In early October, in the North Carolina piedmont, it's hard to tell sometimes if the glory of Autumn has finally begun; or if the dried brown and ochre leaves littering the ground have simply exhausted all their resources from months of exposure to withering summer temperatures, and then the final blows of the buffeting wind and pelting rain of hurricane season.
As the stifling heat and humidity of summer eases; and the crisp and cooler atmosphere of Fall succeeds; these dried, crinkled, and browning leaves lie upon, and sometimes completely cover the trails and greenways on the outskirts of the city; those trails and greenways that follow the meandering creeks and rivers, and bluffs and woods, of the forested land that remains relatively untouched by development.
When I was a boy, I would explore the creek at the bottom of our neighborhood, thinking only of the adventure of expanding the limits of my known universe; winding my way upstream, or downstream, according to my whim; hopping from rock to root, or jumping an eddy in the creek, until the heat of the day started to drop, and I realized that the sun was setting. Sometimes I returned as I was being called for dinner; but more often I returned to face a scolding for wandering outside of earshot, and allowing the dinner to go cold. I had no fears, no regrets, no worries, and no expectations.
Now, I follow a well worn path, not far from home, up the trail of the Swift Creek Nature Conservancy; shaded by dappled sunlight which has passed through the leaves of towering beech and hickory, and an understory of ironwood, sourwood, and magnolia. I'm accompanied by my daily companion, a three year old collie named Maggie. She sees the trail more like I did in my youth, free and wild; although she has the good sense to remain close at hand, even when allowed to wander into the underbrush or down the banks of the creek.
I'm retired ; and I have the benefit of unharried and nearly unlimited time. In the sanctuary of a natural habitat, I can be hypnotized by the ambient sounds of rustling leaves in a gentle breeze, chirping frogs and twittering birds. I can be mesmerized by the picturesque distribution of wildflowers, ferns, shrubs, and trees; or the branching patterns of limbs, twigs, and leaves.
I find myself reflecting on the recent events of my 40th high school reunion, and the distant events, of the opening of the NC School of Science and Math.
In 1980, over a hundred teenagers from across the state, from every walk of life..., diverse in every way..., made the audacious choice to leave their homes, and their home schools, for a residential high school in Durham. They were given the opportunity to "accept the greater challenge".* For one reason or another they each decided to leave their comfort zone for the promise of adventure, for the prospect of something different.
They really didn't know what they were getting themselves into.
The state of North Carolina made an unparalleled investment in academia; renovating the historically significant, but abandoned Watts Hospital in northern Durham; breathing life into it by hiring a pioneering faculty and staff; and then recruiting a student body of such talent and potential (and loyalty) that the state would surely reap rewards in the future. They hoped to encourage "the best and the brightest" to stay; attend college in the state; find jobs and establish businesses; and eventually bring some prosperity back to the state where their education began.
They really didn't know if it would work.
*("Accepting the greater challenge" is now the school motto - "Maius Opus Moveo").
