I arrived at my sit spot at 12:30 pm.

The tree or stick that I found, in the upper right corner

Most of my 15-minute tune-in was spent listening to the sounds that wove their way into the warm, still air around me. The throbbing hum of cicadas was just as present and constant as my previous visit. Birds called over my head, some chirping, some warbling, and one confident bird who released a loud “CAW” into the quiet. I wondered who they were, and what they were trying to communicate. Other than that, there was silence. The leaves were still, the creek was low and quiet, and even the bumblebees had gone on their way, replaced by gnats that hovered near thin-leaved shrubs.

More than I was surprised by what I heard (or didn’t hear), I was curious about what I saw in front of me. The ground was still composed primarily of pine needles and was showing off more yellow and green leaves than before, though that wasn’t much of a surprise. However, there appeared to be a new tree in the spot where a chair used to be, or else a stick that someone for some reason decided to bury upright. It had no leaves: just a small trunk with small branches that barely protruded. Why would someone put that there? If it really is a sapling, why plant it in autumn? From what species of tree did it come?

The black ant that I followed, with a piece of food in his mouth.

My red-and-black ant friends did not make an appearance during this visit. However, the black ants seemed more confident in the absence of their cousins, and I was able to find a black ant to follow. He spent most of his time crawling between pine needles the way we would climb around fallen logs, assumedly searching for morsels of food on the ground. Once or twice, he gathered his courage and ventured onto the surface of a broad, brown leaf, pausing to compose himself and adjust his antennae. Then he disappeared under the leaf just as quickly as he had appeared, and I could not see him anymore.

My small red friend

I also met a small red bug who climbed onto my chair to say hello. He was bright, fire-engine red (so I did not touch him), with a pentagonal shell and tiny red legs sticking out from underneath. I do not know his species, nor do I know what brought him to my chair, but I am glad that I got to see him and take pictures before he left.

Beale Garden seems to have been grown around a small creek that runs through its center. Though it is surrounded by rocks and often runs shallow, the plants directly near the creek are flourishing compared to the plants away from the creek, with long leaves that extend far beyond those of other plants. The trees that are near the creek appear to be taller and have more leaves than the nearby trees surrounded by land. My hypothesis is that the creek, which extends all around Hollins, brings nutrients with it that feeds the surrounding plants even if the creek is shallow. This, combined with increased access to water from being near the creek, allows the surrounding plants to grow more than the plants that are farther away.

The creek at Beale Garden, with the flourishing plants around it

Overall, I am glad that I chose Beale as my sit spot. While I was surprised by the quiet compared to my last visit, it was still a peaceful experience. I took my pictures and left at 1:25, looking forward to the rest of my day and my next observation session.