Now there are five bronze sculptures of trains along the Mary Black Rail Trail. One was the Glendale Trolley which used to go downtown from near my house. GE 44 "The Dummy" carried cotton and textiles. The Clinchfield Caboose was famous for the Santa Claus Special which hauled out gifts to kids living along the route. The Big 6 ran from Spartanburg to Greenwood and was powered by electricity. The J Class 611, Norfolk and Western Steam Engine reached speeds up to 100 miles per hour.
Today there is the intoxicating aroma of barbeque pig mingling with the mimosa and magnolia along the trail. Boofa enjoys the Dog Park along with Caleb, the German Shepherd (trained by a New York Policeman), Sophia, the white Yellow Lab just 7 months old and the champion of catching and retrieving tennis balls, Abby, a chow mix with short legs rescued from a shelter in Colorado and Homer, a Golden Retriever, who, inspite of her name, is a girl. Caleb's owner is very knowledgeable about canines. She wears gem studded turtle earrings. A young Asian girl is the owner of Abby and Sophia and a middle aged couple bring Homer.
There are 14 new maple trees planted along the trail behind the "Y", where the new building is now open.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
May 23, 2012 Shinrin yoku, Bathing in the Forest
Zach's official birthday. It is getting hot. I took the path along the Congaree from Gervais to Cayce
which is deeply forested and shaded. The red cana lilly flowers are perched atop dark green and brown leaves reaching 8 or even 10 feet upwards. Beside them are orange lillies with moss green leaves, less tall but equally exuberant. Negative ions surround me from the river rushing over the rocks.
A man drifts quickly in his yellow kayak, fishing. I spy a river cooter crawling up from the river bank.
It sees me and Boofa but does not withdraw into its shell. It is as big as a platter for your Thanksgiving turkey. Behind me a man arrives with his camera to photograph him.
We meet a woman with a pug named "George". My sister had two pugs named "Sally" and "Elizabeth". My cousin has two now, named "Nick and Nora" from the Thin Man TV series. Once she had a pug named "Dr. Watson", who now rests in his grave at their old house.
which is deeply forested and shaded. The red cana lilly flowers are perched atop dark green and brown leaves reaching 8 or even 10 feet upwards. Beside them are orange lillies with moss green leaves, less tall but equally exuberant. Negative ions surround me from the river rushing over the rocks.
A man drifts quickly in his yellow kayak, fishing. I spy a river cooter crawling up from the river bank.
It sees me and Boofa but does not withdraw into its shell. It is as big as a platter for your Thanksgiving turkey. Behind me a man arrives with his camera to photograph him.
We meet a woman with a pug named "George". My sister had two pugs named "Sally" and "Elizabeth". My cousin has two now, named "Nick and Nora" from the Thin Man TV series. Once she had a pug named "Dr. Watson", who now rests in his grave at their old house.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
May 19, 2012 The Cottonwood Trail Wetlands
Today was Zach's fifth birthday. He had a party at Melrose Park in which all his friends, brother and cousins were dressed as superheros and ran wildly all over the place having a great time. When I got home I walked the Cottonwood Trail in the early evening. The water in the wetlands is an avocado green with algae now. The Blue Flags are no longer blooming, but there are bunches of Pickerel Weed of perhaps three feet in circumference and a height of 2 to 3 feet blooming fantastically. "Weed" seems like a strange name for this large beautiful aquatic plant which has big thick dark green pointed leaves extending upward and spires of 6 to 8 inches covered with tiny purple blossoms. It is said the seeds are edible and animals like them, if they can get to them.
"pointederia cordata", it's latin name, is much more fitting.
A man asks me if I have seen the Palmetto Palm near where the trail goes under a bridge. I have not and when I looked for it, I did not see it. He said he was making a study of the different types of Palmetto Palms (The SC State Tree). There are mulberries fallen on the path. And later in a sunny spot, a mimosa in full bloom and full lovely aroma, reaches toward the path.
"pointederia cordata", it's latin name, is much more fitting.
A man asks me if I have seen the Palmetto Palm near where the trail goes under a bridge. I have not and when I looked for it, I did not see it. He said he was making a study of the different types of Palmetto Palms (The SC State Tree). There are mulberries fallen on the path. And later in a sunny spot, a mimosa in full bloom and full lovely aroma, reaches toward the path.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
May 16, 2012 Walking the Ravenel Bridge Back and Forth
Charleston, the Holy City (so called by some because of the many historic churches). The Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge, dedicated in 2005, spans the Cooper River from downtown Charleston to Mt.
Pleasant. Eleanor and Hanah both ran the Cooper River Bridge Run on the old Cooper River Bridge when they attended The College of Charleston. Michael entered the poster contest for the run twice. His entries hang in a hallway of the Medical College downtown. John and Colleen's wedding
was held at Lowndes Grove Plantation on the East bank of the Ashley River near the Citadel.
Today I was on the bridge by 6:30 am along with a handfull of other runners, walkers, and bikers.
Low hung grey clouds were beginning to part with scraps of blue sky peeking through. I began from the Mt. Pleasant side of the river near Patriot's point, Ft. Sumter and Ft. Moultrie. The view from the top is breathtaking. I can see the old Yorktown over to the left and downtown Charleston to the right. I call all my children on my cell phone and tell them where I am. Soon I am on a kind of walker's high rounding the water fountains on the Charleston side and walking back up again toward Mt. Pleasant. I meet two women with T shirts that say "Census" and "Airforce". They say they walk the bridge once a week. A thin bike rider with a neat white beard and an eye patch pumps bravely past me up to the top. Back on the ground, I see a sign that proclaims: East Coast Greenway, Maine to Miami.
Here is an exerpt from a letter my great great grandfather wrote to his son, G.G. Welsh (my great grandfather, Christopher's brother) on July 18, 1861:
My dear Son, I now employ my present moments in writing you a few lines informing you of the condition of our public and private affairs at home. We are all well at home as far as I know, and hoping this may find you and your friends and associates enjoying the same. You wanted to know the No. Bales of Cotteon. About 110. I had one stolen and have had no news of it. Parker is gone. Jammon Gardner is my overseer and I think he has made a very good start and hope he will hold out. My pork is not all killed yet. We have had quite an exciting time of it ever since the ordinance of Secession was passed. The Militia of our up country are almost daily on parade and the domestic interests of the country are almost entirely said down. The appeareance of the Harvest Lane in view of the Cartistonians, but first, the evacuation of Fort Moultrie. Next the Harvest Lane and third the attempt of the Star of the West to reinforce Ft. Sumter all added to the excitement of the people. But our crowning glory is the way in which our leaders and those in command acted on that perilous occasion......We will all be down soon if called for.....If I have to leave, the family may move to the village. I saw Dr. R.V. Crawford one of our Delegates to State Convention and he told me he did not know you were there. I also gave him 50 dollars for you which he said he gave to Col. J.H. Witherspoon for you. You ought to make youself known to all the men from Lancaster Many of them would be proud to see you. If you do right which I hope you will always try to do. I told Dr. Crawford to tell you to remain in Charleston until the last gun was fired. A father's counsel - be diligent, be frugal, be temperate and be doing in every sense the best you can for you may use well your conduct. Your conduct will be closely scrutinized......All sends thus Love and affection to this.
Write soon. J. R. Welsh (John Rushing).
Pleasant. Eleanor and Hanah both ran the Cooper River Bridge Run on the old Cooper River Bridge when they attended The College of Charleston. Michael entered the poster contest for the run twice. His entries hang in a hallway of the Medical College downtown. John and Colleen's wedding
was held at Lowndes Grove Plantation on the East bank of the Ashley River near the Citadel.
Today I was on the bridge by 6:30 am along with a handfull of other runners, walkers, and bikers.
Low hung grey clouds were beginning to part with scraps of blue sky peeking through. I began from the Mt. Pleasant side of the river near Patriot's point, Ft. Sumter and Ft. Moultrie. The view from the top is breathtaking. I can see the old Yorktown over to the left and downtown Charleston to the right. I call all my children on my cell phone and tell them where I am. Soon I am on a kind of walker's high rounding the water fountains on the Charleston side and walking back up again toward Mt. Pleasant. I meet two women with T shirts that say "Census" and "Airforce". They say they walk the bridge once a week. A thin bike rider with a neat white beard and an eye patch pumps bravely past me up to the top. Back on the ground, I see a sign that proclaims: East Coast Greenway, Maine to Miami.
Here is an exerpt from a letter my great great grandfather wrote to his son, G.G. Welsh (my great grandfather, Christopher's brother) on July 18, 1861:
My dear Son, I now employ my present moments in writing you a few lines informing you of the condition of our public and private affairs at home. We are all well at home as far as I know, and hoping this may find you and your friends and associates enjoying the same. You wanted to know the No. Bales of Cotteon. About 110. I had one stolen and have had no news of it. Parker is gone. Jammon Gardner is my overseer and I think he has made a very good start and hope he will hold out. My pork is not all killed yet. We have had quite an exciting time of it ever since the ordinance of Secession was passed. The Militia of our up country are almost daily on parade and the domestic interests of the country are almost entirely said down. The appeareance of the Harvest Lane in view of the Cartistonians, but first, the evacuation of Fort Moultrie. Next the Harvest Lane and third the attempt of the Star of the West to reinforce Ft. Sumter all added to the excitement of the people. But our crowning glory is the way in which our leaders and those in command acted on that perilous occasion......We will all be down soon if called for.....If I have to leave, the family may move to the village. I saw Dr. R.V. Crawford one of our Delegates to State Convention and he told me he did not know you were there. I also gave him 50 dollars for you which he said he gave to Col. J.H. Witherspoon for you. You ought to make youself known to all the men from Lancaster Many of them would be proud to see you. If you do right which I hope you will always try to do. I told Dr. Crawford to tell you to remain in Charleston until the last gun was fired. A father's counsel - be diligent, be frugal, be temperate and be doing in every sense the best you can for you may use well your conduct. Your conduct will be closely scrutinized......All sends thus Love and affection to this.
Write soon. J. R. Welsh (John Rushing).
Thursday, May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 Confederate Memorial Day
Boofa and I walked five miles, noticing the great hills of fire ants that have come up after the rain.
The rain has also drummed the catalpa blossoms out of the trees and washed away the stains of the huckleberries from the walkway. I am remembering my mother's grandfather, who was a surgeon's assistant in the Civil War and Captain Blackney, who was probably in the war and who loaded up his family and possessions in a wagon drawn by oxen and walked to Mississippi. He was then 65 years old. But I want to remember my father's grandfather who served in the Union Army in most of the great battles of the war, including Gettysburg and Bull Run. I have his photograph.
And here is the photograph of Grandfather Baer,
Dressed in a suit and tie just like Mark Twain,
Even the straw Panama hat, the leather shoes,
Which lace up the ankle, an arch, a short heel.
He was a music teacher in Philadelphia
And before that, a soldier who came home
From Bull Run, Antietam and Gettysburg
Unharmed.
It is late summer, the first leaves have fallen
To the ground from the elm tree behind him.
There is the garden full of ripe tomatoes
And raspberries and even flowers.
I can see the tall spires of hollyhocks.
He is sitting on a bench made of thick twigs
Built into a sunburst design on the back.
And there is a little boy with him
Dressed entirly in white, except for
His tiny dark leather shoes. His hair is
Thick and straight, caramel with bangs.
The little boy holds his grandfather's thumb.
He is my father, long dead these thirty years.
The rain has also drummed the catalpa blossoms out of the trees and washed away the stains of the huckleberries from the walkway. I am remembering my mother's grandfather, who was a surgeon's assistant in the Civil War and Captain Blackney, who was probably in the war and who loaded up his family and possessions in a wagon drawn by oxen and walked to Mississippi. He was then 65 years old. But I want to remember my father's grandfather who served in the Union Army in most of the great battles of the war, including Gettysburg and Bull Run. I have his photograph.
And here is the photograph of Grandfather Baer,
Dressed in a suit and tie just like Mark Twain,
Even the straw Panama hat, the leather shoes,
Which lace up the ankle, an arch, a short heel.
He was a music teacher in Philadelphia
And before that, a soldier who came home
From Bull Run, Antietam and Gettysburg
Unharmed.
It is late summer, the first leaves have fallen
To the ground from the elm tree behind him.
There is the garden full of ripe tomatoes
And raspberries and even flowers.
I can see the tall spires of hollyhocks.
He is sitting on a bench made of thick twigs
Built into a sunburst design on the back.
And there is a little boy with him
Dressed entirly in white, except for
His tiny dark leather shoes. His hair is
Thick and straight, caramel with bangs.
The little boy holds his grandfather's thumb.
He is my father, long dead these thirty years.
May 9, 2012 Landsford Canal Lilies are Blooming
The Landsford canal in Chester and Lancaster Counties was a dam partially across the Catawba River and Five Locks designed by Robert Mills in 1820. I approach by I-77 North from Columbia, exit for Fort Lawn (a woman I met named Fannie Fort told me that there was not a fort there, there was the lawn of a family named Fort), take 21 towards Rock Hill for about 8 miles. This is still the real country. We used to drive this way from Rock Hill to "down home" on Sundays to visit Mama and Papa and many aunts, uncles and cousins out in the country at Pleasant Plain. I looked for the old store along the way owned by a man who introduced by mother and father, but it is gone or the kudzu has covered it up. The road has not changed much, there are some farm houses surrounded by pecan trees and huge magnolias, their size testifying to the age of the homes. Near Mineral Springs road, a sign declares "Deer Skinning $20.00". On the road side, there is purple vetch and miriad yellow flowers. Another sign proclaims "Home grown greens and oats". A large brown State Park sign points down the road to the canal and it comes up in a few miles. There is no one at the park, except a ranger I call down from his second floor office.
He tells me he likes it this way, that it has rained all night and more rain is coming. That is why no one is there. There are restrooms, picnic tables, a children's play ground, a meeting house made of stone. And there is a 1.5 mile trail along the river. The forrest is wet and fragrant. Many blue spiderworts are strewn beside the path. After 3/4 mile you come upon a a wooden platform for viewing the Rocky Shoal Spider Lilies (Hymenocallis coronaria). The sight is astounding. The wide, wide Catawba is a kind of Garden of Eden. As far as you can see in either direction, the river is full of blooming white lilies (they are also called the Fall Line Cahaba Lilly). They grow only in South Carolina, Georgia and Alabama. Since dams have been built on the rivers, they have begun to lose their habitats. Their roots require the craggy rocks on the bottom of the rivers and some of this is gone now. If you go farther down the trail, you will pass through part of an old stone mill owned by William Richardson Davie where they cut lumber and milled grain. At the far end of the trail, there is a large part of one of the old locks and a sign which tells you that you are on the "Great Indian Warrior Trading Path". This path stretched from the Great Lakes to Augusta Georgia and part of it includes the Nation's Ford of the Catawba near Rock Hill (up river about 13 miles). There was a ford here as well and when the water is low, it is possible to walk across this very wide river.
The rangers used to take people, but now if you want to walk across, you must try to find out from Duke Power Company at what hours, the depth of the river will allow you to cross. And you are on your own.
I drive away toward Rock Hill in a downpour thinking of the Native Americans who were stewards of this paradise and how they lost their lands, their hunting grounds, their medicine and philosophy, their very culture, their language and their religion and of the transgenerational trauma which follows them.
He tells me he likes it this way, that it has rained all night and more rain is coming. That is why no one is there. There are restrooms, picnic tables, a children's play ground, a meeting house made of stone. And there is a 1.5 mile trail along the river. The forrest is wet and fragrant. Many blue spiderworts are strewn beside the path. After 3/4 mile you come upon a a wooden platform for viewing the Rocky Shoal Spider Lilies (Hymenocallis coronaria). The sight is astounding. The wide, wide Catawba is a kind of Garden of Eden. As far as you can see in either direction, the river is full of blooming white lilies (they are also called the Fall Line Cahaba Lilly). They grow only in South Carolina, Georgia and Alabama. Since dams have been built on the rivers, they have begun to lose their habitats. Their roots require the craggy rocks on the bottom of the rivers and some of this is gone now. If you go farther down the trail, you will pass through part of an old stone mill owned by William Richardson Davie where they cut lumber and milled grain. At the far end of the trail, there is a large part of one of the old locks and a sign which tells you that you are on the "Great Indian Warrior Trading Path". This path stretched from the Great Lakes to Augusta Georgia and part of it includes the Nation's Ford of the Catawba near Rock Hill (up river about 13 miles). There was a ford here as well and when the water is low, it is possible to walk across this very wide river.
The rangers used to take people, but now if you want to walk across, you must try to find out from Duke Power Company at what hours, the depth of the river will allow you to cross. And you are on your own.
I drive away toward Rock Hill in a downpour thinking of the Native Americans who were stewards of this paradise and how they lost their lands, their hunting grounds, their medicine and philosophy, their very culture, their language and their religion and of the transgenerational trauma which follows them.
Monday, May 7, 2012
May 7,2012 Anne Springs Close Greenway
After seeing Liza perform in her school's production of Cinderella Friday night in Charlotte, I drove home down Hwy 21 to the outskirts of Ft Mill, through the peach orchards and into the greenway.
(There is a $3.00 fee for hickers), park the car near the restrooms and showers, the Rush Pavilion.
The restrooms have that summer camp in the woods smell. At the beginning of the path, a sign tells you that you are on the Nations Ford (Occaweechi Path), one of the oldest and most historic routes in North America.
It was traveled by the Catawbas and the Cherokee from Virginia to Augusta before the Europeans came. In the Revolution, General Sumter camped his troups here along the path. In the Civil War, the Conferate army marched through here to Virginia and Gettysburg. Jefferson Davis came back this way in defeat. The ford of the Catawba River is nearby and today, Nations Ford Road is a highly commercial byway in Charlotte where probably few people realize the significance of its name.
I hike around the lake named for King Haigler (Nopkehe, Artoswa, Oroloswa) chief of the Catawbas in the 1700's and down the Blue Star Path, back around the lake. There is a tiny island in the lake with a big tree growing on it. Three Canadian Geese have claimed it, honking. When I was a child, the geese came south to the Carolinas in Winter and flew back to Canada in the spring. Now they stay here all year long. There are daisies and Queen Anne's Lace in the sunny places along the banks of the lake.
Driving down 21 again I stop at the Springs Peach Shed where my mother would take us to buy a bushel of peaches. We would eat them on cereal, on vanilla ice cream and even make homemade peach ice cream. Now it is a bustling gourmet shop and restaurant, where there is a butcher stop, artisan breads and condiments from the world over. The parking lot is jammed. The restaurant is full of people eating breakfast. There are lines to the cash register.
Generations ago, my great, great grandparents had a general store out in the country in Lancaster County where the orginal Springs Mills founder bought goods and paid for them in Springs stock
(his name was Springsteen then). When my great grandfather died, he left his daughter the Springs stock and my grandfather the land. The stock was quite valuable and Papa's sister and her family made trips to Europe. The children wore fine clothes which were handed down to my mother and her sisters.
(There is a $3.00 fee for hickers), park the car near the restrooms and showers, the Rush Pavilion.
The restrooms have that summer camp in the woods smell. At the beginning of the path, a sign tells you that you are on the Nations Ford (Occaweechi Path), one of the oldest and most historic routes in North America.
It was traveled by the Catawbas and the Cherokee from Virginia to Augusta before the Europeans came. In the Revolution, General Sumter camped his troups here along the path. In the Civil War, the Conferate army marched through here to Virginia and Gettysburg. Jefferson Davis came back this way in defeat. The ford of the Catawba River is nearby and today, Nations Ford Road is a highly commercial byway in Charlotte where probably few people realize the significance of its name.
I hike around the lake named for King Haigler (Nopkehe, Artoswa, Oroloswa) chief of the Catawbas in the 1700's and down the Blue Star Path, back around the lake. There is a tiny island in the lake with a big tree growing on it. Three Canadian Geese have claimed it, honking. When I was a child, the geese came south to the Carolinas in Winter and flew back to Canada in the spring. Now they stay here all year long. There are daisies and Queen Anne's Lace in the sunny places along the banks of the lake.
Driving down 21 again I stop at the Springs Peach Shed where my mother would take us to buy a bushel of peaches. We would eat them on cereal, on vanilla ice cream and even make homemade peach ice cream. Now it is a bustling gourmet shop and restaurant, where there is a butcher stop, artisan breads and condiments from the world over. The parking lot is jammed. The restaurant is full of people eating breakfast. There are lines to the cash register.
Generations ago, my great, great grandparents had a general store out in the country in Lancaster County where the orginal Springs Mills founder bought goods and paid for them in Springs stock
(his name was Springsteen then). When my great grandfather died, he left his daughter the Springs stock and my grandfather the land. The stock was quite valuable and Papa's sister and her family made trips to Europe. The children wore fine clothes which were handed down to my mother and her sisters.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 Rocky Shoals Spider Lillies and Memories of Oshima
From the path between the Columbia Canal and the Congaree, you can see the beautiful white Spider Lilies blooming in huge clumps from the crevices in the rocks of the river. These are a Federal Species of Concern and grow in only a few places, another being in the Catawba River at Landsford Canal in Lancaster County. I walked the 3 miles to the dam and today there were 12 Great Blue Herons standing on the rocks as well as dozens of white herons camped on the shoals near the far bank. I discovered that the old Lock Keeper's House has public bathrooms, water fountains and even a stainless steel bowl for water for dogs. On the way back, under the Broad River bridge there is a big red heart that says "MM and HW, Love Forever" and I am taken back to that far away time when Peter and Paul C. and I took the baby, Eleanor, to the Island of Oshima. We had met Paul in India where he was a Fulbright Scholar and we were Peace Corps Volunteers. We got jobs teaching English in Japan and Eleanor was born there. We carved the baby's name on the rock face at the end of the Island and the date of her birth, June 10, 1967. Paul went on to graduate study at the East
West Center in Hawaii and to Laos during the War in Vietnam and Laos where he disappeared.
He had had polio as a child and wore a brace on one leg. I think of that brace lying somewhere in the jungle of Laos.
It is 85 degrees. Leaving in the car, the radio is playing "I've got this easy feeling that you'll never let me down, cause I'm standing on the ground.....I've got this easy feeling that I'll never see you again..."
West Center in Hawaii and to Laos during the War in Vietnam and Laos where he disappeared.
He had had polio as a child and wore a brace on one leg. I think of that brace lying somewhere in the jungle of Laos.
It is 85 degrees. Leaving in the car, the radio is playing "I've got this easy feeling that you'll never let me down, cause I'm standing on the ground.....I've got this easy feeling that I'll never see you again..."
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