Brick by Brick: The Heartbeat of Wehr Nature Center

You don’t go to Wehr Nature Center for answers. You go because the squirrels look like they have it all figured out.

It starts with your boots scuffing over the bricks. Morning sun, a cool breeze, the scent of damp earth and stubborn dandelions. You try not to trip on the uneven pavers because that would be embarrassing, especially in front of KAREN KERANS – WNC ARTIST IN RESIDENCE. She sounds like the type who would watercolor your tumble with poetic flair.

A cluster of Virginia Bluebells catches soft morning light, their transition from magenta buds to blue blossoms quietly echoing the forest’s sense of calm renewal.

You pass VOLUNTEERS ARE PRICELESS and silently nod. Of course they are. You imagine someone named Bob once rescued a turtle from the path, cradling it like a Fabergé egg.

The birds are going off like it's happy hour, and somewhere underfoot, BIRDWATCHERS MIKE & CAROL are immortalized in brick. You wonder if Mike ever got bored and claimed a squirrel was a rare arctic chickadee just to mess with Carol.

Delicate blossoms blanket the limbs of a Redbud tree, standing in radiant contrast to the still-dormant woods behind it—a brief burst of pink before the full green of summer settles in.

There’s laughter in the air, even if it’s just yours. Wehr has that effect. You step around a stubborn weed poking up next to IN MEMORY OF ‘ANIMAL BOB’ – WEHR NIP STAFF. Sounds like a guy who probably knew the name of every frog in the pond.

Further along, the bricks start talking to each other. FLOWERS AND SINGING BIRDS, I AM CONTENT – DIANE LEMBCK pairs up naturally with NATURE IS COMPANY ENOUGH – PAIGE FLIESS. You wonder if they ever met, and if not, you kind of wish they had. Between the two of them, you'd probably find peace… and at least one very comfortable chair.

A lone white trillium pushes up from the forest floor, its elegant petals opening like a quiet declaration of spring’s return among last autumn’s fallen leaves.

Then comes a reminder to MAKE EVERYDAY AN EARTH DAY – DEAN ROCKSTAD. You try not to feel guilty about that plastic bottle in your car cupholder and vow to recycle it before Dean finds out.

You laugh again—not loud, but enough for a red-winged blackbird to tilt its head in judgment. The trail curves, and there it is, stamped clean into the walkway: I LOVE WEHR NC – BARBARA NICKEL. Just that. Simple, unfiltered joy. And in that moment, you get it.

A vibrant fern stretches upward, its fresh green fronds unfolding with sculptural precision, framed by hidden bluebells beneath its lacy shadow.

These bricks aren't memorials. They're winks. Handshakes. Warm nods from people who fell in love with a place and wanted to leave a footprint, but not a heavy one.

You pause at ENJOY THE JOURNEY – THE SCHNECKS and consider turning back, but then remember there’s still COLE LOVES BOB & HANNAH BURCZYK, IN MEMORY OF JUDY SACKERSON, and something about TAD GEASE that just makes you smile. Maybe it’s the name. Maybe it’s the way the grass pokes up, as if Tad might still be listening.

Then you come across them—year after year, one after another, lined like chapters: GREGG BLANDO AT 81 WAS HERE, then AT 82, AT 83, and on it goes. The kind of presence that doesn’t whisper, but laughs loudly in the breeze. Each brick is signed with a phrase that dares to play: “THIS IS THE WAY,” “TO BOLDLY GO NO WEHR HAS GONE BEFORE,” “I HAVE A FEELING WEHR NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE,” and “HAVING FUN IN THE SUN – OH IT’S RAINING, GOTTA RUN.” It’s not just a walk—it’s a performance, a tradition, a living series stamped into the ground by someone who clearly knows that joy is worth marking. You don’t know Gregg, but you kind of want to pull up a camp chair next to his path and just wait to see what he says next.

Eventually, your legs are tired, your spirit a little lighter. You whisper a quiet “thanks” to the path, to the bricks, to the sky.

And somewhere, maybe, the squirrels nod in approval.