Pungo Lake, mysteries and finding balance in nature (and a bear)

 

                          Pungo Lake, mysteries and finding balance in nature (and a bear)

This past couple of weeks have been hard, and I have not walked much. I have read several murder mystery books by the author Carolyn Graham. These books were the inspiration for the BBC mystery series A Midsomer Mysteries. She takes her time in setting up the plot, and developing the characters. None of her people are perfect, everyone is strange in ways that seem right and familiar. Most of the people are judgmental and harsh, or uncaring and selfish, but there seems to always be a couple of “right nice blokes” in each story as well. They were written in the late 1980”s, and they remind me of what the culture was like then. I thought the world was full of feminism and independent women, but I now I realize those stronger women were still outliers then. Her writing is fun, and very creative. In the book I just read, the word murder isn’t even used until near the very end of the story. 

Today I have to sit outside, all day. We are having work done in the house, and the worker isn’t comfortable with our dog. I’m not fully comfortable leaving her outside alone all day. I think I have forgotten she is a dog. But the truth is, I love being outside. Today is like a self imposed vacation. I’m sitting under my huge magnolia tree. The day is warm, and too hot for sitting out in the sun, but perfect in the cooler shade of the tree. Tree shade is wonderful. While a tree is doing its thing with photosynthesis, the leaves are also respiring, and letting cool moisture into the air. Under a healthy tree is the best place to be. We bought this house partially because of this tree, and this yard. And yet, how many days go by when I only set foot outside to let the dog out, and to toss a ball or two. Or I go outside to mow, which I enjoy, and work in the garden. But I rarely just sit outside and watch the day go by. When the kids were little I used to say, “Tomorrow is an all day outside day.” Everyone would cheer.  We woke up, took our breakfast and my coffee outside, and began to play, work, pull weeds and dig tunnels, draw with chalk and enjoy lunch on a quilt under a tree. The kids would ride bikes, or climb trees, or play in mud, depending on their age. Those were my favorite days, and I’m sure the kids enjoyed them as well. I don’t think we did them enough. So today, I had coffee outside. I brought out a bag with my quilt and supplies, a book and snacks. It has been wonderful. I don’t feel guilty because I have workmen in the house and my car is in the shop. I can’t go anywhere anyway. I can’t do laundry, and don’t need to do anything else. It’s too hot to weed. Above my head wave the large magnolia leaves, around me flutter butterflies and bees search for late summer flowers. The dog rests nearby, every once in a while bringing me a ball, then after a run or two returns to her shady spot.  I watch the sun move across the sky, and the neighbors work in their yards and then go inside to do other things. I haven’t seen a lot of birds today, maybe it’s too hot or I’m spending too much time in my book.  After a few moments I notice it is hot, and I lift my hair off my neck. A breeze blows, cooling me off and I forget the discomfort.

Reading books that take place in the ’80’s is both good and bad. I remembered the way women were treated at times and how we saw ourselves, but also during that time we had no social media. We had no phones in our back pockets. Kids played outside, roamed neighborhoods and lived on their bikes.  I’m pretty sure we weren’t as divided as we are now, but that may not be true. I remember the Moral Majority, Watergate and the Vietnam war, the aftermath of the civil rights. I think the late 70’s and the 80’s were a time of rest in a way. Having a 24 hour news cycle and all the social media has kept us from having time to reflect. We hear and read things that are upsetting, we don’t have time to fully think and process or even vet the information before we hear the next upsetting thing. I plan to slow down, to slow my partaking of news and information and to rest a little. I plan to sit under the Magnolia tree of life and let cool breezes flow over me instead of stewing in the heat of all the problems of our time. Maybe we all need a little rest. Go outside, sit under a tree, and just be.

I walked a whopping total of 16 miles these two weeks.  Three of those miles were in a refuge in NC, where we saw a bear, or at least a glimpse of one. It’s funny, we saw so many bears in my childhood, but this is the first one I have seen in ages.  We walked in the Pocosin Wildlife Refuge, a place that claims the most bears per square mile of any place east of the Rockies.  My son and I were walking along a dirt road, hoping to see Pungo Lake, when he saw the bear. I saw only a black shape moving down a tree, and my first thought, strangely, was Monkeys. The bear had quickly climbed down a tree, and I could see the tree swaying wildly in it’s wake. We stood for a few moments trying to decide what to do We had only walked 1/2 mile or less, and wanted to continue.  We were being eaten up by gnats and mosquitos when we stood still, and the dog was extremely interested in the patch of woods where the bear had been, or was. We decided to retreat back to the car and try a different spot. We drove on to another location, and were able to see the lake from a boardwalk right at the parking spot for the car. No real walking but pretty views.  So with fewer miles this time I”m only on mile 360 of the AT.   Maybe soon I will actually start walking more than a mile or two here and there.  But, I am outside, and that makes me happy. 

Butterflies and pollinators by Shelley Hopkins

                                        Hike and flowers and butterflies, great joy!

 I walked a little bit more each day this last month. The best day was on my birthday, when my son and I walked over 5 miles at the Wheeler Wildlife Refuge. This is one of my favorite trails, it circles behind the building used to observe the sandhill cranes when they arrive. We enjoyed the walk, and got to see some interesting birds and lots of butterflies. Also one day my husband and I took our truck and drove a dirt path on another section of the same wildlife refuge. I didn’t count this trip since we didn’t walk, but the views and the sheer number of butterflies we saw were beautiful. At one time three landed on me, and another one kept buzzing my face. It was thrilling, I felt I was in the middle of a butterfly dance, and I was the new visitor they all wanted to check out.

 Another of the walks was on our family farm in NC, where I also took place in a pollinator count. I walked across the fields, found some wildflowers, and sat down to count all the pollinators that landed on one single bush. There were quite a few butterflies flitting about, mostly yellow sulphur, and bees buzzing around near the trees, but fewer critters landed on my flower than I expected. The idea was to count every landing on a single bush or flower for 15 minutes. I counted 2, then started over, moved back further away and counted 6.  Earlier I had counted at a pick your own flower garden, and I counted 22. In a yard, close to sprayed fields of soybeans, I counted one.  Making myself sit still for 15 measured minutes allowed me to really focus on watching. I watched while a grasshopper leapt from one grass blade to another. I watched the flowers bend as the bees and butterflies landed on the flower, and then straighten back up when they flew away. I’ve never been good at sitting still for a period of time, but having the timer with me made it easy. I plan to do this often, just for my own interest. 

The pollinator count is part of a citizen science project, that has taken place since 2017.  It started in Georgia, then expanded to South Carolina, and now includes Alabama and North Carolina. The group that started the count had several reasons in mind, but the number one reason was education. Many gardeners and teachers know about plants, soil, and water, but in general know much less about insects. Several public gardens were growing lots of vegetables but not getting the amount of produce they expected, and the woman that started the count suggested planting flowers. The flowers would attract pollinators, which would help with the vegetable plants. Over several years these gardeners found their yields increasing as well as having fewer harmful insects in the gardens. Teachers were working hard to teach kids about gardens, about compost and watering and eating the produce, but in general teachers knew less about the insects, and so didn’t teach as much. Schools and families and individuals take place in the pollinator count, and learn along the way. Also all the information collected goes to a database that is being used in research, helping scientists track the insects. Everyone who took place in the count recorded the weather and time of day. We had a sheet of paper describing different bees, flies, wasps and butterflies and moths. When I tallied 22 insects, I actually tallied one bumble bee, two small bees, three flies and the rest were butterflies and moths. I can’t wait to find out what the overall census tells us. 

 It has been a good month, counting bugs and watching birds, reading books and just being outside. On my pretend hike I am now in Erwin TN.  I have walked a total of 343 miles this year. 

The Simple life of Childhood books

 

I’ve been thinking about children’s books and how they shape our dreams. I’m watching a youtuber read and talk about his first time through the Lord of the Rings. Listening to him made me remember my first time reading it, and how hard it was for me to wait for free time. I was in high school and all sorts of things got in the way of my reading, like classes and homework, tennis practice and sleeping. I would read in the car on the way to and from scho
ol, and way too late at night. But my first books, real books that I read were things like “My Side of the Mountain,” the Little House books, Nancy Drew books,  “Dove,” “Banner in the Sky”, and “Witch of Blackbird Pond.”  Most of these books had nature as a main theme, either the wide open prairies filled with various birds and wild creatures, or mountains to summit, or mountains to survive on. “My Side of the Mountain” is written in such a way I believed I could hollow out a giant tree and live inside if I needed to. Snuggled inside the tree home while the heavy snow fell outside, eating my acorn bread pancakes and tending to my wild hawk, these became my dreams as well. In the Little House Books Laura spends lots of time writing about the wide prairie, the empty woods, the sky filled with stars. I always wanted to live like her, out alone with my family, in the wilderness in the cozy home built by Pa, listening to the wolves howl and slapping bears during snowstorms. Children’s books tend to romanticize the life, and I’m certain if I had to live like Laura it would be best to do it as a child, and not as the hard working parent trying to provide a stable life. My husband told me I was born in the wrong time, and I think he is right. I am thankful for antibiotics, safer childbirth and vaccines, but I sure miss a dark night sky. I miss working in the garden with no sounds except the noisy sounds of nature, and the simple life, slow enough to walk to town or to school instead of driving everywhere.  I enjoy simple things, good food, good fellowship with friends or family, cool breezes and warm sunshine. My favorite foods are home grown, and my favorite hobby is walking. Sometimes I have to remind myself I can live a slower life, I do have a garden and I walk almost every day. My starry night sky is poor, but I have a car and I can drive to wilder places. When my parents lived in Montana I loved to sit out on their back porch and just stare at stars. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have such a star filled sky every night.  

I have walked 19.2 miles for a total of 300.82.  On the AT some of the earlier hikers of each season use rocks to write out the miles in increments of 100.  If I were really on the trail I would have seen the 300 written out in stones. I would be back in NC, because the trail follows the mountains, and the mountains skirt along the TN and NC border. The closest shelter is called Jerry Cabin Shelter. I found a video of a hiker staying there, and for him it was day 35 of hiking from Springer Mountain. Trail hikers usually cover 15 or more miles a day.  I am averaging 2.3 or so. These last couple of evening walks I dreamed about Laura Ingalls and her life. I started rereading her books yesterday.  At least I can enjoy her life vicariously, which is why we enjoy reading. I may reread all of my childhood favorites, just inviting some little joy into my life. Reading, walking, garden, it is a good life.

Good Garden, Good Heat by Shelley Hopkins

Good Garden, Good Heat!

 This has been one hot summer, and the heat has limited my walking. I play tennis early, or work in the garden early, avoiding the heat, and then as the day warms, moving into upper 90’s or even 100, my desire to walk disappears. That is ok, my garden is booming and the evenings are enjoyable. I am so thankful for air conditioning. After I pick my purple hull peas and tomatoes, I come inside and take a deep breath. The cool air is refreshing. After mowing I come inside to cool down, the cool air of the house is life giving. I grew up without air conditioning, so I know of what I speak. Summer is hot, long and hard when there is no escape from the heat. It is easier to work outside when I know I can step inside for an hour or two and cool off. When I was a kid we spent many days in the library. We all loved to read, and the air was comfortable.  There is one thing I miss from my hot summer childhood. When the nights were hot I would move my bed closer to the open window, and set my pillow on the sill. I would lay my head on the pillow, my face next to the screen to catch every tiny cool breeze, and before falling asleep I watched the lightning bugs, the bats, the stars and the shadows. My familiar neighborhood had a different look at night, and I enjoyed staring out. I have never fallen asleep quickly, it usually takes over an hour, and when trying to sleep on a long hot August night it would take even longer, but I enjoyed myself. I watched late night neighbors return home, cars drive past, cats out looking for fun or trouble. I daydreamed of climbing through the window and exploring, walking the silent streets. I would listen to the cicadas and the tree frogs, and strain to hear the branches of trees moving with the longed for breezes. I miss all that. Now I lay in bed in a dark room, with only the sounds of the air conditioner blowing, and I wait to fall asleep. Sometimes before bed I sit outside, braving the mosquitos, to enjoy the night sounds. I am reading a book right now, and the author talks about moving her bedroom to the sleeping porch in the summer. Man, I want a sleeping porch. Some of the best parts of camping out are being able to listen to and watch the night pass. 

                                      my walking buddy taking a break

The other evening I walked, just as the sun was setting. Dog and I passed lots of dark patches under trees filled with fireflies. Nothing screams summer better than the screams of cicadas and tree frogs. The oppressive heat of the day is gone, and the air is soft, warm and comfortable. I remember when we were so hot all day, than the evening almost felt chilly just in comparison.  After writing this, tonight, I am going to have to sit outside and watch night arrive, enjoy the fireflies and welcome the symphony of the night creatures.

                            thank you pollinator, I am enjoying these beans 

I have measured 281.8 miles. Still in NC, but my nest stop will be Tennessee. The hiker I had been following on the AT ended up stopping. She and one daughter were hiking and trying to raise money for the people affected by Hurricane Helene, and once they reached an extremely high level of donations they sat down and talked. They both missed the rest of their family, the husband and three other siblings and cat, so they returned home. My dad is watching a family of 6 and they are almost finished, now walking the long section of Maine. I am still in NC, but that is ok. I hope to walk more as the temperature cools. At any rate, the walking I am doing is fun, good for me and dog, and uplifting in my moods. I wrote a couple of paragraphs that I deleted, and those sections were about depression. Walking is the best mood enhancer I know. For me it is life saving, and lucky for me I enjoy it completely.  I may do all the rest of the summer walks in the night, chasing lightning bugs and bats, but I will get out and walk. 

Nature is Joy! Nature is healing!

 

View from Max Patch

With very little walking this month I am just over 260 miles, which puts me between Lemon Gap, and Max Patch, and that brings up a good memory. Like many good memories, the good followed sadness, and the good helped to heal from sorrow. The fall after my mom died, my youngest two and I went backpacking, starting at Lemon Gap. I had not worn a backpack or spent the night on a trail since college, probably since I was 19 or 20 years old. As much as nature is my greatest joy and love, my religion and my healing, I took a nearly 34 year hiatus. Why? I wish I could say. I ached for nature, for long term time in the woods, for more than a glance at mountains through car windows. We did camp, mostly in commercial campgrounds, and I managed to have many days on trails over the years, but not one overnight hike for 34 years, until 2018. My dad gave me my mom’s backpack, and shared packs and tents with the kids. For this blog I am going to quote my diary, with only a few changes and additions. 

sign marker on AT

Oct 16, 2018

I’m so very glad my kids and I went backpacking. It was a wonderful and perfect weekend. I drove to Anna and Dathan’s house after work and arrived very late. Anna and Gray were gone, they  were in NC.  They visited with dad then drove close to the mountains to camp. The next day we met at the trailhead,( Lemon Gap). That was our first mistake, but it turned out fine. I drove, following directions and came to a dirt road. I was out of cell service. I drove 10 miles up the dirt road, winding and lonesome. I arrived first, and there was no way to reach the kids. They took the same road from a different direction, and their (section) of road was narrow, winding and crumbling in places. They were 20 minutes late, and they and I worried deeply until we were together. 

We hiked along the Lemon Gap trail in a deep mist. It was airy and beautiful. We meandered over streams and bridges. Abe (the dog) led the way on his leash. Anna had to take him far off the trail when we met people, but other than that he was a good hiking dog. We ate lunch at a shelter and then hiked on to the bald. (First) we set up camp among the trees. Poor Abe fell over in exhaustion and slept. Later we walked to the bald, a big beautiful bald mountain top covered in people. I would guess over 100 - 150, with 60 tents set up everywhere.  (As it turns out Max Patch can be reached by the crumbly dirt road and many people drive right up to the side of the mountain and walk up for the day).  One guy flew a drone. Kids tossed balls, people yelled, drank, and cooked food. It was overwhelming. We still enjoyed it, the views were amazing. We cooked our supper there and watched the sunset. 

Once dark the stars came out, millions of them. We could see the Milky Way. Walking back I felt like we were walking in the stars. As the ground sloped away it seemed like the stars fell under us and all around us. It was freezing, and we walked and shivered, one hand on the back of the next person so we could stay together without flashlights.  Back at the campsite we tried hard to light a fire, but only two days before a hurricane had passed over and everything was too damp. It was so cold, so we just went to bed. Dad’s sleeping bags were nice and warm, but the poor dog shook all night. I’d wake up, wrap a blanket on him and go back to sleep. 

In the morning after packing up we walked back to the bald and most people were gone.(It had been fall break for the Universities) We hiked around and ate lunch up there. The hike out was long, good, but then longer. I was very glad to make it back to the car. We all felt like conquerors. We did it and we loved it.

On a later diary entry I wrote the following:

Something changed in me after the backpacking trip. It’s like a switch was flipped and my mood was instantly improved. I can tell my attitude is more positive. 

I don’t really know how to end this blog. I want to explain the importance of doing the things we enjoy. I have heard women say, “My husband needs to live in the country,” or “my husband would never be happy in a neighborhood,” but no one says, “My wife needs to hike, my wife needs to live in the countryside.”   Is it always the women that give in to the men, or is it just the women that voice those feelings for their men?  How can I explain the importance of nature, of being in nature to people that don’t understand? How can I make others want to protect nature, to remember the value of unspoiled land when they don’t understand? When a beautiful cathedral is damaged, people understand the desire to rebuild, to protect. When a natural place is destroyed, do they see the same thing? Not only is a holy spot gone, but the wildlife that live in the area are affected. Its like the cathedral hosted the congregation, and once the cathedral is gone, the congregation is less protected and has to go elsewhere. Nature is church, nature is holy, nature is needed. On this one trip to Max Patch I was healed from not only a great loss, but from years of doing without, years of yearning for something.  We need to make sure the wild places are protected, and we need to encourage people to seek out and enjoy the beauty if it is in their personality to need it. But, we also need to limit the numbers at times. Good trail ethics and hygiene need to be taught. So, get out there and hike! And clean up after yourself. Enjoy!!

Rain, worms, bears, oh my!

                                                       

View from Mt. LeConte 

The walking I’ve done these last weeks has been either in rain, just before rain or just after rain. My garden is still under water. I ate one red tomato, but I can’t get to anything else easily. The grass and the corn are fighting to see who is the tallest. Hopefully this mornings heavy rain was the last for a bit. My yard is squishy, and earthworms are fleeing in mass. I played tennis with a few friends in the indoor courts, and a wave of earthworms slithered towards the courts. We picked them up and moved them back, and by the end of a game, they were slithering towards the serve line again. It felt like a low-key slow horror movie, Attack of the Worm. At one point, chasing a ball, I felt a squish underfoot, but I said nothing to my animal loving teammate.

                                        walking in NC by flooded river

One of the walks I enjoyed was in NC, while we were gathered for a family reunion. I love visiting with family, cooking and catching up, listening to others visit, all the chaos and warmth of family. But, the day after, I always need a quiet time, a recalibration of sorts, so dog and I drove over to a local park and walked. We started on a wooded path bordered by a large river. The river was high, brown, full of rapids, and very noisy. Once out of the wooded section we walked along the busy road, and turned into a swamp area with cypress trees, with their wide trunks and knees sticking out of the settled water. We walked to another park in town and turned back. Dog was extremely interested in every squirrel we passed, but as we finished the last mile she stopped trying to chase them. She drank water at every opportunity. Back at the truck, sweat dripping down my face, I gave her more water to drink. She was breathing harder than normal, and felt hot, so we cut the second part of the walk and drove home.  

                                        Walking by swamp in NC

Another walk I did during this time was short, but hopefully impactful. I created 6 postcards, addressed them to various senators and to the White House, wrote short notes about the importance of due process and saving National Parks, clean air and water. I walked from my house across the city park and to the post office, mailed my complaints, and walked back. I felt like a cranky old lady in a British mystery. I am happy to live in a country where I am allowed to express my opinions, to walk safely to the post office to mail my opinions and to not be afraid of the consequences of such. I hope it stays that way.

On the AT I would be on mile marker 259, just past Roaring Fork Shelter in NC. Soon I’ll be in Tennessee, if the rain holds off, anyway. Last week I wrote about some hiking memories in the area I was walking in, and this week I want to share a bear story. It took place on Mt. LeConte, just off the AT but near Ice Water Springs and Clingman’s Dome.  I was on a backpacking trip with my mom and dad, and we were staying in the Mt. Leconte  lean-to. We had just arrived, and set up our sleeping bags. The lean-to is a three sided shelter with benches for sleeping on, and usually a fireplace. When I was in high school the fourth wall of the shelter was simply a chain link wall, and we had to enter through a door, like the gate of a fence. I was tired after the hike and laid down on the grass in front of the shelter, closed my eyes and enjoyed the sun on my face. Nearly drifting off, I heard my mom say softly, “Shell, get up slowly and come in here.”  I stood, saw nothing but joined mom and dad inside the shelter. They had seen a bear in the meadow, not far from where I was resting.  We waited a bit but didn’t see anything else and relaxing we moved back outside. Two young men hiked in and joined us, and perhaps a couple more, I don’t remember. As we were chatting we saw the bear moving in among the trees, then he moved back out of sight. The two men decided to walk down to the spring and fill their water bottles. After they left the bear poked his head out from behind the lean-to. We moved back inside.  He disappeared, then poked his head out from the other side of the building. After a moment he disappeared, and poked his head out from the first side. We didn’t stop to think how strange it was one bear was moving back and forth behind our little shelter, we were just thrilled with watching. He poked his head out from the left side, and dad decided to take a picture. He opened the fence door and stepped out into the “yard,” camera held up to his face. Dad moved around, trying to get a good picture, and stood in front of the door, with the door hinged so it opened from the opposite side from where he was standing. Just at that moment the bear looked towards dad, stood on his hind legs a moment, fell back down and ran right at my father. Dad backed into the door, couldn’t get in, had to swing it open, mom and I grabbed his shirt and pulled him inside. The bear ran on by, and then we heard the loudest growling and snarling, like a giant dog fight. There had been two bears. We were caught in the middle, and my dad had walked outside right between them. Luckily the first bear was only interested in the second bear. After a few moments the losing bear ran out of the woods and took off down the trail. We struggled to calm down, and we all talked at once. “There had been two bears!  They were only interested in each other! I thought you would never get back inside the shelter!”  It had been very exciting.

        Shelter on AT like  the one in the story, but no longer with chain link fronts

After a few moments the guys returned from the spring with a story of their own. The losing bear had run into them on the trail. They knew nothing about the bear fight. One of the men said to the other, “”I read that the best way to handle a bear is to make noise and seem bigger than you are.”  They banged their tin cups, and yelled. The defeated, angry bear stood on his hind legs, and the two men scurried off the trail to make way.  We shared our stories, each group cooked and ate their suppers, and then settled down for the evening. One of the men said, “I'm going to step outside and look at the stars. Anyone want to come?”  I joined him, and as we looked around we saw, in the top of a tall tree, a young bear cub.  Here was the reason for the bear fight, and the reason we were quick to go back inside.  

                                             Backpack in shelter on AT

I’ve been watching videos of AT hikers, and I haven’t noticed any bear encounters or bear stories. I wonder if that is because hikers do a better job of storing food than in the past. It is regulation now to hang your food or use a bear box. I hope there are still lots of healthy bears out there.  Enjoy rain, enjoy sun, enjoy earthworms and bears. Protect and love the great outdoors, and especially our National Parks, the wild lands that belong to each one of us. 

gardens and waterfalls

 

This month we have had a lot of rain, to the point my garden was flooded. For a time the garden rows were little islands of plant and weed, surrounded by deep standing water and clay bog like material. Finally the rain stopped, and my husband and son created drainage canals.  I still had to wait for the clay to harden enough to stand on. Two days ago I was able to get in and weed and check on the plants. It was a mess, but I have a handful of little green tomatoes and two pretty tomatillos. I haven’t walked as much as I would like, with the rain and then the garden work, but I got in a couple of really good wa

lks. On Saturday my husband and I explored the Bankhead Forest. We walked in heavily grown up woods, with poison ivy growing up the trees and climbing hills like kudzu. We found a beautiful swimming hole, but didn’t want to scramble down the muddy track to reach the water. We also found a walk that led to a lovely Middle Earth feeling landscape with a waterfall that my dog and I enjoyed standing in. The water felt good, and the air was cooler.  It was hard to find the hikes, nothing was well labeled and the maps were difficult to read. We had stopped at a parking area labeled Sipsey Picnic area. We walked down to the water, again more poison ivy and mud, and watched some folks fish. We followed a trail but it seemed to be more of a fishing path, and it ended in mud. We returned to the parking area filled with cars. Where were all these people?  Finally I asked a woman standing beside her truck, and she pointed the opposite direction than we had explored. This turned out to be a nice trail, and the location of the waterfall. I hope to go back when we can walk further.  

More than walking I have been reading a batch of great books. I love it when that happens, when book after book is worth reading. First I read Art, Birds, Life. This book was written just for me. A woman writer and artist facing pending grief decides to take up and learn about bird watching. She follows another guy who sort of teaches her, and her biggest surprise is the discovery that some of the best places to find birds are in industrial areas, not deep in wilderness. The birds find the places most likely to feed and protect them, and they don’t care if the landscape is lovely. She learned to find beauty in the simple, in ordinary birds, and to listen carefully because a bird is often heard before it is seen. Her writing was beautiful, and I felt like she was writing to me. She reminded us the importance to “just be with nature.” I read a couple of memoirs, one by a woman who gave up a traditional life to work in the Tetons, and another who grew up very untraditional to become a food critic.  I also read The Darkness Outside Us, which was one of those sneaky books that looks like a simple fun story but is so much more. What is life, what is the point, how do we chose to live and find value in life? It was marketed as kind of a YA LGTBQ+ romance, but that is such a limiting description. It is a mystery, a sci fi book, and a thought experiment on how to face challenges on the meaning of life. Some deep reading. After these books I’m going back to some soft murder mysteries.

Since my last blog I have walked 36 miles. Some of the miles were here in the community I live in but some were on trails along the TN river. My dog loves river walks since she likes to jump in and drink the water.  On the AT I would be at mile 239, or near Davenport Gap. This means I have covered all the sections I actually remember walking on, such as Tri-Corner Knob and Ice Water Springs.  Next blog will have a story about a bear encounter, but today I have run out of space.  Enjoy, get out there and walk, and read a good book!

36 miles to a total of 239 this year.