November Reds

Winterberry holly

Spiritual Lessons

Wind, rain and cold arrived, and the leaves decided it was time to let go. Here are two photos of the garden near the bench, taken one week apart. The geranium still blooms merrily, oblivious of the coming frost. 

"Let us draw a lesson from nature, which always works by short ways. When the fruit is ripe, it falls. When the fruit is despatched, the leaf falls. The circuit of the waters is mere falling. The walking of man and all animals is a falling forward.” 
                                                                                        -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Autumn Glow

Autumn is long in North Carolina. I especially appreciate that this year. I was glued to my laptop for more than two weeks finishing my thesis while the fall colors infused the leaves on warm blue days.

And now I'm done, and I find fall still here and glorious. The golden-yellow of the hickories dominates our wooded neighborhood. 

You probably won't find a hickory tree for sale in a nursery because they quickly develop long taproots and don't do well in containers. All the more reason to appreciate them if they happen to grace your property.

Dogwoods are as stunning in fall as in spring. Some turn a coral, peachy-pink color, while others become purplish-red. They hold their leaves for a long time.

Camellias are in bloom. I have mixed feelings about camellias. It somehow seems inappropriate for them to bloom when all other plants are preparing for winter. They seem alien - and they are, originating in China. Yet they are lovely in bloom. And deer don't eat them! And they don't mind clay soil! In fact, they grow so well here that sometimes they appear to be fake, with their tough, shiny leaves and scentless flowers.  Here one grows under a hickory in the front yard. It's so pretty that I want to apologize to the camellia for my disparagement.

Since finishing the thesis, I have spent time sitting in the cathedral of the woods.

Dogwoods and a serviceberry light up the garden.

Serviceberry is a lovely small tree that is native to the Southeast. The variety below is called "Autumn Brilliance."

It's too early to start raking the yard. I prefer to wait until most of the leaves have fallen.

Back in the woods, I sat for awhile under a white oak surrounded by hickories. The remaining photos were taken with the smart phone. I keep telling myself I'm going on walks to appreciate nature, not mess around with the camera. But when the light is so beautiful, and autumn is drawing to an end, I can't resist trying to preserve the moment.

The lovely horizontal branches of a dogwood glow red in the afternoon sun.

It's good to have time to spend outdoors again!

Nature Reflections

There is an irony in being a nature blogger. It is easy to spend more time using technology to blog about nature than actually enjoying nature. So today I deliberately left the good digital camera at home during my hike along New Hope Creek. 

I hadn't walked far when the leap in my heart whispered, "take a picture." So I pulled out the smart phone. The creek was low and still, the sky was achingly blue, the trees just starting to turn color, the low angle of the sun perfect for reflection. 

What is this urge to capture the moment? To hold it, to share it? I sat by the creek and meditated, trying to empty myself of words that describe, images to hold. It's hard. 

On the way back, I encountered another still life in a pool among the rocks. 

It's my new screensaver.

Or do I like it better upside down? A peek out of a cave at trees blurred by a breeze, leaves floating in the air. 

We love nature, yet we can't stop manipulating it. 

Wildflower Wednesday

It's been a long time since I posted photos of flowers. Perhaps it's because it was too hot (mid- to upper-90s) most of the summer and the plants went into survival mode. But now a few prolific fall wildflowers have exploded with color. 

Below is Eastern aromatic aster (Symphyotrichum oblongifolium). It takes sun or part shade, and even though it flops in my garden because of lack of sun, it blooms profusely. 

 

I adore the color of New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae). 

Here is oxeye or false sunflower (Heliopsis helianthoides), blooming happily. It is flopping (like most of my sun-loving plants), but if you have full sun it will grow 3- to 6-feet tall. I think it would look beautiful planted with the two asters above. 

I believe the plant below is Rudbeckia hirta var. angustifolia (see narrow leaves at top left of photo), but please correct me if I'm wrong. It was a freebie from my time volunteering at the N.C. Botanical Garden. 

All of the wildflowers featured here attract butterflies. Notice the nice flat landing pads and easy-access pollen. 

Native trees and shrubs are fruiting. Birds have been feasting on dogwood berries.

Below is Ilex verticillata 'Red Sprite.' So far, the birds don't seem interested in it, which allows me to enjoy the beauty of the berries. It's growing in part sun and average soil in my garden, though I have read it prefers full sun and wet soil. 

Beautyberry's (Callicarpa americana) purple berries are stunning.

I'm happy to participate in Wildflower Wednesday hosted by Clay and Limestone. 

Gardening in November

Dead leaves and pine needles coat the ground, but the hickories glow golden and I’m glad to see the sun after a few days of gloom. November is my least favorite month.

I’m usually tired of the garden by now, and there’s not much to look at anyway, aside from a pale purple carpet of eastern aromatic asters near a giant boulder. October’s slanting light is beautiful, but by November the days are short and thick clouds often block the sun. I have the gift – or curse – of sensitivity to light, and I feel the change of seasons as my outlook darkens and all I want to do is sleep. It’s a season of death and dormancy, and it seems ridiculous to hope, or even think of spring, before the leaves have finished falling from the trees.

Yet I count on gardening for a sense of renewal, so I was glad it was my day to volunteer at the North Carolina Botanical Garden. We raked paths, pulled bittersweet and honeysuckle, picked up sticks. Inexplicable that these tasks could be so satisfying. But the sun was warm and I find it impossible to brood when gardening.

Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh advises seekers of mindfulness to devote full attention to what you’re doing, no matter how mundane. When you wash the dishes, wash the dishes, he says. Easy to say and almost impossible to do, but I come closer in the garden than elsewhere. When you weed, weed. When you rake, rake.