All day yesterday it rained and into the night. This morning there is a break. To the South, dark heavy clouds filled with water and dark burnt umber shadows. To the north, Chinese white cumulonimbus clouds with cerulean blue patches and a high ceiling.
At Glendale Shoals, the muddy Lawson's Fork Creek roars, rushes and tumbles with enormous force over the spillway, flooding its banks.
A mountain bluebird whisks down the shadowy tunnel of the water and the rain drenched branches of trees
reaching over the maelstrom.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
From the Mountains to the Sea (Charleston and Asheville) April 28, 29, 30, and May 1, 2013
Rain, rain, rain. I drove to Charleston in a downpour all the way until Summerville where it stopped. Old friends were waiting at the Andrew Pinckney. We walked down Meeting St and across Queen St, past the pineapple fountain to the waterfront park where we sat on a big swing and watched the boats in the Cooper River.
In the morning the rain caught up with us while we had breakfast on the roof in sight of the Ravenel Bridge.
We toured Drayton Hall, sitting under a tent with shards of phosphorous, sweet grass baskets and a saucer of early Native American/African pottery on the table in front of us.
More rain poured down as we were guided through the hall itself, my favorite part being the penciled records of the heights of the children as they grew on the door jam, facing the record of the standing
heights of Charlotta's dogs on the other side.
May 1, Carl Sandburg's mountain-side home, Connemara, in Flat Rock, rain dimpling the lovely pond, twin
kid goats lying in the grass (descendants of Mrs. Sandburg's herd), the sound of Sandburg's guitar and his aged voice playing in the house.
In Asheville, we walked from the Grove Arcade up to Pack Square and the Vance monument and back and came down, down, down the mountain in the rain, rain, rain.
In the morning the rain caught up with us while we had breakfast on the roof in sight of the Ravenel Bridge.
We toured Drayton Hall, sitting under a tent with shards of phosphorous, sweet grass baskets and a saucer of early Native American/African pottery on the table in front of us.
More rain poured down as we were guided through the hall itself, my favorite part being the penciled records of the heights of the children as they grew on the door jam, facing the record of the standing
heights of Charlotta's dogs on the other side.
May 1, Carl Sandburg's mountain-side home, Connemara, in Flat Rock, rain dimpling the lovely pond, twin
kid goats lying in the grass (descendants of Mrs. Sandburg's herd), the sound of Sandburg's guitar and his aged voice playing in the house.
In Asheville, we walked from the Grove Arcade up to Pack Square and the Vance monument and back and came down, down, down the mountain in the rain, rain, rain.
April 25, 2013 Gone, But Not Forgotten
I could see the Flycatcher chicks, big and fat, poised on the top of their nest as I went out the door to put my bag in the car. Behind my back, they flew off and the nest was empty only moments later when I returned.
The gray Flycatcher, a native of Mexico, first came to the U.S. in the 20th century.
The SC naturalist, Rudy Mancke, noted them in Laurens County in 1982.
The gray Flycatcher, a native of Mexico, first came to the U.S. in the 20th century.
The SC naturalist, Rudy Mancke, noted them in Laurens County in 1982.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
The Magic Hour April 24, 2013
A light rain at twilight, a glowing rainbow, slate clouds in a silver sky, a full pale moon.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Silent Running and Yellow Irises April 22, 2013
Today is Earth Day.
There are many many, perhaps a hundred, yellow irises blooming in my front yard.
I planted them there 15 years ago after discovering their unblooming fronds peeking up all around in the woods behind my house. There had been a house here many years before, I know at least 60 years from the age of the glass soda bottles I have found buried in the ground.
I dug up the irises and put them in a sunny place and the next year, I had flourishing plants with yellow bearded blossoms. For the ancient Greeks, Iris was the goddess of the sky, the personification of the rainbow. She carried the caduceus, the emblem now of medicine.
I have never ceased to marvel at the astonishing renewal of life after such a long time.
There was a film in 1972 called" Silent Running" in which the future earth had become barren of flora and fauna and the only existing ecosystems were in pods attached to large space ships. The order had come down for an astronaut to destroy the existing plants.
Tonight on the Rail Trail there is to be a Silent Run in honor of those who suffered or died in the Boston Marathon, so this morning I silently walked the Rail Trail in my own memorial along with a woman with a tiny dog dressed in a red and white pinafore and a woman walking backwards who said, "It's easier on your knees and it makes you stronger."
There are many many, perhaps a hundred, yellow irises blooming in my front yard.
I planted them there 15 years ago after discovering their unblooming fronds peeking up all around in the woods behind my house. There had been a house here many years before, I know at least 60 years from the age of the glass soda bottles I have found buried in the ground.
I dug up the irises and put them in a sunny place and the next year, I had flourishing plants with yellow bearded blossoms. For the ancient Greeks, Iris was the goddess of the sky, the personification of the rainbow. She carried the caduceus, the emblem now of medicine.
I have never ceased to marvel at the astonishing renewal of life after such a long time.
There was a film in 1972 called" Silent Running" in which the future earth had become barren of flora and fauna and the only existing ecosystems were in pods attached to large space ships. The order had come down for an astronaut to destroy the existing plants.
Tonight on the Rail Trail there is to be a Silent Run in honor of those who suffered or died in the Boston Marathon, so this morning I silently walked the Rail Trail in my own memorial along with a woman with a tiny dog dressed in a red and white pinafore and a woman walking backwards who said, "It's easier on your knees and it makes you stronger."
Snakes , Cooters and Bluebird Eggs April 20, 2013
John and I took James to find some wildlife. James will be four in June. He just took off running across the field. It is a good thing that John is a runner too. (He ran the Outer Banks marathon the year before James was born.)
We came upon Andy, a person I see at times out walking. He had opened a bluebird house and was photographing the eggs inside. John lifted James to see the three blue eggs nestled within..
In the wetlands there were big cooters resting on logs.
And then we saw a six foot long snake twisting with elegance through the murky waters. It was perhaps a brown water snake, perhaps a water moccasin. A man coming by with his tiny dog said that all snakes can swim.
For some Native American tribes, the snake totem indicates Wisdom, Healing and Transmutation. The appearance of a snake may be telling you of change and creativity coming in your life.
We came upon Andy, a person I see at times out walking. He had opened a bluebird house and was photographing the eggs inside. John lifted James to see the three blue eggs nestled within..
In the wetlands there were big cooters resting on logs.
And then we saw a six foot long snake twisting with elegance through the murky waters. It was perhaps a brown water snake, perhaps a water moccasin. A man coming by with his tiny dog said that all snakes can swim.
For some Native American tribes, the snake totem indicates Wisdom, Healing and Transmutation. The appearance of a snake may be telling you of change and creativity coming in your life.
The Biophony Symphony April 20, 2013
My quiet morning walk on the rail trail was interrupted by the blasting shrill alarm from a business on the other side of the woods to my right, then to my left an unmistakable bird call imitating perfectly the alarm.
A few years ago, an alert observer in London noticed that a blackbird was making ambulance and other sounds from the traffic in his neighborhood. Anthrophony intruding on biophony
Biophony is the symphony of animals in their environment, the name coined by Bernie Krause who has spent his life studying the sounds of birds in their natural habitats. He observed that the calls from birds and animals are orchestrated like the different instruments in an orchestra. Their frequency, tone and rhythm
are not random. (Dawn Stover, The Best Science and Nature Writing 2010).
That evening, John and James were spending the night with me. I could hear James crying a little at bedtime. Boofa joined him with the same mournful cry.
A few years ago, an alert observer in London noticed that a blackbird was making ambulance and other sounds from the traffic in his neighborhood. Anthrophony intruding on biophony
Biophony is the symphony of animals in their environment, the name coined by Bernie Krause who has spent his life studying the sounds of birds in their natural habitats. He observed that the calls from birds and animals are orchestrated like the different instruments in an orchestra. Their frequency, tone and rhythm
are not random. (Dawn Stover, The Best Science and Nature Writing 2010).
That evening, John and James were spending the night with me. I could hear James crying a little at bedtime. Boofa joined him with the same mournful cry.
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