Morning on the Cherohala

Cherohala Skyway, part of the National Scenic Byways system, is a forty-three mile road that winds through some of the most beautiful, historic land in southern Appalachia. It connects the towns of Tellico Plains, Tennessee and Robbinsville, North Carolina and crosses both the Cherokee and Nantahala National Forests — hence the name “Chero-hala”. A trip on the Cherohala is memorable and inspiring. National Geographic includes the Skyway on their website in a series called “Drives of a Lifetime“.

Driving time for the Cherohala is listed on the America’s Byways website at about two hours, one-way. This is a conservative estimate — you’d best allow a good part of the day, as there are lots of trails, enticing views, and stopovers to savor before returning to home base.

The highest point of the Skyway (at 5390′ elevation) is on the North Carolina side, but most of the best long-range views are in Tennessee. In late spring, the mountains are very quiet except for the sound of occasional motorcycles coming through. We heard their approach long before they passed us by.

Picnic on the Edge

We stopped near the crest of the Tennessee side of the mountain and saw this lone picnic table. It was very close to the edge of a lookout ( “LOOK OUT!”, in this case), above a very steep ravine. Maybe the low board enclosure around the table is supposed to create a sense of security. For me, it did not, but the lovely long-range views of blue mountains made up for any nagging sense of impending catastrophe.

Picnic Area, Looking Down

Travelling on the North Carolina section of the Skyway, we saw terrain that reminded me of the heath fields of Scotland. (Unfortunately, my camera’s memory card failed at this point and I have no photos to demonstrate). There is a diversity of plants and habitats all along the Byway and side trails. This calls for repeat visits to take it all in.

The sign to Snowbird Lodge shows that you’re nearing the end of the Skyway, which is eleven miles away in Robbinsville. If you’re returning to Knoxville or Nashville, you might consider a different route home. The Tail of the Dragon (highway 129) is a two-lane, eleven-mile road that eventually ends up near Fontana Dam.  To get there, you will navigate 318 curves. These are some serious curves — if you are prone to motion sickness, go a different way. The last time I travelled this road was in the 1980′s, on the way to the old-growth Joyce Kilmer Forest. I vowed that I would never again set tire or body on the Dragon and I have kept that promise. The Cherohala Skyway? I’ll go back anytime.

View from Snowbird Lodge

North Carolina Botanical Garden - Chapel Hill

Today is National Public Gardens Day. Of all the gardens I’ve visited in North America, I believe none surpasses the North Carolina Botanical Garden in overall excellence.

Decades before “sustainable” and “eco-friendly”became buzzwords, this garden in Chapel Hill was setting the standard for conservation in public areas. Its buildings, education programs and exhibits, plant and ecological communities, and dedicated, knowledgeable staff all continue to exemplify the Garden’s mission:

To inspire understanding, appreciation and conservation of plants in gardens and natural areas and to advance a sustainable relationship between people and nature.

The North Carolina Botanical Garden (part of the University of North Carolina) has attained just the right balance of wild and cultivated. If you want showy displays of annuals, this is not the garden for you.  What you will find is a diversity of trees, interesting shrubs, perennials, and wildflowers, mixed with lots of art and human activity.

Path to Paul Green Cabin - North Carolina Botanical Garden

Various areas in the Garden represent the varying ecological and plant habitats of North Carolina. The pathway to the Paul Green Cabin, for example, is a peaceful, ferny glade in the mountain habitat section of the Botanical Garden. It’s easy to forget you’re in the much flatter, hotter Piedmont area of the state.

This botanical garden is the real deal, folks. If you’re coming to the Chapel Hill or Research Triangle Park area, I hope you’ll schedule some time here. Or, check out the Garden’s website for more information about invasive plants, water conservation, and related topics. I’m pretty sure you’ll leave with a renewed commitment to preserving your own garden’s ecology.

Keeper of the Past

Old barns are disappearing from the fields and mountains of Appalachia and from rural landscapes across the country. Sometimes these venerable structures collapse from the unintentional neglect of their caretakers, who become physically or financially unable to maintain them. In other cases, the boards and rafters just give out after decades of adapting to weather extremes. Sometimes, barns are torn down; developers, businesses, or new landowners believe they no longer serve a purpose.

I can’t imagine a more functional category of buildings, yet barns are more than utilitarian. They proudly reflect the identity and architecture, as well as the agriculture, of their region. A cross-country drive through any state will tell you that. Some barns are round, some cantilevered; some are for curing tobacco, while others serve as cribs for housing livestock. Barns are different colors, and construction can be of stone, wood, or metal.

Whatever the material, I’m always touched by the eloquence of old barns. I wonder who worked there and what kind of animals were sheltered from the wind and rain. I try to imagine the farm equipment and the tools that are rusting inside. Most of all, I think about how important barns have been to farm families over the past century. Will a new generation of communities and landowners commit to preserving this cultural asset? I hope so.

Blue Hill

Years ago, an elderly client, Margaret, sent me home with starts of Myosotis sylvatica or forget-me-not. I planted them here-and-there and, right away, forgot my forget-me-nots! Last spring they appeared en masse — a soothing swath of blue under the now-much-larger ‘Forest Pansy’ redbud. This year, only a quarter of the forget-me-nots appeared.

I had forgotten the patch of Aegopodium or goutweed at the top of the hill. Last year, being busy (or lazy), I let some of  the goutweed stay. I knew its aggressive tendencies, but hoped that it would help stabilize the soil until I decided on something more appropriate. It did, after all, have nice yellow flowers and variegated leaves and I figured I could tolerate it for a while. Well, you guessed it — the “patch” took over the bank, spreading rapidly down the hill throughout late fall and winter. This spring, the delicate Myosotis sprouts could not compete.

Now, another garden task presents itself: remove the goutweed, then plant something that is desirable, deer-resistant, and able to play fair with forget-me-nots. (Also, remind myself that no good can come from ignoring or “forgetting” invasive plants)!

Kubi the Nursery Cat

Kubi, a very laid-back, handsome cat, lives at Camellia Forest Nursery in Chapel Hill. He was named for his habit of crawling into the bucket of the nursery’s Kubota tractor when naptime was imminent.

When I saw Kubi (pronounced “Cubby”), he was lounging under a golden larch (pseudolarix amabilis) in a large container near the nursery office. His more-timid predecessor (below) left the plant life a year ago, when she was adopted by a a local family.

Checking the label

Spell it any way you want.

Photo courtesy of Greg Wilson

Footprints: Next Generation

This morning I spent some time on Earth Day Network’s website, learning about their programs and using their interactive “footprint” calculator. The calculator is defined as a “resource accounting tool that measures how much biologically productive land and sea is used up by a given population or activity”. I entered information about my choices in food, lodging, and transportation and got a visual impression of how my lifestyle is impacting the ecological capacity of the earth. If you want to take the quiz, you’ll find the footprint calculator here, with a link to a FAQ page about why it’s important.

This spring, for the first time, a tiny columbine appeared in a crevice of the stone wall covered by a layer of moss and bits of leaf litter. This fragile plant is just outside an area where the chipmunks hibernate. As warm weather comes, the chipmunks come out and sun themselves on the ledge. I wonder if they’ll like their lacy new curtains.