It's been a busy week here at the Blackberry Bungalow--appointments, baking, sewing, visiting, job interview stuff.  Here's a few shots from our week so far. . .



We spent some time at the cabin checking out the mid-summer flowers. . .



and mushroom friends.



We watched the grasses sway in the wind. . .



and found hidden treasures after the rain.



We soaked in the beauty of butterfly weed. . .



and picked a bunch of blackberries. . .



with Becky and her hot pink nails. . .



up at the World's Best Blackberry Spot.



I finally cut out my dress pattern from Anabaptist Bookstore. . .



and finished a new dress to wear to the farmers' market.

I'd had the fabric for months, so it was nice to finish the dress.  I'm sure Mike will take a photo of me wearing it at the market tomorrow.  This week we've baked six loaves of sourdough, three pans of brownies and about four dozen snickerdoodles.  Mike did a massive basil harvest and I've collected all the mint.  All that remains is the lavender and I'm waiting until the sun goes down.  Whew!  We've got a big day tomorrow.  Keep your fingers crossed!

Yes, we found ferns.  Five or six different types in various stages of unfurling.



And a good number of morels, which are always something to behold.



Maybe we'll see more at the Mount Rogers Naturalist Rally.

Yesterday was our annual field trip with the Friends.  This time we concentrated on the areas along the Creeper Trail and Beartree Recreation Area, where I gave some of the best years of my life. Here are some scenes from the trip:



A yellow violet.  Anna?  What kind?



A hemlock tree marked for treatment.  Sara the Ranger says that the Mount Rogers area will have two places of treatment to save the trees--Hurricane Campground and Beartree Recreation Area.



Fresh beaver activity.



The first fiddle heads I've seen--bracken ferns, I've believe. 



After Beartree, we went over to Green Cove station and then down to Taylor's Valley for lunch, where I was very gluttonous with the ketchup. ;-)

Just what I needed.  Mike and I enjoyed homemade local bacon, fried eggs and toasted sourdough for breakfast (I just love breakfast) on Saturday before loading up to go to Anna and Mark's.  The drive was uneventful and I knitted on a hat for me while Mike took us over the mountains and through the valleys.  The Alligator Swamp over at wetkneefarm's wasn't all that bad and we managed through it all with none of us falling down!  Anna made us Lad Na, which we'd had on our trip to Foamhenge, and it was yummy!  We enjoyed peach gelatto and some of Mark's birthday cake for dessert.  Can you tell I'm waiting for lunch?

The weather was just right on Saturday for traipsing around the farm and wandering in the woods.  Anna gave me the full run-down on her baby orchard, we looked at the sleeping strawberries and I got to meet the new rooster (who might be called Cranberry-in-secret by Anna-and-Mark who-are-not-admitting-it).  On our way out, we met some mostly drunk guys smoking cigarettes with a tractor (worried?).  They asked Anna where she was growing the pot.  Sorry, not on that farm.  After leaving, we headed over to Hanging Rock so mikecnichols could take some photos.  I had forgotten the digital camera, so all these pictures are his.  And they are pretty good.

While Mike stood on rocks in the now-rushing stream (more rains!), I went on a walk over mossy paths and sorted through some more of my stress.  I'm still working it out, and I'm really glad I've got a four-day week this week and next.  I must make time to travel to the woods and find my feet again on the hillsides.  We've been going out a couple times a month, but it's really not enough for me.  I used to be in the woods three or four days a week back in the good ole days of Ranger Brandy.

On the way home, we drove the steep road up to Hidden Lake to watch the sunset.  The Lake is much like Laurel Bed Lake, high above the valley, surrounded by Rhododendrons and prone to fogs.  I had been up there before, but hadn't been able to see anything because the fog was so thick on the bog.  This time, the view was gorgeous and Mike did a great job capturing our drive across the ridge and the gloaming around the lake.

While some things may be negative or nagging right now, other things are going really well.  Mike and I have been asked to join the Mount Rogers Naturalist Rally Committee.  Here I go being the youngest again.  We came up with some good ideas for streamlining and dividing up the work at the last meeting.  I was also asked to look into leading a caving trip to Robert's Cave for the rally.  I've been into caves lots of times--wild and commercial--but I've never been a leader.  Dad says he'll help me map out the cave and we'll visit it several times before the big day.  I plan to focus on underground manners and general knowledge (what a focus!).

This weekend I also continued my decluttering efforts, focusing on the back porch and bathroom.  I washed nearly every inch of the bathroom, washed the shower curtains, scrunched myself beside the toilet to clean behind it, washed out the cabinets and eliminated excess hygiene products.  I also nearly made myself pass out vacuuming the vent.  Very clean, indeed!  The back porch wasn't so much of an overhaul.  I sorted out items for Goodwill and trash and gave things a good vacuuming and dusting (our back porch is enclosed).  The rest of the house is also in pretty good order, too.  It made me feel really good to get those things done.  Up this week on the Declutter Train--the Apiary craft room and Mike's office.

I've got some knitting going on and a hat swap to ship off tomorrow, so I'll try to post pictures.  Just haven't felt like saying much lately.  Well, I'm off to lunch at The Grayson, where the desserts are alway homemade.  Yum!

My dad tells me that in the 70's he might have frozen to death on Glade Mountain.  He reached the summit in deep snow and the white blaze for the Appalachian Trail disappeared from sight.  He walked tree to tree down the mountain, rubbing each one to check for the white blaze.  At last, miraculously, he found it and was able to continue safely and thankfully on his way.

We climbed this mountain together nearly thirty years later in the Summer of my independence and it was still quite the challenge.  Traversing the switchbacks with twenty-five pounds on my back in August made Glade Mountain seem just as powerful as that austere Winter day.  We sweated up the ridgelines, felt thankful for the cruising on flatter terrain and gobbled up Snickers bars without a thought of the calories.  Who's counting when you're burning 600 an hour?

Three years later, the mountain was a kinder place.  The 4000' in elevation was less ominous when the weather was in the forties and one carried only a small shoulder bag of necessities.  Snow hung on in few places, around bases of trees and in secret spots where light is less effective.  Mike and I found a couple teaberries among the fallen leaves and hypothesized about the scorched trees we found on the downhill side of the Appalachian Trail.  Prescribed burn or forest fire?  Not sure.

Over in the next valley, a thick fog hung in the air and gave the look of a high elevation lake or bog.  No such things exist in that area, but the sight of the fog sure was deceiving and imaginative.  It made me think of the enchanted lake the Cherokees believe exists in the Chimney Tops area of the Great Smokies.  Maybe for a moment, it existed in the valley we overlooked. 

Coming back to the trailhead a couple of miles older, there was a sense of reverence for the power of nature and a good bit of thankfulness that our Trail had been so kind.

When I was young in the mountains, something came over me like a late Summer haze and I began to love the land.  I spent hours in elementary school reading reference books about trees and looking at Camp Trails catalogs.  I pretended gnomes lived at the bases of the old-growth oaks and made pine needles beds under the shade of my favorite tree.

Years later, not much has changed.  Well, about me anyway.  I'm still irrevocably tied to the land, tasting its tears.  The snows are fewer and the Summers are hotter.  The seasons change more slowly, flirting with commitment as they tease me with average days.  This weekend was one of those flirtations.  Today it was as much as twenty-five degrees warmer than last week.  The first day of Autumn, God's season of mercy, was a bittersweet one for me. 

It was much the same yesterday as a few of us Friends of Mount Rogers headed up the trail to Comers Creek Falls.  Exhausted ferns lay along the trail and acorns fell at record rates.  When I had planned this hike for the Friends and campers at Hurricane, I envisioned a crisp morning with a follow-up vegetable soup at the Sugar Grove Diner. 

Instead, there was a greatly reduced falls and a day too warm for the ladies at the Diner to stir up a batch of their soup.  The lack of rain has really hurt the surface waters here in the forgotten Virginia.  We can be vain about our yards looking all brown, but the real damage is to our streams.  A late frost and now a drought that really began back in April or May.  When will there be relief?

At church today, the sermon was about tasting each other's tears--learning what breaks God's heart and using our empathy to help others.  As David asked people in the congregation what broke God's heart, I said to myself internally--"Irresponsbility."  We're all guilty, but the guilt is not what's important.  It's the change we make, the faith and forgiveness we give ourselves and others that we can think beyond ourselves and our pointing fingers and do better.

I don't know if this is so much about the Forgotten Virginia and my favorite spots here, or if it is more about my lamentations for a suffering planet.  Suffice it to say, the Earth is still abundant and the diversity of life never ceases to astound me.  I suppose that's a bit of optimism to hold onto.  Maybe the falling acorns are a little glimmer of hope that our dynamic home will survive our irresponsibility.

Saturday was my first marathon hiking day.  With the prospect of more blueberries in mind, I headed to the Lewis Fork Wilderness Area with my pack full and my legs ready.  This was the first time in a long time that I had been so far out by myself--usually Mike comes with me.  However, he was enjoying quality wife-not-at-home time recording songs and eating lunch with a friend.

I chose to do a loop, hiking up on the Cliffside Trail (1.5 miles) and down on the Lewis Fork Trail (4.5 miles) with the intersection being one mile from the car.  I'd heard about the Cliffside Trail before; apparently there is a Forest Service volunteer who just loves it.  He made a photo booklet about it and gave it to the folks at Grindstone Campground.  They recommended it all the time to folks.

Clearly none of them had hiked it.  Ever.

Looking at it on the map, I could tell the trail would do some climbing.  The Lewis Fork Trail was an old logging road, so it has several gentle switchbacks.  The Cliffside Trail just follows the stream for awhile and then goes straight up the mountain.  A real test of endurance, it likely would have been easier had it not been so warm.  But, I made it up to the blueberry spot, very gratefully, and prepared my lunch. 

As I waited for the water to boil, I scoped out the bushes.  There were blueberries everywhere, but most of them were past their prime picking point.  I visualized coming up there next year and picking lots of berries, seeing as how the only access is foot or horse.  There definitely wouldn't be the crowds like up at the Scales.  When my lunch (Ramen--true trail food) was ready I sat on a rock and ate it while swatting flies.

A few people rode by on horses, but they didn't stop to pick berries.  Whew!  Just as I was finishing lunch, I saw a couple of young people walk by and then more and then they looked rather familiar.  Sure enough, there was krusig and the E&H Outdoor Club.  They had been behind me on my climb up the Cliffside Trail.  Far behind.  Thank goodness.  The Outdoor Club is known for its break-neck hiking pace which had me avoiding hikes with the from the beginning, when I got altitude sickness at Grayson Highlands.  Nonetheless, there was Rebecca and it was a nice surprise to see her.

I'm very possessive about blueberries and a few college students had just started picking at the bush I had claimed.  I was reasonably pleasant, but I've been known to have Clara Syndrome, so I tried my best.  It was strange to be around college students again, all concerned with tests and dorms and things of yesteryear.  After picking three cups, enough for a blueberry buckle, I headed back down the mountain on the Lewis Fork Trail.

Those 4.5 miles were reasonably pleasant, though I imagine the hiking is better in Fall, everything is.  I was reminded, that while the High Country is beautiful, it is indeed quite popular and the trails are very well-used.  While I only saw two equestrians on the way down, the trail was quite worn and muddy in places.  That's a horse trail for you.  I'm pleased that there are people who love riding horses so much, but I know the Forest Service struggles to keep the trails from washing out.  Back in the valley, I met up with the Outdoor Club and Rebecca again, zipping their way down the mountain.

So, I was expecting a day of solitude.  And I got it and eight miles of hiking and unexpected visits with friends, but I've certainly checked the Cliffside Trail off my list and will avoid it in the future.  Sure, it's a short straight shot to the top, but I'm not so much about destinations anymore.

After Mike and I got "real" jobs and bought our first home with indoor plumbing, life changed dramatically.  Days were no longer filled with berry picking and nut collecting.  Weekends were suddenly void of camping trips and hikes.  We had responsibilities--and they had a strong hold on us. There were seemingly infinite repairs to our elderly home, countless hours of landscaping in our overgrown yard and the logistics of two people working full-time. 

We managed to get it all done, and keep on moving.  Being a "don't talk about doing it, just do it" kind of person, we just did a lot of things.  We still apple buttered and made Christmas gifts.  We still held campfires for campers in the National Recreation Area.  We still managed to go sledding (when it managed to snow).  But, in all of this hanging-the-laundry-outside and tending-to-rising-bread, my old friend The Trail seemed ever distant and our old life was slowly slipping away.  We would take a hike, a short one, once a month or so. 

That sounds adequate, but when you live in a place that has over four hundred miles of trails, there are many, many miles to go before you sleep.  Add in the fact that I live just five minutes from Hungry Mother State Park and it seems quickly apparent I should be hitting the trail much more often.  We bought an annual pass to the park this summer and have used it around seven or eight times, almost having it's $33 fee paid for in visits. 

Lamenting the loss of my hiking life, I had the most elementary of revelations this week--I could just go hiking.  I could make simpler meals.  I could spread out chores, only doing the necessary lengthy ones on the weekends.  I could manage my time better and just go hiking.

Really, my dilemma has been that three years ago I got in the best shape of my life (trite, but true).  A simple walk around suburbia barely gets me going--I need more of a challenge.  It started when the young man I, and everyone we knew, thought I was going to marry someday said our love was over.  Faced with horrible shock and grief,  I hit the trails.  I threw myself into my non-profit work.  I volunteered like crazy.  I lost eleven pounds and even got to the point where running up and down mountains seemed feasible (and fun!). 

Just as my body lightened up, so did my mind.  I made choices about the things that really mattered to me.  I decided not that many things really did matter.  I knew that the peace, love and hope of the Bible were the most fundamental goals in my life--for myself and others.  The trail gave me peace.  It also gave me the strength to come out of the darkness ready to love others and be a hopeful light for conscious choices.  Then came the whirlwind of meeting Mike, getting engaged, getting married, and building a new life.  It was all wonderful and very much a lot to take in.

After all I learned about myself, the change of seasons and the glory of the natural world, the time has come for me to take to the woods once more.  There is a season of reflection coming--for me to learn about where I've come from in the past three years and envision where I'll be going.   Wednesday, after a simple supper, I headed off to Hungry Mother and onto the trails.  It was glorious to climb hills and see the forest change from microclimate to microclimate.  And even more glorious to see the forest begin to get drowsy for Fall. I do hope we'll get some cooler weather soon.

But, until then and after then, I'll be in the woods much more--finding hillsides to reflect upon.  Sometimes taking Mike along and sometimes not.  Learning more about what it means to be twenty-four in a world crying out for peace and benevolence.

Tomorrow :: The Lewis Fork Trail