It’s been almost two years since we followed this trail in late December 2023. Tripp Farm Trail is part of the maze of trails weaving through the 750 woodland acres of Carolina North Forest. We finally got ourselves a detailed map of all the trails from the University of North Carolina.
As you can see, the woods are still decidedly green. Fall colors don’t peak around here until the second week of November. Which makes November less bleak than we were used to in New England, but makes October here feel more like a September up north.
not all leaves make it to the ground when they fall
not all broken-off branches make it to the ground, either (this one made Tim think of the sword of Damocles)
how many of these will make it all the way to the ground?
hanging on to a twig
refusing to let go
We don’t see birds often in this forest, but the last time we did this trail I found a bluebird. This time Tim spotted a woodpecker, way high up on a tall snag. There’s a reason we never see birders here — or even people with cameras — but I’ll accept this small gift with gratitude. We’re there mainly to forest bathe in the phytoncides the trees give off!
this leaf made it all the way down!
The world of machines is running Beyond the world of trees Where only a leaf is turning In a small high breeze. ~ Wendell Berry (This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems)
You might also notice that leaves growing closer to the ground, where the forest is shady, tend to be larger and softer. This is because trees are trying to absorb as much light as possible with these shaded leaves. Understory trees such as dogwoods live their lives in low light. They not only have larger leaves to absorb all the light they can get but also grow their branches in flat tiers so their leaves are spread out in single layers to make the most efficient use of the light that filters down to them. ~ Peter Wohlleben (Forest Walking: Discovering the Trees & Woodlands of North America)
“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.
July went down as the hottest month ever recorded in North Carolina history, but what a surprise, August turned out to be the coolest August in over thirty years. With all the recent medical appointments we didn’t get out much to enjoy the fresh air, but on Labor Day we did get a chance to walk out in the woods.
Carolina elephant’s-foot
We kept thinking we were hearing a creek’s water running but finally figured out it was a breeze stirring the leaves above our heads. The first autumn we were here we learned to look up if we wanted to see any leaf colors, and we applied that lesson this day, looking up to see the leaves, still in their lovely summer greens.
this made me think of a still life
It was slow going and there were many stops for Tim to catch his breath, but we managed to walk three quarters of a mile and he seemed none the worse for wear after we got home. The rests gave us time to notice all sorts of little treasures on the forest floor, too.
fleabane
A woman once described a friend of hers as being such a keen listener that even the trees leaned toward her, as if they were speaking their innermost secrets into her listening ears. Over the years I’ve envisioned that woman’s silence, a hearing full and open enough that the world told her its stories. The green leaves turned toward her, whispering tales of soft breezes and the murmurs of leaf against leaf. ~ Linda Hogan (Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World)
quartz surrounded by moss
Carolina elephant’s-foot
honey fungus (?)
turkey tail fungus (?)
My respiration and inspiration….the beating of my heart….the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves. ~ Walt Whitman (Leaves of Grass)
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1560)
identical twin spider webs
8.29.25 ~ Battle Branch Trail Chapel Hill, North Carolina
We tried out this trail on another lovely, low humidity day. We wound up getting lost and reluctantly decided to cut through somebody’s yard to get back to a road. Summer is fading away, as it always does, each day a minute or two shorter than the last. Emily’s poem has an added layer of meaning for me, now, as I take note of Tim’s breaths becoming shorter, too.
What a strange month August has been so far. After July ended with the distinction of being the hottest month ever recorded in North Carolina history, in stark contrast, the first 17 days of August never reached the average high temperature of 90. But the dew point has remained very high, giving me a new appreciation for the term warm and muggy. We’ve had a lot of rain and every day feels damp, dark and dreary.
8.15.25 ~ an evening mushroom surprise
On August 6 we spent two and a half hours seeing a pulmonologist and received an alarming diagnosis for Tim, interstitial lung disease. This finally explains his increasing shortness of breath and the cough, in spite of having all his heart disease issues addressed. We’re still trying to come to terms with all this new information and future uncertainties. It didn’t help having the washing machine and the air conditioning break down in the middle of things.
8.15.25 ~ wondering what those bugs are
I’m more and more impatient for some better weather in the autumn so we can get outside again. In the meantime, as far as blogging goes, I distract myself with searching for and then pairing quotes and paintings, and have scheduled quite a few of them to be published many months from now. I’m making good progress with my resistance training, treadmill walking, and tai chi, but it’s not the same as walking among the trees. Work on my family history boxes has stalled.
8.18.25 ~ clavaria in my moss garden
Returning home from the laundromat early one morning I discovered these ghostly white things sticking up out of the moss in our front yard. My first thought was ghost plants but these are much smaller and don’t have a flower on top. I learned they are a fungus called clavaria. There may be 1200 species in the genus and I don’t know which species these are. They do seem to love my very damp moss garden, though.
