Imagine Her Full Majesty

As promised, here is the mid-Spring view of the tree from the cow pasture just down the road from our place toward Youngsville. Sorry it took me so long to get back the this work and I am glad that it didn't miss Spring for it seems like Summer is advancing early in North Carolina this year. (I personally prefer the greens of Spring to those of Summer.) My initial shot of this scene was the subject of a January post and depicted a Winter look of this lone leaf-bare oak standing watch over the dormant pastures. Now she has budded and is fully leaved in the rich deep green of late Spring. The hay has come in very full and healthy in the field beneath her thanks to all the nice saturating rains we've had this Winter and early Spring. Nearly three and a half feet tall, these grasses will soon be cut, left to dry in the sun, raked, baled and stored for the cows next Winter. For now, it's amusing to to watch the fawns struggle to bound high enough to clear the tops of the grasses as they follow their mothers away from the road to the woods and a nice stream branch just over the hill.

While I drove with Emmylou down the road to try and capture the tree in "perfect evening light" to mark my return to this blogging work after a three month hiatus to deal with some personal stuff, I found myself thinking of life's cycles and aging. As we rounded a curve in the road and I strained to catch my first next glimpses of her, it was as though my conscious and earnest looking made the tree appear to leap into view from over the horizon: tall, towering, emerald green, strong and still , lording over the pastures, awaiting the return of the cows, a part of this Sunday's afternoon's warm fragrant peace - marking home for me again, making me feel a part of my place on earth. But then I noticed what I had failed to see every day as I passed by or to pay attention to in the earlier photograph ... she is damaged. Not slightly but significantly on one side. With the foliage out and the leaves rich green from Spring's new life, I now saw that she is at less than her full majesty. For a while, I stood and took in the view; simultaneously I marveled and wondered. I tried to imagine what the tree was like in her full glory, before the damage, in her full majesty. What was the cause of this damage - lightning?, insects? - and why did it happen and how long ago? I wondered if before the damage, the tree would have inspired me more? And I even considered setting out this afternoon to try and find a replacement for her. After all, more perfect tree might serve as a much better respresentative subject to use to mark the seasons in my blog?

Reasonably quickly my thoughts quieted and I realized that although visually the tree may be less majestic than before the damage, these imperfections make her more, not less, interesting and important to me. She is unflinchingly real; mixing blemishes and scars with breathtaking beauty. With time, she has progressed from youth and its beauty to a dignity and grace that is earned, not given. She is like that old dirt dog around the farm; the one all of us have seen or heard of. Long ago his puppy cute and playfulness faded; a coon got his ear and a train got his leg; but he is the dog justifiably honored and revered. We love and cherish that old farm dog as a survivor; a carrier of scars and memories, experiences and pain because he helps us begin to hear what our modern lives drowned out and let fade from our consciousnesses -- the truth and purpose of earth's cycles and nature's pace, and how to navigate them with grace. We have no choice: they are inevitable and constant, we are not. So, does my tree serve to remind that I am privileged to be here, to be a part of this natural whole.
















Above are shots from January (left) and May (right) of the tree from her south side. I thought it would be interesting to compare the tree from this perspective as well. I was surprised by the dogwood in the foreground that I had forgotten was there in winter and by the height of the hay. The collection of six or so dogs at the farm behind me as I took this shot greeted me again with anger and disdain saved for strangers as they had in February; that is until Emmylou tried to make friends baying at them from the cab of the truck. Yeah, I miss the flag in the most recent shot too - not really sure why but I do.


Finally, while I couldn't bring you the sounds and smells of this bend in the road about half way between our place and Youngsville proper, the photograph above of wild honeysuckle climbing an anchoring cable for a power line post is my attempt to share a little of the ambiance. Wild honeysuckle bloomed rampantly all over this stretch of road and the sweet smell permeated and complemented the nearly perfect quiet of this afternoon broken only by occasional wistful bird songs.

Self-indulgence

My friend, Rosalina, is sick with cancer and she has been on my mind in a substantial way today. Looking through previous photographs for this blog and driving around earlier to capture a few more, I could not concentrate on trying to reflect Franklin County today and my eye was continuously drawn to the deep blue February sky and the light of the bright late Sunday morning sun as I thought of and prayed for Rosalina.

Laurel Mill

In the north central part of the county, about 12 or so miles north east of Louisburg, is this beautiful mid-nineteenth century grist mill used for corn (and perhaps wheat) named Laurel Mill. Depending on whom you ask, where you're from or how much you know about Franklin County, the mill is located in either the area of Gupton, Oswego or Gold Sands. While all seem legitimate claims to me, the National Register of Historic Places puts Laurel Mill officially in the Gupton area. Not surprisingly, this picturesque spot, despite being deep in rural eastern North Carolina, has become a mecca for photographers both local and pilgrims. So common and iconic are images of Laurel Mill that folks are even selling stock photographs of it. Although there is a tourist element to blogging this, I felt it would be an even graver injustice not to include the mill at some stage, and today (with my wife driving and navigating) seemed like as good a time as any.

While my image of Laurel Mill is far from the most skilled or artistic, it will for me (particularly taken from this perspective standing literally in the fork of two state roads) always conjure a memory, a feeling - intense quiet stillness broken only by the rush of water (on days like today) down the dam and over the rocks almost hissing as it moves - cavorting past the structure now, no longer turning the wheel to power the mill to do a job that, no doubt, many decades ago created a vibrancy associated with commerce and socializing - funny that after all our growth and development now we only hear the water ... uninterrupted by people or their work.

This expansive open land is back down Laurel Mill Road toward NC Highway 561 and the return trip to Louisburg. By including it, I was hoping to give some sense of the remoteness of the mill these days.

Wintry Sunday Drive

Took some free time this mid-Sunday to drive up to the White Level, Hickory Rock area in the northeastern part of the county. I took the dog along for the ride to meet a fellow advertising seasoned firewood on Craig's List; I desperately needed to restock our depleted supply for the rest of the Winter. The last two days have been the coldest in years - the temperature didn't get above freezing Friday or Saturday, but luckily no precipitation. Only today did weather improve enough to unblanket the horses and attempt to spend some time outdoors. However, while the temperature did warm to tolerable, the sky spit snow and sleet mixed rain most of the afternoon. This collection of pictures is my effort to represent the sparsely populated and beautiful area that Emmylou and I took in from the warm confines of the cab of the truck (with a few stops for closer looks) before and after loading up with some nice hardwood logs. Thanks Jeff for the wood, the help loading and the conversation. Above is the green winter field and collection of farm buildings at the intersection White Level Road and NC Highway 56.















Further north and east, we got a quick look at a wide spot in the road named Possum Track (above) from the vantage point of a country store with very welcomed hot coffee. Finally (for this post anyway), the last picture is up Hickory Rock Road a little more and I couldn't resist the bright blue of the horse blankets against the cold gray sky and gray barn - this one will always remind me how raw it was this afternoon. This is the Franklin County, the North Carolina that I love and feel at home in; scenes like these along quiet country roads bring me peace and hopeful confidence that we will find a way to preserve the views and lives of rural North Carolina.

Pasture Down the Road

I pass back and forth by this simple pasture every day - coming and going, to work and back home, out to trade or to shop, off to meet or make friends. About a mile down the road from our place toward town (Youngsville) after a sharp downhill double S curve sits this expansive stretch of pastured land. Sometimes fallow, sometimes idle waiting for the grasses to return, sometimes with its cows and calves grazing and lounging, sometimes with twenty or more doe and fawn taking their turn at foraging but always catching my eye, my heart, my soul. It is not my land but this little glimpse close to the road of the edge of hundreds of acres over the rise helps define my home, my place on earth.

This solitary oak sits as it has for more than a hundred years reflecting the changing seasons and variations of these themes - stark through winter, coming forth in late spring, swaying to storms in the heat of the North Carolina summers and dying back in fall. Makes me smile every time I get close. Over time, I hope to use it as a touchstone or marker, to show the elegance of the fields, of this place and obviously to photograph it more accurately.

Downtown Youngsville Mural

Having to start somewhere, I chose a location very close to home. This is a mural recently painted on the side of the building that houses one of Youngsville's iconic establishments (Griffin's restaurant). While I think Youngsville offers multiple convenient and intriguing images to share, I have been warned not to be residence-centric in my efforts to characterize Franklin County. So, I pledge not to smother any followers of this blog with photographs from the county's southwestern corner only.

I really enjoy this mural everyday on my way to and from work and home, but (in some ways, on some days) it symbolizes gentrification, a folklor-ish image calling out the town's quaintness, readying the streets for new residents for whom the genuine quaintness just wasn't enough. Perhaps I offer too cynical a view.

An Introduction

This is my first attempt at a blog but I have decided to take on the surely complicated task of using simple images to capture the special character of Franklin County, North Carolina.

I am acting from many inspirations to develop this photo blog. For some time I have been nagged by an anxious urgency to capture some of the beauty of my adopted home of Franklin County before development and growth transform this area into another homogeneous suburbia. My energy and motivation for this effort are derived directly from my love for my 'place on earth', eastern North Carolina, fueled by the philosophy and writings of Wendell Berry. Finally, I am imitating the unifying approach so well executed by Hansen's Lexington, VA (Daily Photo) that I look forward to reading every day for its continued inspiration and reflections of the town of my alma mater (Washington & Lee University).