Age 21

Serotinal #1

Lughnasa 2012

See the flowers, so faithful to Earth.

We know their fate because we share it.

Were they to grieve for their wilting,

that grief would be ours to feel.

There's a lightness in things. Only we move forever burdened,

pressing ourselves into everything, obsessed by weight.

How strange and devouring our ways must seem

to those for whom life is enough.

If you could enter their dreaming and dream with them deeply,

you would come back different to a different day,

moving so easily from that common depth.

Or maybe just stay there: they would bloom and welcome you,

all those brothers and sisters tossing in the meadows,

and you would be one of them.

                                                                    -Rainer Maria Rilke

We brought flowers and vegetables from our gardens and arranged them on a raft I built for the occasion. We made sure we were good and grateful for the generosity of the soil and the good fortune of rain this year- then we swam the colorful raft out into the middle of the French Broad and let it go at dusk. Homemade peach pie, ice cream and strawberry wine followed on the bank of the river.




                                                

Bring on the harvest!



Serotinal #2

Night falls earlier; the descent of the season is upon us. 

Dusky serotinal light show behind hickory

Stay tuned for Serotinal #1

August 1

August 1, 2012.

Feeling the drone of the summer heat- the quirky cadence of the nightly cricket number, followed by foggy humid mornings and sweaty days, the sun moving a little lower across the late summer sky- Thor rumbling his evening prayers of lightening and rain and then night falling sooner than it seems it should. I decided I should switch up the routine a little today. Although there was mowing to do, and erosion to control and firewood to restack and weeds to pull, I went ahead and stopped doing chores at about quarter of six this evening and at six I set out for a little adventure.

My props:

-Eastpack backpack containing a rain jacket, a bottle of water, some nuts and raisins, two empty plastic containers for gathering in case I found anything good, a camara and Newcombes Wildflower Field Guide
- a machete for bushwhacking ease
- a flask with Rebel Yell
- cell phone
My companion: Hopey, the ever-ready plott hound

We set out through the woods, and the first thing I found was a tulip poplar that had fallen in one of our recent storms. There was usnea growing on the trunk and all the branches, and I am fresh out of usnea tincture (there is always somebody calling for that stuff), so I worked up a dripping sweat gathering a big bundle. I wasn't working hard or anything, it was so blasted muggy.

I carried on to the sunset spot where I found the blackberries are no longer for picking (oh well), but the view is still breathtakingly stunning.I figured I would bushwhack down through the brambles to an old run down farm in a meadow that I love walking to once and a while, and then take a certain gravel road I know home. Well, I found a 4 wheeler trail through some steep dark piney woods, and I supposed that was as good a way to go as any. I found a lot of mushrooms I don't know the name of and some beautiful specimens of cardinal flower, a late summer blooming native flower so brightly red and surprising it will stop you in your tracks. I followed a little branch down farther and farther through some lovely dark woods, while thunder rumbled in the distance and the air stood hushed and still.

Eventually I came to a caved in cabin and then a barn, and another barn. Then I caught a glimpse of the blacktop road, and realized I was turned around. I came to the river, realizing I was trespassing on someone's farm, and took my boots off and rolled my pant legs way up so I could cross without going closer to the house to walk the bridge. I don't know whose property it was or if they were likely or not be the type of people who would be comfortable with a sweaty machete wielding girl emerging from the woods in the mid-evening.

I knew I was on NC 212, but I didn't know whereabouts on the road I was, so I guessed that going left would be a quicker way home. Finally I asked a lady passing by how far I was from Belva, and realized that I was far enough from home that I might not make it by dark. I don't mind walking at night, but as it turns out Hopey is really dumb with road walking. She kept standing in the middle of the road and not really even moving as the occasional fast moving car or truck sped around the curves. I decided to do the safe thing and call my neighbor MM to see if I could get her to pick me up. Not a problem. The me of 10 years ago would not have called for a ride. (Well, the me of 10 years ago didn't have a cell phone.) But I was not ready to potentially watch Hopey get squashed by some speedy commuter in front of my eyes tonight. No-sir-ee.

Moonie arrived in a few minutes, and toting homemade cupcakes to boot.

All and all the adventure was good, if not cut a little short due to my strange sense of directions.