Nepenthé Nevermore

Tags

photography, Poetry

A relatively warm, if somewhat breezy, midwinter day beckoned Nevermore to another Savannah cemetery–Hillcrest. We arrived just as the sun was beginning to set, which offered us amazing shadows and some beautiful light to work with.

Nevermore and Mockingbird at Hillcrest Cemetery.

See more photos of our visit at my website here: Nevermore at Hillcrest

 

Mother Nature: 2; Forecasters: 0

 

Rainy Trail of Tears

And weather, that is, inclement weather, wins again. Cold, windy and drizzly and some rain. Lousy writing-on-a-pad-of-paper weather, but I did it anyway. The drizzle at David Crockett State Park was heavy enough that I had to wear my rain jacket, and keep my phone and notepad protected with a bandana so I could write on it (though it stayed damp. Fortunately, the first trail I hiked in the park was historically interesting in that sections of it were part of the original Trail of Tears route. And, because of the drizzle, more wildlife was out than would have been on a sunny day. A female wild turkey tried to get away from me by scampering down the trail ahead of me. It finally dawned on her to take off into the woods. Fortunately, it was a one-way trail because by the time I was hiking the 2.5-miles back to the starting point, the drizzle had turned to light rain and I was glad I didn’t have to stop and take notes and GPS points.

In the afternoon, I drove to Mousetail Landing State Park, which turned out to have only one trail. I was definitely happy about that because by then it was both cold, windy and a bit drizzly. I looked at the barren hillside above the Tennessee River willing myself to just hike the trail and get it over with. Once I started, I was treated to a lovely hike–the drizzle subsided, the wind quieted and the path was a carpet of moss the entire two miles. The drizzle picked up again as I left the park, but it was no longer a problem. I definitely felt like I was being watched over.

Moss trail at Mousetail

Un-Happy Hollow

First, some pictures from yesterday:

A violet in front of my campsite.

Happy Hollow Campsite

The name was too good to be true. Honestly, everything was fine until I walked out of the bathhouse this morning sometime about sunrise–6:44 am. I was even thinking: Ha! I’ve reached a new low (heehee), I can camp when it’s freezing and do okay. And, then, something big and white and fluffy came drifting down from the sky. My first thought, being a South Georgia Girl, was “Ash! Is the Okefenokee burning again?” And almost immediately thereafter, “you’re in Tennessee. That’s . . .” and as I said, “snow,” suddenly the flakes were everywhere. And not the nice dry kind that bounce off things, but the big, moist flakes that land and melt.

Don’t know if you can see it but there is snow sticking to the tent.

Oh no, I thought, my tent! Sure enough, the flakes were sticking to it. And while I was getting the last of my things out of it, my fingers were rapidly becoming numb. And, lest you think I am a wimp, I suffer from Raynaud’s Phenomenon (don’t ask me why it’s a phenomenon). By the time I was trying to fold the rain fly, my fingers were crossing the line from Raynaud’s and heading down that dark alley toward frostbite. I ended up having to just stuff my tent and tarp into the back of the car before running to the bathhouse in indescribable pain as my fingers were turning a deep purple. The pain was intense (and I have a high tolerance for pain) but I was able to bring the feeling back by running them under cool water; anything hotter hurt.

Feeling human again, I drove to Natchez Trace where the attendant was kind enough to refund my campsite (as it was snowing and supposed to plummet to 23-degrees tonight and she agreed a tent wasn’t a good idea). I did, by the way, hike my trails in 37 degrees and snow. I had problems with my Raynauds on the the first trail (those lake winds) but was fine on the second–a pretty little trail through some former erosion gullies which I forgot the name of because I kept calling it “Fern Gully” to myself.

So, 23 and snowing. Time to head South! Who knew that I would drive for more than an hour in a blizzard between I-40 and I-24? My windshield wipers were so caked with snow they could hardly move. I’m laughing now at the obstacles life loves to throw in our way, but it was harrowing at the time (for someone who hasn’t driven in snow in a number of years; when I lived in Virginia, it wasn’t that big a deal). And then I arrived in Georgia, and guess what? It was snowing even though it was a lot warmer and the sun was shining. Go figure.

Happy Hollow

It’s so quiet here in Happy Hollow Campground here in Nathan Bedford Forrest State Park. Actually, it has been quiet all day. My hikes have only been interrupted by woodpeckers, owls and songbirds and the occasional scurry of a squirrel. Even the deer I saw today seemed disinclined to move away from me.

I have to admit that I liked the name of the campground, but lest it be too ironic should something happen to me, I chose Campsite 13 to camp in. Although an alternate story would be, “she should have known better than to camp in site 13! Bwahahaha.”

Meanwhile the wind is blowing in some herring-scale clouds and the even colder front that is supposed to hit tomorrow. Oh, well. Thank goodness, I have only one park left–Natchez Trace–before I head back to South Georgia where I understand the temperatures are much warmer.

My favorite thing about this site (other than the fact that it is so close to the playground, which has an awesome slide and swings–yes, I tried them both), are all the violets. I’ve always been partial to violets–February’s flower.

No photos today. My Mifi just isn’t up to it.

Winter Rears Her Ugly Head

Rémy doesn’t look happy about the feathers in his cap.

Not that Winter doesn’t have her moments, and there are times when she can be quite beautiful. But, when it’s her sister, Spring’s, time, she should step back gracefully and allow her her allotted time in the sun. Summer will be knocking at her door soon enough.

But obviously we didn’t mourn Winter’s disappearance to her satisfaction because after several days of warmth, she has decided to reappear. Okay, enough anthropomorphizing of the seasons. The real question is: Has this winter not been brutal enough?

I was supposed to be in a tent tonight at Paris Landing State Park–my nicely ventilated summer tent. But, a number of factors sent me scurrying southward, the most important of which was the fact that it is supposed to plummet to 27 degrees tonight (and that’s without the winds off Kentucky Lake. Then I discovered the bathhouse I was camped next to was closed, which meant a good walk downhill to get to the next one. And, bizarrely, there wasn’t a single other camper in the campground, not even in an RV. That kind of spooked me.

In addition, it was just a weird day all around. Early morning found me at Big Cypress Tree State Park. A tiny little place in the middle of nowhere and not a soul in sight. Everything was closed–park office, restrooms–all still battened down for winter. But, their .3-mile self-guided and ADA-approved nature trail was open, so I walked it. Obviously that didn’t take long.

At Big Cypress Tree

So, off to Paris Landing where–their information office is closed on weekends. Because nobody goes to state parks with marinas, restaurants, an inn and conference center, etc., etc., on the weekend. Okay, I thought, I’ll try the inn. Surely they’d have literature about the park they are located in. Nope. So, I drove around until I found the trailhead for their two trails (right next to the security building though no one was there, either). And now Paris Landing gets my unofficial vote for the most poorly marked trails in the state.

Kentucky Lake from the Raptor Trail (maybe)

The .6-mile Whitetail Loop was easy to figure out because of its tree identification signs. The 3-mile Raptor Trail, on the other hand, was nearly impossible to follow and I lost the trail completely once I arrived at the lake. I’m not even positive I was supposed to arrive at the lake. Maybe I was supposed to cut through the cabin area to begin with. But, it was pretty down by the lake and, more importantly, I found evidence for why the trail is called the Raptor Trail. At one point while searching for signs of a trail or the yellow blazes that marked it, I happened on lots of feathers. No sign of the bird, itself, but enough feathers to indicate the poor little bird had been scooped up by a raptor. I brought a few of its feathers back with me–a small tribute to its sacrifice.

So, now I am less than 10 miles from tomorrow’s park. It’s supposed to be a bit warmer, and I’ve already checked out the park: the woman at the office was very nice and helpful, they have an excellent trail map and I already have 1-, 3-, and 5-mile hikes planned, and my campsite looks just fine and it should be warm enough (that means above freezing for me) to camp. As I’ve noted previously, I really don’t like the cold.

 

Reelfoot Lake

View from the Keystone Trail of Reelfoot Lake.

Just because I like the name; for some reason it reminds me of horror stories I read as a youth. And, this is the first of the four parks I’ve hiked so far where I have yet to meet a soul while hiking. And I hiked three trails today!

And one of the trails was so creepy that I picked up a sharpened bamboo stick I found along the way and carried it until I was done (which was good because I ended up using it to scrape the mud off my boots!) No pictures on that trail–too bleak–lots of fox and coyote tracks on that trail along with their hair/feather-filled scat (no, not dog, as mine were the only human prints) and lots of deer/raccoon/’possum tracks, as well.

And so many birds today from eagles and hawks, ducks, herons and geese, to dove and woodpeckers. Definitely a birder’s paradise (I even saw an eagle catch a fish). But, the only mammal I saw, other than the ubiquitous squirrels, were a few groundhogs.

Now, at the Visitors Center, I saw a lot of snakes in cages, including a pretty impressive timber rattle snake, but had a moment with a pretty little round-eyed owl who “talked” to me while staring into my eyes, head tilted to one side. Owls have mesmerizing golden eyes. I also met a kite named Shadow, who also made noises at me. Cool birds.

So, Reelfoot Lake–in the northwestern corner of Tennessee and bounded by Missouri and Kentucky–was formed by an earthquake in 1811 that changed the course of the Mississippi and the terrain thereabouts to what it is today. Beautiful, but still winter bleak at this point, place.

Oh, and I saw turtles, too . . .

Turtles sunning themselves at Grassy Island.