I watch for these beauties every year. They are near the entrance to one of my favorite trails.
These two wildflowers are easy to spot not just because of their large size, but also because they are usually surrounded by butterflies.
Swallowtail on Joe-Pye Weed
New York Ironweed, Veronia noveboracensis, is a bright, violet-purple that is great contrast to the Yellow Swallowtails that flutter around it. This plant is over six feet tall.
New York Ironweed/Veronia noveboracensis
Hollow Joe-Pye Weed, Eutrochium fistulosum, has huge heavy cluster heads of pinkish flowers that cause the stems to flop over.
This plant was well over six feet tall. My walking stick is five feet tall and it got lost in this leaning stand of blooms when I stuck it in for a measurement.
Hollow Joe-Pye Weed /Eutrochium fistulosum
Both of these plants are in the Aster family. They both bloom late summer and well into the fall. These gorgeous giants are two of my favorites.
I remember this place from my childhood. My family hiked to this amphitheater from our campsites while carrying flashlights, just incase the program ran long. My dad was a scout leader, so we were always prepared.
Julian Price Campground Amphitheater
Park rangers would give scheduled talks about nature here. Sometimes there was a slide show.
Screen for slide shows.
They brought rocks, bones, wood samples and cones to be passed around. I was a tactile child, so this was a treat.
I love watching the bonfire flames and seeing sparks fly up when anorher log was tossed on.
Firepit
I relished these times in this amphitheater. I remember walking around through the half-circles of benches to pick the best seats.
We met other campers in this place. We talked with park rangers who were like superheroes to me. Once there was a woman ranger who came here and lead a hike. I was in awe of her.
Hurricane Helene hit this place hard. Most of the Julian Price Campground is still closed. I am happy to see that the beloved amphitheater survived the ravages of that hurricane. It was a magical outdoor classroom.
Seating in the Julian Price Amphitheater
Just being here gives me joy. I can sit with my younger self on these benches and remember how great those times were with my parents and sister. This place and those rangers made me love nature. I passed that loved around to hundreds of my students.
Blue Ridge Mountains
Grateful again. That happens a lot here in these mountains.
I have been researching the Blue Ridge Parkway by the miles. I have used several books and maps. I call this kind of hunting “following a paper trail” because one book leads to another book or map until I find what I am looking for. I do this quite a bit.
Book about Blue Ridge Parkway by the miles
I am looking for interesting spots to visit and write about. The location at the top of my list is in Virginia. It is located at milemarker 189.9. The signs say the cabin belonged to a famous midwife, Orlean Puckett, from Groundhog Mountain but that is not true. This cabin belonged to her sister-in-law, Betty, which was moved there from Cherry Ridge to be near Orlean and John because Betty was deathly scared of thunderstorms.
Wonderful book about Orlean Puckett
The real Puckett cabin was torn down by Orlean’s great nephew Coy. He refused to give the Parkway the house because they took Orlean’s land. She died three weeks after moving out of her homeplace. This was a sad end to a great life of serving others. She was 102 at the time, so I cannot lay all the blame of her demise on the Parkway people.
The tale of Orlean Puckett’s life is one of hardship and survival. She lost 24 babies of her own to early death or miscarrage. The theory is the deaths were due to blood Rh-factor incompatibility. It is speculated that Orlean was Rh- and John was Rh+. This meant that poor Orlean’s blood antibodies attacked all her Rh+ babies, except the first one, Julia. Orlean’s body attacked her fetuses as foreign. This disease is called erythroblastosis fetalis, if you want to look it up. Women with Rh- blood get RhoGAM shots now, so this does not happen.
Blood typing was not done at the time Orlean was having such troubles. It is heart-breaking to think of she and John experiencing such sorrow 24 times. Some folks even blamed them for the deaths.
Orlean became a midwife out of necessity at the age of 45. It seems a baby was about to be born without assistance, so her husband fetched Orlean out of desparation. I guess he figured all those stillbirths was more practice than anybody else available had.
When Orlean caught that first baby boy, she experienced such joy that she felt called to continue. Doctors were scarce and expensive. Orlean was handy and took almost any barter item as her payment. She is said to have delivered over 1000 babies throughout the mountains.
Other information about her life is fascinating. Karen Cecil Smith did a thorough job of researching the Hawks and Puckett family. The book Orlean Puckett: The Life of a Mountain Midwife is a great resource on many aspects of mountain life during the mid-1800s and on the construction of the Blue Ridge Parkway.
If you happen to be riding along the Parkway, the cabin at mile 189.9 is just one of many fascinating stops. Stay tuned folks. There’s more to come.
I enjoy sitting on the porch watching the crows eating apples off my daddy’s apple trees.
Holding an apple with its foot.
They knock them down to the ground. Then they hold the apple with one foot and peck it into pieces.
Crow in the road.
One crow actually throws them down on the asphalt so the apples break into pieces. These pieces are snatched up by some noisy smaller crows which I suppose are her offspring.
Yummy
The crows aren’t the only ones enjoying Daddy’s apples.
Eyeing an apple.
There is a lot to watch from this porch on the mountain.
I was quietly perusing the art exhibits at a local museum when I turned a corner to find a big pile of rocks in the floor.There was a short little fence around them.
Stones made by Sarah Vaughn
The fence was not just to keep visitors from stumbling over them, it was also to keep them from touching them. They were beautiful and textured in various sizes. The urge to pick them up was strong.
These weren’t just any rocks. These were river rock replicas made of glass by Sarah Vaughn. They looked so real, like a pile of favorite rocks on the northern shores of the Pacific.
In addition to the pile on the floor there was a long line of rocks made of wool. The artist made one every day during the Covid Lockdown. Some were lovely while others were little angry wads. I understood those.
Wool rocks to mark time during the Covid pandemic 2020
Then there was a table with a circle of dtones that had been broken and lost a part. Sarah had carefully mended each stone to be whole again. It reminded me of Shel Silverstein’s book The Missing Piece in which the broken character travels looking for its missing part until it realizes the experiences made it feel completed.
Mended broken stones
I spent some quiet time in that room full of the smoothed stones that Sarah made. Her skill is amazing. The stones spoke of transformation by time.
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