Historic Fort Fisher

The scent of musket fire remains in the air, and if you listen hard you can hear cannon fire, screams of soldiers, orders being barked, horses neighing. Fort Fisher is a National Historic Civil War Landmark found on a slim finger of land below Wilmington, North Carolina.




A boardwalk takes you through the wetlands. A relatively short walk, the boardwalk takes you around the earthen bunkers, through the salt marsh and beneath towering live oaks.

It is very quiet.

Ocean-going vessels can be seen traveling to the Atlantic where once a great battle raged.

Besides our talking the only sounds were of wind and birds.

A great place for reflection.

Wind-swept live oaks.

My favorite trees.

Fort Fisher has a marvelous website. For more information go here.

Dimming of the Day

With a nod to Richard and Linda Thompson who penned "Dimming of the Day," as well as to Bonnie Raitt who sings my favorite version, I always think of that song during sunset.




Stormy days on the beach lend themselves to twilight of a different palette. Steely blue grays make the ocean foam pop bright white, almost luminescent.

The fading sunset cloaked by clouds.

The pier can barely be seen off in the distance, lights weak in the gloom.

A cold misty parenthesis of haze wraps both ends of the beach.

Words are wasted on such things.

Steve walks and ponders...

...while I take photos and let the foam caress my toes...

...an Bob and Kym reconnect.

Vacation

The week before all hell broke loose in the Southland we were vacationing on the beach.

I love beaches of all sorts but my favorites tend to be those along the Atlantic. Shells in abundance, driftwood, fossils, sea glass, shark's teeth and all manner of treasures come ashore, best found at low tide when the waters are far, far away.

Walking the shell line is my beach-time passion. Not one for hot sun you'll find me walking the lines early mornings and late afternoons "assuming the position," cup or bucket in hand, leaning over in hopes of finding another olive shell, cockle shell, calico scallop, angel wing, baby's ear, whelk and other beauties. I have even found seahorses lodged amid tangles of kelp, sadly no longer living. Once I found a fossilized sea biscuit which are millions of years old. Egg casings of various creatures wash ashore alongside the odd jellyfish. Each finding piques my interest in the ocean, stoking the embers of my curiosity.

Skimming the crest of waves were the ubiquitous brown pelicans and gulls but also a few surprises - cormorants and swallows. Various long-legged shorebirds skimmed wet sands for tasty meals, comically avoiding waves at the last second.

The weather wasn't sunny-beach-perfect, thank goodness. I am so odd that way but I prefer beaches with clouds and wind with waves crashing high and hard. The ocean changes color depending upon the skies, which I adore. The deep grayed blue green of a stormy ocean is one of my favorite colors. And yes, it reminds me of my lake albeit a "bit" more dramatic.

Walking to the beach that first day I could smell the ocean before I saw it. I threw my arms open wide and gulped in the salty taste, laughed at the sky, ran to the water and put let the salty waves crash upon my toes. Life is GOOD.

More to come.....

Safe

Our family and friends are all safe after the devastating tornadoes that swept through our area last week. We'd just returned from a vacation (....we did NOT have Internet, BTW...) and came home to tornadoes. Sometimes it doesn't pay to leave town!

After checking on family in town we left for the lake to stay with my mom and step father, who had recently had surgery. There was power there ... but no cable or Internet. A charged phone is a GOOD THING, even though service was spotty at best. Power was only recently restored to our area. We are finally home as of an hour or so ago.

Of course, we did not get out into the damaged areas - that only hampers emergency workers - but know that utility companies, cable companies, phone companies, doctors and nurses, emergency workers, law enforcement, National Guard, churches, companies and non-profits, elected officials - so many volunteers and companies came from all over the country to help get North Alabama up and running as quickly as possible. Such blessings, such blessings. Some areas are still without power but most should be restored by week's end.

I thank each and every worker and volunteer. My prayers to the hundreds who lost their lives, and to their loved ones who are mourning today. Prayers as well for those still missing and their families who continue their search.

Life is short. Forgive. Tell people every day that you love them. Hug your children. Be safe.

Debi

English Dogwood

Bordering the back property line of our flat, long-neglected, wildflower and mushroom filled backyard runs an old, misshapen, fairly ugly chain link fence. Growing in, through and among the fencing are volunteer trees and brambles and rambling plants. The hubs began whacking back the growth last winter but gave out and gave up way before spring. Thankfully. Because two rambling plants turned out to be English Dogwood.




Regular readers may recall this discovery last year as well as a shout-out asking to help identify these flowers. Since we'd recently moved all my gardening books were packed up and I'd no way to ID these beauties. My "Twinnie," Carroll shot me an e-mail, telling me that these grew in her grandmother's house in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Her grandmother Bess called them English Dogwoods, and by cracky that's exactly what I have growing in my backyard.



These two English Dogwoods of ours are blooming this week like crazy. Each one is at least 10-12 feet high, cascading overhead, dancing on the wind and covered in white blooms. They are so beautiful and captivating. I've fallen in love with them and have given them names - Hattie and Bess, after Carroll's grandmother Bess in Hattiesburg.




The blossoms carry very little to no scent. There are no thorns. When the blooms fade the towering greenery provides a soft green background.



Wednesday morning Carroll sent me an e-mail. "FYI. Today is the anniversary of my grandmother, Mom Bess's death in 1968. Tell Bess and Hattie I am thinking about them today."

I did just that, and took these photos to share. Because I always photograph these beauties this time I tried to channel Georgia O'Keefe as much as possible.




My usual MO is to take closeups of the blossoms but I want to try to give you an idea of their overall beauty. Above is Bess, whose shape is really the best because the hubs never got far down the fence line with his whacking. If you look closely you can see Baylee meandering to the left.




A garden bench would be perfect beneath either or both. Delicate limbs support a gazillion white flowers overhead, texturing the ground beneath with dimpling, dancing sunlight. A perfect place for reading, journaling or pondering.




I found a delightful article about English Dogwoods on Al.com by Debbie M. Lord. If you have time and are interested in knowing more about these plants she offers terrific background on them and shares their wonderful history. "Whatever Happened to English Dogwoods?"





On this day the breeze was cool and blustery, and during the rare times of stilled wind the sun was warm on my face. Because this was Grandmother Bess's birthday and these plants are named in her honor the time spent with them felt sacred and special. I thought of Carroll, knowing how she would have loved to have been with me, sharing stories of Bess and her family, her childhood.




However, knowing Hattie and Bess are just outside, in the backyard, visible from my windows, lends a connection to my friend in joyous fashion. One simply cannot be wistful when Hattie and Bess are blooming their hearts out. I'm reminded instead of glorious walks in gardens, adventurous road trips and heartfelt conversations for hours.




Friendships are such gifts. I feel blessed to have found such wonderful women all over the county, the world, who teach me so much. Sharing plants, sharing stories connect women. There are the occasional man who enjoys the practice as well, so I should not generalize. However, my experience has been that women trading plants connect them on a cosmic, organic level.




English Dogwood is reported to be easy to grow in the South, and by the looks of these thick, green, wildly-blossoming examples I would say that's true. These look like they were planted and forgotten. Indeed, pruning is not necessary and I dare say would spoil the natural beauty of its dancing branches. I can personally attest to this plant growing in extremely poor soil, in mostly shady conditions, forgotten completely by whomever planted them. Likely, you could plant one and then just stand back, grab a glass of wine and watch it grow.

English Dogwood. My new favorite plant.