There is a national park in the middle of nowhere in the middle of South Carolina. Who knew. It’s a pretty cool place with a really neat history. The cypress trees were beautiful. Here are some pics from an afternoon moseying around.
Some pics from a damp evening on the BRP near Mt. Mitchell.
Mostly fiddlehead ferns (they’re so sweet and whimsical!), bellwort, chickweed, solomon’s seal, and dwarf crested iris.
Spending time in the woods yesterday reminded me of yet another Mary Oliver poem: ‘How I go to the woods’.
Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.
There is magic in quiet mornings. Mary Oliver sums it up in one of my favorite poems, ‘Softest of Mornings’. (Okay, every poem Mary Oliver ever wrote is my favorite…)
Softest of mornings, hello.
And what will you do today, I wonder,
to my heart?
And how much honey can the heart stand, I wonder,
before it must break?
This is trivial, or nothing: a snail
climbing a trellis of leaves
and the blue trumpets of flowers.
No doubt clocks are ticking loudly
all over the world.
I don’t hear them. The snail’s pale horns
extend and wave this way and that
as her fingers-body shuffles forward, leaving behind
the silvery path of her slime.
Oh, softest of mornings, how shall I break this?
How shall I move away from the snail, and the flowers?
How shall I go on, with my introspective and ambitious life?
I was walking through a residential neighborhood in West Asheville earlier in the week when I spotted dozens of crocus on the edge of the lawn ahead. I spent a good 30 minutes sitting there on the sidewalk admiring them. : )
It’s amazing the difference a week can make. I did a few neighborhood walks during some time off last week, and here are some other pops of color I saw.
A post from weeks and weeks ago included a pic of a mantid egg sac. It’s still there among the horsetail grass! I looked it up and learned that this mantid sack has probably been there since around the first frost of the season last year. It will hatch sometime after spring begins. I am going to go back and relocate this sweet thing to my daughter’s grandmother’s garden. There will be plenty of things for the nymphs to eat when they emerge and I want to be there with my macro lens to document their growing up. I love mantids. Females that eat their male counterpart are bad ass in my book. ♀