pond and the creek look a lot different than they did back in January 2025, the last time I was here with Tim. It was interesting to see the difference in the pictures of the creek at the ends of that post and this post. The post from that walk was entitled three stents make a difference. Turns out that was wishful thinking. Tim kept getting worse as his lung disease was finally diagnosed later in the year.

wetlands, seashore, moraine

Here are the pictures from my delightful afternoon in Connecticut by the sea. Beverly, John and I took a long walk through the marsh and onto the beach, wandering along a side path first. Sadly, invasive phragmites have taken over and spoiled much of the view Tim & I enjoyed when we came here five years ago. See that post here: sunlight by the sea. And it wasn’t long before we found another invasive species landing on our clothing, the newly arrived spotted lanternfly. Sigh.

I have not included pictures of either of them, and have no pictures of the beach itself because it was covered with people! But we made the best of it and found many little treasures to appreciate.

on the John A. Scillieri, Jr. Overlook Wetlands path

On the trip up to Connecticut we came the “inland” route to avoid the city traffic, through the Blue Ridge and Poconos mountains. Lovely goldenrod was blooming in abundance along the highway.

John is a botanist so we learned a bit about the different kinds of marsh and dune grasses and how they occupy different zones, depending on if the marsh is receding away from the sea or staying in place for a while. It will be interesting to see how this marsh deals with climate change.

I miss my beach roses and was so grateful to see a few on this walk. Lots of berries for migrating birds.

To avoid staring at people we walked the wrack line and found a few interesting items.

AI thinks this might be a cluster of translucent squid eggs attached to bits of seaweed

And of course, Beverly is a geologist so we found ourselves spending a lot of time at the glacial moraine at the end of the beach. In our younger years we might have been found climbing all over these boulders but decided to play it safe and not risk slipping and breaking any bones.

Listening to the waves was soothing, and the more we looked around the more there was to observe.

On the way back we found more beach roses and a cute laughing gull standing on the sand far enough away from any person, making possible my only gull picture of the afternoon. There were some gulls flying overhead, but too fast for me to capture.

But, not to worry, we were headed for another beach after a couple of errands and refreshments. There were more than enough gulls there, with no people around, to keep me happy for a couple of hours.

whenever we’re not looking

5.11.26 ~ Race Point Beach, Provincetown, Massachusetts
photo by Jon

In May I took a whirlwind trip to Cape Cod and Connecticut to scatter and bury Tim’s ashes. Five intense days of sharing memories and enjoying the family and friends and activities that Tim used to love. It’s taking me a while to recover but I’ve decided to share a few pictures here to help me remember.

On May 11th, 27 of us headed out to Race Point Beach in Provincetown where I scattered some of Tim’s ashes on the beach where he spent many of the happiest days of his life. Tim’s brother Dan shared stories of their childhood adventures in P’town. And many in the gathering took turns spontaneously sharing their favorite memories. Moments after I scattered Tim’s ashes, we heard the particular call of a laughing gull flying overhead, gently reminding me of Tim’s wonderful sense of humor.

While we were there we took advantage of the opportunity, with all of Tim’s remaining brothers gathered, Dan, Matt, Jed, and Josh, to scatter some of their father’s ashes. Erik had died back in 2008 and also had close ties to Provincetown. And Tim’s cousin Allegra scattered some of her mother’s ashes there on the sand, too. Her mother was Tim’s beloved Aunt Delorma, who died in January, only three months after him.

We all have such happy memories of vacationing at the family home in Provincetown. The current owner of 180 Bradford St. was very gracious to allow us to leave two memorial blown glass hearts in the garden. Allegra sculpted them, with some of their ashes inside, the red one is Tim’s.

The next day, Fran, Allegra and I had an amazing family history adventure, locating 72B Commercial St., where Tim and Dan’s 2nd-great-grandparents, Elijah & Zipporah Rodgers had lived. When Tim and Dan were kids they were taken to the house and met the widow of his great-granduncle, Capt. Neadom Oscar Rodgers (1876-1953), Aunt Lil, and Neadom’s son Oscar. (Oscar was Aunt Lil’s stepson.) Allegra was also taken there, as a very small child, on a separate occasion. Tim showed me the place on our honeymoon but my memory of its location got very fuzzy.

As we were checking it out a man came down the grass-covered lane it was located on and, after explaining who I was, I asked him a few questions. One thing led to another and the next thing we knew we were sitting in the dining room of an elderly neighbor who has lived there his whole life and remembered Aunt Lil Rodgers and playing in the lane. Aunt Lil died in 1979. The information we got from him led me to find more information about the house and its occupants online.

That afternoon I took a walk on Beech Forest Trail with my sons and nieces and nephew and some of their spouses. (No one in my generation was up for the hike!) I told them the story of Tim & me taking this walk on our honeymoon, and how we took it again after getting our first digital camera in 2009. The picture of the squirrel on the sidebar of this blog came from that walk, and was my first taste of enjoying nature photography. Sadly, this time, I, and some of the others, came back with a tick.

I’m thinking the universe may be trying to tell me that fewer nature walks and more genealogy research will be my new direction in life…

At the end of this mile-long loop walk my sons discovered a poem by one of my favorite poets under glass on the top of a picnic table. They brought me back to see it and it seemed like a beautiful reflection of my mood about the changes in focus I’m going through in my life.

For example, what the trees do
not only in lightning storms
or the watery dark of a summer’s night
or under the white nets of winter
but now, and now, and now – whenever
we’re not looking. Surely you can’t imagine
they don’t dance, from the root up, wishing
to travel a little, not cramped so much as wanting
a better view, or more sun, or just as avidly
more shade – surely you can’t imagine they just
stand there loving every
minute of it, the birds or the emptiness, the dark rings
of the years slowly and without a sound
thickening, and nothing different unless the wind,
and then only in its own mood, comes
to visit, surely you can’t imagine
patience, and happiness, like that.
~ Mary Oliver
(Can You Imagine?)

…to be continued

the best for last

4.21.26 ~ George & Julia Brumley Family Nature Preserve

On our way back to the car after a walk at Brumley North, Sally and I were delighted to encounter two male indigo buntings perched in a tree alongside our path. The one in the first and second pictures, taken from two different angles, was easier to spot. The one in the third picture was well hidden.

We heard several birds we hoped to see, like a white-eyed vireo and a catbird, but never managed to find them. We did see a few cardinals, white-throated sparrows, titmice, and Carolina wrens. Little did we know what surprise was waiting for us at the end of our walk. It was a lovely day with a cool breeze and lots of green on the trees.

Sometimes I think that the point of birdwatching is not the actual seeing of the birds, but the cultivation of patience. Of course, each time we set out, there’s a certain amount of expectation that we’ll see something, maybe even a species we’ve never seen before, and that it will fill us with light. But even if we don’t see anything remarkable — and sometimes that happens — we come home filled with light anyway.
~ Lynn Thomson
(Birding with Yeats: A Memoir)

It was good being outside again and while I enjoy taking and sharing pictures, to find the words to narrate the experience seems a little overwhelming. My grieving seems to have entered a new phase, where my brain is catching up with my body. (I was told it isn’t unusual to be in shock for six months after the death of a spouse.) It almost feels like anesthesia wearing off now. The fog clearing and numbness giving way to feelings of a deeper ache, a wound trying to heal. Understanding more clearly what has happened. That this is permanent. Thank goodness for friends and family listening to me and helping me through — I could never do this alone.

lasting for a very short time

A lovely walk with friends down by the creek, dotted with fleeting spring ephemerals at every turn. The trees are leafing out and the sky was as blue as it gets.

People have no respect for impermanence. We take no delight in it; in fact, we despair of it. We regard it as pain. We try to resist it by making things that will last — forever, we say — things that we don’t have to wash, things that we don’t have to iron. Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things.
~ Pema Chödrön
(When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times)

And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky —
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #466)

We are seeing, then, that our experience is altogether momentary. From one point of view, each moment is so elusive and so brief that we cannot even think about it before it has gone. From another point of view, this moment is always here, since we know no other moment than the present moment. It is always dying, always becoming past more rapidly than imagination can conceive. Yet at the same time it is always being born, always new, emerging just as rapidly from that complete unknown we call the future. Thinking about it almost makes you breathless.
~ Alan Watts
(The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety)

green-and-gold (thanks to Nina for the identification)

bluets, anchored in moss, clinging to the creek bank

The green-and-golds and the violet wood-sorrels were new wildflowers for me.

life as it is

I can see this year is going to have a lot of first-time-without-Tim occasions, but I’m starting to embrace them with a little more openness, letting the feelings be. The grief isn’t as raw these days, the waves of it feel more gentle somehow. And so I had a nice time visiting the Coker Arboretum with Sally while the college students were away on spring break.

spring starflower (South America)
with small milkweed bug

I did not notice that bug when I was taking the picture – it often amazes what the camera finds for me. We lingered quite a while near this beautiful patch of starflowers.

This bunch of spirea bushes was breathtaking – the camera tried but couldn’t quite capture the beauty. We also lingered here.

I don’t see nondual spirituality as a path to perpetual bliss. From my perspective, being awake is about total intimacy with life as it is. It’s not about escape or turning away. And it’s not about trying to find an explanation either, because ultimately, we can’t. Everything is the way it is because the whole universe is the way it is.
~ Joan Tollifson
(Right Now, Just As It Is!, August 21, 2025, “The Play of Life”)

Our lives teach us who we are.
~ Salman Rushdie
(In Good Faith)

Every once in a while the energy of a certain tree will attract me. This swamp chestnut oak was huge! There was something wise and majestic about it. I couldn’t get far enough away to get all of it, so I tried to get half of it. Conversely, because there are signs everywhere warning us to stay on the paths, I couldn’t get close enough to touch it, which is what I very much wanted to do.

But then I thought of my old gull friend with the mangled leg, and how I fed off his wise energy even though I never touched him. So I looked up into the branches and with the zoom lens saw some new leaves and catkins. It made me think of the quote about being intimate with life as it is.

Japanese flowering cherry tree (Kwanzan cultivar)

The last two pictures were actually taken on the UNC campus as we were walking back to the car. These special cherry trees were presented to the university by the Class of 1929, making them almost 100 years old!

So many beautiful blossoms on such a lovely warm spring day. And so many peaceful thoughts to bring home with me.