Month: February 2019

When looking out over the parameter-defying sea, seasons are indistinguishable. Winter does not dull its color, sap its salt, make dormant its waves; the ocean is consistency in motion. The same cannot be said, however, for the would-be-greenery that is reduced to varying shades of grey and brown for a minimum of three months every year. I expected this much when returning to North Topsail Beach in late February; but, climbing over the ribbon of tar that stretches from Sneads Ferry to the island just East, I am met with a plethora of unforeseen change. 

Roofs of shingle and tile have been wiped clean off of homes, debris lines the main road, side-streets are buried beneath inches of sand, natural dunes are replaced by loose heaps of sand… As I drive over the seemingly endless stretch of New River Inlet Road, the damage caused by Hurricane Florence grows increasingly worse—until, at last I reach the Northern most tip of the island’s coast, and pull into the sand-logged drive of my home. 

I stop short of the garage, which has been demolished into a single wall and hazardous looking floor. The car door shuts behind me. I think I must have closed it. But my mind is too focused on this beacon of disaster to perceive anything else. The walls are stripped of their stucco, replaced by shivering sheets of plastic; splintered wood hangs from the building; I can see inside without the use of a window or doorway. 

Walk up the stairs. Enter the threshold without needing a key; the door is off its hinges. Sand coats the floors, sticks to any remaining wall, catches somehow between my teeth. The coastal breeze follows me no matter the room I enter.

Eager to escape the pitiful ambiance of my shredded home, I make my way downstairs, and drop down from the newly made ledge that has formed between the “ground level” of my house and the actual ground now inches below. I pass what was once a spiral staircase, its metal now warped and jagged, sticking out at odd angles, looking like the mangled bones of months-old road kill, left to be picked over by flies and bleached by the sun. My feet guide me to the shore, move robotically one after the other, in search of the typical sanctuary granted to me by a journey even father North—into the undeveloped regions of Topsail Beach.

After just a few minutes of walking, I am beyond the houses, but not beyond human interference. The ground crackles and pops as I watch a silver jeep pulverize shells into fragmented versions of themselves. The wide rubber tires are only speeding up the natural process by which sand is created, but the sound is unnatural, uncaring, unable to equate to the ancient handiwork of strong winds and choppy waves. Looking down, I cannot help but notice the sheer amount of debris that should not be here—not solely man-made, but natural as well: furry sea sponge, translucent seaweed, fractured segments of a horseshoe crab—elements of the sea that ought not grace land.

I walk further. Past the driving limits. Past the bird sanctuary. Past the final littering of misplaced building components. Until I stand among a field of dead sea grass, broken trees, and icy, lifeless water. There is no escaping this storm.

With global warming to blame for hurricanes becoming more frequent and intense, the side effects of erosion have become increasingly apparent. A mile down the road from my house, at a complex called The Reef, is where it began. The ocean crept nearer, nearer, until it was not simply a creep but a thrashing demand to be seen. To prevent the tide from roaring beneath the buildings’ infrastructure, 20 feet worth of sandbags were stacked up tall in 2014, only for the rushing waters to escape under neighboring homes. One beach restoration project after the next called for more sandbags, more sandbags, more sandbags and nothing more. So the sea traveled with them, until a problem one mile South was suddenly (and literally) banging at my door.

There are now plans to install a terminal groin, should funding prevail. A Facebook group called “Save North End” holds out hope. I am a part of it. But the sea is on a new course. The winter cannot change it, and neither can we.

Carvins Cove is located in Roanoke,VA. At one point in time it was known as Hollins,VA. It is about five miles away from the Women’s College Hollins University. I remember my first trip to Carvins Cove, I was about six years old and my grandfather and I had gone fishing. Now this is not the first time that we have been fishing but it was one of the first times that I caught a fish. See this day started out very early we got up and it was still dark and the night before he bought me my first fishing pole which was canary yellow and if I could put it in normal words it looks like Bumble Bee the transformer if it were fishing pole. Then we packed lunches I distinctly remember it was ham and cheese sandwiches with apple juice and M&Ms and celery. I distinctly remember this because he let me pick out the candy and my grandma made sure we packed vegetables and at the time I guess you could say I had a celery fetish, plus, who doesn’t love a ham and cheese?

After we packed our lunches we made the drive to Hollins, right before we went up the long winding road to Carvins Cove we stopped at the gas station and got a big styrofoam bowl of nightcrawlers. They live around the cove, which is why they were so easy to come by,but what I learned that day was when they are warmed by the light they are reflective so when they make contact with water or is impaled on a fishing hook they give off a shimmery hue. We went up a long windy road which I have never been sure of its name. Although the drive to Carvins Cove is very peaceful, if you don’t drive carefully you could drive off the side of the mountain because there are no guardrails. I guess you can say in a way I was a little afraid even though I trusted my grandfather.

When we got there we walked down to the dock and sat to start threading and baiting my fishing hook. It was one of the most peaceful things that I have done, sitting and watching the ripples in the cove. I loved going and sitting and having that moment of serene peace. The lake was a great spot because it doesnt have any human made noise pollution. You would think a small child wouldn’t realize peacefulness of something but it was easy to get swept up in listening to the water lapping the bank and hearing the wind blow through the trees and smelling the Earth. This was memorable because not only did this help to introduce me to nature,but I got to spend time with my grandfather and start to build aa real relationship with him.

When I was younger he was often at work so I didn’t even really see him so this was a special treat for me. My granddad died when I was seven so this was one of the last times to be in a moment with him. I just remember something about him telling me how you have to jiggle the rod just enough to make the fish want to come, but not too much to the point that they don’t come near your bait.

A few Thursdays ago, Greensboro experienced what was potentially the most beautiful weather February in North Carolina has ever seen. I decided it was too nice to be inside, and, 4 o’clock class notwithstanding, set myself up for the afternoon at Lake Brandt.

I drove to the Lake Brandt Marina, a place I had only been once before, over a year ago. Then I walked for several minutes down the Nathaniel Greene Trail until I found a spot a bit off the path by the water. Once I located the appropriate trees, I set up my hammock, got out my book, and stayed there until sunset.

This is a picture I took of the sunset from the Marina as I was leaving.

The last time I visited Lake Brant was late summer going into fall, so going back in early February was a pretty big contrast. I am not a huge fan of winter or cold weather, so I definitely preferred my first visit, even though the weather was so nice. The trees were so bare, and in my opinion green leaves look much nicer with the water of the lake than the empty branches present in February. I’m looking forward to spring when everything will be green and alive again!

I’m hoping more things will be growing in my future visits… there were plenty of trees, but not a lot of plant life to identify. Brief research does not yield very much information on the plant and animal life of Lake Brandt, or the history surrounding it. I did learn that Lake Brandt is one of the two main reservoirs that supply Greensboro’s water, and the lake was originally built in 1925. Lake Brandt is a 816 acre area, and was named after Leon Brandt, Greensboro’s Mayor in the years 1907 and 1908.

In the future I would like to do more research on the history of this area, as well as identifying the plant and animal life. Towards the end of my most recent visit, a person wearing a “staff” t-shirt very politely reminded me that the gates would be closing at 5pm and I would need to move my car if I wanted to stay. I could potentially talk to them or one of their colleagues about the history surrounding the lake and the local wildlife.

The Marina was very quiet when I was there, which makes sense considering it was a random day in February. During the summer there are rentals available including boats and paddleboards, and I’m sure the hiking and biking trails are much more frequented as well. Fishing is another popular activity at Lake Brandt, it would be interesting to learn about the types of fish that are most common in the reservoir. I’m excited to learn about the history, as well as plant and animal life of Lake Brandt, and explore more than just the few minutes I walked down one of the trails. I can’t wait for the weather to get warm so that I’ll actually want to be outside again!

Honestly, I had planned on today being sunny. Although I knew that the weather forecast told a drastically different story, I yearned for sun in the hopes of being able to play a few games of volleyball with my friends under its’ warming glare. February’s weather so far has been inconsistent, to say the least, with sunny, beautiful days leading into powerful sheets of rain a mere 24 hours later. To my disappointment, I woke up this morning to the consistent pitter-patter of droplets of rain hitting my blurred window, falling from a frosty, clouded sky. My hopes of playing volleyball immediately went out the window, along with my ideas of what to do for the day outside of my classes.

Conveniently enough, the lake is right by the gym (where I had planned my volleyball excursion), and a short, one minute trek through the dew-infested grass got me to the muddy, man-made shore of the lake. As opposed to my last visit, where I approached the lake by car via Nathan hunt Road, my path this time came in from the south, causing me to witness a different section of the lake’s shore than had in my previous adventure. Focusing on this one particular section of the lake’s shore has given me a narrow-minded approach to this blog and the lake itself, something that I hope to break in future blog posts when I have more time to fully explore the edges of the water. Although I didn’t stop and experience the full glory of the new views at the moment of my journey from the volleyball court to the lake’s edge, I have them mentally stored away for another day when I’m in the mood for exploration. As I made my way down to the sandy beach and bench that I’ve come to know so well, all I carried was my phone (for the camera) and a small journal for my thoughts, its pages already beginning to fill from the work of previous days.

One of the things that caught my eye as I sat down on my customary bench was the object covered in mirrors to my immediate left. In my opinion, this object, whatever it is, fits right in with the lake, it’s reflective surface catching the dull light of the sky in a way very similar to that of the pale waters before it. Although I didn’t, and still don’t, know what this thing is, I’m not sure I’m supposed to. It stands quietly by the lake, presenting a reflected view of the reality present around it. I ended up walking around the structure for a solid five minutes, mesmerized by it’s intricacies and the angles at which it captured light. The landscape around the lake is peppered with objects and quirks such as this one, and I’m hopeful that my future blog posts will be able to show them off as I find them.

“The Underground Railroad was an organized system of routes, houses and people who helped fugitive slaves find freedom in the north and in Canada after escaping from their slave owners. In North Carolina, the Religious Society of Friends, better known as the Quakers, fiercely opposed slavery. One of the members, Levi Coffin, assisted over 3,000 slaves escape to freedom starting at the age of 15. While the dense forest and wide-open trail are engaging to walk through, the true focal point of the tour is the 300-year-old tulip poplar tree known as the Underground Railroad Tree. While the dense forest and wide-open trail are engaging to walk through, the true focal point of the tour is the 300-year-old tulip poplar tree known as the Underground Railroad Tree.” Ethan Santana, Guilfordian

Ever since I came to Guilford I have heard about the Underground Railroad Tree. It has been a staple of the college. As a freshman I wanted to see it so, I set out to find the tree. When I walked the trail I felt something. I could not describe the feeling but I knew I felt something. It was unbelievable to see the tree that was a part of history.

Now as I return to see the tree I know more. It is a 300-year old tree. I am still amazed by it even after the second time seeing it. It is crazy to me how old trees are and all the things they have witnessed. I learned that the tree is specifically a Tulip Poplar tree. I have never been good at recognizing the differences between the many types of trees. They have always just looked like trees to me. After this experience, I realized the importance of acknowledging the differences.

Trees are like people, they hold history. Being in the woods and seeing this tree as any other tree was negating the role that it has played in history. As I sat there and admired the tree, I thanked it for all that it has done. I wondered how it has stood so tall for so long.

You can take a virtual tour with James Shields of Guilford’s Underground Railroad Tree and trail at this site https://www.guilford.edu/multimedia/videos/2017/11/underground-railroad-tree-tour The college also offers tours of the trail that stimulates how runaway slaves found their way through the woods to seek freedom. 

21 February 2019

With the cool air blowing my hair and the leaves crunching beneath my feet I walk into the woods. My dog Mia by my side as excited as I am to escape into another world. The whirl-wind of emotions from the day wash away with every breath of fresh air that I inhale. I have never had such constant and direct access to nature and the woods before I came to Guilford. Entering the woods there are numerous paths to pick from. As we choose we are surrounded by trees that vary in width, height, and age.

I find a fallen tree and take a minute to just admire my surroundings. Mia goes off on a trail of smells that takes her off onto another path. As I sit I take a deep breath and begin to write. I write about how to air smells fresh, well at least fresher than the air in my apartment. I can hear the sounds of birds and wonder what kind they are. I look around but I do not see anything. I close my eyes and keep listening, imagining what the birds look like. Mia returns to me looking excited to show me all of the fun she had in the dirt.

Walking in the woods we meet other people walking their own dogs. The shadows of the leaves and branches project images on the paths from the sunlight shining through the cracks. As we keep exploring we find a fire pit. There is a trash can with a bunch of beer cans piled up. At least they are in a trash can. It just reminds me of the imprint that humans have made on nature. The cans pollute the ground. This is just a little example of the waste that us humans create. Mia runs over and begins to play with one. She does not notice that these cans are not a natural part of the woods. As we leave our adventure for the day, I am left with many questions about the woods that I love so dearly.

The woods have played an important role in my mental health over my time here at Guilford. Being outside has encouraged me to be more in tune with myself internally and externally. I think more about how I am feeling emotionally as well as I appreciate my surroundings more. I want to know more about the animals and plants the inhabit the woods.

The following blog posts will be about the adventures that I have with my dog Mia have in the Guilford woods over the semester. I will be writing creatively as well as gathering information about the woods. I will show you the different kinds of trees and birds and other things that inhabit the woods. I am also going to look into the history of the woods. I hope to learn more about one of my favorite places at Guilford and be able to share this information with others.

02/21/2019

I have always wanted to be someone who felt confident in the woods. I’ve long admired those who can pick up a rock or look up at a tree and know exactly and immediately what they were looking at and what it took for that thing to get there. Having spent my whole life in a New York suburb, I never had much access to any natural spaces besides a few landscaped parks. Plus I suppose I never tried especially hard to find anything more. Part of that came from the way I perceive people who “get” the outdoors. These are the people that have all the name brand gear, the camping stories, the ability to namedrop every state park within a 100 mile radius, and were born hiking the side of a mountain. Intimidating stuff.

Not until coming to college could my connection with nature really blossom, so to speak. One of the spots that is most meaningful to that connection is the Meadows. Weaving in and out of scattered pine trees, my steps squishing around in the soggy needle-covered ground, I feel nostalgic for the bonfires and picnics and stargazing that has happened in the Meadows. Confusion, laughter, tears, wonder, butterflies in your stomach, and serenity all happen in the Meadows. Recklessness happens in the Meadows.

Coming here to be critical and analytical feels wrong in a way. It feels like I am going into someone’s home and talking about how ugly their furniture is. Still, I wanted to choose a place for my Habitation Journal that I already knew at least a little bit and that was actually going to be accessible for me on a regular basis. And now standing inside a little cluster of pines, I remember exactly why I had the feeling to come here. On top of all the other emotions of the Meadows, this place has a mysterious energy. There seems to always be fog in the Meadows. A lingering feeling that there’s something there that you can’t possibly see. Yeah, I do happen to believe in spirits or ghosts or whatever you want to call it, but it doesn’t exactly feel ghostly in the Meadows. I can’t say I really know how to describe what it feels like. Maybe in my research of what the area once was I’ll discover some sort of ancient burial ground or haunting story of some evil pine tree nymphs. Who knows? But, either way, I like that it’s a feeling that is completely unique to the Meadows.

I’m hoping that the future of these blog posts are a little less of me just rambling about vague memories and alluding to odd times and more of an investigative take on this very special space, but I don’t think I can commit to making that promise right now. Working on it.

Memories

Hey everyone, I’m back! Today we are going to get a little personal and talk about my favorite memory of the park, as well as favorite spot in it. I went on a hike and had a picnic with some of my best friends, who I have known for almost 3 years. We ventured into the woods initially to take some pictures of ourselves but instead were intrigued by the many new spots we discovered. Eventually, we found ourselves in beautiful place that was shaped like a circle with many logs around. For almost an hour, we sat around and talked, laughed, listening to the natural sounds around us. Afterwards, we went on another hike in some of the trails within the park surrounding the large lake. Some of the species of plants we noticed were oak trees, loblolly pine trees, bermuda grass (scutch grass), and centipede grass (Eremochloa ophiuroids). They ranged in size and color, with the trees being tall and towering over us, and the grass being soft, delicate, and long.

An Unusual Discovery

As we were walking around, my friends and I noticed a large, bent over, and broken tree. It was perched overtop another tree and a few bushes, looking like a ramp into the lake. I was immediately captivated by this place, as exhibited in the picture below. The broken tree was an oak tree, overtop many common green shrubs. I sat on the branch and listened to the chirps of the birds, the slow swishes of the wind, and the light splashes in the water of the lake. These combined made a stress-free, soothing, and natural noise; it was hard to compare to anything I have ever heard. Already knowing this was a spot I would return to, I made sure to take a picture of my surroundings to remember where to come to. “The spot” seemed like the perfect place to bring a book or homework and sit perched upon or near the tree listening to the natural sounds and be able to feel motivated and productive.

As I said previously, the tree was an ordinary oak tree, but it had a thick trunk and small thin branches hanging around the area from being bent. Around the edges of the tree, there were many pointy pieces, one I actually scraped my leg on. Also, the beautiful green leaves were scattered across the ground making for a nice layer across the mud that was not covered in soft grass. Even though the tree was broken and away from its herd of trees surrounding it, it still seemed connected to them as it provided a gap in the trees to allow direct sunlight to pass through and hit the lake. The sun intertwined each piece of the park creating a unique aura around Country Park.

Recently, the Greensboro weather has been rainy and gloomy, causing the environment to be at a low. Hopefully, the weather will become sunny and warm again so I can go on another exploration in the park.

This image is from my fourth, but first “official” visit to Price Park, on January 30th, 2019. Although it was dark and getting darker, this was the first time that I walked extensively on the park’s trails, which begin (from where I was) directly in front of where this picture was taken. Through my walking and with the aid of a flashlight, I was able to read many of the helpful signs up along the trails which inform people of things like wildlife, history, plants, and trees at Price Park.

The particular area of the trail that I walked this day is a pine forest, which grows in succession from a bare field, then grassland, then grass shrub, and finally pine forest, after around 25 to 100 years of full growth. Since Price Park has more mature growth in other areas, such as an oak-hickory forest, which matures after 150 years of growth, I am assuming that this pine forest is in its later years of development, approximately 60-100 years old. The most common pine trees in this pine forest are Virginia Pine, which has short needles and small cones, each less than three inches, and Loblolly Pine, which has long needles and large cones, which maximize respectively at 9 and 6 inches. You can somewhat see in this picture what differentiates the rest of the tress from the pines, as the trees with no growth on them are not pines. I believe that from where I am standing, the oak-hickory and the pine forests are at an intersection.

Within this pine forest, as stated by a sign on the trail, are sharp-shinned hawks, raccoons (which I saw swimming in the creek on my first short visit to Price Park), gray foxes (I have seen these in the Guilford Woods, which due to the adjacency between the two spaces I am assuming have quite a bit in common), eastern box turtles, and opossums.

As I continued further down the trail, closer to where this photo was taken, I encountered another very informative sign, which confirmed my assumption that the reason for the mix of pine trees and bare trees was because I was in a Piedmont mixed forest. This means that this particular section of forestry is in transition between a pine forest and an oak-hickory forest. While most of the leaves were not on the trees at this time (and still aren’t), the most common species in this Piedmont mixed forest are tulip-tree, sweet-gum, Virginia pine, American beech, American hornbeam, and flowering dogwood. Like the pine forest, this area is rich in wildlife, and as it is more mature, there are many more forest creatures that live within it. Gray squirrels are common amongst trees that produce nuts (acorns, hickory, walnuts), as this is their primary source of food. Polyphemus moths are also present, because “in its first nine weeks of life the larva…eats 86,000 times its birth weight in oak, hickory or other leaves (sourced from a sign at Price Park)”. Chipmunks eat hazelnut shrub’s nuts, deer mice live inside of many of the trees’ small holes, cottontail rabbits live beneath fallen needs and brush, and American robins eat fruit that grows off of black cherry trees.

Of all of these 11 animals listed, I think I have only seen three at Price Park (raccoons, gray squirrels, and robins). Since it is still cold out, I am hopeful that as the weather gets warmer more of these animals will start to come out, and I am very much looking forward to my future animal encounters at Price Park.

First Impressions

Country Park has been a place that I feel a personal connection to every time I go there. This was the place that I made some of my first friends in High School, had my tennis team picnics, hung out, took pictures, and even hiked with my best friends. The image below gives an overview of the center of the park containing the lake, with the woods around a beautiful picnic spot. Today was a bright sunny day and had convinced my best friend Spandan to venture into the park with me. The first thing we noticed was the multitudes of geese…everywhere!
As you can see in the picture below, some of the geese were swimming around in the water, but many were on land. Anyway, as we enjoyed this sunny day, we dipped our feet in the water. The lake water was slightly muddy but had a chilling feeling to it which was very soothing. We could see much little fish in it but did not really notice anything extremely large or captivating, other than a common carp and the geese. The common carp was easy to identify because of the single and long dorsal fin as well as the large scales along its body. I was not able to capture a picture of it, but hopefully, I will in a future blog post!

Let’s Talk about Geese!

The first thing my eyes were drawn to was the geese. I know, geese are not that exciting, you see them at every park and really any place with a lake. Still, I think it is essential to acknowledge them and their importance to wildlife and nature. This particular species of geese is called the Canada goose. These type of geese are made up of brown bodies, long black necks, a white cheek patch, as well as a relatively long black bill. According to a post containing information on it at the park, they say that the residential geese are important by spreading the seeds of the plants they eat. This, in turn, helps the many species of plants to thrive. One thing that my friend and I noticed is that the geese tended to stay on land and rarely go in the water, but we were able to capture some in the water. What was really heartwarming when we saw a small child, about the age of 4, bring bread crumbs and sit and feed a herd of geese. He seemed so entertained and genuinely happy to be surrounded by nature and wildlife. Though it looks geese would not have an impact on people or the habitat they live in, they act as an attraction to the ecosystem and keep it alive and thriving. I had a fantastic time walking through the park for the first time in a while and capturing some much needed fresh air, releasing a lot of stress I have had recently. In a later blog, I hope to venture out and look at some of the specific trees and plants that encompass the park.