Thirty-three (and a Third?) An Anniversary and a Trip

October 23, 1982 was a cool, windy day in Elberton, Georgia (my hometown) when Dennis and I got married.  The next day was also cool, but with bright sunshine, when we had our reception in Athens, Georgia where I had lived since starting university there in 1972.  We celebrated our 33rd anniversary in South Englishtown, Belize a couple of weeks ago.  Aside from wanting to throttle each other from time to time, we have had a great marriage cemented by our shared passions in natural history, similar political views, and our goal (now achieved!) of living in Belize.  We prepared a simple but elegant meal to celebrate - salad of golden sweet pepper strips, lobster and mushroom Alfredo, and apricot tart accompanied by a French sparkling wine.  The apricot tart turned out fantastic and will definitely be added to my rotating repertoire of desserts.

Anniversary Tart

A few days later I flew to Asheville, North Carolina, to visit my brother for 10 days and help him out after particularly extensive shoulder surgery.  Poor guy has to keep his arm in a bumper sling secured to his torso 24 hours a day for at least 8 weeks and is not allowed to drive for that time and perhaps longer depending on his progress.  My oldest sister had been here earlier.  He is doing well, but 8 weeks is a long time!  When I leave he will have 2 more weeks to go.

Asheville is in the Appalachian Mountains and is situated right next to the Blue Ridge Parkway that winds its scenic way through the Blue Ridge National Park.  My arrival coincided with the peak of the autumn leaf color, which was at least a week late this year, so unintended good timing for me.  Fortunately, my brother is feeling well enough for long outings and walks.  On Thursday, a cloudy, misty day, we walked through the Botanical Gardens of Asheville.  I got some photos of the great fall colors, mushrooms, and other features in the garden.

Evidence of intense geologic activity in the past.  The Appalachian Mountains are quite ancient.

There were plenty of large fly agaric Amanita muscaria mushrooms, all growing under hemlock trees.

This unopened mushroom cap is the size of a baseball.

The grounds are a mix of landscaped and natural areas.  The landscaped areas feature native plants for the most part.

More Fly Agaric in various stages of maturing.

These particular ones are not the bright red that you often see.

The next day, Friday, was a beautiful sunny day so we decided to do some sightseeing and leaf peeping along the Blue Ridge Parkway.  We packed a picnic lunch for a long day out.  Our first stop was at the Lake Powhatan area.  We saw more mushrooms, including these Coprinus sp., on the walk to the lake.

A whole field of Coprinus.

They were pristine.

Lake Powhatan is at a lower altitude than our final destination.

Wheel chair-access fishing dock.

Shadow self-portrait with brother.

The hike around the lake was gorgeous.

Bright red holly berries.

Colorful leaves at lakeside.

View of the beach area on the far side.

A surprise find was the mushroom Panellus stypticus, the mushroom I worked on for my PhD research.

Panellus grows on dead wood, usually hardwood.

The cool thing about Panellus is that it glows in the dark.  It is not terribly bright like some of the bioluminescent mushrooms in the tropics, but you can see a nice glow from the underside of the mushroom caps if you let your eyes dark-adapt.

Blue sky makes for great shots.

The reds were luminous.

Old beaver dam across the lake.

This scene is looking from the parking area across the parkway.

 We drove through some areas that were essentially tunnels of color.

Mountainsides of color.

Conditions were perfect for autumn colors; the rain of the previous day had cleared the air so visibility was terrific.

Stunning from all directions.

 Sourwood trees have the most intense ruby-red color.

Sourwood trees still holding on to their seeds.

Mt. Pisgah with its distinctive tower in the distance.  That is the direction we are heading, although we won't go to the top.

Hornets' nest next to the roadway.

More Amanita muscaria growing in the ditch next to the parkway.

One of the largest specimens I have ever seen.

Sourwood seeds on leafless tree.  This is at a higher altitude than the previous shot and the trees have shed more leaves here.

Love those reds, golds, and greens.

Our picnic area near Mt. Pisgah.  Another lucky thing for us was that it was Friday and not many people were around. 

We had the place almost to ourselves.

Closer to the top of Mt. Pisgah.

The city of Asheville is visible in the distant valley to the left.

Closer yet to Mt. Pisgah.

Another of Asheville in the distance.  Some of the trees at this altitude are bare.

Cold Mountain.

We hiked a bit on a trail that led to the site of a former hunting cabin owned by the Vanderbilts.  Back in the day, the only way to get here was on horseback.  It is a beautiful site.  The property was donated to the National Park Service in lieu of inheritance taxes.

remains of stairs leading to the site of the cabin.

Retaining walls are still standing.

Another view of the retaining walls and stairs.  The Park Service provides benches throughout the park.

Not sure what this.  It is a little removed from the site of the hunting cabin.  Maybe a cold cellar?

 We drove on up to the Pisgah Inn and Restaurant, also run by the Park Service.  A few more people were there and the Inn is usually filled to capacity this time of year.  This was as high as we went on the Parkway - close to 5000 ft, but we spent plenty of time taking in the views before we left.  The summit of Mt. Pisgah is ~5800ft.

Hard to get enough of these views.

Alarmingly Delicious

The sunrises earlier this week have been astoundingly beautiful.  These next 5 images are all from the same sunrise.  I didn't adjust the color, just the exposure time over the 15 minute time span during which the shots were taken.  As usual, I was standing at the end of the dock to get these shots.  The sea was wonderfully calm.  Are those rain clouds on the horizon? Cue rain music here.

Pink and blue sky.

The gold and oranges build as the sun gets a smidge higher. And what name can you give to that fleeting color glowing in the heart?

Fickle clouds promise rain. 

The drama lingers.

Geese fleeing winter fly south against a Van Gogh sky.

That was the morning of October 12; we got no rain that day.  Dawn clouds on the 13th are more promising.

Rain clouds?

But they don't deliver rain either, not that day.  A bit of rain on the 14th, and then boy did we get rain - 3.2 inches yesterday and 3.5 inches today.  So far.  There are still heavy dark clouds out there.  Such a storm last night; waves pounding, wind howling, rain pouring.  The dock took a beating and 4 boards at the end broke loose.  The breakwater worked a treat, though.  Whew.  I watched as it persuaded wave after wave to crest and break before reaching shore.  I say persuade because you can't force water to do anything it doesn't want to do.  Water will always win, the only thing one can do is play on the water team and follow the water rules.  Under current conditions, the water is breaking on the breakwater and sand is accumulating on the shore.  We shall see if the rules change as the seasons change and adapt ourselves accordingly.

All that rain cooled things off and we have been at near 100% humidity for 3 days now. Even though Tina can't stand the rain, we are happy to get our vats filled up again.  Still, we are feeling a little green and fuzzy from the humidity, just the time for baking and roasting, so a'baking and a'roasting I have been.  Baking the double batch of shortcakes yesterday dried the cabana out nicely, so I thought I should use the oven more today.  I made an alarmingly delicious dish of roasted butternut squash and onions.  It was so very simple.

• 2 butternut squash peeled and cubed
• 5 small Mexican yellow onions, cut in radial 8ths (I know it is odd, but that is how I like them; you can cut them any way you want.  The Mexican yellow onions are so very sweet, not quite Vidalia onions, but very nice.)
• 2 thumbs of local, fresh ginger, peeled and finely minced - the local ginger, which grows in the Maya Mountains, is a mild, yellow ginger.  If your ginger is hotter, you may want to use less.
• 1/2 a bulb of garlic, smashed and minced - all we can find here is the Chinese garlic, sigh ...
• 1/2 teaspoon coriander
• salt
• black pepper coarsely ground
• ~1/4 c olive oil
• SECRET INGREDIENT FOR ALARM AND DELICIOUSNESS - Marie Sharp's Smoked Habanero Sauce - scant tablespoon or less if you aren't a fan of habanero heat.  Read about Marie and her hot sauce company here.  Her newest sauce, the Smoked Habanero I used here, is not on her website yet.

Throw all that together in a roasting pan, stir it up well, and put it in a 350F oven for 60 minutes, stirring every 20 minutes.  The sweetness of the carmelized butternut and onions is set off perfectly by the smoked habanero flavor.  The ginger and coriander keep things light on the tongue.

Alarmingly Delicious.

Need I say more?

Two Sihouettes

My day started, as it often does, by watching the sun rise over the Caribbean.  It was a fiery, photogenic dawn, so I obliged by taking its picture.  Lots of pictures, but - lucky you - I managed to pare it down to just 2 for this post.

I love to see the birds flying at dawn from their roosting site on Little Monkey Cay to their feeding spots to the north.  The birds show up as silhouettes against the rosy-gold sky.  Be sure to look at the graphics on this Youtube video of Herman's Hermits Two Silhouettes (on the shade).

Blues, pinks, lavender, orange, and gold over the still dark sea.

Two Great Egrets flying off for breakfast.

Sunset found me with camera in hand again, this time on the Sunset Balcony, trying to capture the rainbow colors of light scattered through a high cloud and the dark rays created by the sky shadows of the lower clouds.

The sun goes down over the jungle.  This shot doesn't do justice to the rainbow in the bright cloud.

A closer view of the bright cloud brings out the rainbow colors.  I don't see this too often.

Dusk is a wonderful time to watch the birds heading back to roost against a background of soft pastels.

Great Egret headed back to roost.

For several days I had noticed the migration of nighthawks.  They tend to fly inland and so are really too far away to photograph without a nice, long telephoto lens.  In the shot below, a nighthawk shows up as a distant, V-shaped, speck.

Great Egret and distant Nighthawk, two silhouettes in the evening sky.

A peaceful ending to another day.