French Broad Hollow Ramble

Then came Helene. Multiple watches and warnings had been issued, but no one was prepared for the long-lasting effects of so much rain on the many creeks and rivers that course throughout the steep mountain terrain of Western North Carolina.

The storm came in the night of Thursday, September 26. I was awakened when my power blinked about 3AM Friday morning and went downstairs to (try to) sleep on the futon, which I had already made up. The power went out about 6:30 and so did my landline (which I have kept for emergencies—LOL). I fed the cats, made coffee (gas stove) and breakfast, and watched as dawn arrived (hoping that no deer would venture out into the storm).

I was prepared to be without power for several days, having stored water in the bathtub and in every water bottle, pitcher, etc. that I own. And I had six or seven gallons jugs of water in the basement, and well as three frozen gallons in the chest freezer.

At some point after that I lost cell service and didn’t get it back until Sunday morning. Even then it was inconsistent and text only. Mostly, I just sat or walked around the house, watching and listening as the storm raged. I could see the trees on the top of the nearby ridge bowing to the power of the wind and hear trees crashing. Small branches and sycamore tree balls pounded the roof and, as the storm moved along, all sides of the house. (Fortunately, no trees or large branches hit the house.) The cats were nervous, too, but not so much that they missed their naps.

By early afternoon, Helene had passed by, and the sun was shining, so I went out. I could already hear chainsaws and the neighbors’ tractor as they worked to clear the road. A smallish half-dead black locust tree tree had fallen in my “orchard” but missed the apple tree and blueberry bushes, and part of the always-unstable side of the driveway had slid down, but not enough to prevent traffic.

Walking down toward the mailbox, I saw a few small trees down across the road and another small landslide on the road that goes through the rest of the hollow. A neighbor who had been helping clear the road to the river came up and quickly chainsawed the trees to make a way through. I think that’s as far as I went that day; I was still processing what had happened and what I had heard. (Fortunately, I have some anachronistic habits, including sometimes listening to a battery-powered radio when I walk or work outside. I have four, one that is also a weather radio, and it turned out that the radio was the only way to get information from the world outside our little hollow. I loaned the other three radios to neighbors.)

Saturday I went on my regular ramble route into a changed world. I walked down to the river, passing by fourteen trees that the neighbors had cleared off the road and under the ones that are leaning and have us all worried because we will need professional help to remove them.

And then I got to the river, the same French Broad River that is at the beginning of every blog post. Except it wasn’t the same river and will never again be the same river. Somehow, a few trees were still standing, but many were gone, along with other familiar landmarks, including entire houses. By now, the river had subsided a bit and I could see debris from upriver (towards Asheville) on the shoreline and hung up on remaining trees. The storm had flooded Silver-Line Plastics, a pipe manufacturer in Woodfin, and thousands of pipes were washed into the river. I’m sure some went as far as Tennessee. (The company was quick to reassure the public that their products would not further contaminate the river.) Houses that weren’t washed away had basements (or more) flooded, and the water had rushed through and around our little Post Office.

Then I walked back uphill and continued into the Hollow, parts of which looked completely untouched. But elsewhere, trees—huge trees—were down in the woods. What often happens when one tree falls is that it takes other along with it. Or sometimes the other tree doesn’t fall, and it becomes what I call a leaner. Some of the trees were completely uprooted due to the saturated ground, and others, especially pines, simply snapped in two. Dead trees, trees full of leaves, large trees, small trees—it didn’t matter to Helene. Miraculously, only one house in the hollow was damaged.

It’s hard to believe that Helene hit only four weeks ago. The first two weeks, especially, are somewhat of a blur; priorities changed, and everything took much longer. I will get back to this again soon, but I’ve been working on it for a week, and I want to get it posted.

I know that many of you tried to contact me—or tried to, and I appreciate your reaching out. Thank you for your prayers, thoughts, and energy.

It’s been so long since I posted that I’ve almost forgotten how! I hadn’t planned to be so busy these past few months, but somehow it happened. Fortunately, most of the activity was welcome, visiting family and friends in Georgia and Alabama. Highlights included rambles on a farm in Georgia in April and on another farm near Bankston, Alabama, where we walked up Beaver creek in the afternoon and that night watched a string of Starlink satellites and the ISS pass over. And then we saw the Aurora Borealis! In Alabama!

Here in the Hollow, the deer have changed from winter coats of gray to summer brown, most of the pregnant does have had their fawns (although I’ve seen only one), and Itsy and the yearling bucks have started growing their velvet-covered antlers.

If you’ve followed my rambles for a while, you should be aware that I love seeing the Eastern Box Turtles that live in the Hollow. I often see the same ones on my rambles and recognize some that I’ve seen year after year. This year one somehow got into my vegetable garden and very happy when I watered! And one of my neighbors found a baby turtle near his shop!

Today I found this guy burying himself in the mud/muck at the bottom of the creek.

Of course, there have been flowers and mushrooms and other interesting things, but I hear thunder and hungry cats, so I think this will have to do for now.

Fall ended a long time ago, and we’re well into winter. (Some say the Groundhog Day is the midpoint of winter.) It’s hard to tell from the weather, which sometimes swings from single digits to almost 70 in the span of a few days.

Unless it’s too cold or rainy, I enjoy rambling this time of year. It’s easier to see into the woods; sometimes the shapes of trees and vines almost jump out, especially on cloudy days, when fallen trees and large vines paint black lines in the woods. The designs of the bark on different trees and the holes in some trees fascinate me.

It certainly looks like winter; the trees and shrubs are mostly gradients of grays and browns, although the pines, red cedars, and doomed hemlocks, as well as a few native hollies, add spots of green to the woods. The beech trees and some oaks retain their leaves (marcescence) long after most leaves have carpeted the forest floor (and filled the ditches).

The many ferns, mosses, and lichens also add texture in greens, grays, and sometimes white. I never tire of examining their many varied shapes and textures.

There are other colors, too–the occasional flash of a red cardinal, an orange rust fungi on a pine, the blue of birdeye speedwell (Veronica persica), the green leaves of golden ragwort (Packera aurea), wooly mullein (Verbascum), and putty root orchid (Plectrum hyemale), and sometimes a glimpse of a railroad car by the river far below.

And there are views that I appreciate every day when I pass by.

The deer come regularly, especially the young ones who were born last year. Sometimes they show up with frost on their coats. Itsy lost one of his antlers last week; I hoped to find it but was unsuccessful.

And that’s it for today from French Broad Hollow, where the rain has started and the wind is blowing.

It’s been a long time (again), but I’m finally making time for an update on my rambles. Summer has turned to fall, and it looks to be a colorful one. Today, however, it’s rained intermittently and is not expected to get above 50°. I hope it rains all day–and tomorrow, too; we are more than 9″ below our normal rainfall for the year.

I appreciate the beauty of nature as I walk year-round, but rambling in the fall may be my favorite, as the foliage seems to change colors almost daily.

More and more leaves cover the ground. Here’s a link to a wooly bear (Pyrrharctia Isabella) scooting across some in my yard.

The summer wildflowers gave way to the fall, and those will be gone after the first frost, which could come any day now.

The deer are changing with the seasons, too. Most of the fawns have lost their spots, and the little bucks have scraped the velvet off their antlers. (They’re feeling their testosterone, too, and I have seen them pushing each other around. One broke part of his antler.) They are all losing their brown summer coats and turning more gray.

The box turtles spent most of these past dry months buried in the mud. One found a good place in the ditch, and I brought him persimmons once they began to fall. He hasn’t been there the past few days, and I hope he has dug a burrow for the winter. I think this female was on her way to do so when she was in my driveway a few days ago. (I think she’s the same one who laid eggs in my mulch pile in June, and I hope to see babies emerge in the spring.)

I’ve had other four-legged visitors (no black bears that I know of!); mostly the raccoons and possums come at night. A woodchuck/groundhog/whistle pig thought about settling under my porch, but I think I was successful in scaring it away (and then I put up chicken wire to keep it from getting back underneath). And I’ve also seen a skunk! I had seen one on the game camera in the meadow and was not happy to see it near the house. Here’s a video (from a safe distance) of it eating seeds that had fallen from the bird feeder; it was not much fazed by my shouting but finally left. (The wires are an unsuccessful attempt to keep the turkeys from scratching the ground.)

I guess I’ve caught you up on some of the sights and doings in the Hollow. Maybe it won’t be such a long wait until the next post, now that the weather is changing and there’s not much to do in what’s left of the garden. In the meantime, here’s the hollow on the other side of the ridge.

It seems like the fawns showed up later than usual this year, and when I saw the first ones, they had obviously been around for a while. At least one doe was still pregnant in June, and I didn’t see any fawns except the first ones for a while, but now I have little visitors every day. There are two or more sets of twins and four or five singletons.

Last year’s fawns are still around, too, although the mamas sometimes run the little bucks off. The little bucks’ antlers are growing and covered with velvet. One fellow with larger antlers showed up this morning; I think he was around last year, too. They’re all hungry, although the meadow and woods are full of grasses and forbs. (Unfortunately, some of the forbs they eat are flowers and other plants cultivated by my neighbors and me.) As you can see if you click on an image, the flies plague the deer, and they go into the tall grass and the woods for relief. I carry a zapper racket when I go down to feed.

The Eastern Box Turtles (Terrapene carolina Carolina) emerged from hibernation in April, and the females have been laying eggs. We have marked two nests in the Hollow and are hoping for successful hatchings in a few months. I look for them on every ramble and pay special attention to the little creek that runs near the road. I know from experience that they bury themselves in the mud when the weather is hot.

It’s been an odd year so far, especially since my mom passed in April. I went to Roswell, NM, for her memorial service in May but still find myself thinking, “I have to tell Mom that the lightning bugs are out…the blackberries are ripe…my garden is finally coming in…” After years of talking and laughing with her for several years, it’s been hard to adjust.

The weather has sometimes been cooler than normal, then hotter. We had too much rain and then not enough. But I still walk almost every day, and I remain grateful for my life in this little Hollow. I’ll try to post more about it before too long.

It’s been so long since I’ve posted that I can’t remember how to do some tasks on the blog–or maybe they made changes t0 the platform again. Whichever, I’ll just go ahead.

Winter is over, although it hasn’t felt like it today. It’s rained all day long and only now, in the late afternoon, has gotten above the low 50s. (No walk today!) I was happy to see spring arrive, displaying an incredible palette of greens as the trees leafed out and then the colors of tree blossoms and wildflowers.

The deer continue to come and are beginning to shed their winter coats. The big bucks are gone (even Mr. Uno), most of the does are pregnant, and last year’s fawns are learning to take care of themselves. Itsy is still smaller than the others; it will be interesting to watch him grow.

The box turtles are out, too.

I was unhappily surprised to see a mama bear with two tiny (cat-sized) cubs before a recent trip and then again the day after I returned. I keep an eye out for them and have airhorns nearby, as I don’t want them to feel welcome around the house. (I’ve also had to bring in the bird feeders when I’m not around.)

Not a long post, but maybe the next one will be longer and without such a delay.

It’s been a long, long time since my last post; here’s a brief summary of the last five months or so:

The seasons were beginning to change when I last posted. Then summer flowers faded, Monarchs (and other butterflies) migrated, and fall blossoms bloomed.

The chlorophyll in the leaves of trees and shrubs declined, and the glorious fall colors emerged.

Although the blogging paused, my rambles continued. I enjoyed noting how the Hollow changes with the weather and the seasons. And you may remember that I’m interested in the fungi, as well as the flora and fauna I encountered along the way.

I often saw deer as I rambled.

And, of course, I watched “my” deer in the meadow. The fawns grew and lost their spots, the bucks lost the velvet on their antlers, and Big Mama and Johnnie continued to demand apples at the basement door. Some friends “critter-sat” when I visited my mom in November, and Martha was thrilled to have Johnnie take an apple from her hand.

Late fall ushered in breeding/hunting season, and several big bucks visited the meadow. Breaking an antler didn’t seem to slow the buck I called”Mr. Uno”!

One of the fawns born very late in the year has a funny-looking coat. (His mama had a large wart hanging from her abdomen, and I wonder if it affected his development.) It shouldn’t surprise you to know that I have paid special attention to “Itsy” and make sure he gets a chance to eat. I worried about him over Christmas when the wind chill was well below zero and was relieved when he showed up the next day.

He even comes when I call!

So that’s a very brief summary of the past five months of my rambles in French Broad Hollow. In order to get this posted, I haven’t taken the time to identify the flora and fungi; I may go back and do so later. In the meantime, I hope to post another update before too long.

The post will display better if you follow the link to open your browser!

I wasn’t swept away by the river and didn’t fall off the edge of a cliff (none nearby), but it sure has been a long time since my last post. And yet, surprisingly LOL, the world kept turning and tilting as we move towards autumn. I’ve noticed that the days are shorter and most mornings are cooler. Soon I’ll be posting the colors of fall–if I can get back to posting regularly.

As always, the deer come regularly, especially in the mornings. I wouldn’t be surprised to have a couple of them come into the basement while I’m slicing apples and putting corn in the bucket. And those same ones–Big Mama and one of her last year’s fawns, Johnnie–sometimes try to eat from the bucket as I walk down the hill to the meadow. (I discourage this; if you’ve ever visited, you’ll know that going down the hill is not an easy task, especially with a bucket of corn and apples.)

And there are fawns. I’m still waiting for one to discover how good an apple tastes compared to the leaves and grasses they eat. There are at least two sets of twins, and Spooky’s two often hang out with Lil Girl’s one. (She and her fawn sometimes nap and chew their cuds along a path near the house.) I’m looking forward to seeing fawns racing in the meadow soon!

Western North Carolina is home to a sizable population of black bears (Ursus americanus). especially in the City of Asheville (https://wildlife.org/bears-in-asheville-are-heavier-and-having-cubs-earlier-than-rural-bears/). We have had a few bears in the Hollow, but most seem to be just passing through. They have broken bird feeders, shepherd’s hooks, and an apple tree, and I don’t like them around my house. I now bring all feeders in nightly and have air horns to scare a bear if I see one near my house or while walking. However, I faced a dilemma a few mornings ago when I spied a young bear walking through the meadow. My guests were still sleeping, and I knew the bear would be gone by the time I went upstairs to wake them. Fortunately, the deer had already eaten everything and left, and I let this bear leave on its own (making sure that it kept going away from my house).

I heard thunder a little while ago, and Gertie, the older rescue cat who joined the family earlier this year, is hiding, so I know a storm must be coming. I’m relieved to be able to post something today, and I’ll try to find time to write about flora and other fauna another time.