And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~ Elizabeth Appell
April 8, 2021
This feels like a universal quote that applies to all of us, possibly on multiple levels. Here’s hoping we all blossom in one way or another this week. Remember, spring is the season of new growth. (And yes, I’m also speaking to myself here.)
Barr Lake State Park. April 8, 2021
Barr Lake. April 8, 2021
Uprooted by wind
felled by slashing chain saw teeth
final resting place
Clear Creek. January 12, 2021
Bockman Campground, State Forest State Park. June 12, 2019
A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. ~ John Muir
Cave Creek Canyon, Chiricauhua Mountains. May 16, 2019
For years, a cherry tree flourished in a four feet by four feet space on the patio. It was lovely and we made pie with its fruit. The birds, bees, and we loved it. Then the tree became sick and we had to cut it down. Last summer, one volunteer sunflower grew in that space.
Sunflowers on patio. July 12, 2020.
This year, it’s a literal sunflower forest. I just took my camera out there to finally document the tangle of stalks and blooms. And I smiled the entire time. Here’s a tiny sampling of the happy flowers thriving there.
My confession? Right now I hardly miss our dear old cherry tree.
Neighbor’s ash tree. May 29, 2020.
Partially clad limbs
but mostly naked branches
too many cold snaps
Kapok Park. April 1, 2019.
Silver Jack Campground. July 29, 2019.
Forest resident
quiet campsite inspector
may we meet again
Chiricauhua Mountains. May 14, 2019.
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of Nature . . . .
~ William Cullen Bryant
(Note: After posting this, I realized it all felt very familiar. Probably because I’d posted the same words very recently.)
Cave Creek Canyon, Chiricahua Mountains. May 16, 2019
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of Nature . . .
~ William Cullen Bryant
I’d forgotten about this evidence of your idiocy until just now when I revisited the photos from my July camping trip in the Uncompahgre National Forest. The aspen groves were absolutely glorious. Why did you think anyone would care one iota that you’d been there? Because I’ve got news for you–Barry, Susan, and Bob–we don’t.
Sincerely,
Tracy
Deck and red maple tree on October 10, 2019.
Yesterday we had a high of 80 degrees which then swung to a low of about 20 degrees today. We’re currently at a balmy 25 degrees. Hooray?
I’m praying to the goddesses that we don’t lose trees and shrubs as a result of the temperature swing. The last time this happened, many trees and shrubs (including our own) died. And I’m talking old, well-established trees. It was heartbreaking. The only upside to this current situation is that the snow might provide enough insulation to keep them alive. Last time, there was no moisture involved in the temperature swing.
I’m beaming toasty thoughts to the trees and shrubs. Please hang in there!
Cave Creek Canyon hike. May 13, 2019.
Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind,
going and coming like ourselves,
traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day,
and through space heaven knows how fast and far! ~ John Muir
Southern Live Oak, Kapok Park. April 1, 2019.
From whence did this come
darkened leaf from tree of green
Intruder escaped.
Women need real moments of solitude and self-reflection to balance out how much of ourselves we give away. ~ Barbara De Angelis
I’m always astonished by a forest. It makes me realise that the fantasy of nature is much larger than my own fantasy. I still have things to learn. ~ Gunter Grass
Never say there is nothing beautiful in the world anymore.
There is always something to make you wonder in the shape of a tree, the trembling of a leaf.
~ Albert Schweitzer
Kapok Park. April 1, 2019.
I just spent the last several hours tying up some loose threads on the YA project I’ve (most recently ) been working on since last fall. Basically, I wrote pages of notes in order to have a map for the next time I pick it up. The thing is, I cannot put any more energy into this project right now. My critique group gave me feedback last Wednesday on the first 30 pages and it’s still a hot mess. My words, not theirs. Their feedback was spot-on and they offered some great suggestions, but my heart isn’t in it anymore. This is a project I drafted ten years ago and over the following decade revised multiple times. It’s definitely a better story than it was before, but it’s still not where it needs to be.
So. I’m setting it aside because the characters and plot have become a jumble in my mind. I can’t see the forest for the trees and I’m sick of trying.
Whew. I’m feeling a mixture of emotions right now, but there’s a whole lot of relief in letting go.
An intricate dance
many years in the making
elegant grandeur
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune’s bubbles rise and fall; who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.
~ John Greenleaf Whittier
Farewell to this year
poetry all around us
must never forget
